The android examined the incoming data. Although she had unfettered access to data from use of Chairs in the past, it was not complete data. Heron had early on put in a code that prevented the Chairs from reporting who was in them and where they were going. Sierra had first instructed her androids to overcome that code. But she soon came to the conclusion that such a cloak on Chair usage benefited her as much as it did Heron. So all that the Chairs reported was that they were in use.
The android could not keep track of all use at the same time – no human being, or machine in existence that she knew of, could do that. Today she was focused on 1899, as she had been for the past few months. Two Chairs had just been activated in the Millennium Club in New York City.
She could not read whether they were bound for the past or the future. But she soon had her answer.
The monitor announced that she had two visitors. This was rare. She was well off the beaten track here on Cape Cod, in a place that looked on the outside like a worn, abandoned cottage not far from the shore. She was in a vast catacomb of digitally meshed rooms two stories underground.
She saw who the visitors were and let them in. Voices guided them to her room.
"Mr. Appleton and Mr. Charles," she said.
Chapter 18
[New York City, June, 1899 AD]
Mr. Bertram was at the front door of the Millennium. "He left, not five minutes ago," he said to Sierra and Max, correctly figuring why they were practically running up to the club.
"We didn't see him on the street—" Sierra began, but stopped when she caught Bertram's expression. "He took a Chair?" she asked, surprised.
"You know I cannot tell you any more than I cannot tell you," Bertram said, confirming what Sierra thought.
"But he's ill," Sierra said, "how—"
"First, he is not quite as ill as you may think – or he's feeling a little better now, in any case," Bertram said. "Second, he has a companion."
"Who?" Max asked.
"Mr. Cyril Charles," Bertram replied, "who, I don't mind telling you, and if it puts your mind at ease, went up to Mr. Appleton's home on the Hudson, and accompanied him to the Millennium."
Sierra nodded slowly. "We haven't seen Mr. Charles here in a while – not that that means anything, of course—"
"He has been keeping a low profile, in this time and place, as they say in the future," Mr. Bertram replied. "An attempt was made by the New York police to apprehend him in 1999, and we think it may be related to what he saw one day here."
"Did you get their names?" Max asked.
"Detectives Barnes and Molloy, I believe," Bertram said. "But they were taking orders from someone else."
"What did Mr. Charles see here that might have gotten him into trouble?" Sierra asked.
"J. P. Morgan, where he should not have been," Bertram replied.
"Ah, Heron," Sierra said.
Bertram said nothing, and started to excuse himself.
"One last question, if I might," Sierra said. "Could you tell us why Messrs. Appleton and Charles undertook this trip?"
"I truly do not know," Bertram replied. "And as you well know, I wouldn't tell you if I did. I've talked enough already – the walls have ears, even here in the Millennium."
***
Max and Sierra sat under the Raphael nude and considered their options.
"The hope would be that Appleton finally relented and went to the future to get some medical treatment which could extend his life," Max said. "I know that's what we wanted, but—"
"He was pretty stubborn about not doing that," Sierra said. "What would get him to suddenly change his mind?" She did hope that that's what Appleton was doing, but she was afraid to let herself believe it.
"Confronting his own imminent mortality?" Max responded.
"And what connection would that have to the break-in last night that Geoffreys told us about?" Sierra asked.
"I assumed that was Heron trying to get the original Chronica scroll," Max replied. "But there's no obvious connection between that and Appleton seeking medical treatment, so it's either just a coincidence, or we're back to not accepting coincidence as an explanation. Maybe Heron stole the Chronica and Appleton and Charles went after him?"
Sierra shuddered. The thought of Appleton and Cyril Charles facing Heron and his forces brought her as much dread as the thought of Appleton getting his life extended brought her joy. She got to her feet. "Let's see if there are any Chairs in the room."
***
There were no Chairs in the room.
"At least we know Bertram was telling the truth – probably," Max said.
"I didn't really doubt him," Sierra said.
"But we're stranded here until more Chairs arrive," Max said. "No way to go after Appleton, even if we had some idea of where he went."
"Let's get Astor and Tesla up to date on this – see if they have any ideas," Sierra said. "And we probably should pay a visit to Geoffreys and see if we can find out anything more from him. Sooner or later some Chairs should arrive."
"Let's hope with Appleton and Charles, not Heron and that well-educated murderous cop," Max said.
Sierra nodded. "As long as we're here, even just talking about the Chairs, it means that Heron didn't yet succeed in eradicating the Chronica and all knowledge about how to construct the Chairs." But she also knew that all of that could end in an unexpected heartbeat.
***
Neither Astor nor Tesla were reachable by phone – that would have been surprising, even cause for some alarm in a later age, but not in 1899, when phones were still solely in offices and homes not even yet pockets, Sierra and Max both realized. She left messages with associates for both men. She and Max took the train up to Wave Hill to see Geoffreys.
He had not calmed down very much. Sierra reassured him, "We have good reason to believe no harm has come to Mr. Appleton, but we don't know where he is. We're hoping to be in touch with him soon."
"But his fragile health—" Geoffreys began.
"Someone we trust is with him," Max said. "In fact, we think he arranged to take Mr. Appleton downtown today."
"But—" Geoffreys began, again, then allowed himself to be at least a little reassured.
"What can you tell us about the burglary last night, if that's what it was?" Sierra asked.
"I don't know if it was a burglary," Geoffreys replied. "As far as I can see, nothing is missing."
Sierra wondered if Geoffreys knew about the Chronica. She thought he probably did, but also thought there was no point in telling him about it if he didn't already know.
"The police thought the same thing," Geoffreys continued. "Nothing was disturbed. There was not even so much as a desk drawer left open."
"Right, the police," Sierra said. "Did they leave you a card – contact information – in case you thought of something else or had a question?"
"Yes, yes," Geoffreys replied, and produced a card from his pocket. "I'm supposed to call if Mr. Appleton is not home by this evening, in any case."
Sierra took the card, looked at it, and gave it to Max. "Gordon Woodruff, Detective, New York police," was printed upon it, with a telephone number.
***
Sierra and Max took the train back down to Grand Central, even more worried than they had been on the way up.
"I'm concerned about leaving Geoffreys alone at Wave Hill, and William coming back to that. They would be easy prey for Woodruff and Heron," Sierra said.
"We'll just have to meet William before he gets back up there – the Millennium would be the safest place for everyone," Max said.
"Probably," Sierra said. "But Heron has access to the Millennium, too."
Max nodded. "That damned Woodruff. What can we do about it? We can't just report him to the New York police – they'd lock us up, way the hell ahead of him."
A well-dressed man sitting in the seat in front of them turned and glared at Max.
"Sorry," Max said. "I was just a little overwrought."
; The man nodded and turned back in his seat.
"I know," Max mouthed to Sierra. "They don't appreciate that language back here."
"We don't know deep in this police department Heron's influence goes," Sierra said, quietly. "I think we should steer clear of them."
A conductor walked by and called out for their tickets, as if to underline the point that who knew where Heron's cadre ended, it could well include conductors on a train.
***
They met Astor and Tesla at the Millennium, and caught them up on events as they sat below the Raphael nude.
"These aren't the only comfortable seats in the club," Sierra remarked.
"No, but they afford the best view," Astor replied, with a smile, matched by Max and Tesla.
"If I am understanding you correctly," Tesla said to Sierra and Max, "you have no means of knowing where – to what time – Appleton and Charles took the Chairs."
Sierra nodded. "Unfortunately, right."
"Then what choice do we have but to wait here – at least one of us – until Appleton and Charles return and tell us where they have been?" Tesla continued.
"We could still take you to the future, as we were discussing," Astor said.
"We have no Chairs anyway," Sierra said, "at least as of a few hours ago. So the point is moot."
"No doubt that the ideal way of doing this is we wait until Appleton and Charles come back here," Astor said, "then find out what they know, perhaps get the Chronica from Appleton – or find out where it is – and have two Chairs to travel to the future with, to boot."
Max had been thinking that would indeed be ideal, until Astor's last point, which made him less than happy, since he was sure Sierra and Tesla would be the ones to take the two Chairs.
"But the problem is we could wait here forever until Appleton and Charles return," Astor delivered the punch line. "We have no way of knowing when – or even if – they will return."
"Or if they will return to this time," Sierra said, "but yes."
"Why would they not return to this time?" Tesla asked.
"Afraid of Heron, something we know nothing about in some other time that they think requires their presence – who knows?" Max said and stood. "We might as well go upstairs and see if there any Chairs there now."
He turned and saw a familiar figure walking towards them. "Cyril Charles!"
***
All four stood, then quickly sat with Charles under the nude.
"Where's William?" Sierra asked. "Is he all right?"
"Yes," Charles replied. "He is just resting – this was a lot of travel for one day."
Sierra stood again. "Here now in the Club – where?"
"No, in 2096," Charles replied. "Not in the Millennium or any club."
"In a hospital, receiving medical treatment?" Max asked.
Charles shook his head no, again. "Not in any hospital. This trip was not about seeing doctors."
Sierra was still standing. "I'm going to take that Chair and go see him right now."
All four men offered objections.
Tesla's was the calmest. "It may not be wise for just one person to travel – given the threat from Heron."
"So we're back to waiting for Chairs to arrive, then?" Sierra said.
Max stood and took her hand. "You're more crucial to all of this than I am. Let me go – I promise I'll come back to you."
"You can't promise that," Sierra said.
"The same is true for you," Max replied.
"Was there any sign of Heron in the future?" Astor asked Charles.
"Nothing of him personally," Charles replied. "But the charming young woman who was in charge told us that she was seeing the ill-effects of his work – Chairs not working the way they're supposed to, and so forth."
Sierra thought about Max's unaccountably arriving a little late, when their Chairs were supposed to be in sync, the last time they had used them.
"She reminded me a little of you," Charles said to Sierra, with a kindly smile.
"Tell us more about her," Sierra said.
"There is not much more to tell," Charles replied. "She did not volunteer much information, and we did not ask. She said you would know who she was – I believe she said you were responsible for her being."
"A descendant!" Astor said.
"An android, more likely," Max said. "You know, like 'Moxon's Moron'? Are you familiar with that story?"
"'Moxon's Master' by Ambrose Bierce? Of course!" Astor said.
"An android likely just like her, who made herself look like Hypatia, whom I was looking like and pretending to be, died in my and Hypatia's stead in ancient Alexandria," Sierra said, gravely.
"The real Hypatia having died of natural causes, long before," Max said, "just to keep the true historical record accurate."
"You mean, true in terms of what you know really happened," Astor said, impressed, "in contrast to what our history books otherwise tell us."
"This is fascinating!" Tesla said, bursting with enthusiasm despite what Sierra had just said. "This is more than time travel as a fiction – you have actually been living it, and rearranging history! I knew that, of course, but to hear you talk like this . . . "
Astor nodded agreement. "This woman in the future, then, was an automaton, who looked like a human being?"
"Yes," Sierra said.
"That in itself is nearly as incredible as time travel!" Astor said. "But may I ask," he said to Charles, "if you know the answer and are able to tell us, what was the purpose of Mr. Appleton's trip to the future, if not to see to his health?"
"To find the Chronica," Charles replied.
Sierra had been standing throughout the conversation. "Let's see if any more Chairs have returned."
***
The five went up the spiral staircase to the room with the Chairs.
Charles opened the door, went in first, and called to the others who were coming through the door. "Just one Chair."
Max looked at Sierra. "We should wait for at least one other Chair – it doesn't matter how long we have to wait here, if we can arrive in the future at the same time as Mr. Charles arrived with Appleton," he gestured to Charles.
"True," Sierra said, "but sitting around and waiting was never my strong suit."
"Let me take the Chair!" Tesla spoke up. "If the Chronica's in the future – in the time Charles and Appleton arrived – I'm the only who can use that knowledge then to construct another Chair. That is what you want, isn't it?"
"Yes," Sierra began, "but—"
Chronica (Sierra Waters Book 3) Page 24
