by Mike Parker
& Whistle
Nick and Ainsley enjoyed their breakfast with the padre and then headed over the to the Fog & Whistle to earn a little more cash for the day. Not only did Mrs. Smythe pay them well, she also fed them lunch at no charge. They did not know where they might end up next, but wherever it was the money they made at the pub could come in handy.
After they left the Fog & Whistle, the pair resumed their debate on what to make of the second message the Turtle Dove had picked up that morning. Their conversation swung back and forth between the foolishness of trusting the unknown man to the foolishness of ignoring him.
“Who is this Barry guy anyways?” Nick asked.
“I have no idea,” the reporter answered. “I don’t know anyone named Barry.”
“The big question is not do you know anyone named Barry now, but will you know anyone named Barry in twenty-five years from now.”
“You mean one hundred and sixty years from now,” she corrected.
“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly. “That’s what I meant.”
“And if we do know him, are we friends or enemies?” Ainsley pondered.
“We could be playing right into his hands either way, which I’m not real thrilled about.”
“For now, I think we should keep doing what we’re doing,” the reporter suggested. “If we get another message from this Barry guy, we re-evaluate at that point.”
“Agreed. Who knows, we might end up some time after 2042 and be able to look back in the history books to dig something up on this guy.”
“I’ll let Carl know about him too,” Ainsley suggested. “Maybe he or Doc will have some insights.”
“Are you sure we should do that?”
“Why not?”
“It’s just, well, if Barry has found a way to send messages to the Turtle Dove, I think we should assume he might be able to hear any other message transmitted to or from it,” Nick hypothesized.
“That’s a good point,” his friend conceded.
After a lengthy discussion, they agreed to not mention anything about Barry in their next communique with Carl and Doctor Stevens. They also agreed that they should be much more discreet about what other information they shared in their recordings back to the lab as well – at least until they knew exactly who else was listening in on the line. The pair ended their afternoon with a delightful supper on the shores of the Thames River.
“I guess we should head back to the rectory,” Nick said.
“I guess so. You should be teleporting out of here in less than an hour.”
“I need you to promise me something,” the time traveler said in a surprisingly serious tone.
“What is it?”
“Ainsley, you have to promise me you won’t go out looking for that guy again tonight.”
“What guy?” she asked innocently.
“You know what guy I’m talking about,” Nick insisted.
“But, Nick,” the reporter protested. “I can’t just let him attack another girl when I could do something to stop him.”
“What can you do? You’re not a cop. You don’t know exactly where or when he will strike again. You’re just as likely to end up his next victim as you are to save someone else!”
“I see what you’re saying but…”
“No buts about it,” Nick insisted. “You can’t go out there on your own tonight. If for no other reason, you risk our mission and, not to be selfish, but…”
“But what?” Ainsley asked giving him a sly smile.
“But, you’re my ticket home,” he answered with a wide grin.
“You brat,” she said smacking him on the shoulder. “Let’s get back to the church before you run out of time.”
Less than an hour later Nick had teleported from their room in the rectory to some new, unknown time and place and Ainsley remained sitting in the dim light all alone. After only a few minutes she began to feel a little stir crazy so she headed downstairs to find Father Thyme.
“You look a might restless,” the priest observed.
“Yes, yes, I am, father,” the reporter replied. “I think I’m going to go down to the Fog & Whistle for a bit.”
“Really?” the priest asked. “And where is your brother?”
“Oh, um, well,” she scrambled for a plausible explanation. “He’s actually working at the pub tonight. Yes, that’s why I’m heading down there, to meet up with him.”
“Alright, but be mighty careful, my child. These streets are dangerous in the dark hours.”
“I will, Father,” Ainsley promised. “Don’t wait up.”
She left the rectory and went straight to the pub, being careful to stay in well-lit areas where there were as many other people around as possible. She reached the pub without incident and after sipping a pint of ale she volunteered to wash up the evening dishes for Mrs. Smythe. Once the bulk of the dishes had been washed she decided to haul the trash bin out back. The alley was dark and creepy so Ainsley moved as quickly as she could. As she was about to head back inside she heard a commotion further down the lane. She squinted to see through the darkness, but the light was too dim. She thought momentarily about tiptoeing down the lane to see what was going on but instead scurried back inside the pub’s kitchen.
Further down the alley, a man in a black suit with a dark cape listened carefully in the night air. He thought he had heard a sound and had no desire to be interrupted. Convinced that the coast was clear, the man turned his attention back to the woman on the ground in front of him. His knee pressed down firmly on her torso, holding her in place and one of his gloved hands covered her mouth preventing any screams for help. With his other hand, the man opened and then fumbled through a small doctor’s kit looking for the correct instrument to use. He finally found the device he was looking for and held it tauntingly over the woman’s chest, enjoying with sadistic glee the fear that flooded the woman’s eyes as she anticipated the fatal cut.
BANG! The man’s ears rung and his vision blurred. For a moment, he blacked out and fell limply to the ground.
“Take that, Jack!” Ainsley shouted defiantly standing over the man and holding a large cast iron frying pan she had borrowed from Mrs. Smythe’s kitchen. “Get out of here,” she instructed the woman who was wiggling her way out from under the unconscious man’s body.
“Thank you so much! I owe you my life,” the woman expressed her heartfelt gratitude and then scampered down the alley and out into the street.
The man was starting to come to and began writhing on the ground. The reporter started back toward the pub, wanting to get far away before her victim gained his senses, but she couldn’t help but turn around and shout one last warning, “Get out of London, you psycho!”
She raced back to the pub, making sure to lock the door behind her. After depositing the frying pan in the sink, she slipped through the restaurant and out to the street. She quickly made her way back to the church not looking back one single time for fear she might find someone following her. Arriving at the rectory she went straight up to her room and locked the door, propping a chair against it for good measure. Then she turned out the lamps and climbed into her bed, pulling the covers right up to her nose.
It took a while for her nerves to settle and the adrenaline to wear off, but eventually, Ainsley did drift off to sleep. She awoke the next morning with a sense of relief but also wondering if the events of the previous night had been real or just a dream. The chair propped against the door seemed to be solid evidence that the encounter in the alley was not her imagination.
The reporter sat down and quickly penned a short note to the priest, thanking him for all of his care and assistance. She explained that they would be moving on to stay with some relatives just outside London and may not get back to visit for quite some time. Once the note was complete she recorded a new message for her brother and the doctor.
“Hey, Carl and Doc. We’re still okay. Nick teleported last night and I’m about to go in a few minutes. I don’t ha
ve much new to report, but we did want to let you know that these messages are now a lot like the phone at Grandma Ethel’s house. Guess that’s about all I have to say for now. We may have crossed paths with the Whitechapel murderer, but we’re both totally fine, so don’t worry. I’ll check in with you again in another twenty-four hours. Hope to see you soon. Love ya.”
Once the message was complete, Ainsley moved the chair away from the door and opened the locks. She didn’t want the priest to walk in on her when she teleported, however, it would look suspicious if they were both gone from the room, but the door was still locked from the inside. About ten minutes later the room was empty and Ainsley was on her way to meet up with Nick once again.
“What exactly does that mean?” Doctor Stevens inquired.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Carl said sounding perplexed.
“What was that remark about your grandmother’s phone all about?”
“When we were kids we used to go visit our Grandma Ethel’s farm. She had this old rotary phone that hung on the wall. It was the only phone in the house. Ainsley and I used to joke that it was haunted because sometimes we would pick up the phone and there would be people on the line talking.”
“Sure,” the doctor replied. “It was called a party-line. Several houses in an area shared one phone line which meant anyone on the line could hear what anyone else on the line was saying. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Is she trying to tell us that someone else is listening in on the recordings we are sending back and forth? Or is about something else?”
“I don’t know, but if someone else is listening in, we had better be careful about any information we transmit from now on.”
“Do you think whoever is eavesdropping on us is the same person who caused the overload in the synchrotron?” the physicist speculated.
“Seems like too big of a coincidence not to be,” Doc suggested.
“In my experience, there’s no such thing as coincidence,” Carl stated firmly. “We’ve got twenty-four hours to figure out how to communicate with Ainsley and Nick without anyone else deciphering what we are talking about.”
– 28 –
Mr. & Mrs. Carruthers
“Whoa there!” Nick said taking a quick step back. “You must have been exactly in the right spot this time!”
Ainsley looked around, taking in her surroundings. She had appeared directly in front of where her friend was standing. “Where are we?”
“Well,” the time traveler began, “as far as I can make out, we are on a boat.”
“Thanks a lot, Sherlock,” the reporter replied sarcastically. “I can see that we are on a boat. I’ll do you one better: we’re on the deck of a really big boat.”
“Hey, cut me some slack, lady! I know to you it seems like I left twelve hours ago, but I only got here a split second before you did.”
“Oh, yeah, I suppose that’s true,” Ainsley conceded. “Well then, we’re on a large cruise ship. Early twentieth century I’d guess.”
“Looks like we have four big engine stacks,” Nick observed. He walked over to the edge of the deck and laid down. “Hold my legs.”
“What on earth are you doing?”
“We can’t very well ask someone what boat we’re on, we’ll sound nuts,” he explained. “Now hold my legs.”
“Okay.”
With Ainsley firmly grasping of his feet, Nick inched his way out under the rails and over the edge of the boat. Once he was hanging over the edge a foot or two he glanced down at the hull of the boat.
“Okay, pull me back,” he called. Once he was safely back on board he sat up and said, “You’re not going to believe this. We’re on the Titanic!”
“That’s awesome!” Ainsley cheered. “I wonder if this is the maiden voyage? Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“Let’s wander around and see if we can find out a little more. Hey, check out that guy climbing down from the crow’s nest. Excuse me.”
“Yes, sir,” the young crewman replied, with his feet now on the deck.
“I have a question for you, if you don’t mind,” Nick called out.
“Certainly, sir,” the crewman began walking towards the two time travelers. Unfortunately, there was a puddle of water on the deck. The young sailor stepped in the puddle and lost his footing. He slipped and fell onto the ground. “Blimey!”
“Are you alright?” Ainsley asked rushing over to help the crewman laying on the deck.
“Yes I’m fine,” he replied.
“Oh now you’ve gone and done it!” a second crewman shouted, hopping down off the crow’s nest ladder.
“Done what?” the other sailor asked.
“You’ve just busted up our only pair of binoculars, Freddy. You’d better hope the Captain doesn’t find out about this or you’ll be on galley duty for the rest of the trip.”
“What was it you needed, sir?” Crewman Fleet asked as he stood up.
“Oh, we were just wondering if you could tell us the date. We seem to have lost track,” Nick explained.
“Yes, that does happen,” the sailor said warmly. “Today is April 13.”
“Wonderful! Thank you. Do you happen to have the time?”
“Certainly. It is just past three pm, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course,” the time traveler said. “Thanks again for the help.”
“Can you believe this?” Ainsley asked excitedly. “Two full days on one of the world’s most elegant ocean liners! Well, a day and a half for you, but still.”
“I just hope we don’t get seasick,” Nick chuckled. “Let’s go take a look around shall we?”
“Absolutely!”
The pair walked along the deck of the ocean liner soaking in all the sights the ship had to offer. Everything was breathtaking. Everywhere they looked they saw something that made them ooh and ahh. Eventually, the two reached the stern of the ship and stood by the railing, glancing out over the vastness of the ocean.
“It’s just beautiful,” Ainsley sighed.
“Sure is,” her friend replied, gazing more at her than the water.
“Well aren’t you two just precious,” a voice interrupted their conversation.
“Oh, hello,” the reporter greeted the couple who appeared to be around fifty and rather affluent.
“We didn’t mean to disturb you,” the woman smiled gently. “You just reminded us so much of our daughter.”
“Is she traveling with you?” Nick asked.
“No, I’m afraid not,” the man replied his voice laced with sadness. “But where are my manners? My name is Charles Carruthers the third. This is my lovely wife, Elizabeth.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the Nick replied shaking Charles’ hand firmly. “My name is Nicolas and this is … is … my wife Ainsley.”
“Oh how delightful,” Mrs. Carruthers beamed. “When did you get married?”
“Very recently,” Ainsley said, playing along with her friend’s ruse. “In fact, this is sort of our honeymoon.”
“Wonderful!” the woman cheered again. “How would you two like to join us for dinner tonight?”
“Oh, well,” Nick began, “That sounds really lovely, but I’m afraid we spent every last farthing to buy our tickets to America. We literally have nothing but the clothes on our backs and I have a feeling that is likely not appropriate for the grand dining hall.”
“No worry, we can have some clothes sent to your cabin. It would be our pleasure,” Mr. Carruthers offered.
“That’s very kind of you sir,” the reporter explained, “But we don’t actually have a cabin. Our tickets are somewhat less than third class, so we don’t even have a bed of our own at the moment.”
The Carruthers exchanged looks with each other and then the man spoke kindly, “It just so happens we have an empty cabin next to ours.”
“It was meant for our daughter and her new husband,” the lady added.
“Oh, when was the wedding?” Ainsle
y asked.
“It was supposed to be two weeks ago,” the man answered, more solemnly. “Unfortunately, her scallywag of a fiancé called the whole thing off at the last minute.”
“Our daughter was devastated,” Mrs. Carruthers explained fighting back a few tears. “But, she insisted we still take this trip while she remained home to care for the estate.”
“We did not even have time to sell off the extra tickets,” the man explained. “You two are welcome to them. Our daughter would be pleased that they have gone to good use.”
“That is incredibly kind of you!” Ainsley gushed.
“Not at all,” the woman chimed in. “Come with us and we’ll show you the cabin. You can freshen up there and, once the clothes are delivered, you can meet us in the dining hall.”
“That sounds lovely,” Nick smiled graciously. “Thank you so much.”
Two hours later the time traveler found himself standing in the water closet gazing into the mirror. He had finished putting on the tuxedo the Carruthers had sent him several minutes ago, but was waiting for his companion to give him the all-clear sign. The washroom was far too small for her to manage to finagle her way into her ballgown, which is why he was temporarily exiled to the water closet.
“Why did you say we were married?” Ainsley inquired through the door.
“Well,” Nick began, “It seemed like it was either that or brother and sister. And two newlyweds heading to America to start a new life together seemed more plausible, I guess.”
“By the way, nice work on your British accent!”
“Thanks, I picked up a few things over the last couple days. Yours is pretty spot on too!”
“Okay,” Ainsley said sliding open the water closet door, “Let’s go.”
“Whoa!” the Nick gasped. “You look …”
“Silly?”
“I was going to say amazing, but if you prefer silly,” Nick joked.
“Stop it,” the reporter said giving her companion a light smack on the shoulder.
“Very well, my lady. Shall we?” he asked opening the cabin door and bowing slightly.
The pair enjoyed a delightful meal with the Carruthers in the opulent dining hall. Everything on the ship seemed so luxurious. Naturally, the Titanic did not have all the modern features of a present-day cruise ship, but there was an elegance about her that could not be overlooked.