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

by Alexander, MK

  “We can rest till morning and from there determine where we might be,” Fynn said.

  “Don’t you have any idea?”

  “I know we’ve traveled quite far.” He made a dash for the shelter of some nearby pine trees. It was a miserable wet night.

  The next day was very windy, and after trudging through miles of swirling wheat fields, we came across a tiny rural village completely centered around farming. There were more barns than houses and more animals than people. A few of the villagers bowed and call out to us.

  “He has erroneously called me the Rain King, and you, a soggy duke,” Fynn explained. “Perhaps we will find an inn for the night and gather more information.”

  “We’re down to our last ducats,” I cautioned.

  Fynn disappeared for several hours and returned in a good mood. “We are in sixteen twenty-seven, in Bourbneuf, France.”

  “Is that good?”

  “We’ve come too far west, but we’re rather lucky, considering…”

  “Considering what?”

  “Another ten miles further west is the fortress of La Rochelle, and the rest of the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “Why are we lucky then?”

  “It’s a long way to swim home.” Fynn laughed. “Ah, we might stop in and say hello to my good friend René...”

  “René, as in Descarte?”

  “The very same.”

  “He’s not a traveler?”

  “Not as far as I know, though he’s a wonderful host.”

  “Really?’

  “Oh yes, he was my neighbor in Amsterdam for a time.”

  ***

  It was a pleasant spring day when we landed next, and we seemed to be near a large town by the sea. Fynn handed me his hat, pulled his heavy cloak closed, then strode off to speak with a group of colorful soldiers who were loitering by a tavern. He returned a few minutes later.

  “We are very close to Toulon, and it is the ninth of May seventeen ninety-eight.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “We are a bit too south and west, but there’s an excursion leaving soon.”

  “To where?”

  “Malta and then on to Egypt…Wouldn’t you be interested to meet Napoleon? Serve as one of his loyal minions?”

  “Tempting as that might be…”

  “He’s not as short as most people say.”

  “Even so…”

  “It might be you who discovers the Rosetta Stone,” Fynn said with a smile.

  “I think I would have remembered that.”

  “Very well, off we go again.”

  ***

  “Best if we skip right past World War One. There are some bad spots in the region.”

  “Bad spots?”

  “No man’s land, mustard gas and alike.”

  That seemed like a good idea in theory, but in practice Fynn made a major miscalculation. We jumped and landed roughly, tumbling into a ditch, more like a deep trench. There was a deafening noise, a whistling sound and explosions. Some were near, some far off, but the din was relentless and terrifying, and I soon understood it to be artillery fire.

  A lone soldier stared at us. I suppose he had seen us arrive, appearing out of thin air. A grimy grin crossed his face. “Blimey,” he muttered and seemed convinced that we were an apparition.

  The throaty roar of an engine came to our notice, but it came from above. Fynn cupped his hands to his eyes and stared skyward. “Ah, a Sopwith Camel, which makes it nineteen seventeen at the earliest.” He turned to me. “We have drifted rather north of where we should be.”

  Up and down the trenches other men in the mud were yelling though, crying out plaintively: “Gas… gas… get your masks on boys…”

  “What mask?” I yelled back.

  Someone threw me an odd contraption with a hose and goggles. Another landed in Fynn’s lap.

  ***

  Fynn fiddled with his new astrolabe. We held hands again and with our masks cast aside, jumped from no man’s land, from a bleak ridge strung with barbwire. We landed an instant later in an enclosed field. There was a dead cow next to us, hooves up, and it reeked of death. The sun was setting and it felt rather cold. Fynn pointed in the distance to an earthen embankment covered with bushes, and perhaps part of an old stone wall.

  “Like a hedgerow…” he said and started towards it. “We need to find the road and follow it to the nearest town.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Close now.”

  “In terms of geography or years?”

  “Both.”

  He trudged across the field and I followed. Just as we reached the hedgerow, a raggedy group of armed men appeared out of the brambles and surrounded us. Most of them were wearing berets and they approached warily.

  “Partisan… partisan,” Fynn called out.

  One man spoke to me in French and became quite agitated when I didn’t reply.

  “Américain,” Fynn explained.

  “Merde alors,” he exclaimed and took my hand in both of his, shaking them all vigorously. “You’ve come at last. Here to help us, eh? And dressed such as you are?”

  “Quelle est la date, s'il vous plaît?” Fynn asked the man.

  He replied in English, “The tenth of November, nineteen forty-two. Does this mean something to you?”

  The partisans led us through an opening in the barrier, onto a road crowded with an endless line of refuges. Carts and wagons overflowing with furniture and such were drawn by sad looking horses. Farm animals were trudging alongside, haggard old men, women and little children, also marching slowly, marching south, I guessed. Every face seemed devoid of hope, twisted in grim resignation.

  Far in the distance I could hear creaking sounds and they were growing ever louder. I took it to be a tractor with squeaky wheels, but more than one— a whole fleet, I thought.

  Fynn conversed with the resistance fighters and ambled over to me after a time. “We are just south of Vichy and the Nazis are coming.” He looked up and down the line of refugees; we were all marching in lockstep now, though with a slow shuffling gait. “Don’t lose heart, Patrick. One more jump and we should be there.”

  chapter twenty-three

  happy returns

  We landed together just yards from each other. Fynn rose, dusted himself off and surveyed the landscape. “This seems to be the right place.” He pointed to the shoreline. “No doubt that’s the Mediterranean.”

  “Are you sure?” I looked out on a swath of blinding silver, tinged at the edge by blue.

  “I am confident about the year in which we’ve arrived,” he announced grandly. “And judging from the scant vegetation, I can guess the season: the middle of autumn.”

  “You might be right. I sort of feel a deja vu coming on.” I looked around to see a busy road. It seemed at least vaguely familiar. Fynn trudged up the hill and heaved himself over a rock wall. The village of La Turbie was still some distance above us. We started towards town.

  “I’m seeing a great many people wearing trilbies, and the automobiles look to be from the correct era,” Fynn said with a smile. “But we should find a calendar somewhere.”

  I pointed to an open garage along the street. We strolled by as nonchalant as possible and I was able to glance into the tiny cluttered office. On the wall was a picture of a pretty girl holding a giant wrench. I could see the year: 1964, and the month, Octobre. By my reckoning, it was about five days after we had robbed Mortimer.

  “Okay, I’m officially impressed,” I commented. “That was a very accurate jump.”

  “The twentieth, an auspicious date to be sure,” Fynn replied rather cryptically. “Though I will admit to being very angry with you, Patrick.”

  “Why?”

  “Ah, to involve Anika in all of this. It’s a terrible thing. I’m not sure I can forgive you.”

  “Nor I.”

  “Eh?” Fynn turned to me.

  “I can’t forgive myself. She should be home studying.”

/>   “Studying what?” Fynn asked.

  “Um… the law, I guess. In Amsterdam… in twenty-fifteen.”

  “Hmm, a few things have changed since I’ve been gone.” Fynn smiled. “You’re saying Anika is at university?”

  “Well, she was, or will be.”

  “That’s marvelous news… perhaps I can forgive you after all. You are a good influence on her.”

  “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Even so, it’s wrong of me to place blame on you. I know all too well she has a mind of her own.”

  “I wouldn’t say that exactly.”

  Fynn shot me a glance.

  “I’m not sure her mind is her own, that’s all. From what I could tell, she seems compelled to travel back to the nineteen sixties on a regular basis.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “She asked me not to tell you.”

  “Very well, I will respect her wishes and the promise you have made. I will ask no more questions about it. The main thing is to get her released from prison and send her home safely.”

  “About that…” I started, “Aren’t we going to look a bit strange walking up to the jail? Dressed like this, I mean.”

  Fynn laughed. “Yes.”

  “I have to admit feeling a little silly in these clothes now.”

  “You have an idea to change?”

  “Hmm, maybe we could find a costume shop or something… and sell them. We could use the money.”

  Fynn turned to me. “But I have nothing on underneath.”

  “Neither do I, now that I think of it.”

  “Perhaps we can use these garments to our advantage?”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, we certainly stand out, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “Normally, I prefer to blend in, become anonymous… in this case however, the opposite is called for.” Fynn paused. “We might add a dash of drama to it all.”

  “Drama?”

  “Do you know how to juggle?”

  “No.”

  “Mime?”

  “No.”

  “Sing then? I recall you have a good voice.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “A duet, perhaps…” Fynn smiled. “We might become street performers for a day— earn a bit of pocket change.”

  “That’s a terrible idea.”

  “Is it? If we are nuisance enough, it might land us in the same jail as Anika— eh?”

  “That’s a couple of towns west, if I remember right. Why not check her house first?”

  “As you say… Can you find her from here?”

  I looked around the narrow roads and then pointed, though not with the greatest confidence. He followed. We meandered for a while but I finally stumbled on her address. Fynn opened the gate and rang the bell.

  Anika appeared directly and stared at us while masking a slight giggle. She did not seem at all surprised to see us though. “Father, I am so glad you’ve come. I’ve missed you terribly.” Anika gave him a big hug and looked over at me eventually. “And who is this strange man you’ve brought with you?”

  My heart sank, though she gave me a pleasant smile.

  “And why are you dressed in this ridiculous attire— eh?”

  “You don’t remember meeting Patrick?” Fynn asked.

  She looked me over carefully and shook her head no, then just as suddenly let go a smile and burst out laughing. Anika threw herself around me and kissed me lavishly. “I am just teasing, I’ve missed you too, my lovely man. You are my savior…” She backed away though. “However, both of you are very smelly fellows.”

  “Pungent or not, I am very glad to see you safe and sound at home, my darling daughter.”

  “What?” Anika said, seemingly shocked. “Of course, I’m home. Where else would I be?”

  “I feared you’d be incarcerated.”

  “You’ve told him, haven’t you?” Anika said to me and glared.

  “Patrick has said nothing. He preserved your secret completely.”

  “How did you find out then?”

  “I’ve known for years, darling daughter.”

  “But how? I’ve been very careful.”

  “I am your father and I am a policemen. How could I not know?” Fynn laughed.

  “Well, luckily, I have a good lawyer. Friends with the local prosecutor…” Anika was beaming. “Come in, come in, the both of you, join the party.”

  “The party?” Fynn asked.

  “Of course, Pavel is inside waiting… I’ll make us all lunch.”

  “I might prefer an espresso.”

  “Whatever are you saying, father?” Anika asked, puzzled.

  “A cafe, my darling.”

  “Oh... yes, Patrick was speaking of this, but we have nothing like that here. Could I get you a cup of tea or a nice coco?”

  Mr Mekanos, seemingly no worse for wear, was sitting inside the cramped living room. He sprang from the sofa. “Oh, thank heavens, you’ve arrived… And Fynn… to see you here gives me a great sense of relief.”

  “Good to see you as well, Pavel.”

  The two men greeted each other with hugs.

  “What about Edmund?” Mr Mekanos looked at me. “You must save him from the Flatlands.”

  “Already have,” I said and smiled. “Or he saved me…”

  “You’ve escaped, both of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, where is he?”

  “Paris, I guess.”

  “When?”

  “Hmm… what day is it today?”

  Pavel thought for a moment. “Tuesday.”

  “Oh, well, next Thursday then.” I smiled. “What happened to you?”

  “How do you mean?” he replied, staring over at me.

  “We all jumped back to nineteen sixty-four from the Champs-Élysées, but you never showed up.”

  “From twenty-fifteen, you are meaning?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was a Saturday, wasn’t it?”

  “I think so…”

  “Well, I might very well ask you the same question.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been here for months, waiting for you.”

  I glanced at Anika who stood behind him. She was shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

  “Months, eh?”

  “It felt like it, surely, though it may have been only a few weeks.”

  “Not days?”

  “Certainly not.” Pavel laughed and rubbed his mustache. “All is well now, eh? Fynn has returned and everything is as it should be.”

  “Almost everything.”

  “Eh?”

  “Still haven’t fixed the whole coffee thing.”

  “Why ever not?”

  I glanced over at Inspector Fynn, now sprawled out in a large chair.

  “Tractus, do you mean to deny the world sidewalk cafes, lattes, and cappuccinos?”

  “You know me better than that, Pavel,” Fynn scolded with a gentle tone. “Everything will be rectified in due course.”

  “I see… well, don’t be a laggard. There are more than a few people depending on you.”

  “All I ask is a bit of patience.” Fynn smiled wearily.

  “Very well,” Pavel muttered and started to gather his belongings. “Sorry to dash, but I should be going.”

  “So soon?” Anika asked.

  “I’m certain Edmund is waiting by now.” He gave her a hug. “Thank you, my dear, for being such a gracious hostess.”

  At that, Fynn rose. “Are you sure you can manage to get back on your own?” he asked with his arm around Mr Mekanos.

  “Of course.”

  “And you don’t want any help? I seem to remember the last time you traveled, you ended up in seven thirty-two.”

  “Did I?” Pavel chuckled a bit nervously. “Oh yes, where was it? Some battle or another, I think. Or was it a bicycle race?”

  “Tours, I believe.”

  “Yes, a Wednesday… d
readful business.” Pavel gave his double laugh. “This time I’ll be jumping forward, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He paused and looked around. “If you could just point out where north is…”

  ***

  “Anika, dear, your calendar is correct?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “So it’s Tuesday?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Have you a train schedule?”

  “You’re not leaving already. You’ve just arrived.”

  “Regrettably, we must go.”

  “To where? if I might ask.”

  “A party in London.” Fynn cast a glance at me. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

  “London?” Anika asked. “And how do you expect to make it there?”

  “The boat train, the Golden Arrow— isn’t it still running?”

  “I mean dressed as you are? And I’m guessing without a passport.”

  “Yes, it may be a difficult journey,” Fynn conceded.

  “Of course, I’ll be coming with you.”

  “My dear, you cannot. It might be dangerous.”

  “A dangerous party, well, I am intrigued.”

  “Not a place for you, my darling daughter.”

  Anika paused to gauge her father’s resolve. “Then I will get you both identification. I know someone who does this for me. Of course it will take a few days…”

  “We haven’t the time.”

  “Well, aren’t you going to change?” Anika asked. “We must find you some suitable clothes.”

  “These garments have served us rather well so far.”

  “At least let me get them laundered. You both smell rather foul.” She got up and moved towards the bedroom. “I think I have some of Patrick’s old clothes… from the last time he was here. He might at least change.”

  “That’s up to Patrick,” Fynn said.

  “Well?” Anika asked and stared at me.

  “It might be a costume party,” I replied.

  She burst out laughing. “The least you might do is shave and get a haircut then.”

  “There is no time for such acts of vanity.” Fynn smiled at his daughter. “I will not say no to a long bath however.”

  There was only enough hot water for Fynn. Anika gave me a haircut while the tank reheated. She aired out our clothes as well, and applied copious amounts of cologne. I dozed for a while, and even Fynn took a quick nap. Eventually, I figured out the moveable shower and basked in the steamy water until it started to go cold.