Chronica (Sierra Waters Book 3)

by Paul Levinson

  "No," Sierra said. "Neither of us has met him. I assume the same for you and Detective Woodruff?"

  "Yeah," Flannery said.

  "What do you intend to do with the Chronica, if we can get our hands on it?" Max asked, "as long as we're talking about more than the speed of horse travel now."

  "Just what would have happened to it had Ms. Waters not intervened," Flannery replied. "Burn it, as per our friend's instructions."

  Sierra nodded. "You know it may not be the only copy of the Chronica," she observed.

  "Not our problem tonight," Flannery replied.

  [West Orange, New Jersey, May, 1899 AD]

  Woodruff pulled the coach up to a stop, about half a block from the Black Maria, which could be seen clearly in the moonlight.

  "Let's walk the rest of the way," Flannery said. "There should be a night watchman around somewhere, but he's now in our employ."

  Woodruff tied the horses as securely as he could to a hitching post. "We can't leave them here like this too long."

  "Let's hope we won't have to," Flannery replied. "See, that's why I wanted the motor car in the first place," he said, mainly to Sierra and Max. "I wasn't completely wrong about that."

  They approached the Black Maria. It looked like a barn, Sierra thought. There were no windows on the side she was looking at. She felt a pang. She and Max had both been historians of media, as graduate students, before they had been drawn into all of this. That part of her was still inside, underneath it all, and it was thrilled to actually be walking up to this studio, which she had read and seen so much about, almost 150 years in the future. She was sure Max felt the same way.

  They reached the night watchman, who extended his hands. "The door is open," he said. "Tie me up and rough me up a little, so I'll be able to keep my job." He grinned at Sierra. "I'm being so well paid for this, I may not need this job any more. I'll be sure to look you up, dearie!"

  Woodruff smacked him twice in the face. "That should leave enough of a mark," Woodruff said, and began to tie the night watchman's hands behind his back.

  "We'll put in an anonymous call to the local police after we're gone that the Black Maria was broken into," Flannery said to the watchman. "Shouldn't take too long. They'll untie you when they get here." He patted the man on the head and punched him in the face again. "Just for good measure."

  "All done," Woodruff said, smiled at the man, and refrained from punching him yet again.

  The four walked carefully to the Black Maria. "I don't like people who sell out their own employers," Flannery said about the night watchman.

  "Are we sure Edison's not inside there, right now?" Sierra asked. "He's famous for regarding sleep as a waste of time, and supposedly sleeps only three or fours every night."

  "He also takes naps," Flannery said. "But we have another man on the case, outside of Edison's home right now. Edison's had a cold for the past few days, and is resting it out at home now. That was one of the reasons this night was chosen for our little visit. If Edison stirs, our man will rush right over here and alert us."

  Max controlled himself from asking, will you punch him in the face, too? And instead asked, "can you tell us where the Chronica is now?"

  "In the office," Flannery said, and pointed to a side of the building that had a separate entrance.

  "You think he would leave something as valuable as that in his office, and not in a vault somewhere?" Max asked.

  Flannery shrugged. "That is what we have been told – that this book is in his office. We'll find out soon enough if it is."

  Woodruff added, "I'd certainly put it in a strong room in a bank somewhere, but I'm not Thomas Edison. And, from what I hear, he does everything his own way."

  Flannery and Woodruff started towards the office door. Sierra and Max looked at each other, and followed.

  ***

  The door to the office was unlocked, as promised. Flannery and Woodruff entered first and turned on several electric light bulbs. Flannery beckoned Sierra and Max to enter. "The Chronica was last spotted on that desk," Flannery pointed to the cubbyhole desk, stuffed in all parts with papers. "You two are the experts – see if you can find it."

  Sierra and Max walked to the desk. "There are hundreds of scripts here," Max said and named some of the manuscripts he saw, "The Magician, Love by the Light of the Moon, Another Job for the Undertaker—"

  "Ok," Flannery interrupted, "spare me the recital. The Chronica is supposed to be in Greek – you should be able to see it quickly enough with all of those titles in English."

  Sierra pulled up a chair, as did Max. "This is going to take some time," she said.

  "Stop talking and start looking," Flannery said. "I'll stand here by the door and make sure we get no intruders."

  ***

  Sierra and Max finished almost an hour later, chided by Flannery for taking so long, but careful to put every manuscript and piece of paper back in its place, so Edison would not immediately see that his desk had been ransacked.

  "It's not here," Sierra said, and smacked her hand on the desk in frustration.

  Flannery had seen that coming, as the minutes went by and Sierra and Max had found nothing. Woodruff had gone and returned from checking on the horses, and had also looked around the rest of the office and found nothing written in any language other than English.

  Max and Sierra expected an outburst from Flannery, maybe even a threat of violence, but he was calm. He cursed softly and told Woodruff to take a quick look at the desk himself.

  "Well, what might this be?" Woodruff announced about 15 minutes later, and held up a manuscript. "Sure looks like Greek to me."

  Sierra came back to the desk.

  "We must have missed that," Max said. "You sure it's the Chronica and not a script for a movie about making souvlaki?"

  "Yes, I'm sure," Woodruff replied. "I studied ancient Greek and Latin in high school as well as college. It says 'Chronica' right here on the front page."

  Sierra and Max had decided beforehand that if they found the Chronica on Edison's premises they would not let Heron's men know. That would keep it out of Heron's hands, and give themselves the option of deciding what to do about Edison's possession of it later.

  "I tell ya," Flannery said with a grin, "this end of the 19th century has one hell of an educational system."

  ***

  Sierra and Max said nothing as they walked back to the four-in-hand with Flannery, Woodruff, and the Chronica. Nothing was said to them, but they felt like prisoners.

  "What are you going to with it?" Max finally asked.

  "Burn it, like I told you, when we get back to New York," Flannery answered.

  "What are you going to do with us?" Sierra asked.

  "Nothing," Flannery replied. "I'm a police lieutenant not your father. I'm not going to punish you for your stupidity – by which I mean, I know you were deceitful in there, not stupid, but being deceitful in these circumstances was a very stupid thing."

  Woodruff was half leafing through the Chronica as they were walking.

  "Anything interesting in there?" Flannery asked.

  Woodruff laughed sarcastically. "And I'm a police detective not your inventor. None of this makes a whit of sense to me."

  They reached the horses and the carriage. Woodruff gave Flannery the Chronica, hitched up the horses, and took the reigns.

  Flannery sat opposite Max and Sierra in the coach. "Don't look so crestfallen," he said to them. "You're not the first to underestimate the New York City police, and you won't be the last."

  [Weehawken, New Jersey, May, 1899 AD]

  The trip back to Weehawken, less than an hour, passed mostly in uneasy silence.

  "Can I see that?" Sierra asked about the Chronica, on Flannery's lap, at one point.

  "No," Flannery answered.

  "You know, that's not the way it was originally written," Sierra said. "It was on a scroll, which took up much less space when wrapped. In some ways, we've lost not gained ground since the a
ncient world."

  "Save your history lesson for your students," Flannery said. "I expect that's what the two of you will be doing now, when you're back home, whenever that is, now that this business has been concluded?"

  Sierra gave no response.

  They were soon at the dock in Weehawken. Woodruff went to return the four-in-hand.

  This time, the three-man crew was visible and on the shore. "We'll be leaving right away," Flannery told the captain, who nodded and boarded the ship with his men.

  Sierra and Max considered bolting, but preferred to stay with the Chronica.

  Woodruff returned, all four boarded the ferry, and it soon pulled back out into the river for the return to New York.

  ***

  The water was even choppier than on the way out. Flannery took it in serenely. Woodruff looked less comfortable.

  About halfway or a little more back to New York, one of the crew came down to the deck and said something to Woodruff. It sounded to Sierra like "people on shore". She noticed the man had a pair of brass binoculars in his hand.

  Woodruff turned to Sierra and Max and produced a gun. "I've enjoyed your company," he said, "but all good things must end."

  "What are you doing?" Flannery demanded.

  The man with binoculars now also had a gun, in his other hand, pointed at Flannery.

  "This is what our employer wants," Woodruff said, coolly. "Stay out of it."

  Sierra and Max had not come unarmed. They weren't much good with guns of this era, but knives were knives, and both had become adept at their use in the ancient world.

  They looked at each other for a split second and attacked the mate or whatever the hell he was with the gun. He got off a shot but hit no one. Sierra's knife got to his neck first, and she slit his throat.

  At the same time, Flannery pulled his gun and charged Woodruff. "It's not what I want," he shouted. Loud gunshots echoed over the dark Hudson. Flannery was on top of Woodruff, struggling to get the gun out of his hand, but all he dislodged from Woodruff was the Chronica, which flew over the rail of the ferry into the black water and promptly sank. More shots were fired.

  Sierra and Max, done with the crew member, turned to Woodruff and Flannery. Woodruff, no longer armed, holding what looked like a wound above his wrist, was scrutizing the water below. Flannery, also no longer armed, was on the deck, bleeding, clearly shot in several places.

  Sierra and Max rushed Woodruff, knives in hand. Woodruff looked at them for a heartbeat then turned and jumped into the water. Sierra and Max reached the railing a moment too late to stop him.

  They turned to Flannery, still on the floor, blood gurgling in his mouth. Sierra held his head up. He managed to give them his address in 1999 and his wife's name. "Tell Mary I'm so sorry. I've always loved her. Help her." And he died in Sierra's arms.

  Chapter 16

  [New York City, May, 1899 AD]

  Sierra kissed Flannery on the forehead and held him for what felt like a long time but was just a few seconds. "He saved our lives," she said.

  "What about the rest of the crew?" Max asked, knife still in hand. The ferry was still heading towards New York.

  One of the crew indeed soon ran down from the helm to the deck, with no weapon in hand. "My God, what happened here?" he asked, looking at Flannery's body, then backing off when he saw the knife.

  Sierra rose, not sure what to say, but put her knife away. She started to answer, but Max touched her arm, and pointed. Another ferry was approaching from the New York side.

  Max and Sierra were pretty sure who was on that ferry, but could not be positive. Sierra gestured to it. "They'll know what to do," she said loudly to the mate, who had now seen the other crew member's body. He was standing as far away from Sierra and Max on the deck as he could.

  Max picked up a gun that was on the deck and pointed it at the horrified mate. The plan was that this guy had no idea that Max barely knew how this gun worked. "Please, just stay here," Max said. "This will all be over soon. There's been enough bloodshed."

  The plan worked. The mate was frozen.

  The second ferry approached and was now within shouting distance. Sierra exhaled in relief. Jack Astor was standing on the deck with armed men. He saw her and waved. Astor was supposed to have waited with his men for Sierra and Max at the New York dock, to wring the Chronica from whomever Heron had sent to get it from Edison. But Astor had no doubt seen what had happened on the river with own binoculars and hired a ferry on the spot to get out here.

  ***

  Astor and four Pinkerton detectives in his employ soon boarded Sierra's ferry. Two Pinkertons went up to the helm, weapons drawn. The other two put the mate Max had been talking to in handcuffs.

  Astor looked at Flannery's body. He could tell by Sierra's expression that she wasn't happy about Flannery's death. "I wouldn't say that I liked him," Astor said, "but he probably deserved better than this."

  "He probably saved our lives," Max repeated what Sierra had said. "Woodruff was set to kill us."

  Astor arched an eyebrow. "I didn't much care for him, either. Where is he?"

  Sierra pointed to the water. "He jumped into the Hudson a few minutes before you got here." There was no sign of him now.

  "And the Chronica?" Astor asked.

  "That went into the river, too," Max replied.

  "You think Woodruff went into the water to fetch it?" Astor asked.

  Sierra shook her head no. "Probably not. I don't know. Why would he do that? The Chronica destroyed, whether by flames or by water, is just what Heron wanted."

  "Yes, Heron seems to have gotten what he wanted tonight," Astor agreed. "Nothing will be changed in the world – at least as far as this copy of the Chronica is concerned. Only Edison and Ford will be disappointed. Tesla will be happy – he's your best bet now to construct a Chair. Maybe he was always your best bet in that regard."

  "He'd be a better bet if he had the Chronica in hand," Sierra said.

  One of the Pinkertons returned from the helm. "It's ok," Astor told him, "you can talk in front of them," and looked at Max and Sierra.

  "The captain and the other mate upstairs say they know nothing about what happened here," the Pinkerton said. "They were hired to take people across the Hudson and back, period."

  "Do you believe him?" Astor asked.

  "Yes, I do," the Pinkerton replied.

  "Ok," Astor said. "Then please take the handcuffs off that man." He pointed to the crew member whose hands were cuffed behind his back.

  Sierra was looking again at Flannery's body. "Back in 1999, he'll just be another mysterious disappearance, a police lieutenant who vanished without a clue. It'll be chalked up as another mob-related death, due to gambling, drugs, whatever."

  Astor nodded, sympathetically, not knowing exactly what 'mob-related' meant, but getting the gist.

  "I'm almost tempted to put his body in a Chair, and get it back to his wife – that way, at least she'd have some closure. Is that crazy?" Sierra asked.