by C T Cassana
“Just think it over tonight,” he said, trying yet again. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll realize that...”
“I said ‘no’,” she interjected, so firmly that it seemed to Charlie to border on rudeness.
He shot her a spiteful look, and without another word he rose and went straight into the kitchen. The night before, quite by accident, each one of them had discovered a secret about the other. But unlike Miss Rotherwick, Charlie hadn’t had any intention of telling hers to anyone. But now if she was going to betray him, he would do the same to her, or at least would make her believe that he was prepared to do so. It was rather a despicable tactic, but she had left him no other option.
She followed him with her gaze as he left the room, still stunned by his reaction. She heard a drawer slam shut and imagined the boy had gone in search of a piece of cutlery or a napkin, although the table had been set with everything they needed. A moment later, Charlie came back holding something in one hand that she couldn’t make out. Miss Rotherwick was left in suspense for a few seconds longer, until the boy placed something on the table next to her.
It was her medications.
The previous night she hadn’t been able to react naturally when he came in, and obviously Charlie was too clever a boy not to realize that she had been trying to hide something.
“Here, don’t forget your medicines,” said Charlie with cold civility.
Miss Rotherwick stared at him, not knowing what to do. The only thing she knew was that she should remain calm and not let on just how important it really was. She looked him straight in the eye while she reached out and took the boxes.
Charlie also kept his eyes fixed on hers, studying her reaction closely. It had turned into a duel, with each of them carefully studying the movements of the opponent before launching an attack.
“Thank you, my dear,” said Miss Rotherwick.
“You take a lot of pills. Will you tell me now what they’re for?” he asked, knowing full well that she wouldn’t.
“Nothing important,” she answered coolly. “I suppose I’m just getting old.”
“Then I’ll ask my mother; I’ve memorized the names of the medicines,” he replied in a menacing tone. “I’m sure she’ll be curious to know about it too. I could also look up what they’re for online and tell my mother what it is you’ve got.”
Charlie’s strike had hit the mark, judging by Miss Rotherwick’s expression. He swallowed hard, waiting for her fierce counterattack. What he didn’t expect was that there would be none.
“You won’t say anything about this to your mother, my dear. Or to anyone else. I’ll tell her myself in due course,” she replied.
Her words were firm, uttered in a dry, neutral tone. Charlie wasn’t sure if they were meant as a threat or a plea.
“Of course not,” replied the boy softly. “We all have our secrets...”
Miss Rotherwick nodded.
“... even kids do,” added Charlie cautiously. It seemed that his tactic had completely disarmed her and he felt he shouldn’t try to provoke her again.
She frowned, revealing she understood.
“For goodness’ sake, Charlie! Are you blackmailing me?”
“I’m asking you for a favor. Join our team. You know a lot and you could help us find another clue that my mother could follow. Come on, Helen. Think it over before you say no. Just until we find another clue. I promise we’ll do everything you tell us to.”
Charlie watched Miss Rotherwick’s expression closely. It wasn’t enough; he had to go that extra mile and beg a little more, now that he had the chance to do it.
“Do it for the museum, so that it can get back its prestige...”
“Really, my dear, the museum already has prestige.”
“Yes, but this would give it even more. You said so yourself,” retorted the boy. “You said that this discovery would put it above all the others, that it would make history. Or was Lisa right when she said that the museum didn’t matter to you? Wouldn’t you like to see it become the most important museum in the world again? Didn’t you say you were willing to do whatever you could for that to happen?”
“It’s dangerous, my dear. You already saw what happened to your sister,” said the woman.
“But that didn’t have anything to do with the cape. It was just because she touched a mangy old cat in the heart of London,” rebutted Charlie, who was almost beginning to believe the excuse himself. “You’ve traveled with me twice and nothing bad has happened. Besides, you’ve seen how fast and easy it is to come home when we need to.”
Miss Rotherwick lowered her gaze and said nothing. Charlie decided to press on a little more, certain that he was on the right track.
“Or do it for poor Nefertiti. If we find the papyrus scroll we’ll be able to explain what her life was really like, and change the image that people have of her.”
The woman sighed. The moment had come to deliver the final blow.
“Or for my mother. I know she really respects you, and you yourself said that a chance like this only comes along once every hundred years. She needs our help, Helen, and you know it. And we need you to help us too, just until we find another clue.”
“You’re very persuasive, my dear.”
Charlie forced himself not to smile; he couldn’t let it look like a victory.
Miss Rotherwick gazed hard at him and then lowered her eyes, pondering what to do for a few moments.
“Alright, young man. You’ve convinced me. I will help you,” she said at last. “But you listen to me. You must do everything I tell you, without exceptions.”
“Yes, Helen.”
“There will be rules; rules that you will have to follow... I haven’t worked them out yet, but I can assure you I will.”
“Alright, Helen.”
“If you don’t follow the rules or don’t do what I tell you and when I tell you, the deal is off.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll follow them all.”
“And only until we find another clue that your mother can follow. After that, we’ll tell her everything. And I hope to God she forgives us.”
The boy moved toward her submissively and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Don’t worry, Helen. We’ll do everything you say.”
CHAPTER XVI: Miles and Leagues
That morning, Max Wellington waited patiently for his secretary to finish serving him his coffee and leave his office before he opened up his laptop.
He hadn’t received any letters that week indicating any movement of the mysterious time traveler. He contemplated the situation while his computer loaded and connected to the web page of his network of informants, his personal “intelligence center”.
Only two weeks had passed since he’d received the last clue, the chocolate found in Tutankhamun’s tomb. It wasn’t that much time, so perhaps the traveler simply hadn’t ventured into the past again since his visit to Ancient Egypt. Or perhaps he had, but this time he hadn’t lost anything or left any easily traceable clue behind.
Either of these scenarios was possible, he thought, but his instinct told him otherwise. He was an experienced hunter, capable of sketching the profile of his prey with only a few hints, and he was almost never wrong.
And in this case, Max knew that the individual he was chasing was careless with details, negligent when it came to controlling the effects of his time travel, too reckless to avoid risks. Moreover, for some reason this time traveler seemed to be in a hurry. Such haste was odd considering he had his whole life to travel.
The home page displayed on the screen, and Max moved the mouse to browse the news stories of the last few days. The information was organized by headlines according to the main geographical regions of the world.
First he browsed North America, but nothing there caught his eye. Then South America, where everything seemed ordinary enough. In Europe, nothing of note...
He moved on to the Asia page, but before the news stories had finished loading a thought stru
ck him, and with a brisk movement of the mouse he went back to the previous page. The headlines for Europe appeared again on the screen and Max scanned them quickly until he found what he was looking for.
It read: “UK Department of Health Reports a Case of Yersinia pestis Infection to the World Health Organization.”
He clicked on the headline to find out more about the story.
. . .
Lisa entered the library and approached her father with a furtive smile.
“Dad, Charlie and I are going to the museum to look around a bit,” she said, trying to sound as nonchalant as she could.
But Marcus raised his gaze from the keyboard in the middle of typing a sentence, as if her words had pressed an invisible button to capture all his attention immediately.
“Isn’t it a little too soon?” he asked with a worried expression. “You’ve had a lot of antibiotics and you’re still weak.”
“Come on, Dad,” the girl protested. “I’ve been locked up inside for days and I need to get out for a while.”
“This weekend we’ll all go somewhere together, but it would be better for you to stay at home until then.”
“But I can’t take it anymore... I can’t stand being cooped up like this. Come on, Dad, please. We’ll be back soon,” she begged.
“It’s cold outside and it’s already getting dark. Why don’t you leave it until tomorrow?”
“I promise we’ll be right back. Please, Dad. The museum is so close...” she persisted.
Finally, Marcus unfurrowed his brow, and Lisa knew that he had given in. Her poor father was easy prey, incapable of resisting her pleas.
“Alright,” he said. “But promise me you won’t go touching any cats.”
. . .
The news was certainly surprising. In compliance with international protocols, British health authorities had informed the WHO of an isolated case of bubonic plague in the United Kingdom. It was absolutely unprecedented, as it had been many years since a case of Yersinia pestis infection had been reported in Britain.
The fact that neither the patient nor any of the patient’s family had traveled to any of the endemic areas on other continents, and that the patient lived in optimally hygienic conditions and had contracted the infection in a country with a climate that was unfavorable to the spread of the disease, made this case an extraordinary anomaly.
Luckily, health authorities had acted quickly and effectively. The subject’s condition had been correctly diagnosed and treated in a very early stage of its development. As a result, the possibility of an epidemic was eliminated, and the victim recovered very quickly with only a brief period of hospitalization.
The patient had apparently been infected through contact with a stray cat, and authorities conducted an immediate, intensive extermination and disinfection process in a wide radius around the location of the incident to ensure that it would take in the animal’s habitat.
Hospitals around the country were alerted at once to be on the lookout for another case, but fortunately no further cases were reported.
The whole matter had been handled diligently and carefully, averting what might otherwise have turned into a serious health crisis. The incident was an isolated case and had to be treated with the utmost discretion to avoid causing panic. British authorities had fulfilled their obligations while at the same time neutralizing the news to prevent it from becoming public knowledge.
Max knew that all information on the patient’s identity and condition would be carefully protected, all concealed behind special code names. It would be impossible to find out anything about it through conventional channels. This was a job for a professional, one of the best.
After reading the full news story, he picked up one of his cell phones and called Jeff Carter.
“I have a job for you,” he said as soon as he heard the man’s voice on the other end of the line. “I need you to trace a case of bubonic plague in the United Kingdom. I want to know all the details: the place it occurred, the hospital where the patient was treated, the date of admission... If you can also obtain the patient’s name and address, I’ll double your fee. And keep me informed at once of any progress.”
. . .
When they reached the British Museum, the children went straight to Miss Rotherwick’s office. They were both anxious to see her, in what would be their first meeting since the woman had taken over as director of their mission. This would not be one of the casual meetings they were used to holding in the attic; today they felt like two privates on their way to HQ for an interview with the field marshal.
Miss Rotherwick greeted them with a smile and invited them to sit down. She then took a few minutes to gather up and put away the papers she had been working with, and took a slender sky-blue folder out of one of the drawers, placing it on her desk. The children watched her expectantly, observing her every action in silence, waiting eagerly for her first instructions.
“Let’s see,” said the woman, adjusting her glasses and opening the folder in front of her.
She paused again while she read over the neat and tidy notes she had written down on a plain white page. Lisa and Charlie watched her obediently, waiting for her to speak again.
“As you both know, the purpose of our association is to find the papyrus scroll of Nefertiti, or a clue that could lead to it...”
The children nodded in unison, both wearing mock-serious expressions.
“However, this is a temporary association, which is subject to how events unfold.”
Charlie wasn’t quite sure what this statement meant, but he nodded affirmatively once again, just in case it was necessary.
“I shall direct every step we take, and I alone shall decide the best course of action. My decisions will be final and indisputable.”
Charlie nodded yet again, shooting a sideways glance at his sister to ensure that she was taking everything in.
“She means we will do whatever she says, without argument,” clarified Lisa, sensing that her brother was beginning to feel lost.
“Oh!” he said.
“Later on, we will decide how and when we’ll tell your parents about the cape,” Miss Rotherwick continued. “But don’t doubt for a second that when the time comes, we will tell them.”
Charlie let out a little sigh at these words; he felt as if he were in the principal’s office at school.
“Right, now that we’ve got that clear, we’ll turn to the question of how the cape works,” said Miss Rotherwick. “What do you know about it?”
“Well, it works with the bracelet,” said Charlie with a shrug.
“And the bracelet works with a bunch of little controls, the annuli, and each annulus has a different function,” added Lisa. “The professor said that he had hidden four annuli and we had to find them using the clues that he left behind.”
“Which unfortunately are all in Latin, just like the instruction manual for the cape,” added Charlie.
“So, I suppose you haven’t understood everything in the manual, and you haven’t translated it, is that right?” asked Miss Rotherwick.
“We don’t understand Latin, and we didn’t want to show it to anybody because if we did they’d know we had the cape,” replied Lisa. “We worked out how to use it and what each annulus was for by looking at the pictures in each notebook.”
The woman nodded.
“Just as I suspected,” she said. “However, you must understand that the notebooks contain very important information about the operation of the cape that you need to know. Charlie, under the circumstances, I think it would be wise for you to start studying Latin at once. And history too, my dear.”
On hearing this, the boy’s eyes popped open wide as if he had just been given a shock.
“The cape is governed by a set of rules, very important and very strict rules,” Miss Rotherwick explained. “I don’t want to bore you with all the details, but I do at least need to talk to you about a few of them. So I am now going to explain the mo
st important of them:
“One: The cape allows its owner to travel in time and space, but only if he also has the ring and bracelet with the annuli that belong to it.
“Two: The one who wears the ring is the owner of the cape, and will remain the owner for the rest of his life, until his death. A few hours before his death—nine, to be exact—the ring will fall off his finger.”
Charlie’s expression turned to one of astonishment, and with a panic he made no effort to mask he checked to confirm that the ring still refused to slip off his finger.
“Imagine if it came off now. What a shock that would give me!” he remarked with relief when he found that the ring would not budge.
Miss Rotherwick smiled and proceeded with her explanations.
“Three: The power of the cape cannot be passed on from one person to another; it cannot be inherited. Only the one who puts on the ring after the previous ring-bearer has died will become its new owner.
“Four: The cape only obeys its owner. Charlie, you will find that its size will grow even as you grow. However, the cape you possess has certain peculiarities, such as the ability to transport people and other living things with you. It will also allow you to travel with inert objects that weigh no more than 90 pounds, when the usual weight limit is 8 ounces. Furthermore, any objects you transport will remain unchanged, because the clothing annulus only changes clothing, accessories and any money you’re carrying.
“Five: However, the cape also has certain limitations; for example, you can never travel with it into your own past. And in the specific case of this cape, once you have traveled into the past, you can only go back again later in time, to a point at least nine years later. This restriction ends if you make no journey for nine weeks.”
“I don’t get it,” said Charlie.
“It means that if you’ve visited a time in the past, you can’t go further back in time. You can only go back later, at least nine years after the time you visited before. Unless you stop using the cape for nine weeks; then you can start all over again,” clarified Lisa. “That explains why we couldn’t go back to Amarna a week before we met Ankhesenpaaten, and the earliest date we could set the bracelet to was nine years later than our first visit.”