by SY Thompson
The first step was to find the control crystal so she could return from her destination in the past. If things worked out in such a way that she couldn’t return, she still couldn’t leave the crystal lying around for the Regime to find. It would take a team of scientists to unravel the secrets of the machine without the professor around, and perhaps that was the reason they hadn’t already swarmed all over the place. Ronan only hoped that without the control mechanism the government scientists wouldn’t be able to figure out how to make the machine work if she failed.
“Now where would he keep it?”
Ronan walked around the lab and turned over bits of equipment. She checked the various drawers but that yielded no results. The last she had seen of the device, Albus Horton had placed it in the pocket of his lab coat. It had been quite late when they finished with their work but the coat wasn’t anywhere in the basement.
She went back up the stairs where the rest of the house had an air of neglect and dust motes floated in the air, liberally covering the rickety wooden furniture. It held a singularly empty feeling reminiscent of a building that hadn’t seen life in years rather than the home of her dearest friend. She knew it was probably a psychological reaction to losing him. He probably hadn’t spent a great deal of time in the main house since he was so preoccupied with his work. Still, it made sense he would wear the coat upstairs when he retired.
Lieutenant Sloan said that Horton was murdered. Ronan assumed it had happened here since he rarely left his home. His greatest passion had been his work, and since that was conveniently located in the subterranean room, there was no need to leave the structure. Even with her homicide background, she didn’t look forward to seeing where the crime had occurred.
She stood at the base of the winding stairs and noticed where they twisted out of sight to connect to the second floor. It was possible that someone could be waiting up there. Her imagination suggested that it could be a trap and that the Regime was just waiting to add her to their list of victims. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up, advising her that this might not be such a good idea.
That was ridiculous, she finally decided. The Regime knew where she lived. If they wanted to get her, they would come to her apartment.
Ronan pushed aside her qualms and started up the stairs. The irrational fear persisted and at any moment, she expected some dark assassin to lean around the landing and shoot at her. In her mind, she saw her service laser pistol where it sat on her nightstand and regretted her lack of foresight in leaving it behind.
No one leaned around the landing. No one shot at her and in just a few heartbeats she was on the second floor. It didn’t take long to reach the master bedroom and she froze in horror at what she found.
Blood soaked the bedding and gathered in a pool beside the four-poster. Booted tracks led the way from the murder scene and drying marks indicated someone dragged Professor Horton through his own blood during the removal of the body. As a detective, she should have been better prepared to deal with this, but she lacked the hardened shell that many police officers developed over the years.
Her breath came in short bursts as she leaned against the doorway. She bent over with her hands on her knees as she tried to stifle the sobs. She had known what she would see, but the possibility of what she might find hadn’t prepared her for the reality. Horton must have died instantly. The amount of gore was evidence enough that no one could have lingered even for a few minutes with such tremendous blood loss. Ronan was thankful that he hadn’t suffered, but still anguished by the loss of a man that had been more family than friend.
He had been such a kind person and had never raised his voice to anyone. He hadn’t deserved this. Ronan vowed once again that they would pay as she lifted her head and looked around the room through tear-dimmed eyes.
It took a few minutes to get her bearings and then she saw it, the object that had brought her into this chamber of horrors. The lab coat rested over the back of a chair in the corner of the room and Ronan walked toward it. She quickly stepped over the pooled blood in an attempt at respect for the man who had been so dear to her. The crystal was deep in the pocket of the coat and Ronan palmed it in relief. Now she had to get out of there quickly, before the Regime came to set up shop. She looked around the room one last time and saw a small photograph of her and the professor sitting on a chest of drawers.
Ronan smiled wistfully and realized she hadn’t considered him the sentimental sort. The photo showed the two of them arm in arm at a celebration for the release of another of his gadgets. He wore a tuxedo with a crooked red bow tie, and she was dressed in a shimmering silver gown. Both of them smiled happily into the camera.
Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and Ronan took the photo from the dresser. He would have no need of the picture anymore and she wanted a reminder of him. The Regime would probably just burn it along with the rest of his personal things. She slipped the picture and the crystal into her inside jacket pocket and left the house.
Ronan had preparations to make, and only a short time to make them. The first step would be to liquidate her accounts and other assets since she would need a lot of ready cash. Not only was there a lot to do in her current time, but many things to accomplish once she arrived at her destination if she was going to succeed. Fortunately, currency wasn’t an issue since Headquarters had a “relic” annex building that contained storage of outdated cash found in investigations and drug busts from over the centuries as well as other antique objects lying around on shelves. Some of these old buildings never took out the trash, so to speak. Old courthouse basements even held records from the 1800’s.
Ronan moved quickly but carefully over the rest of the day and the next. Finally, she parked the motorcycle inside the sphere. It had been fitted with large saddlebags that were loaded with supplies. Some of those supplies consisted of a sophisticated computer laptop, food rations until she could settle in, and various weapons. Ronan set the gate controls and transferred the bike to a remote location in the Midwest. She would drive the rest of the way to Baltimore from there.
She planned to purchase a small island somewhere in the Florida Keys as soon as she arrived in the past. It would serve as a refuge for a woman that she had never met but loved completely. Additionally, a remote location would provide safety from as yet unseen forces.
Her research from the time had indicated that the area was unpopulated and heavy with trees and vegetation. The holographic probe she sent with the bike returned a few moments later and confirmed that data. Confident that her hiding place would be safe for the next few hours while she completed her tasks, Ronan moved on to the next phase. She had worked all day and it was late, but she would rest when she felt safe. She regretted not being able to destroy the Regime headquarters itself before she left, but bringing the building down would accomplish nothing. The urge stemmed from the desire for retribution and would only result in further loss of life. In the end, there was no point. They would only rebuild.
She was ready. All necessary provisions had been sent through the time portal. She was next and the idea that it was a one-way trip chilled her. She had no close family and the only thing that would miss her would be the Unit itself. They would easily accept her disappearance. It was a dangerous city full of nasty people. It was doubtful the Elite division would conduct more than a cursory search. Even her partner, Boris, wouldn’t be bothered to search very hard. He was a good citizen of the government who accepted that these things happened. Her sole concern was that she didn’t understand the world in Sidney Weaver’s time, and that she’d stand out. At this point, it didn’t really matter. With her course set, Ronan had come too far to back down. Sidney’s life and the future of the world depended on her actions.
Her final task was to destroy the professor’s home. Horton kept enough explosive material around the house for his work that she wouldn’t need to risk a trip to the Regime’s armory. Ronan gathered what she needed to cobble together a few devices and
placed them around all corners of the basement, hoping to bring the building down on top of the lab. By doing that, she hoped to prevent the Regime from gaining access to the gate, at the very least. She mashed a double portion of the explosive on each control panel and then shoved detonators into each brick. She wanted nothing left of the house or lab. Once finished, Ronan set the timers to detonate an hour after her departure. If she’d planned to return to this point in time, destroying the gate might pose a problem. However, with the professor dead and no real ties to anyone here, that simply wasn’t the case.
Holding onto her resolve, she took one last look around. The sight of the dilapidated residence caused her heart to twist briefly because of her mentor’s unforgivable murder and what the government had taken from her. More than ever, she felt vindicated by her decision.
Her hair dampened with sweat, Ronan finally finished. She was ready to step into the sphere, but felt suddenly nervous and for a moment simply stared at the control console. The scores of dials, gauges, and graphs in the gate’s support machinery all glowed softly. If she prevented the death of one woman, the Neue Konservative Regime might never happen. She had to hang onto that. Ronan hoped she had set the controls properly.
Approximately a year before Sidney’s death should do it. She steeled herself to deal with the unknown. She took a deep breath and prepared to step from the world she understood and into a past where hope was more than a distant dream. Ronan twisted the dial on the console’s simple timer and closed her eyes briefly, saying a silent prayer. Then she stepped into the sphere and into the past.
Chapter Three
THE GROUNDS OF the Governor’s mansion were brightly lit for the Christmas fund-raising affair, revealing limousines lined up along the circular driveway. Celebrities hobnobbed with local and state politicians, using the glitter and excitement of Hollywood to raise money for AIDS research. The year 2011 was about to end and the December evening was bitterly cold in Baltimore, yet the interior of the mansion managed comfortable warmth without the usual accompanying stuffiness.
Everything inside gleamed new, shiny and fancy, from waiters in tuxes and tails to the emerald evening gown that sparkled around the small dark-haired woman wearing it. She held a glass of champagne in one hand and rested the other on Mayor Stewart’s arm while she gazed up at the ineffectual man flirtatiously. Sidney Weaver had played this game many times and in a way, it proved part of the reason for her recent divorce. Her ex-husband, Roger Gentry, feigned anger and jealousy at her teasing banter with various heads of state, but in reality her easy manner had made it easier for him to move into political circles.
When he’d developed his own circle of incumbents, her usefulness disappeared. Not that she minded. Their relationship had never been passionate; it merely served a purpose. Sidney felt relieved that the sniveling man wasn’t her problem anymore. She had her pride and it rankled that he’d used her gregarious nature as an excuse for the divorce. She had known for a very long time that they weren’t in love and that Roger had “secret” affairs behind her back. He didn’t need the excuse that he thought she might be unfaithful to end things. Sidney hadn’t loved Roger, but raised by a deeply religious set of grandparents, she’d taken her vows seriously. She would never have cheated.
All Roger needed to do was ask her civilly for a divorce and she would have agreed.
Sidney felt that she had stroked Stewart’s ego enough for one night and she turned to a passing waiter to exchange her now-empty glass for a full one. He carried the tray high above his shoulder, but paused with a smile so she could grab another. Stewart and his band of cronies had moved on. They pressed palms and made silly jokes with other influential individuals without having ever noticed that Sidney left the group. She breathed a sigh of boredom and brought the glass closer as she prepared to take a sip of the fruity bubbly but she made the mistake of glancing up and found herself mesmerized.
Who. Is. That?
The stranger leaned against the wall looking as bored as Sidney felt. She was dressed in a sophisticated black Armani business suit that tapered at the frighteningly narrow waist, and the wide lapels of the suit accentuated the stark white shirt she wore beneath that was open to the fourth button, showing an amazing amount of cleavage. Though well endowed, Sidney could see it wasn’t artificial enhancement. In her line of work, she knew what the paid-for variety looked like. With her golden mane twisted into an almost severe bun, the stranger presented an image of stark contrast: at once cold and insolent, yet at the same time provocative and mysterious.
Sidney found her utterly captivating.
Unexpectedly the woman turned her head and their eyes met, gazes locked. Stunned by the electric connection, Sidney’s stomach flip-flopped. Then she smiled and her whole face transformed. The sudden change rendered Sidney breathless as she realized she was looking at the most magnificent creature she’d ever seen.
A waiter bumped into Sidney as he attempted to navigate the press of bodies and caused her to look down as she tried to maintain her balance. She attempted not to spill her drink all over her front. When she looked back a moment later the stranger was gone. With the sudden loss of the stunning vision, Sidney wondered who she could have been. The stranger didn’t appear to be with anyone in particular and she was too old to be the Stewarts’ daughter. Sidney considered the woman could be a party crasher. She’d certainly run into one or two of those over the years.
Unaccountably depressed with the loss of the vision, Sidney attempted to immerse herself back into the party. She was embarrassed at her visceral reaction to the stranger in black and felt her face burn as she tried to mingle with the other guests. One more stupid joke from a drunken senator who kept trying to grab her backside convinced her that the magic of the party was gone. Twenty minutes later, she decided she’d had enough glitter for one night. Sidney left the mansion slightly intoxicated.
“Raise the glass, would you Jordy?”
Sidney pulled her stole closer about her shoulders and waited for the privacy shield to rise between herself and the driver. She didn’t really have anything to hide from the sandy-haired young man, but the glass gave the impression of privacy that Sidney reveled in from time to time. Her life was so public that any amount of seclusion helped her breathe easier. She leaned back into the plush upholstery, rested her head back, and thought about the woman she had seen.
Who was she? Not a celebrity, Sidney was sure. She would have recognized that face if she had seen it before. Some politician’s date for the evening perhaps? Maybe, but she didn’t think so.
In her mind, Sidney could see again the way the business suit
had hugged the slim form. The black trousers accentuated strong, powerful thighs, and lean hips. Sidney felt her face grow warm again. With her mind on the mysteriously sensual stranger, she felt her muscles start to relax and she drifted into a drowsy slumber as they rode through the relative darkness. The drive to her penthouse would take about an hour so there was no reason not to sleep.
A FEW MILES outside the city, the road became a narrow two-lane. Lights were sporadic and cast heavy shadows through the tree-lined lanes and across the sparse traffic of early morning commuters. Clouds overhead obscured any natural light. Behind the streamlined luxury vehicle, the dark sedan suddenly shot forward and swerved into the other lane. The chauffeur thought that the sedan was simply attempting to pass. He pressed lightly on the brake and rode the outside edge of the driving lane to allow the other car additional room.
The dark vehicle pulled up even with them. Jordy frowned and wondered why they didn’t go ahead and pass. Were they trying to communicate with him? Maybe he had a flat tire or something. He saw the passenger window of the other car start to lower and was sure he'd guessed right, but just as he went to lower his own glass his eyes widened. His heartbeat tripled when he saw the shiny muzzle of an automatic weapon poke through.
RONAN HADN’T MEANT for Sidney to spot her, at least not so quickly, but when the
amazingly expressive eyes locked with hers she couldn’t resist smiling broadly in return. The open friendliness of the real person behind the actress had shown through the façade Sidney presented at the gala when she smiled. Just as quickly, Ronan grew nervous and took the opportunity to disappear when Sidney almost spilled her drink. She darted up the spiral staircase and used the crowd of bodies as camouflage to hide from Ms. Weaver. She was here for reconnaissance purposes only, just to keep a watch on Sidney. As soon as she’d heard about the gathering at the Governor’s mansion Ronan had decided to crash the party. Since she had come in through an unlocked window on the second floor, no one noticed her sudden appearance.
Now she took the opportunity to lean against the upper railing and watch the dark-haired actress enchant everyone. With just a touch on the arm here and a smile there, Sidney Weaver made everyone she spoke with feel like they were the only one in the room. She played them like a Stradivarius. Although she had never spoken directly with the diminutive woman, Ronan thought Sidney looked a little tired. She knew from entertainment television that Sidney had just finished a series of tapings on a new movie scheduled for release in a few months.
From Ronan’s future perspective, it was destined to be the last film Sidney ever shot, but she wasn’t sure what her current contracts held. Whatever the cause, Sidney looked seriously overworked. When she began to make her exit twenty minutes later, Ronan wasn’t surprised. She thought Sidney looked absolutely exquisite as she air-kissed Senator McKenzie’s cheek.