Portals in Time 3

by Michael Beals

  Feeling calmer, they strolled into the diner and took one of the window booths. Ironically, the place was full of cops taking a break, but no one took any notice of the soaking wet troupe.

  A waitress came by and handed them each a menu and waited as the team scanned the selection. After jotting down their requests on a small notepad, the waitress scurried off.

  “I don’t understand,” Dore said. “I thought you’d just spoken with Grantham?”

  “I did… Grantham did warn me that the guards would be out to kill us… He also gave me permission to shoot back.”

  “Well, that was bloody decent of him. A regular gentleman, if you ask me.”

  They excitedly discussed the events of the shootout and car chase until the food arrived. To Kat’s surprise, Giselle and Lily had ordered burgers and fries, and she watched in fascination as the beautiful Giselle munched happily on a mouthful of beef, loaded with gherkins and relish.

  “So, what do we do now?” Lily asked. “You don’t need all of us to run the detective agency in the real world, and I hope you don’t want me to run the office in Hell. I’d rather continue tending bar.”

  Kat wagged a finger at her. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about that. I was thinking about asking Jonathon Steel to run that particular office. He’d be perfect, and he loves living in Hell.”

  Dore frowned at her. “I thought you said Steel was involved with Grantham.”

  “Grantham says he isn’t. Of course, he could have been lying, but even if he was, now that we’re involved, Steel’s out of a job, and he’s so well connected, he could be really useful. I was very impressed when he fixed us up as film producers.” She paused to think. “So, the big question is, where do we all want to live?”

  Lily brightened. “I own a brownstone in Upper Eastside, or at least, I used to.”

  Kat laughed. “Lily, you’re dead, and so’s your husband. I inherited a manor house in the English countryside, but they probably both been inherited by our relatives’ ages ago. Anyway, I need to talk to Hades. While I’m in Hell, you can hunt for a house in 1964.”

  Finishing their coffee, they paid the bill and made their way back to the cars. Thankfully, it had stopped raining, but with the rear windows partly gone, it would be a drafty ride into New York City.

  The traffic ahead began to slow, columns of brake lights flaring, blue and amber lights flashing in the distance. There had been an accident. Dore maneuvered into the outside lane, but it made no difference; all the lanes were coming to a halt. By sheer luck, there was an exit just ahead, and they were already in Queens, so when they were finally able to, Dore left the highway.

  “So, what’s our next move?” he asked.

  “That’s a good question, Jock, and the answer is, I don’t know. Now that we know how all the escapees are getting out, the problem’s solved.”

  “So that’s it. Operation Grantham is closed.”

  Kat grinned. “Maybe.”

  Dore squinted at her. “Maybe? Is that another Wolframism?”

  They were following traffic to enter the midtown tunnel, so for a while, Kat didn’t say anything. Eventually, she said, “Grantham asked me to go into partnership with him.”

  Dore almost drove off the road. “He what!!!?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to take him up on it, but it was an interesting offer… Grantham’s a fascinating person. He knows how to escape from Hell. Even when he eventually dies, he’ll just escape again.”

  “Are you saying he’s impervious to life and death?”

  “He seems to be. He inferred he can travel between Hell and Earth, like Persephone.”

  “They make films about stuff like that, except that Grantham’s doing it for real.”

  She laughed. “And so are we.”

  There were out of the tunnel now and driving down 1st Avenue. In the next few minutes, they would reach the hotel.

  “There’s no point hanging around. We may as well pick up your 1800s clothes and head down to Central Park. They’ve got streetlights in the park now. We can teleport back to 1866 and go back to the hotel.” He glanced at her. “Unless, of course, you’d like to wander around New York in 2025 for a couple of days, but then you’d have to deal with the rental company.”

  She brightened. “I’m not bothered about the rental company. As you say, they’re insured. But I wouldn’t mind going to a movie. The last movie we saw was Casablanca in 1942, and it was black and white. They’ve got color televisions now, so movies must be in color as well. We could go tonight and teleport tomorrow morning.”

  Dore studied Kat for a moment and said, “Yeah, we had just met when we went to see that movie… After watching it, we both agreed, this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  The rental company was surprisingly blasé about the damaged cars. So after the vehicles had been towed away, and forms had been signed for the insurance company, they all returned to their hotel suite to shower and prepare for an evening of whatever New York City had to offer.

  They decided to watch a movie. Giselle Found a list of movie theaters in the desk and decided to try the AMC theater, which was a short walk from the hotel. They had eaten at a diner in Old Westbury, and it had stopped raining, so they strolled out of the hotel like a group of tourists. They were touring the real world, but in the future, in the new millennium, in a very different New York.

  “This is amazing,” Giselle said, as they passed Earth’s Bloomingdale’s. “It makes me feel young again.”

  “But you are young,” Kat said, uncomfortably aware that Giselle was swinging Dore’s hand like a teenager. “You were young when you died, and you’ve stayed young.”

  “I want to buy clothes,” Giselle said, stopping to gaze at the dresses in the window. “I never enjoyed buying clothes for myself in Hell. It all seemed a bit pointless.”

  Kat wondered how she would feel if they were permanently in 2025. She hadn’t told the girls about Grantham’s offer because Giselle, in particular, would probably have jumped at it. “Well, it’s not pointless now, Ellie. You’ve got Jock to impress.” She turned to Lily. “Are you glad to be here, Lily?”

  Lily raised her eyebrows. “Of course I am. I love all the electric cars, and the clothes people wear. Women seem to be more independent. The last time I was in New York, it was 1952, and cell phones didn’t exist. Now, everyone’s using them, even the kids.” She frowned. “Are you sure you want to open an office in 1964? Wouldn’t we be better off in 2025? Or 2010, if you want to avoid Grantham.”

  Kat had to admit, it was tempting, but it might also be harrowing. She had no idea what life was really like in the future. With all its modern conveniences and technical advances, it was probably exciting, but it was also quite likely to be super-stressful. The hotel had used a computer to check them in; the car rental company had used a computer to rent them the cars. She had no idea how to use a computer, and much as Dore loved to joke about her being the new Sherlock Holmes, she wasn’t at all like the character. In fact, Dore was sometimes sharper than she was. She was also thinking of hiring out their services to MI6, and while 1954 could have been dangerous, she could probably adapt to 1964.

  “That would be lovely, Lily, but I don’t think I’m mentally equipped for 2025. It’s all very well for Grantham; he’s used to this kind of life, but we’ll have to solve crimes in the real world, and I wouldn’t know what I was doing. Anyway, we’ve got two time machines. We can always come here for long weekends.”

  “I suppose so. It was just a thought.”

  They had arrived at the movie theater. According to the posters outside, there were four movies on offer. A science-fiction movie called Spaceapolis, by Luke Scott, a high school coming of age romance called, It Was Always You, an Australian comedy entitled, Emmachisit, and a straight love story entitled, One For The Road. Giselle and Lily both wanted to see the love story. Dore didn’t care one way or the other, and Kat couldn’t be bothered to argue about it.
So, for $20 each, they bought tickets to see One For The Road.

  But it was a harrowing movie. About a young couple who met at university, the entire movie was about all the different ways there were to manipulate and hurt someone emotionally. First, it was the guy going out of his way, for reasons that were never explained, to hurt and manipulate the girl, then it was the girl getting her own back by having sex with anyone and everyone. Lily was glued to the movie, but Giselle looked as if she wanted to crawl away and die, especially during the eye-watering explicit sex scenes. Astonishingly, Dore fell asleep, and Kat had to keep nudging him to stop him snoring, which elicited ripples of laughter from other members of the audience. But the movie was exquisitely photographed, and the acting hard to believe for its realism.

  “Are actors allowed to have sex with each other?” Lily asked as they were leaving the theater. “They were both stark naked.”

  Kat shrugged. “Who knows? This is 2025. Maybe actors aren’t so bashful these days.”

  “But the actress was so good looking,” Lily persisted. “Doesn’t she have a husband somewhere?”

  “Maybe that was her husband.”

  They walked on in silence until they were passing Bloomingdale’s. Giselle was gazing at dresses in the window when Dore said, “don’t look around, but I think we’re being followed.”

  Kat felt a chill run down her spine. Had Grantham found out what hotel they were staying at? “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure. He was on the other side of the road when we came out of the theater. Now he’s right behind us. Are you armed?”

  “As it happens.”

  She scanned the nearby shops, but all the windows were parallel to the street with no chance of seeing behind her. “Ellie, Lily, go back to the hotel. Jock and I are taking a detour.”

  Giselle frowned and looked back at her. “You’re not coming with us?”

  “We’ll catch up to you. Go straight to the hotel. It’s two blocks up.”

  Slowing her walking pace, she felt for the Browning. She’d got so used to carrying it; she’d forgotten it was there. Now she became aware of it pressing against her ribs. It was quite late now, and there were few pedestrians, but she could hardly shoot someone on a busy street in the middle of Manhattan.

  “Shall we cross the road?”

  Dore glanced at her. “You’re going to stop him?”

  “I’m going to let Grantham know I don’t like being followed.”

  Grabbing Dore’s elbow and dodging between the oncoming traffic, she ushered him across the busy street. Drivers sounded their horns and yelled at them, but they made it safely to the opposite side and within thirty yards found a narrow alley that was used for garbage bins and empty packing cases. It was one of those dark, dead-end alleys that are often used in gangster films, a single security light glimmering in the distance. Seeing a pile of discarded mattresses and bedding material, she pulled Dore down behind a large packing case. Then they waited.

  “Is this a good idea?” Dore hissed. “We’re trapped.”

  “So is he,” she whispered, pulling out the Browning. “Grab that cushion.”

  He snorted a breathy laugh. “Why, are we staying the night? Ellie will be furious.”

  “Idiot.”

  At that moment, there was a sound of someone running and moments later a hollow thumping sound, then silence. From behind the packing case, they couldn’t see anything, but they could hear the sound of heavy breathing. The man had stopped only a few feet away. She waited, the Browning pointed at the sound of breathing. She knew exactly where the man was. All he had to do was take a few more steps, and she’d see him.

  But the man didn’t move. He just stood there, presumably looking around. There was only one way out of the alley, and he was blocking it. The question in Dore’s mind was, how far had his targets run before they ducked out of sight? The alley was a hundred yards long. Had they only run fifty yards, or all the way to the end? There was a crunch of shoes on gravel, and then a scraping sound. The man was swiveling around. Was he leaving, or just looking?

  And then she saw him. He wasn’t swiveling, he was limping, as if he couldn’t walk properly. His mouth was open, and he was holding a pistol, a silencer attached to the barrel, which meant that he intended to kill them.

  Aiming at the man’s head, she flipped the safety catch. “Stop right there!” she said quietly.

  The man froze, halfway between one step and the next. He was leaning forward, his gun half raised. The first thing that struck her was how ugly he was. He was incredibly ugly. His forehead was strangely bulbous, the nose almost flat. He had no eyebrows, and his mouth was shaped like a sneer, the lips pulled back to reveal yellow, pointy teeth. He must have been six foot six and was looking down at her, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  She took a step forward. “Do you know what happens to lizards if they’re killed on Earth?”

  The demon said nothing.

  “They vaporize. Didn’t Grantham tell you that? You won’t even go back to Hell.”

  The demon stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “You won’t kill me. You can’t kill me.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “Because I’m looking at you. You can’t kill me while I’m looking at you.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Who the fuck told you that?”

  “Grantham. He said demons have special powers when we go into the future. If I look at you, I can hypnotize you; then I can kill you.” He straightened, his gun slowly moving in her direction.

  The demon’s eyes began to bore into her…

  Kat let out a roar of laughter. “Hey Jock, Grantham told this fool he has special powers, and he believed him.”

  Turning back to the demon, Kat said, “well, Blinky, If you ever meet up with Grantham, tell him, nice try.”

  Kat jammed the Browning High Power into the demon and pulled the trigger four times. The burst of gunfire echoed eerily around the alley. There was a strange squelching sound, and the demon imploded. He literally vanished beneath his clothes, which hung there for a moment before collapsing into a heap. All that was left was a pair of strange-looking shoes, a pair of crumpled cargo pants, an old hoodie, and the gun he was carrying.

  Kat picked up the gun and examined it. “Goddamn Jock, I think I found my new favorite pistol… This sucker is a Russian APB 9mm. Grantham sure knows his weapons.” Kat then gave it a great big kiss right smack on the silencer.

  “Holy shit!” Dore exclaimed. “Did you see that! He just vanished.”

  Kat shook her head. “Lizards are such morons.”

  Dore looked around to see if they had invited any unwanted attention. “Shall we get out of here?”

  She was about to reply when she saw something glinting in a puddle. Reaching down, she picked it up. It was a wristwatch very similar to the one that Harper had given her, but much smaller. She tapped on the watch face, but it was completely dead. The demon had been wearing a time machine.

  CHAPTER TEN

  There was something very odd about time travel, and it had been bothering Kat ever since they arrived in 2025. Cabot had set up the detective agency in 1964, complete with office, office furniture, and telephones, but did the office still exist in 2025? They had never set foot in the office and hadn’t really needed to. She knew where Grantham lived now; she didn’t need to research it with the DMV, but if they were going to run a detective agency and make it a going concern in the real world, they should really check the office out, but not in 2025. It would mean going back to 1964, and at the moment, they would be wearing era inappropriate clothes. Dore’s clothes would look acceptable in almost any post-war era, but the girls would look very strange in their tight jeans and future jackets.

  So, when they’d eaten breakfast and settled the hotel bill, they headed back to Central Park. Dore was in high spirits, even humming to himself as they walked down 5th Avenue. Kat could only imagine that he’d spent the evening flirting with Giselle,
and one thing had led to another. Whatever the cause, she’d never seen his look so jovial. Even when she asked him what he thought about making a stop-off in 1964 to check the office out, he just waved it away with a “whatever.”

  “What we should do is have a look at houses while we’re here,” he suggested. “I always fancied living on the Upper East Side. We don’t need to use the park. We can teleport from the street. All we have to do is find an old building that’s stood the test of time. If it’s still standing in 2025…”

  When they reached the park, they hailed a cab and asked the driver to cruise the Upper East Side. It soon became apparent that it had become a wealthy area, many of the apartment blocks and restaurants having canopies and even, on two occasions, a doorman.

  Lily loved the area. She and her murdered husband had owned a house here in the fifties, although it hadn’t been so prosperous in those days.

  “There!” she cried, pointing to an old brownstone as they cruised one of the side streets. “I love that building. Where are we?”

  Kat looked around, searching for a street name. “63rd Street,” she replied. “We’re quite near the park.”

  “63rd Street? Wow! New York’s changed so much. Our townhouse was near here. Can we stop?”

  Sliding open the privacy window, Kat asked the driver to pull over, but when Lily went to open the door, she grabbed her arm. “Don’t get out, Lily, we can’t stay… You like that house?”

  “Yes, I do. It’s only a stone’s throw from the park, it’s ideal.”

  Kat looked at the others, but they just shrugged. “Sounds good. While I’m at the palace, the three of you can take a look at it in 1964. If you still like it, put in an offer the owners can’t refuse. Money doesn’t seem to be a problem in Hell.”