Fragments (Out of Time)

by Monique Martin

  The room would have been quaint if it hadn’t been so dusty and covered with cobwebs. It wasn’t that that gave Simon a chill or the cold night air. It was the needlepoint unfinished on a chair; it was the book on the end table and the inescapable sense of a life abruptly ended.

  He lifted his lamp and headed into the small kitchen. “Needs a bit of cleaning,” he said, pulling the curtains shut, “but you should be safe here.”

  “It’s fine. Although, I really wish you’d let me come with you.”

  Simon didn’t remind him that he was barely strong enough to hold a lamp. He didn’t need to. Eldridge knew; his heart just wouldn’t accept it. “We’ll feel better knowing you’re here safe and recovering.”

  Eldridge shuffled after him and sat down at the small table in the kitchen. “I just need a little rest.”

  “This is the perfect place for that. Country air and quiet.”

  Simon opened a few cabinets. There were tins of flour, sugar and oats. “I’m not sure any of this is good anymore.”

  The lid to the flour tin was difficult to remove. “Looks all right.” He refastened the lid and put the tin back on the shelf. “There are some canned goods that should still be edible. There should be markets in the village with anything else you might need. No rationed goods, I’m afraid. I’ll leave some money here. They’ll be quite suspicious of a stranger. Do what you can not to draw attention to yourself and stay close to the cottage as much as possible.”

  Resigned to his fate, Eldridge nodded. “I understand.”

  “We won’t be long. If this man has the book, we’ll get it.”

  Eldridge didn’t say what they were both thinking. And if he doesn’t…

  “I’ll help you make a fire. There’s nothing to be done for the smoke, we’ll just have to hope no one notices. There’s firewood by the hearth and more in a shed around back.”

  Simon stood uneasily looking around the room. He was sure there was something important he was forgetting.

  Eldridge pushed himself up. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” He held out his hand and when Simon took it he clasped his other hand over Simon’s. “And Godspeed.”

  By the time Simon left the cottage it was going on two o’clock in the morning. His back ached from driving for so long and his eyes were heavy with lack of sleep, but he drove on. Ever since he and Elizabeth had left each other in front of the hotel he’d had a growing sense of unease. He’d chalked it up to the danger of the rescue, being separated from Elizabeth, but as dawn broke, the niggling feeling that something was wrong grew.

  He could not get back to Elizabeth quickly enough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elizabeth heard the footsteps coming down the hall. She’d heard four sets of them since she’d gone to bed and each time she’d hoped they were Simon’s, she’d been disappointed. This time though, the footsteps stopped outside her door. A vague shadow blocked out the only light in her room, the sliver of warmth that came under the door from the hall. She heard the person on the other side try the doorknob. This must be Simon, she thought and sprang out of bed. She was almost at the door when she realized it could be someone else. It could be one of the spies and she was about to throw open the door.

  She scanned the darkness for a weapon. She couldn’t see a darn thing, but she mentally recreated the room. The lamp was too big, the chair too heavy. The doorknob jiggled again and she grabbed the first thing she could think of and jumped on the chair ready to strike just as the door opened.

  Light from the hall flooded the dark room and a tall shadow stretched out like a grotesque specter. She raised her arm to bludgeon the intruder when she heard the whisper in the dark she’d been waiting for.

  “Elizabeth…”

  “Oh, Simon,” she said, sagging with relief. Thank God.

  He turned and flipped on the light. His face sped from concern to amusement in rapid succession. “What are you doing up there?”

  “I thought you might be one of the bad guys.”

  “And so you were going to…rrstart a pillow fight?” His eyes fell on the floppy down pillow in her right hand.

  “Well…”

  He laughed, relieved, and closed the door. Putting his hands around her waist, he lifted her off the chair and back onto the floor. He held her for a moment and kissed her and Elizabeth relaxed into it. “Are you all right?”

  “Everything went according to plan on our end. And you? And Evan? How is he?” Elizabeth tossed the pillow back onto the bed.

  “He’s weak and his memories are erratic, but he’ll be fine, I think.”

  “Good.” She took a closer look at Simon and noticed his eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders slightly hunched. “You must be exhausted. Let’s try to get some sleep.”

  “I could use a good night’s sleep,” Simon said and then added in a voice so quiet she had to strain to hear. “We need to leave. Now.”

  She hadn’t expected that, but nodded. She was pooped and he was super-pooped, but if Simon said they needed to go, they needed to go. She gathered her clothes and made small talk in case the room was bugged.

  “I know what you mean,” she said as she dressed. “I’m so tired. The excitement of the day, I guess.”

  “It has been a long one.”

  “It was kind of thrilling though, wasn’t it?” she said as she scribbled a quick note. “All cloak and dagger.”

  “Cloaks are fine; it’s the daggers I can do without.” Simon grabbed her purse from the table and handed it to her. “Try to get some sleep, darling.”

  They shut off the light and stood in the darkness for a minute before Simon carefully opened the door and they slipped out into the hall. Downstairs, the hotel desk clerk snored into his Beano comic book and Simon and Elizabeth slipped past unnoticed. Simon had parked the car down the lane and they hurried toward it through the early morning chill.

  “You didn’t tell the others about Cirencester?” Simon asked.

  “Nope. I followed the plan.” They’d agreed not to let on that they knew anymore than Jack or Blake.

  “Good,” Simon said. “With a mole in MI5, we can’t afford to trust anyone. Not even men who’ve saved our lives,” he added before she could protest. “What if one of them or both is compromised in some way and by leading them to the Shard, we’re virtually delivering it to Hitler ourselves?”

  It made sense. She didn’t want it to and she tried to poke holes in it, but Blake himself had said there was a mole. They couldn’t risk letting anyone know where they were going and what they were looking for.

  When they arrived at the car, Elizabeth started for the driver’s side before remembering everything was reversed in England. “At least we have a car.”

  “Only for a few more miles,” Simon said as he started it. “We’re low on petrol and with rations being so tightly controlled, we’ve no way to buy more. We’ll have to do without the car.”

  Simon drove them to the train station. By the time they got there, the sun was just beginning to rise. He bought two tickets on the first train to Dover. Elizabeth didn’t know much about the geography of England, but she was fairly certain Dover was the wrong direction. And not only had Simon bought the tickets, he’d argued with the man in the ticket booth about his change being wrong.

  Simon continued to complain about the shoddy service as he led Elizabeth to the small cafe that was just opening its doors. Other early morning travelers crowded the steps out front ready for a hot cup of tea to begin their day. The idea of warm tea was heavenly, but it wasn’t meant to be as Simon apparently had other ideas. He helped her through the crowd and she saw him toss their tickets into a waste bin. “This way,” he said.

  They left the shop sans tea and started down the street away from the station. The morning fog was thick and cold. “The train’s back that way,” Elizabeth said.

  “Yes, but we’re taking the bus. Which is this way.”

  “Sneaky.” He’d laid a false trail for Jack and Blake to f
ollow. That explained his mini-scene with the ticket man as well. “You’re rather crafty when you want to be, Mr. Cross.”

  Simon tried to smile slyly, but it was ruined by a titanic yawn. “You should see me when I’m awake.”

  Elizabeth leaned into his side and they meandered down the street toward the bus station. They had just enough time for a piece of wholemeal toast and a cup of tea before the bus for London arrived.

  ~~~

  Blake checked his watch for the second time in ten minutes. He put down his teacup and frowned across the table at Jack. The hotel restaurant buzzed with morning travelers.

  “They’re newlyweds,” Jack said. The clerk had told them that Cross had arrived in the middle of the night and gone straight up to join her. He’d argued to let Elizabeth and Simon sleep in a little.

  “This is no time for sentiment,” Blake said.

  “If not now, when?”

  “When the war is over.”

  “Party pooper.” Jack drank down the last drops of his ridiculously expensive cup of coffee. “All right.”

  They paid the check and went upstairs to Elizabeth’s room. Blake knocked on Elizabeth’s door, but no answer came.

  “I’ll get the clerk,” Blake said irritated.

  “Keep your shorts on,” Jack said as he pulled out a small leather case and proceeded to pick the door’s lock with ease.

  “Very good. What other hidden talents do you have?”

  Jack grinned and pushed open the door. “You’ll have to ask the girls at Vassar.”

  Blake snorted in disgust.

  The room was empty. He wasn’t sure if he was hurt that Elizabeth hadn’t trusted him or impressed that she’d had the good sense not to.

  “Perfect,” Blake said putting his hands on his hips and looked around the room in frustration. He let his hands fall to his sides and then shoved them into his pockets. “What am I going to tell Mother?”

  “You can tell him it was my fault, if you want.”

  “Don’t think I won’t,” Blake said.

  While Blake pouted, which he did with great skill, Jack looked around the room for some clue as to where they’d gone. Blake was a good agent, but he worried far too much about what the higher ups thought. Jack had learned early on that what the suits thought didn’t amount to a hill of beans as long as you got the job the done. What fun was it if he couldn’t improvise a little along the way? Although, partnering with two civilians to break out a high security asset and losing them all was a great way to get his asset in a sling.

  He scanned the room, knowing he wouldn’t find anything useful, when he noticed a note addressed to him on the table.

  Sorry for the curveball. Elizabeth

  “What’s so funny?”

  Jack tucked the note into his pocket. “Inside joke.”

  “Isn’t that lovely? We risk our bloody necks and she writes you a joke.”

  “Aw, come on, Andy.”

  “Andrew!”

  “Sorry. I’m gonna go snoop around a little. They’re amateurs. They probably left a trail a mile wide.” Although he suspected they were going to be more difficult to find than he let on. They might be new, but they were smart.

  “I’m beginning to think we’re the amateurs.” Blake waved his hand. “Fine, you go ahead. I’ve got unpleasant calls to make.”

  “Give Mother my love.”

  ~~~

  Simon and Elizabeth took the bus to Paddington Station where they boarded a train for Swindon. As confident as they could be that they’d given Blake and Jack the slip and that the rest of the spy brigade had no idea where they were, they let themselves relax a little. That was another thing she was learning, to find moments where she could catch her breath and recoup, even if those moments were fleeting.

  Simon purchased the tickets for the journey. They walked the length of the platform as military men in every imaginable uniform filled the second and third class cars. Finally, they reached the first class car and Simon opened the door to their compartment. They shared their tiny room with an elderly nanny and a young boy of about four. The train had hardly left the station when the boy went off down the corridor to explore. A few minutes later, he was duck-walked back into the compartment by a very officious looking ticket inspector.

  “Seems Edward’s got away again, Mrs. Thompkins,” the man said as he planted the little boy in his seat. “We’ve talked about this before. Can’t have him wandering the corridors. He makes faces at the other passengers through the glass. Unpleasant faces.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mrs. Thompkins said as she pinched Edward who stuck out his lower lip in indignation. “He won’t do it again.”

  The inspector nodded and left.

  Edward scrunched his face up and squirmed. He pointed toward the netting that was stretched above the seats to create a shelf for luggage.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Mrs. Thompkins said to Simon, “but would you mind?”

  “Up there? Are you sure that’s safe?”

  “He’ll be fine and if we’re lucky, he’ll sleep.”

  Child safety had a long way to go, but Simon relented.

  He picked up the boy and lifted him toward the netting. Edward rolled into it like a hammock and then pushed himself up onto his elbow. “Sweets?” he said putting out a grubby little hand in hope.

  “Sorry,” Simon said. “I’m afraid I don’t have any.”

  The boy made a sour face and flopped onto his back. Another little face popped up at the disturbance. His sister had been asleep in the net the whole time. She rubbed her eye with a chubby little fist and smiled at Simon. “Hullo.”

  “Well, hello.”

  She studied him through sleepy eyes and then put her head back down. “I like your face.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t agree more.

  “Thank you,” Simon said, bemused, as he sat back down. He smiled up at the little girl. “I like yours too. Very much.”

  Elizabeth snuggled into his side and rested her head on his shoulder. “Little Zog will be one lucky little girl,” she murmured and then let the train rock her into a dreamless sleep.

  They arrived in Swindon just past two, said their goodbyes to the children and transferred to the small train up to Cirencester. The Cirencester station was something straight out of an old movie. The entire station consisted of two old brick buildings and a short covered platform. The man working the station shuffled toward them to collect their tickets.

  “Do you know where Professor Morley lives?” Simon asked.

  The man squinted at Simon and then at Elizabeth.

  Simon pressed on. “Would you mind? I’m a colleague from London and I seem to have misplaced his address?”

  The station man pursed his lips. The phone in his booth rang and he held up a crooked finger as he walked away.

  “Up past the church,” another man said. He’d been leaning against the station wall and limped over on a single wooden crutch. “Right on Whiteway. Can’t miss it. Just look for the birds.”

  “The birds?” Simon repeated.

  “Can’t miss them.”

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth said and then nudged Simon. He dug into his pocket and handed the old soldier a coin.

  “Thanks, guv,” the man said with a tip of his cap. “Thank you.”

  As they left the station, Elizabeth noticed a water spigot. “One sec.”

  She splashed water on her face and gave her teeth a quick finger brushing while Simon watched with amusement.

  “Better?”

  Her eyes were still scratchy from lack of sleep and she felt mildly sick to her stomach thanks to the train, but otherwise…”Marginally human.”

  Simon took a quick drink and they walked up the main road into town. The countryside was the definition of idyllic. Lush green pastures on rolling hills with dark copses of trees. There were even small herds of sheep with cream-colored coats of long curly wool.

  “What’s this area called?”

  �
�This is the Cotswolds. Lovely, isn’t it? This area was actually the second largest Roman settlement in Britain. You’ll notice how straight some of the roads are. Courtesy of the Roman empire, roughly two thousand years ago.”

  “That’s amazing.” Elizabeth slipped her arm into Simon’s.

  “There are other ruins, even an amphitheater. It’s an area rich in archaeology. Take Tar Barrow over there. Many people think it’s haunted.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “You know I love a good ghost story.”

  Simon patted her hand, humoring her. “We have enough on our plates. No need to pull in ghosts as well.”

  “We’ll come back,” she said with a nod. “When we get back.”

  They passed the church, which was a mere 900 years old, just a medieval baby, and turned onto Whiteway. It wasn’t long before they heard the birds. Scores of them flew in and out of trees surrounding a large honey-colored stone house. A flock of Tufted Ducks came in for a landing near the shore of a small pond. It was beautiful and a little creepy.

  They walked up the gravel drive to the house and rang the bell. A heavyset woman answered the door and quickly dried her hands on her flowered apron. “Yes?”

  “We’re here to see Professor Morley,” Simon said.

  The woman frowned. “He’s busy at the moment. Can you come back another time?”

  “We’ve come an awful long way to see him,” Elizabeth said.

  Immediately the woman’s face brightened. “You’re the American. You’re late. He’s been waiting for you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Professor Morley’s housekeeper ushered a very confused and slightly suspicious Simon and Elizabeth into the house. How could he possibly have been expecting them? The housekeeper rapped smartly on a dark oak door. “Professor Morley,” she said and, without waiting for an answer, opened it and went inside. “Professor?”