Low City: Missing Persons (A Tractus Fynn Mystery Book 3)

by Alexander, MK

“Oh, dear Mr Fynn. Where has he gone?”

  “He’s gone missing.”

  “Missing, you say? Are you sure he wants to be found?”

  “Can’t be completely sure when it comes to Fynn. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything?”

  “Just that dreadful business about Yemen.”

  “What dreadful business?”

  “I shouldn’t say.”

  “Please…”

  “Only that his hotel was blown apart by a cannon.”

  “A terrorist attack?”

  “You might say that.”

  “Recently?”

  “That’s difficult to say.”

  “It could be important.”

  “Well, it was either a few months ago, or in the early fifteen hundreds. Hard to say when.”

  “And he was killed?”

  “As I’ve heard the story told.”

  “How could he die twice?”

  “Perhaps it was an exaggeration.”

  “Who told you all this?”

  “Why, it must have been Sheik Abbas— he lives in Yemen.” She smiled at me, waiting for something it seemed. I couldn’t think what, when she bent over and reached for a box of peppermint chai.

  “Have you seen anyone else?”

  “Who do you mean?”

  “Mortimer?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Visiting friends in Paris, I think.”

  “Drummond?”

  “Oh, Drummond, or is it Kaiser Wayne? I’ll be honest, I do get those two mixed up… But yes, that man you threw off the balcony at the Library. Very gruesome.”

  “That was Raj… not me.”

  “Was it? You could be right. I haven’t run into Mr Ashoka in ages.” She smiled politely. “I did hear that Drummond’s daughter is out and about, looking for you it seems.”

  “Who?”

  “Drummond’s daughter.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “That he had a daughter?”

  “Well, yes… Fynn and I jumped to the future and stopped Drummond from doubling, duplicating himself. He shouldn’t even exist anymore… or yet.”

  “Perhaps not, but his daughter does.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “We weren’t formally introduced.”

  “Who told you this?”

  “I’ve forgotten now.”

  “Did you meet her personally?”

  “No. Someone pointed her out at a party.”

  “What did she look like?

  “Quite pretty, red hair, a bit on the short side, I might say.”

  “When was this?”

  “Ages ago.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “Hmm, the nineteen-sixties, it might have been. Oh yes, I remember there was a song playing: Louie Louie, was it?”

  I was a bit flustered by this news and stood swaying for a moment.

  “Isn’t that Edmund’s cane?” she asked sweetly.

  “Hmm?”

  “The cane you have. I thought it belonged to Mr Fickster.”

  “Oh, I lent it to him but he returned it.”

  “And it allows you to travel any where, and to any time?”

  “So they tell me… It’s not working right though. I ended up in a world without coffee.”

  “Where?” Zalika asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “You’ve made me very curious, Mr Patrick.”

  I smiled. “Can you tell me more about Drummond’s daughter?”

  “I only heard that she is gunning for you. Sounds ominous, don’t you think?”

  “I’m sure it’s just a figure of speech.”

  “Oh, I did have another question for you, but now it’s completely slipped my mind. How frustrating. Oh well, I’ll ask you next time we meet…” Zalika gave me a polite kiss. “I’ve got to run, dear Patrick. Lovely catching up… Are you in town for a few days?”

  “No, I’m off to Amsterdam tomorrow.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “To meet with Fynn’s daughter, Anika.”

  “Oh yes, Anika…”

  “Do you know her?”

  “No, we’ve never met.” Zalika smiled and gave me a small wave. “Well then, bon voyage, Mr Patrick, or, goede reis.”

  ***

  I bought a metro card and hopped an A-train to the Port Authority on 178th Street. It was a nice day so I walked across the GW and noticed an odd thing about this timeline: I didn’t see a single truck. Apparently they were only allowed on the lower level of the bridge.

  A right turn took me to a path along the cliffs, north. It wasn’t the kind of place that encouraged overnight camping— not exactly the backwoods of Virginia— no, it was for sightseers and day trippers.

  Walking high above the Hudson did me some good though, it cleared my mind and put my thoughts in order. I was resolute about one thing only: I would not travel back to the past until I found Fynn in the present— no matter what. About ten miles later I came to a faux castle, a kind of monument, I thought; then descended slippery stone stairs that led to the river. This path took me to the rock scramble, the same one I had traversed with Madame Madeline, only in reverse.

  I came upon the temple after another hour’s hard hike. It was exactly as I remembered. Not as it was in its heyday, but as I had seen it in the future. The temple was in ruins. All but a few columns were scattered about as broken hunks of rubble. Barbarians had lit a fire at its center and the mosaic was completely obliterated. There was trash strewn everywhere, littering the shoreline. The waterfall was a trickle today, the reflecting pool was still intact, and the rough hewn wall seemed little worse for wear.

  To the north, I could just see the Tappan Zee Bridge and large looming cranes right next to it, as if a new one were being built. I wondered about the Library now, and decided to hike a bit further till I came to a very tall chain link fence. I could see it extended all the way to the water’s edge— literally, right into the Hudson River. I wondered where it began and started walking in parallel.

  It was a fairly steep climb and slow going. After just a few minutes I came across a woman wearing a floppy hat and big sunglasses, a fellow hiker. She was dressed in a khaki outfit, a loose shirt and baggy shorts in exactly the same color and cloth. I gave her a friendly hello and she returned it with a smile. It was a smile I’d seen before. She passed by, climbing down towards the river. I called out after her: “Hey, don’t I know you? You seem very familiar.”

  “You mean to say you’ve forgotten already?” she replied with a slight laugh and turned to face me. Her voice was a bit shrill, sharp and piercing. “Good to see you up and walking about.” She glanced at the cane.

  “What?”

  “You’re Patrick.”

  “I am, but I’m not really sure if we’ve ever met.”

  “So all this talk of your extraordinary memory… it’s not true after all?”

  “Apparently not.” I smiled. “What’s your name?”

  “Lilly.”

  “Lilly,” I repeated. “Wait a second, do you work at the Chronicle?”

  “I might have.”

  “You look a bit different.”

  “Thank you, if that’s a compliment.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you. Looking for the Library.”

  “The Library?” I laughed, maybe a bit nervously. “You know about that?”

  “I know it isn’t here anymore, though I can’t quite recollect why.” Lilly pouted. “I also know that if we don’t get away from this fence, they’ll set the dogs on us.”

  “Dogs, like hounds?”

  “Security, I suppose.” She looked at me. “Oh, they might be posing as friendly hikers… but they’re not.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “I have. Trust no one.”

  “Not even you?”

  “Especially me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”<
br />
  “It means I’d like to get a closer look at what’s on top of the hill.” She pointed to surveillance cameras mounted along the fence at regular intervals.

  “What does go on around here?” I asked.

  “They’re probably still trying to figure out the whole fast time thing.” She gave me a smile. “I’d guess they’re either trying to fill a bottomless pit with concrete… or they’re doing fiendish experiments.”

  “What?”

  “Like lowering people down into the depths and wondering why they die so quickly.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Completely. All I know is that the place is now called the Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory, and most of the campus is off limits to the general public.”

  Lilly fell silent when some other hikers could be heard approaching. She pulled me down and hunched behind some giant greenish-gray rocks. They passed, not noticing us, but seemed quite innocent to me. “I doubt we’re getting over the fence today,” Lilly whispered. “We might try tonight.”

  “Tonight?” I asked.

  “Do you have a flashlight?”

  “I have to get back to the city.”

  “Of course you do…” She smiled. “Another time.” Lilly stood again, a bit straighter than before. “We’ll be more comfortable down by the temple,” she announced, stretching. Her voice seemed different, softer and soothing. She took off her hat and her glasses, then loosened her hair. Backlit against the sun at the high edge of the cliff, she reminded me of Chloe, the counter girl at Cuppa-Joe’s Tea Room. They both had a very pale complexion. It didn’t seem possible though.

  “Have you got anything to eat in that backpack of yours? We’re starving.” She turned to me and inspected my expression.

  I said nothing, but then stammered, “Sure… lots of food.”

  We hiked south again, and down towards the river. At the place where the trail split in two directions, I blurted out, “Einstein’s Dice.”

  Lilly turned to look at me.

  “The Brigadier…” I started to explain but she knew what I meant.

  “Sad to say, poor Thomas never finished that particular pet project.” Lilly took the path to the left, which descended steeply. “Have you been getting our messages?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “What messages?”

  “Oh, we’ve been trying to identify people or situations you should encounter along the way. I hope it’s been of some assistance.”

  I thought for a moment. “You mean the tarot cards?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wish I could say it’s been helpful.”

  “It hasn’t?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Do you not know the major arcana?”

  “No.”

  “The minor arcana then?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it’s my sister’s doing anyway. I told her it was a bad idea.”

  “Your sister?”

  “I’m sure you’ll meet her sooner or later… or perhaps you already have.” She smiled.

  “What were you doing in Sand City?”

  “Looking for Fynn, same as you.”

  “But you were working at the Chronicle.”

  “So were you.”

  “It was my doppelgänger, I think.”

  “Well then, that explains a lot… Like how he seemed to have a very limited awareness of things. Not much of a memory at all.”

  “He’s dead, you know.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry for your loss.” Lilly took my hand briefly. “We’ve met many times, Patrick, though you don’t seem to remember.”

  “We have? Maybe you mean my doppelgänger.”

  “Yes, that could be the case, though which one, I wonder.” Lilly smiled.

  “How many are there?” I questioned, but she ignored me completely.

  “Isn’t that Mortimer’s cane?” Lilly asked instead.

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Everyone knows about Mortimer.”

  “Have you ever met him?”

  “I may have. I think we played a game of Monopoly once.”

  “Who won?”

  “He did, he always does.”

  A memory flooded in. “At the Library… but— but, you were just a little girl…” I finally remembered.

  “Ah, well, it’s coming back to you then.”

  “And your friend, Kaiser Wayne?”

  “Ah, you recall him also?” she asked.

  “More his dad.”

  “Well, poor little Kaiser… After the fire, Madeline found a foster home for him. He lived quite an ordinary life. Served his country in the war, and when he returned, moved to New Jersey. I think he sold vacuum cleaners.”

  “Never traveled?”

  “No, he didn’t seem to have any inclination for it, unlike his father.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Long since dead, of natural causes.”

  I tried to think if that made any sense at all. Somehow, it seemed to me, he should have been obliterated from history.

  Lilly took my hand again. “You look perplexed.”

  “I am.”

  “So… you haven’t found Fynn yet?”

  “No.”

  “Of course… that is, if he wants to be found.”

  “So people keep telling me.”

  “Is he your friend?” Lilly asked.

  “I like to think so…” Her question surprised me. “Is he yours?”

  “We’ve met on more than one occasion, though friend might be too strong a word. Perhaps we will be in the future.” She paused to smile. “But of course I know all about Fynn as a colleague. We don’t always see eye-to-eye, I will say. And he has told me quite a bit about you.”

  “Has he?”

  “Yes. He said you could be trusted, that you’re fairly steadfast, not quick to panic, and sometimes a bit naive.”

  “Fynn said all that?”

  “He did.” Lilly smiled. “Oh, but the man is completely reckless, jumping all over the planet. He may be good at arriving at a specific time, but he’s hopeless when it comes to geography— arriving at a particular location. He’ll find himself in the middle of the Pacific one of these days— mark my words.”

  ***

  Back at the temple ruins, Lilly and I shared what provisions I had, a picnic so to speak. “What I wouldn’t give for an iced-coffee right about now,” she said.

  I laughed but was astonished. “You know about coffee?”

  “I do, and I miss it. I think it’s all Tractus Fynn’s fault.”

  “I’m starting to think so too.”

  Lilly sat on a makeshift swing that someone had set up along the shore. She rocked lazily back and forth while I relaxed on a stone wall in the shade, just listening to the waterfall behind us. I saw my first ghosts as well, those flickering shadows just out of the reach of vision. Somehow this was not surprising.

  “The woods are full of phantoms, aren’t they, Patrick?” Lilly said and laughed at my expression.

  “You can see them too?”

  “Of course… all these travelers fluttering in and out of existence.”

  “Did you just jump here?” I asked, “from the future?”

  “Yes.”

  “How far?”

  “Far enough,” she replied vaguely.

  “Does this temple even work anymore?”

  “Sad to say the mechanism ground to a halt many years ago, but the vortex is still in place.”

  “What’s the future like?”

  “Like the present, only more so.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What do you want me to say? That there are sharks and barracudas still swimming along Wall Street and up Broadway?”

  “What?”

  “Rising sea levels.”

  “Oh.”

  “Not many people are brave enough to ask about the future though,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It sc
ares most people… they don’t like to think about what’s ahead.”

  “Well, I’ve been there… at least twice.”

  “Maybe that’s where Fynn is hiding.”

  “Hiding?” I asked, alarmed.

  “Just a thought.” Lilly laughed.

  “You’re teasing.”

  “So, Patrick, you are not tempted to use this temple and jump backwards?”

  “Me? No.”

  “What about the cane then?”

  “I’m staying right here in the present until I figure out where Fynn is.” I paused. “You should stay… help me find him.”

  “I don’t think he’s here.”

  “Where would you look?”

  “Well, I can easily guess where you’re going next,” Lilly said from the swing. “The Netherlands, to find Fynn’s daughter, Anika.”

  “You know her?”

  “I know of her. The poor child…”

  “Poor child? You’re not much older than her.”

  “Of course, you are right.”

  “I’m flying to Amsterdam tomorrow in fact.”

  “I see, well you must do me a favor and treat her gently.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Have you ever met her?”

  “Yes… she seemed, well, self-assured and confident.”

  “Perhaps, at her best she is that.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “Nothing, it’s just that she can be quite vulnerable; her memory is fragile sometimes.”

  “In what way?”

  “I suppose she has trouble remembering the past and the present.”

  “Are you saying she’s a traveler?”

  “No, I’m saying her memory is faulty at times. You might be able to recall the differences between timelines— hold the two up for inspection, one might say. She does not have that capability.”

  “I’ll try to be gentle.”

  “Yes… I do see a certain kindness in you.” With that, Lilly skidded to a halt and dismounted from the swing. “Well, Patrick, it’s been nice to walk and talk with you, but I must be off…” She started towards the temple.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The Library.”

  “Wait,” I said, “if you jump there, you can only go back.”

  “Exactly. I mean to find out what happened that day.”

  “I can tell you… I was there.”

  “What?” she asked and stepped away from the broken ledge. “Yes, of course…” Lilly stared at me for a moment, then quite unexpectedly tied back her hair and put her glasses on. “Well?”