by James Allen
Sorrow shone in the blue eyes as they fixed on me. "I've got to get through to you, son. What'll it take? A recap of the cases we worked? The lurid details of the week you spent in the slammer in Thailand? Or maybe something more personal, like your trip to Cancun with Kevin?"
"All that and more." The words came, cool and flippant, as I did my best to ignore the small hairs rising on the back of my neck. Sully wasn't here. He could not be here. He'd taken a bullet and died before I could even get to him. His ashes were scattered over his favorite fishing hole. He was gone and there was nothing left...
"Christ, pay attention, will you?" A grimace that was more Ezra than Sully let me know it was taking a lot for Ezra to convey the message word for word. "Gladstell's your double. I know I always told you to question everything--but you've seen enough in this damned job to keep an open mind."
A weird, sick feeling something like the vertigo I’d felt when I first came hurtling into the past made me grip the arms of the chair for dear life. Someone was pulling one hell of a cosmic joke on me. “Okay, if that's what you want. Fine. Let's hear it." I blew out a ragged breath. "Leonard Gladstell?”
Sully--Ezra—one of them sighed in apparent relief. “Nosik was only there to switch sides. Gladstell came to make sure Nosik didn’t hand him over as a good will offering in the process. And he almost succeeded. Nosik’s on the loose, Gladstell's looking for him, and you and I are the only ones in the know."
I wondered if I'd been talking in my sleep. Even if I had, Ezra couldn't have come to know James Sullivan inside and out. Not like this. But whether I could let myself believe it or not, I couldn't keep from responding in kind. “Don't do this to me, Sully. I don’t know when the hell I’m going to get back home. Can’t you warn someone in our time? Get to Faulkner?”
“Oh sure, no problem.” His tone got a smile out of me despite my frustration. “I’m not here just to enlighten you, slugger. You think it’s easy to get through to anyone back in our time? They make so much noise. They don’t know how to be quiet. Time was, you could hook up with a sensitive soul like this one," he tapped Ezra’s chest, “and you’d be heard. A hundred years from now, well, we’re pretty much drowned out.”
Slugger. God, how long I'd gone without hearing that nickname cross his lips. “So tell me how to get home. Where’s the book?”
His mouth was a grim line. “Tomorrow morning, it’s going to trade hands and you'd better be quick or you’ll have a hell of a time finding it.”
“Trade hands? Are you telling me someone at the museum’s fencing stolen property?”
The grim line softened and Sully reached over to pluck at my tie. “Got you gussied up like a spring chicken, don’t they.” He shook his head affectionately. “I couldn’t even get you into a dress shirt.”
“Sully—“
“You’re going to find your way, Morgan. Trust me on that.”
“Sully, come on. You can—“ I stopped as the smile faded from Ezra’s face, his gaze going distant. He'd lost the contact. Goddamn, it hurt. I had Sully again, for a few precious minutes, and now…
Ezra blinked as if he were just waking. He looked at me and his uncertainty became sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“Can you get him back?” God. I sounded like an idiot.
“I don’t know.” He brushed a hand across his forehead and I noticed how pale he looked.
Derry laid a hand on my arm, a touch as compassionate as the look in Ezra's eyes. “I know what it’s like, lad. There’s so much more you want to say.”
I would’ve just liked to say good-bye. I hadn’t been able to say it the last time, either. My eyes smarted, the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. The others in the room stared at me, a few in sympathy, most still in shock at the frank way Sully had of expressing himself. They didn’t know him, couldn’t know what a damned good guy he’d been. None of these people had the least idea, not even Ezra.
Muttering an apology, I left the room and took the stairs two at a time to Ezra’s room, where I stripped out of the suit and into my jeans, shirt, sweater, and jacket. Hannah hadn’t washed the smell of home out of it.
Home. I would have run all the way, if I could.
There was a soft knock on the door. “Morgan?” Derry, sounding worried.
I dropped to the floor to put on my sneakers. Derry tapped again. “Morgan, just a word with you. Please?”
I heard footsteps and a second voice, Ezra’s, barely loud enough to be heard. “Is he all right?”
Another knock. I wiped my sleeve across my face and opened the door. “I’m fine, guys. Okay? I’m just going out for a while.”
“Going out?” Ezra repeated in concern. The two of them exchanged a look. Guess it made them nervous to think they might lose track of their demon.
“Yeah, out.” Avoiding Ezra, I looked at Derry. “I need a little fresh air. But don’t worry; I’ll be back. You guys are my only ride home.”
I’d been embarrassed by the tears in my eyes. Derry didn’t seem the least uncomfortable about the tears in his own. “Catches you up, doesn’t it? Even if you believed before, it’s not quite the same.”
I didn’t want to discuss it. I just wanted to go. He seemed to know, because he let me slip past. Both of them did. I knew they’d be fretting until I came back, but at the moment I didn’t care. I wanted to go for a run and I couldn’t even do that in this crazy place. I settled for a fast walk. The last light had faded and the street lamps cast a hazy yellow glow through a fog that seemed as surreal as the scene I’d just left in the parlor.
For two days, I’d been living a waking nightmare. Was I so far gone that I’d imagined Sully a part of it, too? I sure didn’t remember telling Ezra or anyone else all those personal things and there was no way they’d have found any of that out, unless I considered the possibility that this was a real kidnapping involving drug-induced hallucinations.
I didn’t feel drugged. I felt tired and shaken and--shit, I didn’t know what else. I missed the son of a bitch so much. And for all I knew, he was still here, still hanging around me, and he couldn’t make me hear him without Ezra’s help. God, I even felt bad about that, too.
“I miss you, Sully.” I had to say it. Just in case. Of course he already knew that. Maybe I was saying it more for my own sake.
By the time I started paying attention to my surroundings, I had no idea how far I’d walked. The dreamlike quality of the whole evening stayed with me, but now, with a little breathing room, I could look at it from a more rational perspective. It was a temptation to write the séance off as a product of my need to talk to Sully again, but I couldn’t account for everything Ezra had said, as much as I wanted to. Ezra could have gleaned a lot from the letter and Sully’s picture. And maybe he had somehow read my thoughts, but the information Sully had given me about Gladstell, that sure as hell hadn’t been in my head.
I didn’t know what to do now. Sully seemed certain I’d find a way to get back home. I wished I’d asked him to be a little more specific on exactly when. Leonard would terminate Nosik at his earliest chance. There was nothing I could do about that now except hope Sully would keep trying to communicate with Faulkner or, hell, even one of those nutty psychics who tried to put their two cents in on various cases.
All I could do was hunt down that damned book. Museum employee Whitby seemed to have a little business going on the side. First thing to do was find him and I could follow the trail from there. But it looked like I was going to have to wait until morning to start a search for the guy. I didn’t have the funds, the transportation, or the authority to go poking around in the dead of night.
And dead of night it was. Reaching a street corner, I leaned against the lamp pole and listened. Apart from the occasional carriage clattering in the fogbound distance, there was little sign of life. My sense of direction had never been what I was best known for at the Bureau. Sully had always marveled that I'd been a boy scout, asserting that I couldn’t find m
y way across the street without a map, compass, and a pair of guide dogs. I had no doubt if he’d followed me now, he was laughing his head off.
“You could at least point me in the right direction,” I muttered, and started back down the block I’d come. I was confident I could get back, despite the fog. But after traipsing a few blocks, my confidence fled, leaving me with the hard reality that I’d gotten myself irretrievably lost.
Chapter Seven
I didn’t suppose knocking on someone’s door to ask for directions would go over too well. Hannah’d said there were cops all up and down the area, but I hadn’t seen one yet. I kept walking, sure the right street must be just around the next corner. Luckily, I wasn’t the only one in London not already in bed. Around the corner, a cab stood at the curb and the two women who’d just climbed out of it were sorting through a handful of coins while the cabbie waited patiently, no doubt hoping for a generous tip.
“'Evening," I began, putting on my best manners. "I was wondering if you might be able to direct me—“
A pair of horrified gasps cut me off. The two women clutched at each other and backed away from me, looking to the cabbie for help. He stared at me with an alarm that seemed all out of proportion, even for this overly sensitive day and age. “I’m just looking for directions,” I said quietly, raising my hands in the traditional innocent bystander gesture. “I’m lost. That’s all.”
The cabbie raised his whip. “You let them be. I’m warning you.”
I sighed. “Fine. Warning heeded.” I swung around to leave before I got in any deeper with these nuts and, lo, a pair of big guys in blue coats stepped out of the fog. The old adage to be careful what you wish for popped into my head. They'd passed judgment on my appearance with the same alacrity the cabbie and his passengers had. I could see it in their faces. I had a sneaking feeling I was about to find out what the inside of a nineteenth century jail cell looked like.
“Bit far from home, aren’t you, sir?”
He had no idea. “I’m a little lost, yeah.”
“Accosting them ladies, he was,” the cabbie said. “I saw him at it.”
“I wasn’t accosting anyone. I was asking for directions.”
“And where would you be heading, sir?”
I looked the constable over, noting that he carried no gun, but I could tell by his surly expression that it wouldn’t take much provocation for him to use the heavy baton he bounced in one hand. He had a good four inches and forty pounds over me, which made tackling him a suicidal idea. Pulling my gun wasn’t a smart option either. I could probably out-run the pair of them, but becoming one of London’s Most Wanted when I didn’t know how long I might be stuck here could make life even more unpleasant than it already was.
“I’m looking for Thanet and Leigh.”
The other constable spoke up. “Farbridge House?” He shook his head. “Miss Neilan wouldn’t take in that sort, Tom.”
“Was thinking that, myself,” Constable Tom said, casting a dark eye on me. “What’s your name?”
“I’ve got ID right here.” I put a hand in my jacket pocket and Tom grabbed my arm in a rock solid grip. Fighting the instinct to flip him to the sidewalk, I tried to relax all resistance before he wrenched my shoulder from its socket. “Will you calm down? I was reaching for ID. That’s all.”
Tom looked at his partner, who shrugged, then back at me. “You do have a name, don’t you, sir?”
I told him, trying not to sound as pissed off as I was becoming. “What are the charges?”
“Charges, sir?”
“Why are you arresting me? Suspicion of theft? Public indecency? What?”
He frowned. “You do look a rather suspicious character. “
His partner nodded in agreement and leaned over to whisper, “You don’t think…”
“Don’t know,” Tom said grimly. “But I intend to find out. If you’ll escort the ladies to their door, I’ll take care of this bounder.”
I had no idea what a bounder was, but it didn't sound complimentary. “Going to at least read me my rights?”
Tom looked bemused. "Read you your what?"
Shit. But before I could worry how Ezra and Derry would find me before I was shipped off to prison, a polite, cheerful voice apparently coming out of nowhere startled us all. "Good evening, Constable."
I didn't know whether to be annoyed or relieved. The cop swung around as Ezra stepped like a ghost himself out of the fog. "Mr. Glacenbie, isn't it? 'Evening, sir. How is Miss Neilan this evening?"
The second constable chuckled. "Ain't lost any of her tenants, has she?" he asked with a sardonic glance at me.
Ezra didn't appear to know whether to be annoyed or relieved, either. He looked me up and down and a little of the anxiety melted from his face to be replaced by rueful humor. "One of them, yes, but you've found him for us. Good job. I warned him about this weather, but you know Americans. Imagine themselves quite invincible."
"That I know, sir. Just Sunday last, we fished one out of the water who thought himself an expert oarsman."
The three of them shared a laugh and I held my tongue, letting Ezra do whatever it took to persuade them I was no danger to anyone except maybe myself. Seeming satisfied that I wasn't going to demand directions from any more unsuspecting citizens, they moved on, leaving me in Ezra's custody.
"You that chummy with all the police around here?"
“They’ve called upon me in the past for assistance.”
“Oh yeah? Solve any big cases?”
“I did locate a stolen necklace. And one or two murderers,” he added quietly.
“Make the papers?”
“Make…” He looked puzzled, then his face cleared. “Ah. No. I didn’t wish to be mentioned in the newspaper.”
“So you let the police take all the credit. No wonder they like you.”
“Like may be putting it rather strongly.”
“You can't blame them. They deal in facts. They see what you do as pure fiction."
"As do you."
I heard in the off-hand statement a small hope that maybe I was seeing what he did a little differently now. "I need a lot of convincing--but I'll admit you do a pretty convincing Sully. It was like being with him again for a couple of minutes."
"I'm sorry," he said gently.
I knew what the apology was for. "Don't worry about it." Ezra began walking and I fell into step beside him, hoping he was going the right way. "Look, Sully--if that was him--told us the book was going to trade hands. Any idea what he might’ve been talking about? How much do you know about this Adam Whitby?”
“I don’t know anything about him. I haven’t worked there long and he keeps to himself.”
“Aloof type?”
“Well, I should have said he keeps company with the other senior members of the staff. Henry probably knows him better.”
“Yeah? Damn. I was sort of hoping to avoid any more conversations with Henry longer than ‘please pass the potatoes’.”
Ezra cleared his throat. “Now, Mr. Nash, Derry and I have made a pact to try to be kinder to Henry. He’s had a difficult time of it, working all these years without promotion to a better position.” He paused, a frown touching the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you that. Don’t mention it, will you?”
“Did it occur to you maybe he brought that on himself? The guy’s a cranky son of a bitch.”
Ezra’s curiosity was back. “Do the men of your time use that sort of language so freely? In any company?” he added and I knew he was remembering Sully’s particular way with words.
“Men, and women, too.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Some may like the idea of visiting the future, but I don’t think I should care for it at all.”
“You’d probably fit in well enough,” I remarked as we turned a corner and I saw the house just ahead.
“Would I?" He did not appear flattered. "If I take up swearing to a greater degree, I will consider it.”
I had to admit I liked his sense of humor, even when it was directed at me. He went ahead up the steps and unlocked the door, waving me into the foyer. The gas was low, the hall quiet and shadowy. An overactive imagination could envision ghosts lurking here. I wondered what Ezra saw when he stepped inside behind me and shut the door.
Whatever he saw, I doubted it was reflected in his pleased sigh. ‘Much better,” he said.
I turned to see him shucking off his coat. He shook his head with a certain sympathy as he met my eyes. “You need something warmer. Perhaps tomorrow—“
“I’m going home tomorrow. I’ll be warm enough until then.” I looked toward the landing. The whole place was so damned quiet. “Guess everyone else has gone to bed?”
Ezra stopped on the step and turned to me. “We were all quite worried about you, you know.”
Aw jeez. No way was I that transparent. Maybe he did read minds, after all. “I’m sorry about that. I just needed to get out for a little while.”
“It’s all right. Everyone else needed to go along up. They have an early start tomorrow, so I said I would hunt 'round for you, myself.”
“You probably figured I’d end up arrested.”
“Not at all. Just lost.” He smiled. “Try to get some rest, Mr. Nash. We shall be fearfully tired tomorrow, as it is.”
“So I guess Henry’s sound asleep,” I said as Ezra started up again. I backed down a step. “I’m just going to go crash on the sofa instead of waking him up. Kathleen won’t really mind, will she? I promise to take off my shoes.”
The hesitation in Ezra's face lasted barely a moment before he spoke. “She might not, but I do. It’s far too chilly to sleep in the parlor.” He waved for me to follow him up. I wasn’t entirely sure whether I preferred a shivery nap on the sofa or a warmer couple of hours in bed with a guy who’d be tossing and turning from ghosts poking at him, if he slept at all.