The Time Hunters and the Lost City (The Final Chapter in the Time Hunters Saga Book 5)

by carl ashmore

  Joe gave the kind of shrug that showed he wasn’t surprised at all. ‘So what are we doing about finding the Chalice?’

  ‘For some time now I’ve had a number of travellers following various leads - Alex Rockemer, Emma Gadsby, Ian Cuthbertson, Keith Pickleton and Bruce Westbrook. Between the six of us, we’re making some progress.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Joe said. ‘That’s not many. There’s over two hundred of you lot. Shouldn’t they all be looking?’

  ‘I’ll be honest with you,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The fewer who know about the chalice quest the better.’

  ‘Why?’ Becky asked.

  Uncle Percy looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m concerned GITT has been compromised.’

  ‘Compromised?’ Joe said.

  ‘Perhaps I’m being over cautious, but I fear Drake’s influence might extend to some of the members. I have no hard evidence to back that up, but after losing the Sword of Ages I don’t think we can risk losing another Eden Relic, particularly one that could make Emerson Drake immortal.’

  Becky shuddered at the thought of it.

  ‘And the fact is,’ Uncle Percy continued. ‘Emerson knows too much about the organisation and its members. It would be naive of me to think he couldn’t coerce people into working for him. He’s done it before.’

  Joe was about to say something when a high-pitched buzz cut the air.

  Becky turned to the source of the noise. A green light flashed wildly atop a small black box she knew to be a Hologramophone. Just then, three lasers shot out of it, merging as one about five feet away, forming a clear, translucent image. A tall, statuesque woman was staring at them, her fine blond hair scraped back in a tight bun.

  Becky recognised her as Olivia Larsen, chairperson of the GITT committee.

  ‘Good morning, Percy,’ Larsen said, her Norwegian accent as pronounced as ever.

  ‘Hello, Olivia.’

  It was then Becky noticed Olivia Larsen’s blue eyes, usually so penetrating and self-assured, looked inflamed and timorous, bordered by dark bags that a thick coat of make-up couldn’t conceal.

  ‘And hello Becky, Joe,’ Larsen said. ‘Becky, I heard about your involvement in the London incident. I’m very sorry. Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I’m sure it doesn’t feel it,’ Uncle Percy said, ‘but Happy Birthday, Olivia.’

  ‘It doesn’t, Percy. But thank you anyway.’

  ‘Happy Birthday,’ Becky and Joe said at the same time.

  ‘Thank you. Percy, the committee has called a meeting in one hour at Balestrino. Can you attend?’

  ‘Of course,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And I’d like Becky and Joe to be present, too. I hope that’s okay with you.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Larson replied. ‘Listen, Percy, there’s something I need you to know before you arrive in Balestrino. I don’t want this getting out to the wider community just yet.’ Her expression suggested her next words were almost impossible to say. ‘Annabel Mullins has gone missing…’

  Silence fell over the room.

  Becky’s stomach churned. Annabel Mullins was the GITT receptionist, and had always treated her with such affection and warmth.

  ‘What do you mean, “missing”?’ Uncle Percy gasped.

  ‘Precisely that,’ Larsen replied. ‘She’s just … just vanished off the face of the earth. Yesterday evening, her husband, Derek, returned from work to find she wasn’t at home. There was no note, no message of any kind, and she hasn’t been seen since.’

  ‘Could she be travelling?’

  ‘No,’ Larsen replied. ‘Annabel never travels without Derek, you know that. In addition, her portravella and time machine were left securely in a locked garage.’

  ‘Surely there must be an innocent explanation?’

  Olivia Larsen gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’m certain she’s been taken against her will, Percy. And my chief reason is she left her handbag on the kitchen table, and we both know her well enough to know she never goes anywhere without that…’

  Chapter 10

  Back to Balestrino

  Becky could tell by Uncle Percy’s expression he agreed with Olivia Larsen.

  Uncle Percy’s voice was devoid of emotion. ‘I take it someone has travelled back to find the answer to this mystery?’

  ‘Yes,’ Larsen replied. ‘A number of us … to no avail. We believe Drake’s taken her and installed a Pretonicator somewhere in the vicinity, preventing any traveller journeying to that location and point in time. When we try it sends us to the hamlet of Brokenwynd in Aberdeenshire.’

  ‘Hilarious,’ Uncle Percy replied dully. ‘And have we heard from him?’

  ‘No,’ Larsen replied, shaking her head. ‘But he knows what she means to all of us … I’m sure we will.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘I shall leave you to prepare the boardroom for the meeting. I’ll see you in Balestrino in one hour.’ And with that, Larsen’s image vanished.

  Becky stared miserably at Uncle Percy. ‘She’ll be all right. I know it.’

  ‘I pray you’re right. There are just some rare people that remind you humankind can be all that it should be. Annabel is one such person.’

  The next hour passed in a crawl. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours that Becky felt her capacity to experience shock had left her for good. And when she trailed the others into the Cadillac, she turned to take a final look at the ski lodge, knowing full well that where once there would’ve been astonishment, there was nothing now but fear of what was to come.

  She couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever be truly happy again.

  *

  Betty materialised on a dusty patch of wasteland, scorched by sun. Time machines were parked everywhere – cars, motorbikes, a canoe, a go-kart, and, perhaps most bizarrely, a gigantic steamroller.

  As they walked away from the Cadillac, Becky glanced up at Balestrino Castle, which peered down imperiously on the partially walled town, its terracotta slated houses vivid against the deep green olive treed hills that bordered it. Entering the town, she saw various travellers emerge from ramshackle houses. Although many shouted messages of welcome, their voices were joyless, reinforced by expressions of such gloom she knew each and every one was petrified at the thought of what Drake would do next.

  She couldn’t blame them.

  Uncle Percy led the group across the piazza, past the crumbling church of Sant’ Andrea, and down a cobblestoned side street to the Municipio, a high building, its fissured sandstone walls concealed by thick swathes of ivy.

  Becky was the last to enter the Municipio. Inside, she saw the egg timer shaped table, sitting at which were ten travellers, each doing their best to muster a smile they didn’t really feel.

  ‘Hello Percy, Barbie, Becky and Joe,’ Olivia Larsen said. ‘Thank you for coming.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Good morning everyone.’

  The travellers responded in kind.

  ‘Becky, Joe,’ Larsen said. ‘Let me make the introductions in case you haven’t met everyone.’ She pointed to her left at a wide, heavy set man with a shaven head, his t-shirt barely able to contain the bumps and bulges of a body sculpted from many years in the gym.

  Becky recognised him before Larsen made the introduction.

  ‘This is Charlie Millport,’ Larsen said.

  ‘Y’alright, kids,’ Charlie said brightly. ‘Great t’see you ‘gain.’ His face grew earnest as he looked at Joe. ‘Son, I’m sorry ‘bout Will. We all knew wha’ he meant to yer. He meant the same t’many o’ those who knew him.’

  ‘Ta,’ Joe replied.

  Next, Larsen pointed to a slight man with a pointed head and long teeth that seemed too big for his mouth. ‘This is Oliver Mostyn.’

  ‘Hello,’ Mostyn said, his smile broadening to a point his teeth threatened to knock his mug of tea off the table.

  Olivia Larsen continued, gesturing at each traveller in turn. ‘And we have Shelby Shore, Jack Burton
, Ella Whitfield, Molly Heath, Sally Everard, Shala Abdul and Timothy Jones.’

  Becky knew she would never remember all their names.’

  ‘Now, please,’ Larsen said. ‘Would you take a seat?’

  Uncle Percy, Joe and Becky sat down.

  Barbie remained standing at their rear.

  ‘I don’t even know where to begin,’ Larsen exhaled. ‘Emerson Drake, it seems, has delivered a full blown attack on the world … a world in which he has elected to rule. Overnight, there has been violence, looting and widespread panic across Europe, North America, Asia, and every other continent in the world. Each country’s government is attempting to contain the turmoil, but it’s anarchy out there. And I am uncertain as to whether the world can ever recover from it. Drake knows this, and I imagine he’s relishing every moment of it, before he steps in and imposes his will on the detritus that remains.’

  ‘So what’re you doing about it?’ Becky asked. ‘You’re the only ones that can defeat him.’

  ‘All we can, kidder,’ Charlie Millport said. ‘You gotta remember there are very few of us, and Drake’s got one hell of a lot of cronies. But we do have some plans.’ He turned to Uncle Percy. ‘And with that in mind, how’s Operation Amicitia goin’, Perce?’

  Operation Amicitia? Becky thought. What on earth was that? Confused, her gaze flicked over to Uncle Percy.

  Uncle Percy didn’t react to her sudden interest in him. ‘We’re close to completion. I’ve been away for a month and met with almost everyone on our list. I have to say the response has been overwhelmingly positive. I don’t think there’s any more that can be done.’

  ‘What’re you talking about?’ Joe asked. ‘What’s Operation Amicitia?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later.’

  Joe wasn’t in the least satisfied with that and was about to pursue the matter when Olivia Larsen cut in.

  ‘And Henry’s wives?’ she said. ‘Have we made any progress there?’

  Becky and Joe exchanged puzzled glances. Henry’s wives?

  Charlie Millport leaned forward. ‘We’ve identified Anne Boleyn, Kathryn Howard, Jane Seymour, Katherine Parr, Anne of Cleves … and we’re just deciding on Catherine of Aragon. Personally, I think we can do it.’

  At that moment, the door crashed open and a young boy with a mop of tousled blond hair charged in, his rose red cheeks enclosing a smile he directed at Olivia Larsen. ‘Nana, you must come outside.’

  ‘Eirik,’ Larsen replied awkwardly. ‘I’m busy at the moment.

  ‘But you have a present, Nana,’ the boy replied in a Norwegian accent, panting. ‘A wonderful present.’

  ‘Can’t it wait, Eirik?’

  ‘No, Nana. You must come. Before it fades.’

  Fades? Becky thought. She looked around to see everyone shared the same bemused expression.

  ‘Please excuse me everyone.’ Olivia Larsen stood up, prompting everyone else to do the same. ‘I should see what it is.’ She walked over to her grandson, who grasped her hand and pulled her away excitedly.

  Becky looked at Uncle Percy, who gave a casual shrug.

  ‘I don’t know about you,’ Uncle Percy said, ‘but I’m far too intrigued to just stay here...’ He moved toward the door.

  Becky and Joe trailed him, quickly followed by the rest of the GITT committee.

  Stepping outside, Becky could see upwards of forty travellers had gathered in the piazza, all of them staring at the sky, their mouths ajar in wonder and disbelief. Looking up, she could understand why.

  Three Boeing Stearman bi-planes weaved the air, trails of silvery smoke pouring from their exhausts, forming three words against the cloudless blue sky.

  BUON COMPLEANO

  OLIVIA

  Uncle Percy, Barbie, Joe and Becky approached Olivia Larsen, whose mouth had arched into a smile.

  ‘Is this your handiwork, Percy?’ she said.

  ‘Not guilty.’

  ‘What do the words mean?’ Joe asked Uncle Percy.

  ‘What else, Joe, but Happy Birthday, Olivia.’

  The three bi-planes turned and soared into the distance, the sound of their engines being replaced by more powerful ones as five larger jet planes appeared from the south. As the five planes powered overhead, they performed elaborate manoeuvres, corkscrewing the air in a dazzling spectacle.

  ‘Is this a full air show?’ Joe said.

  ‘It certainly looks that way,’ Uncle Percy replied, scanning the joyful faces around him. ‘And if the community ever needed a bit of light relief it’s now.’

  ‘What type of planes are they?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘I am,’ Charlie said with a grin. ‘They’re Grumman TBM Avengers, unless I’m wrong … and I ain’t. Second World War yank torpedo bombers … great little planes. I watched ‘em once at the Battle of Midway in ‘42.’

  ‘TBM Avengers?’ Uncle Percy replied, squinting to improve his vision. Then he seemed to notice something and his face creased with disbelief. ‘That’s Flight 19!’ he breathed.

  Becky noticed the strange inflection in his voice. ‘What’s Flight 19?’

  Uncle Percy’s words triggered something in Charlie Millport, who swore loudly.

  ‘What is it? Joe asked promptly.

  Neither Uncle Percy nor Millport responded. But then, as one, they sprang into action.

  Uncle Percy whirled round to face the travellers. ‘EVERYONE GET INSIDE … NOW!’

  ‘YOU HEARD THE MAN,’ Charlie bellowed. ‘SCARPER!’

  Before these words faded, a succession of thunderous cracks sounded from above. Bullets rained down on Balestrino, puncturing walls, thumping the ground.

  Shrieks of terror echoed as travellers bolted in all directions.

  Ears ringing, Becky stood immobile as chaos erupted around her. Her eyes locked above, she saw bombs spill from the planes. Then she felt a hand grip her arms.

  ‘Move your backside, Becks!’ Joe shouted.

  BOOOOM!

  BOOOOM!

  BOOOOM!

  Bombs pounded the ground in giant clouds of sand, flame and earth.

  Struggling to remain on her feet, Becky raced after Joe, who was sprinting away from the town. Overtaking Charlie Millport, she saw him raise a gadget to his mouth and shout, ‘Denny. Five Second World War bogies attacking Base 1. Blow ‘em outta the skies.’

  The instant the words left his mouth, five balls of glittering white light appeared from nowhere, ballooning in size until snap, three men and two women, clad in black jumpsuits, were standing there, missile launchers held firmly against their shoulders. Taking a moment to line up a shot, each of them fired.

  Like blazing darts, missiles flew toward their targets. Within moments, each plane exploded into a ball of fire.

  Astonished by what she had witnessed, Becky stopped running and watched the Trackers lower their weapons, satisfied expressions on their faces. Charlie Millport strode over to them, patting each one on the shoulder. ‘Well done, Sarah, Tez, Zeb, Cheryl, Mick,’ he said with a proud grin. ‘Nice shootin’ … but what took yer so long to get here?’

  It was then Becky heard a panicked scream. Alarmed, she whipped round to see a young woman pointing at what she first thought was an unexploded bomb. However, when her eyes focussed she saw it was an enormous black bag

  Along with bombs, the planes had dropped a bag into Balestrino.

  Charlie Millport walked over to it, until Uncle Percy’s firm voice stopped him in his tracks. ‘Just stop right there, Charlie. It might not be safe. Let Barbie take a look at it before we do anything.’

  Barbie tramped over to the bag, leaned down and unzipped it.

  To her absolute horror, Becky saw there was a body inside. Please, please, don’t let it be Annabel!

  Barbie turned to Uncle Percy. ‘Sir, I am sad to report Keith Pickleton is dead …’

  Chapter 11

  Kenneth

  Tears pooled in Becky’s eyes. Keith Pickleton was dead. He’d been only the second t
raveller she’d ever knowingly met and his arrival at Bowen Hall in his milk float on the night she learnt about time travel would be an image she would carry with her forever.

  She watched Uncle Percy approach Pickleton, his steps slow and languid as if the longer it took him to reach the body the more chance it had of being untrue. Reaching Pickleton, he knelt down and closed his friend’s eyelids.

  Despairing, Becky walked over to him, followed by Joe. To her surprise, she saw that Pickleton was wearing elaborate clothes – a silk shirt adorned with detailed needlecraft, wide, bulging breeches that fell to his knees and a high linen ruff that hugged his neck.

  He would’ve looked laughable but for the bullet hole in his forehead.

  Becky placed her hand on Uncle Percy’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Uncle Percy patted her hand. ‘Thank you, Becky.’

  ‘He was a nice man.’

  ‘He was. A true gentleman… and that’s how he’ll be remembered.’

  ‘Why’s he dressed like that?’ Joe asked.

  ‘I can only presume he was visiting the Elizabethan or even Jacobean Age. I’m sure all shall be revealed in time.’ Uncle Percy exhaled a heavy breath. ‘Goodbye, old friend. You were loved by many, and shall be missed by more.’ Anger flashed in his eyes. ‘And those that did this to you will pay. I promise you that.’

  *

  Over the next hour, Keith Pickleton’s body was relocated in accordance with his wishes to a funeral home in Blackburn where he would be buried alongside his mother and father in the family plot.

  To everyone’s amazement, no one had been injured in the aerial attack, but it was decided the travelling community should abandon Balestrino immediately and go their own separate ways.

  After despatching Barbie on a mission to discover more about Pickleton’s final movements, Uncle Percy decided he, Becky, and Joe should return to Bowen Hall.

  It was a bright cloudless morning as the Cadillac materialised beside the marble fountain of Neptune in the gravelled courtyard.

  The last time Becky had seen the fountain it had shifted sideways as if on unseen rollers to reveal an opening in the ground, from which a hot air balloon in the shape of a giant pig ascended from a room below.