Paris Time

by D. B. Gilles

  Dalton nodded yes. Proctor picked up one of the black suits, a white shirts and necktie. “I’ll go and change now. You should too, Dalton, once I’m done.” He stepped into the private bathroom next to his office and closed the door.

  “You don’t have to wait for him,” said Juliet. “I’ll close my eyes.” She turned around and Dalton proceeded to undress and change. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  “I know,” he said. “So fast. If we had more time.”

  “Maybe if we had more time we wouldn’t go through with it. Do you think Proctor’s right about us being in danger?”

  “I don’t know. He sounded convincing.”

  His pants on and buttoned, Dalton said, “You can turn around now.”

  They stared at each other, neither quite knowing what to say. Dalton pondered for the first time what they would do if they made it to Paris. Despite his bravura and optimism he wasn’t convinced they would get there. He was prepared to be disappointed, assuming that they would get to the obelisk at midnight and that nothing would work. They would be standing at the foot of an ancient monument looking like fools.

  Juliet allowed herself the luxury of thinking that it would work and that they would find her sister. She had never been to Paris and other than what Eliza had written and drawn in her sketchbooks, she knew very little about the city. She was grateful that Proctor knew his way around.

  As her mind wandered, one notion permeated her thoughts: if she actually did find her sister, what did she want from her? Did she simply want to make sure she’s alive or did she want to convince her to come back?

  And what if Eliza didn’t want to come back? She thought to herself.

  Proctor came out of the anteroom wearing his old suit, moving awkwardly, adjusting the sleeves.

  “Not exactly GQ, but it will get the job done.” He looked at his watch. “Now we wait.”

  Chapter 23

  At 8:30, Luger watched the Employee entrance and saw a dozen or so people come out. But there was no sign of Proctor and, more importantly, no car parked outside to pick him up.

  Luger decided that Kenny the guard knew the lay of the land. If Proctor Newley always left by the side entrance and if he was always picked up by a driver, tonight wouldn’t be any different.

  So he waited, iPhone in hand, using the time try to find information on The Brimstone. He was frustrated that there was so little available. And he still had a hard time fathoming that it could enable people to travel in time.

  During the next three hours, Dalton and Juliet continued to go over Eliza’s sketchbook. As a professional fact checker, Dalton always carried a notebook. He used the opportunity to jot down copious notes in his own shorthand, specifically the To Do list Eliza had made.

  Proctor prepared The Brimstone for the journey. Going inside the vinaigrette to the calendar, he set the date for October 6, eighteen-eighty-nine.

  The time flew by. At eleven-fifteen, Proctor called his driver.

  “James, bring the car.” He hung up, then turned to Dalton and Juliet. “We should leave all personal effects. Wallets, cell phones, the usual. Whatever we have will be useless where we’re going.” He opened a drawer on the lower right side of his desk. “I’ll lock everything in here. We can retrieve it when we return.”

  Juliet handed Proctor her handbag, wristwatch and the earrings she was wearing. Dalton gave him his wallet, watch, keys and money.

  The three of them, looking like extras in a period film, walked silently to the museum’s side entrance. Juliet carried Eliza’s sketchbook and Proctor held The Brimstone, which was inside a simple tote bag.

  Luger, who rarely got nervous when on an assignment, was feeling anxious. It was getting too late to believe that Proctor Newley would still be in his office. His mind wandered. Maybe the limo was being repaired and he took a cab and he left by the front entrance or someone met him or he decided to walk tonight.

  Then a black sedan pulled two car lengths in front of Luger. He could tell by the license plate that it was a private limo.

  Within five minutes the side entrance to The Morgan opened. The night guard let three people out, two men and a woman. All three were wearing hats, which Luger found odd. As the three of them approached the car, the driver got out and opened the back door. The light in the car went on giving Luger a very clear view of all three. He could see the white hair of Proctor Newley glistening under what was clearly a top hat. The other male, who was young, was wearing a bowler hat. What struck him as odd was the way the girl was dressed.

  He called Henri Arpin.

  “It’s eleven-twenty. The Library has been closed for almost three hours. Three people just left building. One of them is undoubtedly Proctor Newley, the others are a guy and girl. Both men are wearing out of styles suits. Decades out of style. And the girl is wearing clothes straight out of a movie set in the nineteenth century. And they’re all wearing hats. I doubt they’re going to a masquerade party. The girl is holding what looks like a large notebook and Newley is carrying a tote bag, but I’m too far away to decipher what’s in it.”

  “It has to be The Brimstone,” said Henri. To himself he said, They’re going back. They’ve found the way.

  “I can take it now, easily,” said Luger. “And then we’ll talk about how you’re going to get me the finders fee.”

  “Yes, of course, but don’t take it yet. They’re going to test it. We can’t say for sure if it’s The Brimstone unless we know it works. Stay with them. See if you can learn how to use it.”

  “Let’s assume it works. How will you get me the five million Euros?”

  “The usual way. A bank transfer. Because of the amount it will be more complicated, but it will be done. Luger, listen to me. Wait until the last possible second to take it. You must learn everything so I know what to do.”

  “Understood.”

  “I’ll stay on the line.”

  Proctor’s limo started up, turned right onto Madison Avenue and headed uptown.

  Luger followed two car lengths behind. When Proctor’s car stopped in front of The Museum of Modern Art, Luger parked on Eighty-fourth Street. As Luger watched Proctor, Dalton and Juliet leave the car and head into Central Park, he brought Henri up to speed.

  “They’re going into Central Park.” He slid out of his car.

  “At this time of night? That’s where the portal must be. Stay with them.”

  Luger ran across Fifth Avenue and ducked into the shadows of the museum’s south side, keeping far enough behind not to be noticed.

  Chapter 24

  The light emanating from the lampposts, combined with the reflection from the moon, made using the flashlight Proctor had brought unnecessary.

  “Based on what Ignatius said, it will happen fast. By the time we get to the obelisk we’ll only have a few minutes to prepare.

  “They’re going further into the park,” said Luger.

  “But where?

  He stayed with them as they approached Cleopatra’s Needle. “I think they’re going to the Egyptian obelisk.”

  He kept moving, getting closer to them, now less than twenty yards away.

  Four lamps lit the rectangular promenade in which the obelisk stood. Crouching behind a large bush he said, “They’ve stopped at the obelisk. I can take The Brimstone now easily.”

  “Not yet. Get closer. See what they’re up to.”

  Luger moved a few steps and watched as Proctor removed The Brimstone from his tote bag.. “The old man is holding the object. They seem to be figuring out where to stand in relation to the obelisk. I’d say he wants them to get as close to it as possible.”

  Luger moved closer, watching as they walked to the eastern side of the obelisk and climbed over the metal railing surrounding it.

  “The old man is holding The Brimstone and pointing it at the obelisk, then at the sky.” He paused. “Oh my God!”

  “Luger, what?”

  “It’s a perfectly clear night, but clouds a
re suddenly appearing. They’re turning dark. Black. There’s the rumbling of thunder. Loud flashes of lightning. A light rain is coming down. And the obelisk has a light. It seems to be opening up.”

  “They’ve found the portal. All right. Make your move. Grab The Brimstone.”

  “If they resist?”

  “Kill them. I’ll stay on the line.”

  Luger took off at full speed, leaping over the railing. No one saw him coming. He knocked Proctor down, causing him to drop The Brimstone. As Luger reached for it, Dalton shoved him. After a few seconds of struggle, Luger tossed him off easily and pulled out a Glock pistol, which he pointed at Dalton. As he did so he looked on the ground for The Brimstone. It was gone from where it had fallen. Luger looked up and saw that Juliet held it.

  “I have no interest in hurting any of you. Just give that to me and we’ll be done.” He pointed the gun at Dalton’s head and cocked the trigger. “Otherwise... boom!”

  Resigned, Juliet started to hand The Brimstone to Luger. He was just about to take it when the lightning bolt struck him in the right shoulder in the craw of his neck, knocking him down and forcing him to drop the gun.

  Dalton picked it up and pointed it at Luger. “Proctor, Juliet, get close to the obelisk. We’re going.”

  Juliet helped Proctor stand. Despite having been knocked down he was surprisingly agile. She handed him The Brimstone and he continued to work with it. He double-checked that the date on the vinaigrette was set to the exact place it had been seven years ago on the night Peter died. The three of them gathered together, each placing a hand on the obelisk.

  There was deafening thunder and more lightning as Luger pulled himself up, still dazed and reeling in pain.

  “Give it to me!” he screamed, his voice slurred. He moved towards them.

  “Stop right there,” said Dalton, still pointing the gun at Luger.

  “You don’t have the nerve to fire it. Just give me The Brimstone and you can sleep in your own bed tonight.”

  Dalton’s hand was shaking. He knew that the man standing before him was right. He would not be able to pull the trigger. Instead, he threw the gun into the darkness.

  Walking off balance like a zombie, Luger moved to within two feet of Proctor. As the light on the opened obelisk grew brighter, the thunder louder and more lightning bolts struck the ground, Luger managed to get his hands on The Brimstone. He held part of it and Proctor the other. Luger pulled it away, then Dalton grabbed it from him. They struggled, each having a firm grasp.

  Suddenly, there was a final bolt of lightning and it happened. One by one they were gone.

  Luger’s BlackBerry lay on the ground. Henri Arpin’s voice could be heard screaming, “Luger! What’s going on?

  Speak to me! Where are you?”

  PART 2

  Traveling is almost like talking with men of other centuries.

  René Descartes

  Chapter 25

  8:34 a.m.

  Place de la Concorde

  Paris, France

  Juliet arrived first, clutching her sister’s sketchbook against her chest, eyes closed tightly, lightheaded, as if she’d just been awakened from a deep sleep and breathing heavily as if she’d been running.

  She found herself lying on the ground inside the fenced-in area of the obelisk, half on her right side, half on her back, but had no memory of getting there. As she got her bearings, the realization that The Brimstone had worked overwhelmed her. She tried to take in the surroundings, but was so awestruck that she had transported from Central Park in New York to Paris, all she could think to say was, “I’m here.”

  She knew she was standing by the Luxor obelisk, but she had no idea where in Paris it was located. As her equilibrium began to balance she allowed herself the luxury to consider the idea that Eliza might be somewhere in Paris.

  She was relieved that there weren’t many people where she stood. A few men in suits wearing straw hats, derbies or top hats walking at a brisk pace passed her by as they crossed the cobblestone streets on both sides of Place de la Concord. She guessed that it was early morning. She looked to her left, right, back and front. She was stunned by the numerous horse drawn carriages moving rapidly on the streets.

  So many horses, she thought to herself.

  What she had no way of knowing was that the female figure not quite fifty yards away, who seconds before, had left The Tuileries Garden and was heading towards The Seine, was Eliza.

  Likewise, had Eliza waited a tad longer, she would have seen Juliet appear out of nowhere, as she herself did twenty minutes before.

  Juliet was about to open her sister’s sketchbook when Proctor arrived.

  She had been facing away and didn’t see how he landed. All she knew was that she was relieved to see him. She reached out to him as he opened his eyes, looking as if he’d just awakened from a deep sleep.

  “We made it!” she said.

  Prone on the ground and still trying to gather his thoughts, all Proctor could muster was, “Indeed!” followed by “Help me up, dear.”

  Juliet did so. Like Juliet, Proctor did a quick logistics look, but because he’d been to Paris thirty-seven times. he knew precisely where they were.

  “I’ve come to this magnificent city by plane, train, bus and car, but never like this. Certainly beats the traffic!”

  Juliet laughed.

  “Juliet, take a deep breath of the fresh eighteen-eighty-nine air! No pollution here. No car or bus exhaust. Although the dubious aroma of horse droppings will take some getting used to. As you will see, Paris is a city that relies on horsepower for transportation.”

  Looking straight and to his right was Rue de Rivoli where there would be elegant hotels, Hotel Meurice in particular where he stayed numerous times during his many visits. He turned to his right and in the distance saw the north side of The Louvre. He mused how fascinating it would be to visit the most famous museum in the world at this point in time and to view the Mona Lisa when it was not under lock and key, but hanging among other works of art as if it were just another painting.

  He turned to his left where The Avenue des Champs-Élysées began, then went full circle where he knew the river Seine was and the Pont de la Concorde, which he’d crossed many times, and beyond the bridge was the Palais Bourbon, home of the French National Assembly.

  As he took in the Paris skyline, he suddenly felt uneasy.

  Something is wrong, he said to himself.

  Within seconds he realized that he couldn’t see The Eiffel Tower,

  That it wasn’t visible startled him. He’d been to Paris enough times and had even stood in front of the Luxor obelisk on several occasions, remembering that there was a clear view of The Eiffel Tower light fog or not, it should’ve been visible. He recalled a photograph he’d taken of the obelisk with The Eiffel Tower clearly in the distance.

  His immediate reaction was the sickening realization that he had miscalculated The Brimstone and that they had landed on the wrong date.

  At least we’re in Paris he said to himself. But when?

  As Proctor tried to focus, he wondered if Eliza had also landed on this date, whatever it was, and not her intended October 6, 1889? Once he figured out the Egyptian calendar he had set The Brimstone to the exact place he had found it set, the place that Peter Hillyer had set it seven years before. He wondered if besides the lightning bolt striking Peter it had also hit The Brimstone and thrown off the calibration.

  No matter he thought. We’re here now.

  He knew that if Eliza didn’t arrive at this exact day, they would never know where she wound up.

  He chose to go on faith that Eliza had arrived on the wrong day as well. What plagued him was whether or not to tell Dalton and Juliet. She would be devastated and there would be nothing he could do about it.

  As he pondered that dilemma, Luger Pabst landed behind Juliet with a thud. Proctor observed that he had somehow just slipped out of nowhere. Juliet spun around as Proctor felt his head clear
ing.

  Luger wasn’t moving. Proctor looked closer only to find that Luger was unconscious and that a bloody, jagged, burning wound was below his left ear and on his neck.

  “The lightning got him,” said Proctor as he stared at the smoke emanating from the wound. “Can you smell the burning flesh?”

  “It makes me want to vomit. Who is he?”

  “Unquestionably, a minion of Henri Arpin, the man who called me earlier who works for my ex-wife.”

  “She sounds like such a terrible person. How could you have married here?”

  “She wasn’t always terrible. The girl I married was delightful. Life intrudes.”

  Proctor moved closer to Luger, reached into his pocket, removed his wallet and flipped it open. He saw a New York State driver’s license. “Luger Pabst.”

  “Is he alive?”

  “This will sound rather gauche, but I hope not.” He slipped the wallet into his back left pocket.

  Juliet stepped closer to Luger. “He’s breathing.” Then she stood up straight. “Oh my God! He has The Brimstone.”

  Proctor looked closer to see that The Brimstone was tucked snugly between Luger’s right arm and abdomen.”

  “Reach over and grab it,” said Proctor.

  Juliet nodded, stepped closer to Luger, bent over, put her hands on The Brimstone and started to lift it away when Luger’s eyes opened and he grabbed her right ankle. He clung to The Brimstone with his other hand.

  “Where are we?” he asked groggily as he pulled her to the ground causing her to drop her sister’s sketchbook.

  “Paris,” said Proctor. “Let her go.”

  “When?”

  “Eighteen-eighty-nine,” said Juliet, struggling to get loose of his grasp. “Let me go.”

  Luger looked at Proctor. “Back at the obelisk in New York, you seemed to be in charge. Send me back.”