Portals in Time 3

by Michael Beals

  KAT’S ADVENTURES IN

  HELL

  PORTALS IN TIME

  PART THREE

  By Michael Beals

  Copyright © 2020

  All rights reserved.

  Book cover

  By Michael Beals

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either used fictitiously or are the fevered products of the author’s twisted imagination.

  If you like my book covers and would like to see more of my art, take a look at https://www.deviantart.com/mpbeals

  Table of Contents

  Kat and Giselle

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Demon Detective Agency

  Slaughter in the Desert

  Part III

  Coast of Sirte

  Italian Forward Operating Base “Resolute”

  Tripoli

  Medina “Old City” District

  Alexandria, Egypt

  Acronyms/Slang/Terminology

  Kat and Giselle

  CHAPTER ONE

  A thousand questions whirled in Kat’s mind as she and the team walked into The Fifth Avenue Hotel’s sumptuous dining room. She and Dore had scouted Central Park. There was little doubt about where the escapees would suddenly appear. She even knew the order in which would arrive; she had watched them teleport from the ranch at Quiggly’s Gulch. But whether Grantham would be there to meet them was still in question. It seemed likely, but it was far from certain.

  She had a time machine embedded in her wrist, and she knew how to program it. She even had the right clothes to wear and the correct money if Grantham did something tricky, like teleporting into the twenty-first century. But Grantham was an old hand at all this, and according to Harper, he was a very clever man, a genius if Harper was to be believed. Was she sharp enough to outwit someone like that? They could, of course, simply observe the whole scenario and wait it out, but Grantham must know Kat was after him, McInnes would have told him, one way or the other, or Rostock would. If Grantham decided to be careful, they might not see another batch of escapees for a month.

  She glanced at Dore. He had his hand on the small of Giselle’s back as he requested a table for four from the maître d’. And Giselle looked incredible. Her similarity to Grace Kelly was almost spooky. She was so beautiful, especially in the lovely gown she’d found at Gypsy headquarters. With Dore cleanly shaven, his hair slicked back, wearing his beautifully tailored jacket and polished boots, the pair looked like Hollywood royalty.

  Her eyes drifted to Lily. The young woman had a quiet smile on her face, and Kat wondered whether it was directed at Dore and Giselle, the young couple, newly wedded. Wouldn’t that be something? She thought about Dore and Giselle getting married in 1866. What would Hades say if they ran away together? God Almighty, what would I do if they did? It would be a disaster.

  “That would be excellent,” Dore was saying, in his Scottish accent. “A table in the center of the room is perfect.”

  As they followed the maître d’ across the dining room, she became aware of the low murmur of voices, the clink of silver on china, a hint of cigar smoke drifting in the air. Remembering her etiquette from when she was young and living at the manor, she waited until one of the waiters pulled out a chair for her, then eased into it. Dore, of course, didn’t wait. Without standing on ceremony, he pulled out a chair and sat down. She looked around at the other tables. There seemed to be a wide variety of food, lobster and salad, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, Parisian chicken, beef casserole. It was hard to take in after being in Hell.

  “This must be fate,” Dore said, glancing at Giselle over the top of his menu. “It’s not a good idea to eat a large meal before you… you know. But how am I supposed to limit myself with a menu like this?”

  Giselle sniggered. “Don’t eat it all, Jock. Order what you want, but don’t eat it all.”

  “But I’m starving. This happened the last time we teleported. I was starving.”

  “You’re not exactly small, Jock. I don’t think you’ll fade away.”

  “You two can do what you want,” Lily said. “I’m going to eat until all the buttons on my corset pop off.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Kat asked, squinting at Dore. “You think too much food affects your sex life.”

  “Absolutely. Instead of all that blood being put to good use, it’s used to digest all the food. But it also affects women. It makes them sleepy.”

  Giselle laughed. “That might be a good thing, Jock. After 200 years, I might need something to calm me down.”

  But Dore wasn’t convinced, and when the waiter came to take their order, he asked for Chicken Parisian, when he probably wanted roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and lashings of gravy. Nevertheless, when their food came, no one wanted wine, and they ate in silence, which allowed Kat to look around at the other guests. Many of them were businessmen, or middle-aged couples, who probably weren’t staying at the hotel, but like Giselle and Lily, they were all dressed to the nines. Kat became fascinated by the intricacy of the women’s dresses, the beautiful lace collars, elaborate frills, and bows, most of the women still wearing their hats, which were as equally decorative.

  She was about to say something to Giselle, when she saw a man being ushered to a table on the far side of the room. He was so tall and handsome; it was hard not to notice him. But it wasn’t just because he was handsome, there was something about the man, something vaguely familiar. At first, she wasn’t sure what it was. He either reminded her of someone, or she’s seen him before. But where? He was well dressed and wore a short, well-trimmed beard, which was unusual in 1866, when most beards were full, if not long. He wasn’t as tall as Dore, but he was well over six feet. He was particularly striking because a short scar ran through one of his eyebrows, and it had caused part of the eyebrow to go white. Kat’s mouth went dry with excitement… It was Grantham.

  She turned to Dore. “Try not to make it obvious, Jock, but who does that man remind you of? He’s got a short beard, and he’s sitting near that overweight blonde woman. Any idea who it might be?”

  Dore twisted in his chair and squinted at the man. “Holy shit!” he hissed, turning back to stare at her. “You know who he reminds me of? He looks like the man in the photograph that you pinched from Harper.”

  “I beg to differ, kind sir. A lady never pinches; she borrows for an indeterminate amount of time.” Kat said playfully.

  Dore continued to stare at her. “You think it’s Grantham?”

  “He’s eating on his own, Jock. How many other people are eating on their own? He’s tall, he’s got a scar running through his right eyebrow, and he’s got a modern beard. And look at his hair. It’s so short; it’s practically World War Two. It’s Grantham, Jock. I’d bet my life on it.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve already lost that. You think Grantham’s staying here?”

  “Well, he’s got to be staying somewhere,” Giselle said, her eyes wide with apprehension. “Why not here? In fact, why rent an apartment if you’re only coming to 1866 for a few hours? A hotel is a perfect place to stay.”

  “It’s perfect. We’ll be able to follow Grantham tomorrow morning,” Lily said, forking a piece of roast potato into her mouth.

  Dore glanced at her, then shook his head. “No, we can’t. We’ve got to be in position before Grantham reaches the park. Kat’s got to strip off and climb a tree. If he decides to time travel, we need to know where he’s go
ing.”

  “I can follow him,” Lily remarked. “We’re not 100% certain it’s Grantham yet, but we’ll know tomorrow morning… if he’s staying here. And you’ll need some kind of warning, Kat. You can’t sit perched in a cherry tree for three hours. If he walks towards the park, I can run ahead of him and signal you.”

  Dore ran a hand through his hair. “She’s right, Kat. Grantham’s bound to have guards, but he’ll have to meet up with them before the escapees arrive, and he’ll probably meet them outside the hotel. Lily can warn us that they’re coming.”

  Kat nodded. “That’s a great idea, Lily. We can go to the park early and wait it out, and one of us can wait in the foyer for Grantham to appear. If he meets his guards, it will allow our spy plenty of time to warn us. But if you don’t mind, I’d prefer Ellie to watch Grantham.”

  “But I’m less noticeable,” Lily protested. “Ellie’s so beautiful, Grantham’s bound to notice her.”

  “Which is exactly why he won’t suspect her. Trust me, Lily. I know what I’m doing.” She turned to Dore and Giselle and smiled. “So we need our sleep tonight. Would you two mind and try not making a night of it? I need you alert in the morning.”

  Dore grimaced. “I led fighting men for over fifteen years, and I never once denied them the right to be men, especially before battle.”

  Kat giggled. “For goodness’ sake, all I’m suggesting is getting a wee bit of sleep, so I don’t catch you propping up a tree at an odd moment.”

  “What time do we have to get up?” Dore asked.

  “I want us all in the breakfast room at 7 AM, and out of the hotel by 7:30.”

  The following morning dawned warm and sunny, too warm for Kat, who had to wear the tracksuit under her dress. Kat took a handful of denominations from several eras and placed them into the pouch of her money belt and strapped it to her waist. When everyone was ready, they departed the hotel room.

  Leaving Giselle remaining in the lobby to wait for Grantham, the others departed The Fifth Avenue Hotel. Hiring two Hansom Cabs, Lily took one, and Kat with Dore the other, they headed for Central Park.

  “So, what are you going to do, Kat?” Dore asked as they turned into the park. “Are you going to follow Grantham?”

  “I’m going to try. If I see Grantham adjusting his time machine and I can see what year he’s going to, all I have to do is climbed back down the cherry tree and set my own. I was hoping to take you with me, but I’ll need to do it quickly; otherwise, I might lose him.”

  “What if he gets into a car and drives away?”

  “I don’t know, Jock. I’ll have to play it by ear. If he time travels to 2050, for example, I’m not sure what to expect. New York City could be very different.”

  They had reached the fork in the footpath. The sun was still low on the horizon, and its rays were slanting through the trees. She turned to Lily, who was suddenly looking very uncertain.

  “Are you OK, Lily?”

  “I guess so. I was wondering where to conceal myself.”

  “Hide in the undergrowth and make yourself comfortable. We could be here for a couple of hours. You don’t have to do anything. Just watch. Nothing bad is going to happen. If Grantham feels safe, he’ll probably stay here until the escapees have all dispersed. Then he’ll either walk away, or he’ll disappear. If he disappears, you can walk back to the hotel with Jock. I’ll be following Grantham.”

  “What if Grantham stays in 1866, and Rostock follows you?”

  She hadn’t considered Rostock, or even that Grantham might stay in 1866. She’d always assumed he’d want to disappear from prying eyes. “We can only take it as it comes, Lily. If Grantham decides to stay and then Rostock suddenly appears, you, Ellie, and Jock will have to follow him. I’m not ready to die quite yet.”

  Dore patted Lily on the shoulder. “We’re all protecting each other, Lily. I’ll be watching Kat’s back, you’ll be watching mine, and Ellie, if she’s anywhere in sight, will be watching yours. Stay cool. We’re all new to this.”

  Kat looked at her watch. It was 8:15, and still no sign of Giselle. Maybe Grantham hadn’t left the hotel yet. Whatever the situation, she should be making her way to the cherry tree. “Where are you going to hide, Jock?”

  “I’ll be in the trees, quite near you. You’d better get going.”

  Making her way to the cherry tree, Kat made sure that no one was around, then she climbed out of her dress and down to her tracksuit. There was still no sign of Giselle, or Grantham, and no sign of anyone who might be a guard. Rolling up her dress and pushing it under a bush, she began to climb the cherry tree.

  Finding a comfortable branch to sit on, she picked up the field glasses and scanned the park. She glimpsed Lily in a thicket of shrubbery, and then Dore, his broad shoulders just visible as he stood beneath a gnarled spruce tree. They were ready; it was just a matter of waiting for the escapees to arrive.

  She looked at her watch again. It was 8:45. Did Grantham know what time the escapees would arrive?

  And then she caught movement on the footpath. Giselle was walking briskly towards her, waving one of her hands in a helicopter motion. She felt a wave of excitement. Grantham was coming. She panned the field glasses towards the sidewalk where all the horses stood. And there he was, walking casually across the grass. He looked different in daylight. He was wearing a coat, although she couldn’t imagine why. It was August in New York City and must have been 75 degrees with 90% humidity. She panned the field glasses to the right again, to see if there were any guards, but apart from regular pedestrians and people hiring Hansom cabs, there was no one. She breathed a sigh of relief, Grantham didn’t have any guards, that she could see, at least. Her field of view wasn’t exactly perfect, peering through the foliage of the cherry tree.

  Concentrating on Grantham, she panned down his body until she found the wrist of his left arm. And suddenly she knew why he was wearing a coat. The sleeves of his period jacket had been too short. It would have been difficult to conceal the time machine, which was perfect. She would know he was about to time travel when he pulled back his cuff. She panned down to his shoes. He was wearing expensive modern brogues, perhaps a compromise between modern shoes and shoes from the 1800s. She panned up to his face again and studied it. Judging by the fine lines around his eyes, he was in his late thirties, he had dark brown hair that was starting to go gray at the temples, and judging from the contours of his face, looked after himself. He was looking around, his gaze roaming the surrounding trees. Was he looking for signs of betrayal, or were the escapees due at any moment?

  Kat lowered the field glasses and scanned the park again. A woman was walking towards the waiting Hansom cabs, pushing one of those odd little prams and seemed oblivious of Grantham. Otherwise, there were no other people in the immediate vicinity, which was unusual, today was Sunday. If the escapees arrived now, it would be perfect timing. And then, as if on cue, a man appeared in the middle of the lawn. He looked dazed and was blinking in the bright sunlight. And then another man appeared, not far away, and then another. Thirty seconds later, a woman appeared. More people began to appear, some of them wavering slightly as they adjusted to their new reality. She remembered the disorientation well.

  Kat panned the field glasses to Grantham again. He was holding up an arm and waving it from side to side, his coat flapping open. And at that moment, she saw the gun he was carrying. It was a Beretta 1951. Was Grantham expecting trouble?

  She watched as the escapees walked towards him and gathered in an untidy circle as Grantham spoke to them. Some were looking around, but most were listening intently, no doubt still shocked by teleporting. She had no idea what kind of money these people had paid, whether it was $100,000 or more, but Grantham was handing them slips of paper and pointing towards the street. And then, one by one, they began walking towards the Hansom cabs. Was this why Central Park was such a popular location, so that escapees could take a Hansom cab to a predetermined address? Sure enough, they began climbing into
the Hansom cabs.

  Kat panned the field glasses back to Grantham. He was just standing there, watching, not making any attempt to leave. Was he going to time travel? Kat saw no one near the park now. She studied his face for a moment and then panned down to his left wrist. He was holding it with his other hand, nursing the wrist that held the time machine. He was considering it. And then, in an electrifying moment, he pulled back his cuff. The watch face was glowing through his hairy skin. It read August 17, 2025. All Grantham had to do was tap it.

  Quickly pulling back her sleeve, she set her time machine to August 17, 2025, then clambered down the tree and waited. But Grantham was still standing there, looking around. What was he waiting for? The escapees had all gone now. And then it dawned on her; he was waiting for Lily. She had not arrived. This meant that Grantham had known precisely how many people were teleporting. But it also meant that he knew nothing of her disappearance from the ranch, which meant that Rostock had not contacted him. Was that a good sign, or was Rostock biding his time, perhaps afraid to appear on such a bright sunny day?

  Kat watched him, her nerves on edge. Grantham was looking impatient now, pacing back and forth. She could imagine him tutting and wondering what to do. It must be normal for nervous escapees to take their time to teleport, but perhaps not this long. The first escapee had appeared twenty minutes ago. He was still clutching his wrist and looking around. Any moment now, he was going to give up and leave.

  Kat looked at her time machine. The year was flashing now. Perhaps it was waiting for further instructions. Was Grantham’s time machine doing the same? She scanned to bushes where Lily was hiding, but there was no sign of her. Maybe she was lying low, afraid that Grantham might see her… or Rostock.

  And then she heard Grantham curse. He’d stopped pacing back and forth and was looking at his time machine. He looked around again, and so did Kat. There were no people in sight. Apart from two people walking along the distant sidewalk, the park near them was deserted. She stared at Grantham, unsure whether she was willing him to tap the time machine, or quite the opposite, stay in 1866. But Grantham made the decision. Muttering a final curse, he tapped his time machine and disappeared.