Time Stranger

by Elyse Douglas

“What does that mean?” Jon asked.

  Leon continued. “It means they’re best at recruiting assets and running agents.”

  “Okay, what I really want to know is, what exactly does your uncle do for the CIA?” Jon asked.

  “He’s a CIA officer. He oversees handlers and agents.”

  “Can he find my son, Tommy?” Anne asked, her face tight with stress. “Can he help me?”

  Leon squirmed as he moved his uneasy gaze about the room. “Ms. Billings, my uncle has already started an investigation of you.”

  Constance jumped up, her eyes hostile. “I will never, ever, let anyone or any agency walk in here and take Anne away. Do you hear me? You tell him that. You tell him! Do you understand! Never. I know senators and congressmen. I will not let this happen.”

  Leon was stung by the attack. “But… I…”

  Jon stood up. “Constance…”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Jon!” Constance yelled. “Not one word. You stay out of this.”

  Jon straightened his shoulders. “If you call your senators and congressmen, this whole thing will blow up in your face. There’s no telling what will happen to Anne.”

  “Keep your mouth shut, Jon, do you understand?” Constance raged. “Just shut up about it!”

  Anne spoke up, her voice full of force. “I have to get back to England.”

  Constance stared at her, the rage melting away, replaced by confusion. “England?”

  “Yes. When can I go?”

  Jon combed a hand through his hair. “Anne, you have no identification. No passport. In this time, you don’t exist, at least not on any legal document. You can’t leave the country.”

  Feeling desperate, Anne turned to Leon. “Can this CIA get me what I need? A passport? An ID?”

  Leon seemed to shrink into himself, refusing to look at anyone. “My uncle didn’t believe me at first. He said I was making everything up. He didn’t believe any of it.”

  “What is your uncle’s name, for God’s sake?” Constance demanded.

  “Alex Fogel.”

  “But he believes you now?” Jon asked.

  Leon shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean… he said he was going to do some investigating.”

  Leon raised his eyes to Jon. “He said he would investigate the police report and Miss Billing’s hospital records and… well, whatever else, even though I told him there was nothing else.”

  Tension and fear pulled Constance’s face out of shape into ugliness. Her feelings were strangling her. “This is… well, it’s absolutely insane. All of it. It just can’t be.”

  Constance faced Anne, speaking in a breaking voice, a beseeching voice. “Anne, you need to see a doctor. You need to get on medication. None of this is true.”

  Anne hesitated, then came forward, giving Constance a long, measured look. “I believe I know how you feel, Constance. I have spent the last few days wrapped in a nightmare of thoughts, emotions and images. I had to face things. I had to face myself and I had to face the reality of where I am and what has happened. I don’t like any of it, but it doesn’t matter. It’s true. Constance, it is true.”

  The atmosphere was charged with a chilly gloom, while rain lashed at the windows.

  Jon’s temples were pounding, and he had a blurry headache.

  Anne continued. “I don’t understand how it happened, Constance, but it did happen, just as Mrs. Pasternak said. I shouldn’t be here. I should be either dead, or living in 1944 with my son, Tommy, on my way to meet First Lieutenant Kenneth Cassidy Taylor. He’s an American, and he flies a bomber… a B-17 bomber, with the American Eighth Air Force. His bomb group is stationed at Ridgewell Aerodrome, in Essex, and sometimes I meet him at Waterloo Station.”

  For a moment, Anne could make nothing out of Constance’s expression. It seemed at once thoughtful and puzzled, angry and sad.

  The silence seemed to age her, and it also stole some of the life from Jon. His face was slack, his shoulders sagged forward. “I thought it might be true… but I just couldn’t take it in.”

  Constance looked away. “All right, then. Enough. Enough of this whole miserable and unbelievable thing. I need a drink. Maybe two. Maybe I need to get good and drunk.”

  She went to the liquor cabinet, reached for a bottle of Scotch and splashed some into a rocks glass. After taking it down in a swallow, she poured another.

  “May I have one?” Anne asked.

  Constance turned, her thoughts foggy. “Yes, of course…” she said, at a near whisper, her hands shaking as she reached for a glass and poured generously.

  Constance handed the glass to Anne and then took her second drink down in a gulp, her eyes hard and staring. “Okay, what in the hell do we do now? Because, Anne, as you British like to say, I am nearly shattered.”

  Leon meekly raised his hand, like a kid in school asking to go to the bathroom.

  “What?” Constance snapped.

  “My uncle… I mean, Uncle Alex wanted me to ask Anne if she would meet him someplace.”

  Constance folded her arms tightly against her chest. “Tell him: hell, no. Absolutely not! Anne is not meeting anyone from the CIA or from any other agency.”

  Jon said, “He might be able to get her an ID and a passport.”

  Anne seized on that. “Then I could travel to England. Yes, I will meet him.”

  She looked at Leon. “Will he help me get to England, Leon?”

  Leon’s eyes were small and scared. He avoided Constance’s burning stare. “I… I don’t know. I mean, if he can prove you time traveled, I don’t know what he will do.”

  “I can tell you what he’ll do. He’ll have her locked up someplace,” Constance said, harshly. “Leon, has he told anyone else about this? Have you?”

  He shook his head. “No… He wouldn’t discuss it with anyone unless he was positive. And I’ve spoken only to Uncle Alex about it. I’m a professional. I guard people’s privacy.”

  Constance’s penetrating eyes pierced him with a warning. “Well, you’d better guard Anne’s privacy. But are you sure, Leon? Are you telling me the truth?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Jon went into thought. “Your uncle will learn the truth, won’t he, Leon? I mean, he’s going to look at all the facts and he will want to learn more, won’t he?”

  Leon nodded. “Yes. He’s good at what he does. He looks at facts, with no overlay of imagination or speculation. If his analysis of the facts leads to something… even something crazy like time travel, he’ll go for it.”

  Constance cursed. “When he does learn the truth, Anne will be prodded and questioned, and God only knows what else.”

  Anne shook her head, grasping the new, terrible reality. “Of course they will lock me away,” she said, anxiety rising. “I haven’t been thinking very clearly, have I? I worked at Bletchley. If something like me had suddenly just popped in from out of nowhere, the military would have locked me away for untold years while they beat the truth out of me, if they had to. They might have even had me shot against the nearest wall.”

  Constance slammed her empty glass down and squeezed her hands into fists. “Can we stop this? Just stop it. Anne is not going to meet anyone’s uncle from the CIA.”

  Everyone’s eyes stuck to Constance, waiting. Her color had returned, and her eyes were filled with a fierce resolve. “I have friends, who have friends. I’ll think of something.”

  Constance turned her full attention to Anne. “Anne, how is returning to England going to change anything? Do you have a goal, a solution? Have you formed a plan?”

  Anne lowered her eyes. “No… But this time is not my home. New York is not my home. It’s so fast, and so loud, and filled with things I don’t understand. I feel as though I’m lost in a nightmare.”

  “You will adjust, Anne,” Constance said.

  “I don’t want to adjust, Constance. I want to go home to England.”

  Constance wanted to reach out and touch Anne. She wanted to make all her pain and conf
usion go away. “But why, Anne? Everything in England has changed, too. The world of 1944 is gone forever. The world you say you came from will never come back. So what’s the point of returning?”

  “Because it’s my home. Somehow or someway, I feel that if I can get back to England, I might be able to—I don’t know—put all the pieces back together and make sense of what happened to me. At the very least, I may be able to find out what happened to Tommy. Constance, he is my son, my little boy. I have to at least try to find out what happened to him. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  Constance nodded, her eyes softening. “Yes, Anne. I do understand.”

  Anne sipped her drink. “The East End of London has… I mean, in 1944, it had some of the city’s most important dock areas. My Dad worked the docks. It was a hub for imports, and it was used to store critical goods for the war. That’s what made it a prime target for those German bombing raids.”

  Anne turned toward her bedroom. “On that laptop in my room, I read that German bombings left as many as forty-three thousand civilians dead and forty-six thousand injured. From the old photos, I saw that my Mum’s and Dad’s neighborhood was completely destroyed, as were the row houses where my flat was. Of course, I wouldn’t recognize any of it now. As you’ve said, Constance, it’s all changed… been rebuilt. But I don’t care. I must go back.”

  Anne’s hands began to shake. She took a long drink of the Scotch, as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I have to go back. I just have to. Won’t you please help me? All of you? Please help me get back to England, my home.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Minutes later, Leon stood up, a crafty plot forming in his mind. Anne saw his expression and knew his mind was at work.

  “Leon, can you help me?”

  Leon tugged on his upper lip. “Okay, as I see it, you have two possible choices. One, you stay here and you meet my uncle.”

  “That is out of the question,” Constance said.

  Anne held up a hand to placate her. “Please, let him finish, Constance.”

  Leon continued. “You meet him, you talk to him and you deny everything. You say something like, you were mugged, but you don’t remember what happened because you were hit on the head… or something like that. You say, it was all a big misunderstanding. I’ll say, you finally snapped out of it, and you remember everything now, so there’s no time travel story. We’ll have to refine our stories, but something like that.”

  “Will he believe you?” Jon asked. “Do you think he’ll believe Anne?”

  Leon adjusted his glasses, looked toward the ceiling and winced. “Honestly… no. He’s smart and experienced. He probably wouldn’t believe either one of us. The police report, hospital records, no footprint on social media, and lack of any ID are hard to explain away.”

  “Okay, well then, what’s the second choice, Leon?” Constance asked.

  Leon leveled his eyes on Anne. “Anne disappears. Vanishes, and you, Mrs. Crowne, say she left in the middle of the night and you have no idea where she is.”

  Constance massaged her forehead. “I don’t like it.”

  “It might work, Constance,” Jon added.

  “Mrs. Crowne, if my uncle believes that Anne has time traveled, he will never give up. I know him. Ms. Billings will be a prisoner in this place. He’ll watch your every move. He’ll talk to neighbors and friends and people where you shop. Neither of you will have a minute’s peace.”

  “Then I’ll call the police on him,” Constance said, sharply.

  “That won’t matter. He’ll vanish for a time then reappear, while he continues to trace you and your daily activities.”

  Leon looked at Anne. “It’s best if you disappear, Ms. Billings, until we can get you a passport.”

  Anne set her half-consumed glass down on the coffee table. “Where would I go?”

  “I have a house in the Hamptons,” Jon said.

  Leon shook his head. “No good. Uncle Alex would find her there in a heartbeat.”

  “This just infuriates me,” Constance said. “Why did you get your uncle involved in this in the first place?”

  Before Leon could respond, Constance waved him away, knowing the answer. “Forget it… Just forget it. All right, if your uncle is so clever and he will find Anne at Jon’s Hampton’s house, then he’ll also find her at my houses in Southampton and the Berkshires, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where would you suggest we take her then? To a hotel?”

  Leon grinned, sheepishly. “I would suggest… my place.”

  Constance jerked erect. “What?”

  Jon glared.

  Anne brightened. “Does your uncle ever visit you, Leon?”

  He shook his head. “No way… I live on East 119th Street and Third Avenue in Harlem. He’ll never come, even though it’s a cool neighborhood and I have an amazing two-bedroom apartment. I use one bedroom for my office; the other Ms. Billings can have. It’s private and I’m not around that much.”

  Constance shook her head. “This entire thing is just preposterous. I feel like I’m going out of my mind.”

  Anne took two tentative steps toward Leon. “You wouldn’t mind, Leon?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Anne nodded. “Then I think it’s a good idea.”

  Constance turned away.

  Leon shrugged. “Also… I know a guy who can produce a passport. Of course, he’s not cheap.”

  “How is he going to do that?” Jon asked.

  Constance crossed her arms, looking at Leon with suspicion and disapproval. “Yes, how?”

  Anne’s eyes glistened with interest.

  Leon shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “So my friend’s friend, who used to work in intelligence, has connections to people who stole blank passports from a supposedly secure diplomatic pouch.”

  Jon threw up his hands. “What do you mean, people stole them?”

  Leon kinked his neck. “These people grabbed blank passports from various embassies and consulates. They’re sold on the black market for as much as ten thousand dollars apiece. I know it doesn’t sound… well, nice, especially since some have been used by gun runners, drug dealers and terrorists.”

  Constance shut her eyes. “Oh, my God.”

  “Okay,” Leon said. “If somebody else has a better solution, then I’m fine with it. I’m just throwing it out there.”

  “What if Anne gets caught?” Jon asked.

  “She won’t,” Leon said. “Only the very best counterfeits make it past airport security, but authentic blank passports, when they’re filled out correctly, are really difficult to detect. And anyway, Anne is very pretty, and she doesn’t fit any criminal profile. Anne will easily get through airport security. No problem. I’m sure of it. My friend is good and discrete. I’m ninety-nine percent sure Ms. Billings will not be caught, or I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  Constance and Jon traded worried glances.

  “Do you have any connections, Constance?” Jon asked. “Somebody who could get Anne a legitimate passport?”

  Constance’s forehead pinched in thought. “I don’t know. I’m afraid questions would be asked, and there’s always the danger of an investigation. That might bring the FBI, or who knows. Maybe if I offered enough money. I just don’t know. It’s a gamble.”

  “My guy’s a sure thing,” Leon said. “He can do the passport.”

  Anne’s expression was tense. “Constance, it sounds like it will cost a lot of money.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the money, Anne. I care about you.”

  Anne’s smile was tired. “Then I think we should let Leon call his friend. I think I should… move in with Leon. It may be the only way I can get back home.”

  Constance was watchful and skeptical. She looked at Jon. “What do you think?”

  “I have to be honest. Most of my rattled brain still doesn’t believe that Anne time traveled. It’s way out of my rational comfort zone.”

&nb
sp; “Forget your rational brain for a minute, Jon,” Constance said. “Anne wants to return to England, and she needs a passport. She needs an identity. Do you trust Leon, yes or no?”

  Jon stared into a vague, uncertain distance. He pocketed his hands and curved his shoulders forward. “Will you go with Anne, Constance? I mean, to England?”

  “Of course, I’ll go with her.”

  He lifted his forehead and looked at Anne. “Then I guess it’s our best hope, isn’t it? Anne, are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes,” she said, firmly. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to get home so I can try to find out what happened to Tommy.”

  The decision made, Constance stood anchored like a commanding general ready to bark out orders. She looked at Leon and her narrowed eyes carried a warning. “You better be right about all this, Leon, and you’d better not make any mistakes. I want reports from you every day detailing Anne’s welfare and the progress of the passport. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Crowne,” Leon said, suppressing the urge to salute her.

  “All right. Anne will stay with you. Contact your friend and let’s get Anne her passport as soon as we can. The quicker we move, the better for all of us. If your uncle is as tenacious and thorough as you say he is, we must act fast. We must get Anne to England swiftly and efficiently.”

  Leon lifted his hand again, to be recognized.

  Constance acknowledged him. “What is it?”

  “One more thing. It might help if Dr. Miles issued some kind of medical letter or whatever, stating that Anne is traveling to England to consult with another physician. It’s a backup, just in case there’s any suspicion at all, not that I think there will be.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Jon said, and then he added. “Should Anne keep her real name on the passport, or should she change it, just in case your uncle is snooping around?”

  “That’s a good question,” Constance said.

  “I don’t think it will be a problem,” Leon said, turning his gaze on Anne. “Ms. Billings, do you want to change your name for the passport?”

  She thought about it. “I don’t care. I want whatever will work.”