A Thief in Time (Thief in Time Series Book 1)

by Cidney Swanson

  The girl seemed to be heading for Channel Drive. Khan felt a sudden craving for one of Tonio’s cayenne-sprinkled Mexican mochas. This exquisite drink alone justified Khan’s membership in the exclusive Coral Casino Beach and Cabana Club. He promised himself the mocha as a reward for completing . . . whatever was coming. Another cold chill ran along his neck. If the girl knew everything . . . if she told anything . . .

  The blue pickup turned right, following Channel Drive along the cliffs above Butterfly Beach. The young couple were certainly taking the scenic route if their destination was the Mikkelsens’ dilapidated apartment complex. Khan dropped back, slowing his speed, and watched as Halley Mikkelsen performed an awkward three-point turn, reversing her direction, so she could parallel park her vehicle beside the stairs at the beach’s less-developed end.

  Once the pair had exited the truck and gone down to the beach, Khan pulled his vehicle forward and past the truck, turning right onto Butterfly Lane, which ran perpendicular to Channel Drive. He parked his car at the mouth of a private driveway with a sign reading “Positively No Turns.”

  And then he considered his next move.

  34

  • HALLEY •

  Halley’s eyes flickered over to Edmund’s. He was still staring at the ocean, the mournful expression fading. He cleared his throat and spoke.

  “When I was young, my father sought to discourage my love of the sea; my grandfather to turn my taste for adventure into a taste for life in Her Majesty’s navy. He sailed against the Spanish in 1588—ah, but I forget. You will not have heard of that battle.”

  “The Spanish Armada?”

  Edmund looked curiously at her. “Aye.”

  Halley’s eyes grew wide. “Everyone’s heard of the Spanish Armada. I mean, I don’t know details, but I know the English beat the crap out of the Spanish.”

  Edmund laughed heartily. “Aye, that we did.”

  “Wow. And your grandfather was there?”

  “Aye. My father should have been as well, but he had broke his leg riding whilst he was drunken.” He paused. “There are worse things, you see, than having no father at all.” He turned his gaze to a chunky gold ring worn on the index finger of his left hand. “It gives me no pleasure to say it, but I do not miss the ring I once wore to remember my father.”

  “Did you lose it?”

  Edmund picked up another stone and threw it into the sea. “My brother Geoffrey contracted debts he was unable to pay. I sold the ring to satisfy his creditors.”

  “Oh.” Halley, uncertain how to express her sympathy, said nothing, but she held his hand more tightly in hers.

  “Yesterday Geoffrey was given the means to purchase gifts for my grandfather’s funeral.”

  “Wait, was this the brother you were trying to find when I met you at the theater?”

  “The same. Geoffrey cannot be trusted with wealth in his purse. He will lay it out against ale or a game of chance.” Edmund twisted his remaining ring. “He is as like to what my father was as is possible.”

  “I’m sorry,” murmured Halley.

  “It cannot be helped.”

  Edmund was staring out at the sea again.

  “You love the sea,” she murmured.

  “Aye. To feel the salt spray, to journey and see what none before have seen, to go where none have gone—” He broke off with a look of such longing that it made her own throat tighten. She knew what it was to yearn for things you couldn’t have.

  “Can’t you, I don’t know, be an earl and be an . . . adventurer or whatever it’s called?” she asked.

  “Were we of greater means, mayhap. But as things stand, I shall have to work all the days of my life to pay debts contracted by my grandfather.”

  “I see.” She didn’t. Not exactly. She could see that it wasn’t fair. That Edmund shouldn’t be punished and . . . held back because his family members were idiots or spendthrifts. She might have a terrible mother, but at least Halley couldn’t end up in a position where she had to spend her life paying back her mom’s credit card bills. She hoped.

  “C’mon,” said Halley. “Let’s sit and eat the ice cream before it melts.”

  They found a spot back against the cliffs where someone had dragged a eucalyptus log. Together they sat, leaning against the log, digging toes into sand and spoons into ice cream.

  “I stand amazed,” Edmund said, upon tasting his first bite of ice cream.

  Halley snorted and then said, “You’re sitting.”

  He ignored her. “It is like unto an egg custard the cook doth prepare in springtime, but sweeter.” He shoveled another spoonful into his mouth. And then another. “And cold—as cold as winter itself.”

  Halley laughed. “Don’t eat it all!”

  Chastised, Edmund withdrew his spoon.

  “You know what?” said Halley. “Forget I said anything. I can get ice cream any time. Have at it.”

  Edmund’s face seemed to draw tight as she said this, but like so many of the emotions that played over his angular face, this one was gone in an instant.

  “Are you . . . Are you sorry you’ll have to go back home?”

  He didn’t answer right away. This time, Halley could tell he was restraining himself from letting anything show on his face.

  “In truth, I would stay longer, were it in my choice to do so.”

  He wanted to stay.

  For a count of three, Halley was happy. But then reality imposed itself, and her happiness ebbed, withdrawing like waves from the shore.

  “Come on,” she said. “We should get back to my apartment and start researching how to disable security alarms for when you have to return.”

  The two rose, heading back up the crumbling stairs to face what couldn’t be avoided.

  35

  • KHAN •

  Khan, who had been sitting in his Tesla fantasizing about caffeine in all its varying forms for at least the past half hour, came to a sudden alertness. Halley and her boyfriend had just reappeared at the top of the stairs rising from Butterfly Beach. Khan’s eyes followed them as they got back in the pickup. Should he race over to them right now? While they were trapped inside the truck, a captive audience? But what would he say? Would he bribe or threaten?

  Thirty minutes hadn’t been enough for him to make up his mind between bribery and threats, which were his only options when it came to keeping the girl silent. Well, there was always another, darker option…. Khan pressed his lips into a thin, tight line. That was the lack of sleep talking. He wasn’t the sort of person to consider darker options. At least, not until all other options had failed.

  Of course, if something did happen to the girl—an apartment fire or a violent undertow or a car accident…. Khan felt another chill running up his spine. What would he risk to be free of the fears that were clamoring for his attention? Or, to put it another way, how was he supposed to keep his mind clear and focused on his work so long as the possibility of exposure lurked always in the background?

  He remained frozen in his car. He hadn’t even undone his seatbelt yet. He felt slightly ill at the ideas he was entertaining.

  The girl put her truck in reverse. Khan noted that her left-side reverse light was out and that neither Halley nor the boy had put seatbelts on. They had all the confidence and folly of youth. Khan started his own vehicle, pulling farther back into the private driveway to remain undetected. What was the girl doing? Almost exactly perpendicular to him, she was now reversing into the part of Channel Drive where the cliff-side parking lane ended, becoming instead a dedicated bike lane. Her truck was dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, at a spot where the safety railing was tilting ominously toward the sea.

  Seeming to notice her peril, she swung slightly away from the edge, but this caused her back left tire—the one closest to Khan—to shiver up onto a concrete meridian holding a “Bicycles Only” sign. The truck shuddered, coming to an awkward rest with the front end still perilously close to the cliff’s edge. Was the girl a
complete idiot? The cliffs here were notoriously unstable, and her truck was tipping thanks to that elevated back left tire. Khan watched as the girl held up her cell phone to snap a quick picture. Khan’s stomach seemed to turn to ice; had she taken selfies in his lab, too? Just because she hadn’t posted anything yet didn’t mean she wasn’t planning to later.

  She smiled at something, completely oblivious to her hazardous parking job. It would only take some idiot barreling down Butterfly Lane to T-bone Halley’s truck right off the cliff.

  Khan licked his lips. Almost as if apart from his volition, he depressed the Tesla’s park button to engage the emergency brake and then shifted his right foot from the brake to the accelerator.

  36

  • EDMUND •

  Edmund, seated now in the cab of Halley’s marvelous truck, glanced over to his fair companion, admiring the curve of her throat, the flash of her dark eye, the way her full lips thinned slightly as she pressed them together. He breathed her in, memorizing each detail. There was no future—only this: her face, sunlight glowing on her cheek. He wanted to draw her. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to stay.

  She had said she wanted to “take” a picture from above the cliffs and was presently causing the truck to move in a reverse direction. He noted she had not required of either of them that they secure themselves with seatbelts. As he thought not well of the belts, he didn’t remind her.

  Once the truck was at rest, Halley gazed out to the ocean, clutching the pale green band she wore on a chain about her neck.

  “Prithee,” Edmund said, “what manner of jewel is it you wear?”

  She dropped the ornament from her fingers.

  “It’s stupid,” she muttered, tucking it back inside her shirt.

  “It is fair to behold,” he replied. “I have seen naught like it before. A fair jewel upon a fair maid.”

  Did she blush? Her eyes had dropped so that her lashes brushed her cheeks. The sides of her mouth turned slightly upward. Blushing or not, she had not taken the compliment amiss.

  Halley pulled the ring back out, slipping it over the tip of a finger. “It’s called jade. It’s a stone. I think they mine it in China, but maybe other places, too.”

  “Jade? Piedra de ijada?” he asked.

  Halley shrugged. “I’ve only heard it called jade. ‘Piedra’ is Spanish for ‘stone.’ ‘Ijada’ sounds about right for ‘jade.’”

  “Aye, I read of this stone in translation—Spanish explorers recorded in 1565 its efficacy for the healing of loin and kidney ailments.”

  “Well, my kidneys work great, as far as I know.”

  Having said this, Halley slipped the chain from her neck, loosing a spiral of hair caught on the necklace. Edmund reached over to smooth her hair and felt her shiver beneath his touch. Her face flushing, she undid the clasp of the chain and slid the ring free.

  “My dad gave it to me,” said Halley, handing it to Edmund.

  “It is passing fair.” Edmund slid the ring onto his little finger and twisted it round, noticing slight variations in the color. It had been carved into a twisting pattern as of branches twined together.

  “It remindeth me of a wattle fence,” Edmund said.

  “A what?”

  “Have you no such fences?” He frowned. It was true he had not noted any. “Wattle is made by weaving stripling branches. It is a poor man’s fence, but in my family, we do esteem it. Some ancestor caused it to be put into our family’s coat of arms. A raven on a wattle fence.”

  “Huh. Wattle. Well, I call it a “braid” pattern. You know, like how girls do their hair in braids.”

  “Ah, yes. The carving twisteth very like a braid. I see that. And yet, it much resembleth wattle. Or so any of my family would say.” He paused, smiling, and passed the ring back to her. “It must be of great worth.”

  “To me it is, but rings like this are pretty cheap. In my world, anyway. DaVinci told me she saw a store with a bowl full of them down on State Street for, like, ten bucks each.”

  Edmund nodded. Halley had paid for the ice cream with something she’d called “five bucks.”

  “I don’t know anyone who wears it for the, uh, medicinal values,” added Halley.

  “Mistress Halley,” began Edmund, “the pattern upon your ring is so like a wattle fence that I believe such rings would honor my grandfather greatly. Think you I could barter mine own golden ring for . . . ‘bucks’ sufficient to purchase six or seven of these braid rings?”

  “Why do you want so many?”

  “For my grandfather’s mourners,” said Edmund. Seeing her frown, he added, “I perceive it is not the custom in your world to provide gifts for mourners?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “It is customary in mine to present the principal mourners at a funeral with rich gifts. Not to do so would be dishonorable, both to my family and to my grandfather’s memory.”

  “Oh, right,” said Halley. “Mourning rings. I just didn’t know they were such a big deal. Okay. So your gold ring would have to be worth eighty bucks if you want to buy seven jade rings, with tax.”

  She shifted her attention to her purse, withdrawing five silver coins. “Five quarters supposedly weigh an ounce,” she said, balancing them on one outstretched palm. “Give me your ring.”

  Receiving it, she hefted the “quarters” in one hand and the ring in the other. Then she passed both to him, asking if he thought they were of an equal weight.

  He repeated her action. “Aye,” he replied after a moment. “They seem to me to weigh equally. Mayhap my ring is the heavier.”

  At this, Halley laughed. “Dude, you’re wearing, like, an ounce of gold on your finger.”

  She pulled out the device with which she communicated through air, stroking its surface several times. With wide eyes, she looked up at Edmund.

  “An ounce of gold is worth around fifteen hundred dollars. So, yeah, you could buy a bunch of jade rings. More like a hundred fifty jade rings.”

  “An hundred and fifty?” A smile of wonder grew upon Edmund’s face. In his own world, the value of so many jade rings would far outweigh the value of his gold ring. With so many to sell, he might use the income to pay down the estate’s debts.

  “This news is most welcome,” said Edmund. “Can you convey me unto the gold monger?”

  “Gold . . . ‘monger’?” asked Halley. “I don’t know that word.”

  “It meaneth one who sells. Are there, in your world, those that do trade in gold and silver rings?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I guess,” said Halley. “Let’s see what I can find.” Pulling out her cell, she touched the surface repeatedly.

  “Good news,” she said a minute later. “This says jewelers will pay cash for scrap gold. I mean,” she said looking up, “your ring might be worth more as a ring than as scrap gold. We could check a couple stores to find who makes the best offer.”

  “I should be greatly relieved to return without the expense of ordering rings for grandfather’s mourners,” said Edmund. “And to have that in hand which might lessen the estate’s debts.”

  Great though the relief was, it was knitted to the thought of returning—returning without Halley. His relief over the one seemed a small, pale thing beside the greatness of his dread of the other.

  “The stores are open now,” said Halley, checking the time. “Shall we?”

  Shall we . . .?

  Edmund’s mind supplied other questions in place of the one she asked:

  Shall we two not remain here, together?

  Shall we never part?

  Shall we?

  “Yes, Mistress,” replied Edmund, wishing that yes was in answer to another question.

  He swallowed the bitterness of the no belonging to his circumstance, the no that must soon part them.

  37

  • KHAN •

  In the end, it was reason that prevented Khan from using his Tesla as a battering ram. He was basing all his fears upon the one (possibly misinterpreted) clue
of the boy’s having reached for a sword. What if the boy hadn’t been reaching for a sword? What if he was just an ordinary twenty-first-century young man? Khan still had no proof positive that Halley Mikkelsen had been inside the lab, much less that she had used his equipment to bring someone here from the sixteenth century.

  And then there was the law of inertia. Regardless of whether it was ascribed to Galileo or Newton, the law of inertia could well have toppled both the truck and the Tesla over the cliff’s edge.

  Khan needed an opportunity that imperiled only two out of three of the participants. And he needed additional proof Halley knew more than she should.

  “I’ll have grounds more positive than this,” muttered Khan, misquoting Hamlet.

  38

  • HALLEY •

  As they drove, Halley reminded Edmund about keeping silent in the stores. “You really sound . . . strange when you talk. No offense.” She looked anxiously to see his reaction.

  “I am not offended.”

  “I mean, I like the way you talk. It’s . . . you. But I don’t think it’s a good idea to draw attention to yourself.” She frowned. “Maybe I better say the ring is mine. You can just stand there silently looking . . . rugged.”

  “Rugged?”

  Halley laughed. “Trust me: it’s a compliment.”

  Half an hour later, they were waiting at their first fine jewelry counter for someone to locate the assistant manager, but there and at three other stores, they received roughly the same response: “We only offer in-store credit for gold. You should take this to someone who specializes in antiques.”

  Unfortunately, the recommended places were all closed on the weekends. All but one: The Channel Islands Estate Jewelry and Loan Company was open seven days a week.

  “It’s a pawn and loan shop on the side,” said the clerk who gave them the address. “They know their stuff. If you pawn your ring, you’ll get a good loan rate, and if you sell it, you’ll probably do better there than you would here.” That last was spoken in a quiet whisper with accompanying wink.