A Time of Shadows (Out of Time #8)

by Monique Martin

  “I’ve got bigger problems than that, kid.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  THE SMALL VILLAGE BEKIR led them to was buried deep in the forests outside of Istanbul. They finally turned off the long, winding highway onto a narrow dirt road that led deeper into the countryside. A canopy of bright leaves from the dense woods around them bathed the path in a soft green glow. They passed a small collection of wooden farmhouses, not much more than shacks. An old man with a round belly and pants up to his armpits tossed feed to chickens and geese. He stopped what he was doing to stare at them as they passed slowly by. The next house down, an elderly woman in a headscarf sat in a rocking chair on her porch as she crocheted brightly colored lace.

  It was quiet and picturesque. It seemed like an unlikely sort of place a scientist would use to create a weapon that could change the world. But wasn’t that always the way?

  They had driven a mile or so farther down the road when Luka reached forward from the backseat and patted Tess on the shoulder.

  “There,” he said, nodding toward an old house with a rusted, corrugated steel roof.

  Tess pulled the car over.

  From what Jack had learned from Luka, his father had been ill for several years, but his health was declining quickly now. That’s why Luka, instead of Skavo, had gone to see the Wizard, and why Bekir had taken his place at the exchange.

  Skavo was dying, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. Maybe even more so, Jack thought as they got out of the car and made their way up the creaking front steps.

  “Father?” Luka called out.

  The door to a bedroom opened a moment later and a thin man, more beard than man, stepped forward. A smile lit his haggard face.

  “My boy,” he said, holding out his arms.

  Father and son embraced and Jack and Tess exchanged surprised glances. Skavo was in much worse shape than they’d expected. He started to teeter to the side and Luka held him up. His father patted his arm.

  “I am all right,” he said and turned to Bekir. “Teşekkürler.”

  “N’aber?” Bekir asked as he took Skavo’s outstretched hand and gripped his arm by the elbow.

  “İyiyim, teşekkürler,” Skavo said. But both Jack and Bekir knew he was far from fine.

  Bekir nodded and patted Skavo’s face before he turned and left.

  “You should be in bed, Father,” Luka said.

  Skavo gave Jack and Tess an anxious look, but it faded quickly. He didn’t have the energy to waste on them.

  Luka led his father back into the bedroom and Jack and Tess followed.

  So this was Skavo—the man who held the fate of the world in his hands.

  “I got the Orichalcum.”

  Skavo smiled faintly and nodded as he sat down.

  Luka covered him with a blanket.

  “You should not have done that, Luka,” Skavo said.

  “It’s the last piece though, isn’t it? It’s what you need.”

  Skavo shook his head. “It was folly.” He looked at his son with haunted eyes. “It has all been a folly.”

  “No, Father. You’re so close.”

  Skavo sighed and held on tightly to the edges of his blanket. “Some things are not meant to be.”

  “So you don’t know how to create the watch?” Tess asked, breaking the spell between father and son.

  Skavo looked at her as though he’d just noticed she was there. He stared at her and then shifted his eyes to Jack. With sad resignation in his eyes, he turned to Luka. “Go and make sure Bekir is all right,” he said. “I’m sure this was trying for him.”

  “He’s fine, Father,” Luka protested, but Skavo held up his hand.

  “All right,” Luka said.

  “And we need milk, go to Osman to get it. Yusuf’s cow is not well.”

  “But—”

  A single stern look from Skavo quieted the boy, and with a last nervous look to Jack and Tess, he left.

  Skavo’s eyes moved between Jack and Tess and then he nodded. “I knew you would find me eventually. But I’m afraid you are going to be disappointed.”

  “Is there anyone else here?” Tess asked.

  Skavo shifted uncomfortably in his chair and his blanket fell to the ground.

  “No,” he said. “Just my son and the other villagers, but they are unaware.”

  Jack picked up the blanket and handed it back to Skavo as Tess walked over to a long table that sat on the far side of the room. Watch pieces, papers, microscopes and other scientific equipment littered the top of it.

  She flipped through a few of the papers and picked up a pocket watch in mid-repair. “Is this it?”

  Skavo shook his head. “Another failure. My room is filled with them,” he added waving his arm around the small area. “My life is filled with them.”

  “So you aren’t close to cracking it?” Jack asked.

  Skavo smiled sadly. “I thought I was. Many times. It was an obsession. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying.”

  He looked at Jack, the pain of lost years in his eyes. “Once I realized who I was working for, I ran. I should have left it all behind. But I had to know.”

  His expression was a mixture of a plea for understanding and begging for forgiveness.

  “I lost everything, my wife, my life, looking for something that does not even exist.”

  Tess looked down at the watch in her hand and put it back on the table. “And why should we believe you?”

  The coldness in her voice surprised Jack, but she had a point.

  “A dying man has little reason to lie.”

  Tess took a step toward the door and then turned back. She narrowed her eyes. “And yet you are.”

  “No,” Skavo said. “I am—”

  “Lying,” Tess finished for him.

  Jack turned to her, ready to defend Skavo. He was an old, dying man consumed with regret, but Jack pulled up short when he saw that she’d pulled out a gun.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Jack said, recovering himself and taking a step toward her.

  When she turned the gun on him, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Oh, I think it is,” Tess said, ice cold now. And the realization of what was happening, what had been happening, sank into Jack’s stomach like a lead fist.

  She waved the gun, urging Jack to move back. He held up his hands and edged backward to stand next to Skavo. She’d been one of them the whole time.

  “Your gun,” she said. “Slowly.”

  Jack briefly considered trying to reason with her, but from the look in her eyes she was well beyond reason. Slowly and carefully, he reached into his jacket and un-holstered his gun. For a split second, he thought about making his move right here and now, but she was too close. He wouldn’t get a shot off before she killed him. He needed to buy some time.

  Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, he squatted down and placed his gun on the floor and then kicked it over to her.

  She bent to pick it up. “Very good.”

  She put it into the waistband of her pants and re-trained her gun on Jack. She watched him as he put two and two together.

  He’d wondered how Quint had known about the meeting with Skavo at the bathhouse, but had thought he’d just been following them unseen. But that wasn’t it at all, he realized. It was Tess. It had been Tess all along.

  She smiled. “It dawns.”

  An angry and embarrassed flush crawled up his neck and cheeks. He was an idiot. He put the pieces together and it all made sense, horrible sense. How had the thugs from the Shadow Council known exactly where the Crosses were going to be?

  “My cell phone,” he said. “It was bugged.”

  She inclined her head.

  How had the Shadow Council found out? He’d told them. He felt sick.

  “Dammit.”

  Tess smiled. “Don’t feel bad. I’m very good at what I do.”

  “Is Travers in on it too?” Jack asked, wondering just h
ow deep the corruption in the Council ran.

  Tess laughed. “Peter? No. He was just useful.”

  Was? Jack thought. That was not good. Not good in a growing pile of not good.

  “I have to admit, you surprised me,” she said, “when you and not Quint came out of the hammam. I was impressed. He’s no pushover.”

  Jack’s head throbbed as he clenched his jaw.

  She turned her attention back to Skavo. “You’ll be coming with me, Mr. Skavo.”

  He shook his head. “I cannot give you what you want.”

  “Oh, I think you can. And will. I’d hate to see anything happen to Luka.”

  Skavo’s breathing sped up. “Please…?”

  Jack shifted his eyes from Tess’ gun to the room around them, looking for something, anything, he could use as a weapon.

  “Simple leverage, Mr. Skavo,” she said and then turned to Jack. “And as for you, Mr. Wells, I’m afraid our partnership has come to an end. Don’t worry, though. Once we get the watch working, none of this will have happened.”

  She pointed the gun at his chest.

  Jack felt an odd calm come over him. He’d felt it before when death seemed the only way out. But he’d found another way then, and he would find another now.

  “No one should be able to play God,” Jack said.

  She gave him a shrugging smile. “Maybe not. But we’re going to give it a go.”

  “I cannot let this be,” Skavo said and then looked imploringly at Jack, as if he was trying to tell him something Jack was too stupid to understand.

  Tess ignored him.

  “It cannot be,” Skavo whispered.

  Tess grinned, giving herself one final moment of triumph to relish before her finger began to tighten on the trigger. Jack tensed. The next few seconds were a blur.

  With a strength and speed Jack didn’t think he had in his frail body, Skavo pushed himself from his chair and leapt in front of Jack just as the gunshot sounded.

  Skavo’s face, only inches from Jack’s, went wide with shock and then grimaced in pain. Stunned at not being shot, at the old man’s sacrifice, Jack wrapped his arms around Skavo as he went limp in his arms.

  “No!” Tess said in shock, stepping forward.

  Jack started to lower Skavo to the ground when Luka appeared in the doorway, eyes wild.

  “Father!”

  Tess turned toward him and Jack lunged forward. He caught her hand just as she raised it for another shot. He wrenched the gun from her hand. She reached for the gun at her waist, but Jack was too fast. He gripped her wrist and pressed the point of the gun he held into her stomach as he shoved her against the wall.

  “Still feeling like God?” he asked.

  Her eyes were bright and furious as they danced across his face. Keeping one gun against her body, he took the other one from her waistband and then stepped back.

  Luka knelt on the floor, sobbing, cradling his father’s body.

  Skavo’s eyes were unfocused, but then he turned his head and looked at his son. “It was the only way,” he said, lifting a shaking hand to caress his son’s cheek, “to keep you safe.”

  Jack looked back at Tess, her cold features were unmoved. The only emotion they betrayed was anger, anger at her loss.

  “What a fool,” Tess muttered as she looked at Skavo.

  Jack felt sick. Skavo had saved him, saved them all by killing himself.

  “I think you should shut up now,” Jack said.

  She whipped her head back to him, her lips twitching with another insult, but he glared her into silence. One of the villagers appeared in the doorway. His face went pale from the scene before him.

  “Doctor,” Jack ordered, although he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Nothing would. “Get a doctor.”

  The man hesitated, but nodded and left.

  Making quick work of it, Jack tied Tess’ hands to a chair with a length of flexible wire he’d found on Skavo’s table. Then he went to Luka’s side, though there was nothing he could do now for father or son.

  Jack moved so Skavo could see his face. “Thank you.”

  Skavo moved his head slightly in acknowledgment and closed his eyes briefly. “Everyone is safe now.”

  Jack nodded, but he knew that wasn’t exactly true. That all depended on Simon and Elizabeth. And he prayed they were doing better than he was.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  POOR SIMON, ELIZABETH THOUGHT. If there were a seventh circle of personal hell, waiting in line for an amusement park ride would be Simon’s. The lights, the tourists, the jaunty music, they were nearly enough to break him. And she couldn’t help but smile.

  The clue they’d found in Bedlam was simple enough. Or at least Simon had thought so.

  A tuppence, a cigar and a turnip.

  Only an Englishman would have been able to figure that one out. And thankfully, she had one of her very own who was currently scowling at the endlessly winding queue. It was all so very simple, Simon had explained. The tuppence was clearly meant to be London and the cigar and the turnip were obviously Churchill.

  She’d looked at him blankly because it might be obvious to him, but.…A cigar she could see, but what did turnips have to do with it? It seemed Churchill, like so many other men, named his precious possessions—cars, boats and, in this case, watches.

  Why the heck he’d called his watch a turnip Elizabeth didn’t understand, but she trusted Simon. And that had led them to Madame Tussauds, where they’d last had a run in with the former Prime Minister’s wax likeness.

  While on an assignment in World War II, Evan Eldridge had hidden his pocket watch in Churchill’s pocket. Finding it had saved their lives; looking for it had nearly killed them.

  Judging from the look on Simon’s face, this time might as well. Madame Tussauds was still Madame Tussauds, only just a lot more. The exhibits were not quite so steeped in history. Where old Wellington had stood years before, the boys from New Direction smiled back now.

  “Most disconcerting,” Simon had mumbled.

  Elizabeth couldn’t argue that one. That wasn’t the only change at the museum. Churchill wasn’t standing in his old spot waiting for some tourist’s selfie. He had moved up in the world, to the Spirit of London, an “exciting animatronic riding adventure.”

  “Step in,” a young man in a maroon t-shirt ordered them as their turn in line came.

  Simon glared at him and at the miniature black cabs that served as the cars for the ride.

  Elizabeth got in first and slid across the seat to make room. Simon sat down and the attendant pulled the safety bar down across their laps. Lights flashed as their car bumped down the track and into the attraction.

  “Welcome to the Spirit of London,” a voice intoned.

  “How long is this?” Simon asked, already impatient.

  “You are now going back 400 years to the London of Queen Elizabeth I.”

  “Oh, bugger,” Simon said.

  Elizabeth couldn’t contain her laugh, but swallowed it as quickly as she could. Simon was not amused. Even so, an unladylike snort escaped and she started laughing again.

  “Elizabeth.”

  Animatronic figures of minstrels and court jesters moved back and forth as jaunty pipe music played.

  The ride slowly brought them along through history from Tudor London to the Great Fire. And finally, the war. The sound of air raid sirens and bombs filtered through the dark tunnel.

  Just up ahead, around the bend, Elizabeth could see Churchill standing by piles of sandbags in the middle of the Blitz, which was stupid because no one stood around during the Blitz, least of all Churchill.

  “There he is,” she said.

  Simon tried to lift the bar, but it wouldn’t budge and his legs were too long to easily slip out from under. Elizabeth didn’t have that problem and easily twisted in her seat, freeing her legs.

  Stumbling over Simon, she jumped out of the car and landed right in front of Churchill. Wasting no time, she rifled through his
pockets.

  “Oi!” someone in another car called out.

  Elizabeth ignored him. Where was it?

  “Hurry,” Simon said and she turned to see their black cab was nearly around the next corner.

  Patting Winston down, she felt the outline of the tube in his inside pocket. “Pardon me,” she said as she reached in and got it.

  She ran back to their cab and nearly slipped on the lip of the platform, but Simon caught her and pulled her back in.

  She held the last canister up in triumph. They’d gotten it. The last one. She gripped it tightly in her hand. That went better than she’d thought it would.

  As their car pulled back into the loading and unloading area, Simon pulled on the safety bar, trying to urge it to move faster.

  “Come on.”

  Finally, it released. He got out and helped Elizabeth onto the platform. The man in the car behind them also got out and called out to one of the attendants. He was clearly angry and pointing them out to security.

  “Uh-oh,” Elizabeth said.

  This was not going to end well, not with all of the gesticulating the man was doing. She tapped Simon’s shoulder and pointed to the now very interested security men.

  “Of course someone would choose now to be a concerned citizen,” he muttered and took her hand.

  The ride area was crowded, but Simon shouldered his way through, pulling Elizabeth along behind him. They were almost at the exit door when someone grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and tore the canister from her hand.

  “I’ll take that.”

  “Don’t!” Elizabeth cried out and reached for it, but the guard held her away from it.

  “Taken from old Winnie, was it?”

  The security guard tugged on her arm and Elizabeth saw Simon’s hand clench into a fist.

  “Give that back to her,” he said.

  If they lost the last clue….Elizabeth’s stomach turned.

  “We need that,” she pleaded.

  “Don’t make a scene now,” the guard said and nodded his head.

  Another guard, much larger than the first, arrived. “Problem, Sully?”