by Mike Chen
The harsh air between them broke. “He gave me one of those, too,” she said softly.
“I didn’t listen to him. I trusted my gut, and it told me that we had something beyond what your brother, my partner could see. And it was all because of that mission. And now you know. There’s nothing else that I’m hiding. Do you regret that afternoon?”
The question lingered, and Kin didn’t know if it did because of the stakes or if Penny really needed a while to gather her thoughts. “No,” she finally said.
Relief trickled down from top to bottom and let him exhale the breath he’d unknowingly held in. He indulged in these few seconds before reminding himself to focus on the mission.
“I’m glad I went. I’m glad I met you. I’m glad we didn’t listen to Markus.” A smile still seemed elusive for her, but her shoulders relaxed as she looked at him. “I’m glad we’re here with no more secrets.”
“I can’t imagine what it’s like to be blindsided by this all,” Kin said. “I’m asking you to take a leap of faith despite all this.” Penny nodded and turned to the road ahead. “Sometimes when nothing makes sense, it’s the only thing you can trust.”
On the opposite lane of the highway, cars zoomed past, coming and going at a dizzying pace. On their own side, they remained alone, rolling along at a steady yet urgent clip. Miles passed, and the landscape changed from flat dirt to rolling green hills. Over the horizon hints of civilization peeked through.
“Well,” Penny said, breaking the silence. Her voice rang out a hair brighter than a few minutes ago, “it’s like I said earlier. I can’t wait to meet Miranda.”
CHAPTER 29
Kin peered through the window, first seeing his own weathered reflection before his vision adjusted to the depth and lighting before him. There she was, grown past the lanky gawkiness of her teens into a woman on the cusp of thirty. Her black hair fell to her shoulders, and her cheekbones seemed more defined beneath her brown skin, with even a few small creases framing either side.
Miranda sat in the restaurant, oblivious to the fact that her father stood some twenty feet away after traveling across more than a century, stealing a car, and driving a hundred or so miles. Kin glanced behind him and squinted, focusing to look past the dusk sky’s purple-and-orange hues. Beside him Penny stood, face hidden behind big sunglasses and the tall collar of a coat they’d hastily purchased at a department store along the way.
He wore similar garb, perhaps not in style but at least with the purpose of obscuring his features from facial recognition. It got the job done and kept them warm in the era’s late-summer evening weather, although standing side by side, Penny’s expression clearly stood out. She turned to him, pupils dimly visible behind the sunglasses, and he knew that she read through him the same way.
Kin didn’t realize his hand had gone to his chest until Penny covered it with her own. “You all right?”
He wanted to speak an affirmative, except the lump in his throat blocked any sound from coming through. His eyes welled up, despite his effort to will the tears away.
“She looks like you. I don’t even have to ask which one is her.”
The sentiment made Kin want to hug Penny into a million pieces. The surge of affection made no sense—Penny had no connection with Miranda—but he’d stopped trying to rationalize things at this point. He just took it as a sign that this really was the right thing to do. “I’m really glad—”
Before he could finish, Kin’s entire body jerked backward. It took a second to realize that something had collided with his shoulder. He turned, only to see the back of a man brushing himself off. “Sorry,” a muffled voice came before a piece of folded sheet slipped out of his hand and fell to the ground. The toe of his boot tapped the pavement next to the paper, then he strode away without a second glance.
“People are clumsy in this era, yeah?” Penny said, linking her arm with his.
“No, that’s not it.” Kin knelt down to pick up the folded sheet. “That was Markus. He must be monitoring us. The fact that he didn’t say anything means he’s wearing a communicator for the mission. Standard protocol when agents and retrievers are actively teaming up.” Penny leaned over to read the note scrawled in Markus’s handwriting.
Be careful. Stay out of surveillance. The FA is at the safe house monitoring audio only. I can falsify tracking her to the parked car but not much else if she actually makes it there. Grab her before that happens. Go now. If she shows up at her car, I won’t be able to fake it and I’ll have go through with the TCB’s plan. Don’t be conspicuous, they’re listening.
A handwritten note. No digital footprint for the TCB to trace.
“FA?” Penny asked.
“Field agent.” The person tasked with drugging Miranda, killing her, and covering things up. The agent must have succumbed to Markus’s food poisoning plan enough to stay in the safe house yet not enough to be incapacitated. “This accelerates things. If they’re monitoring Markus’s movements, we can’t coordinate with him. We have to get her out ourselves. Quietly.” He glanced at the window again. “And soon.”
“How do you know?”
“The waiter is clearing the plates. Look at the bar.” He pointed to the silhouette of a lone man taking a seat. “Markus. He’s probably already placed the sedative. It won’t affect her until he activates it. Which he won’t once we get her out of here. They’re monitoring for time. They expect Markus to intercept her at eight twenty. If we don’t act fast, their plan will kick into action.”
“Okay. Well, I’m sure once she sees her unaged dad, she’ll come along—”
“No. It has to be you.” Kin turned, hands placed square on Penny’s shoulders. “Who knows how she might react if she sees me? If we cause a scene, the FA will hear it over the monitor. You need to convince her to come with you. Discreetly. I think even mentioning me would be a bad idea.”
“Me?” Penny took off the sunglasses, her eyes wide. “I’m not a secret agent. I mean, I’m not even a head chef. I’m just—”
“Don’t.” Kin put his finger against her lips. “Don’t say you’re ‘just Penny.’ Because you’re not. You’re smart, capable, and strong, so much more than what Markus or your parents tell you, more than what you let yourself believe. You can do this. Listen,” he said, pulling her in for a hug, one that carried weight far greater than mere adoration. “I know you can do this. I know this so much that I’m trusting you with my daughter’s life.”
They remained in the embrace, and Kin felt Penny shift from tensed to relaxed. She pulled back, focus locked with his, yet something seemed different. They’d stood face-to-face countless times, even battled trivial matters like buying sofas and quitting jobs. During those personal moments Penny usually gave away her nervousness—a finger flutter here, an upward glance there.
However, this time, with dusk melting into evening blue behind them, she straightened up and took a calm, even breath. “Right. Okay. Any ideas where to start?”
He peered into the restaurant, distance measurements and foot traffic patterns superimposing over what he saw. A bar. A waiting area. Rows of tables. Ideas came to life, quicker than his racing pulse.
Assess and execute indeed.
“Well,” Kin said, a smirk crawling onto his lips, “I do have a thing for planning these days.”
* * *
Kin stared at the lamppost in front of his parked car. The earpiece proved to be an awkward fit, and his finger pressed up to keep it snug, though his attention veered off to the lamppost a few feet from where he sat. Was this lamppost there in his era? Could Penny go visit it when she returned and commemorate where they parked on their voyage to the past?
The mental questioning and endless possibilities of time travel crept in like rookie mistakes. Instead, he focused solely on Miranda’s voice on the earpiece. Her words remained unclear, yet her pitch and inflection were so familiar th
at picking it out of the din was almost as easy as if she stood right next to him.
When she gave a yelp, it made it even easier. “Oh no,” Penny said, her voice trembling in a way that probably meant something different to Miranda. “I’m so sorry. Let me help you clean that up.”
He couldn’t see it, but the exchange—from Penny’s fumbled apology to Miranda’s understanding response—visualized in his mind, bending space and time to connect two people in his life who should have never, ever met and somehow did because of a secret plan and spilled drink.
“It’s fine. I’m all right. I’m okay.”
“I feel so bad—it’s in your hair. On your shirt.”
“I’ll be fine. Accidents happen. I’ll run to the bathroom for a minute.”
“I’ll help. My fault—it’s the least I can do.”
The din of the restaurant changed, shifting tone and volume until it became a silent space where footsteps echoed against linoleum.
Then Penny dropped the bomb.
“Listen,” she said, her voice taking on a quiet urgency. “I need to talk to you.”
“Really, it’s okay about the drink. It happens.”
“No, wait. This is going to sound very, very absurd, so bear with me. You need to leave with me right now. You’re in danger.”
Kin couldn’t see the two women, but from the pause he pictured Miranda’s reaction. Eyes widened. Mouth slightly agape. One hand perched on her chest in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Okay then...” Penny’s words picked up their pace and fired off at an increasingly rapid tempo. Kin hoped she wouldn’t start doing that thing where all of her syllables mashed together. “Sounds ridiculous. I get it. Give me five minutes. Look, we don’t have much time, but I promise I can prove it to you.”
The sound of running water came through, then the hum of the era’s hand dryers. “I’m sorry—I really have to go. My friends are waiting.”
“I know how insane this sounds. I mean, I know you have no reason to believe me.” Penny’s voice came clearly over the earpiece, a strength of conviction creating a steadiness to her words. They built layers upon layers of pride in Kin’s chest. After so many battles with guilt and regret and frustration, he could definitely get used to this. “I’m asking you to take a leap of faith. Sometimes when nothing makes sense, it’s the only thing you can trust.”
Empty seconds ticked by, and even the occasional static blip over the headset amped up Kin’s nerves.
“Tell me here.”
“What?”
“Tell me here. Why am I in danger? There’s no one else in the bathroom. Just say it, okay?”
Penny’s sigh blunted the comm’s details for a minute, and he sensed from her quickening huffs that her mind was in full-on race mode before blurting out everything she’d learned about Miranda. “Here’s proof you can believe me. You played soccer a lot growing up. Something you did with your father. But you always hated it.” Kin cringed as Penny fired the sentiment out. “You wanted to create instead.”
“You’re starting to creep me out. I think I should go.”
“No, listen to me. God, how else do I prove that I’m not lying? We’re running out of time.”
It took Kin a second to realize that that question was meant for him, not Miranda.
“I’m going to do it. I have to.” More words meant for him. Air caught in his lungs, and his fingers pulled into a tense grip against the static steering wheel. “We’re in a closed room. No one will know.”
“Okay,” Miranda said, “now you’re really not making sense. I think it’d be better if—”
“I’m a friend of your father, and something awful is going to happen if you stay in this restaurant.”
A sharp inhale came; it might have been from either woman. “My...dad?”
“Yes. Your dad. Kin. In fact, he’s listening right now.” A muffled sound came over the comm, probably from Penny tapping the equipment to show it to Miranda.
“My dad is a bullshit artist. Or dead, maybe. I haven’t heard from him in more than a decade—if that was even him. I don’t know. I don’t care. He should stick to what he’s good at—leaving me alone.”
Miranda’s words stabbed through the electronic signals that carried her voice.
He’d told Penny not to mention him. And the logic behind it—not creating a confused scene in public, one that TCB might pick up on—was sound. But behind it all, bubbling beneath the surface lay a hidden fear, something that silently lingered in Kin’s mind since their correspondence got cut off.
What if she hated him for disappearing again? He never intended to, never wanted to, only when the AD cut him off, their correspondence fell off a cliff.
“I learned a long time ago that he’ll tell you anything to get you to believe him. Did he say he was some sort of special forces hero? Something stupid like that? He’s playing you. I don’t know why, but he is.” Miranda stopped, though her words had already torn into him, leaving emotional incisions up and down his chest. “Wait a minute.”
“I know you must have a lot of questions. Believe me—”
“Look at how young you are.”
“It will all make sense—”
“I can’t believe this. He’s been lying left and right. Listen, I don’t know who you are, but my dad is a master con artist. I mean, you must be, what, half his age? You look younger than me! I’m guessing there’s a whole string of women who’ve been sold a bill of goods by him.” Miranda huffed, the force of the air blowing into the tiny microphone clipped to Penny’s collar. “A word of advice. He had some sort of midlife crisis and left his family behind. One day, just gone. He’ll do the same to you someday. Just forget whoever this person is. Go find someone your own age, and don’t let him in.”
Footsteps echoed across the comm, along with the clicks of door handles. “Stop. Please.”
“Let go of me—”
“Miranda, I can’t explain this to you. But he can. Just stay here for one minute with me. Kin? You there?”
“Yeah.” Kin gulped in some air. “I’m right here.”
“I’m giving the comm to Miranda. Here.” Shuffling and static pops came over the earpiece, and with each sound, pressure caved in on Kin’s chest and throat. He was going to talk with Miranda. “Your father wants to talk to you.”
“Are you serious? I can’t believe this.” Miranda’s voice punched through. “What do you want? You left me twice already. What, do you think you get three strikes?”
There was no time to prepare for this. His daughter, separated across time, was now on the line with him. He hadn’t thought this through or prepared a speech. No lists visualized to save him. This situation didn’t even seem like a possibility—everything they’d planned went exactly the opposite of this path. Still, something, anything, needed to be said to prevent the absolute worst. “Miranda. It’s me. It’s Dad.”
“I don’t have time for this. If that was you on those emails—”
“That was me. I promise. Listen to me, right now your life is in danger. I’m breaking a lot of rules to come here and tell you that. We both are. So please, come with us and let me explain.” Kin’s breath stuttered with each passing second, accompanied by the cannon fire of his own pulse under his skin. “Please. If you need to, ask me anything right now. All I need is five minutes. Five minutes for you to hear me out.”
“You were gone,” Miranda finally said. “Or maybe you left. There’s a difference. But it doesn’t matter.”
“I had to leave.”
“You know the only good thing you ever did for me? Tell me to accept counseling. Because after what you pulled, I sure as hell needed it.”
“Please. Remember what I told you about my job before you were born? Special forces—more like a secret agent actually. Except now, the people I work for, they’re after you. Y
ou’re in danger.”
“I’m a grad student. I have nothing to do with you anymore. Why would they come for me?”
“Because...” It suddenly hit Kin that he was actually talking to Miranda. The conversation arrived so quickly and came so filled with venom that the very miracle of the exchange had failed to register until now. Despite danger being on his heels each step of the way, he couldn’t help but relish it, and even the most difficult things began to release. “Because of something I did.”
“So they’re doing this out of spite.”
“No. Not spite. I created something that shouldn’t exist.” The tension that choked out his air earlier gradually loosened. With each revelation, the world felt a little easier, a little lighter. He only needed Miranda to acknowledge it. “Just follow Penny to our car,” he said, a calm agent dryness taking over his voice. “Quietly and discreetly. Please.”
“Wait a minute,” Miranda said after a short silence. “Penny?”
“Yes. Penny. That woman there.”
“The Penny? You mentioned a Penny right before you disappeared. Oh, god, Dad, how old was she when you ran off with her? This is sick. She’s younger than me!”
Kin had initially approached this whole thing with some commitment to respecting TCB guidelines on corruption—telling Penny only what she needed to know, hiding away from Miranda until they could be alone. Except at this point, he knew that if he didn’t say something definitive, Miranda would walk away from them toward certain death. “Miranda,” he said at an even tempo, “it’s not like that at all. I met Penny before I met your mother. She had just graduated the culinary academy in San Francisco when we met.”
