Lay Down Your Hand

by Cherie Mitchell

  “There’s no reason for you to meet them,” she said, her voice cool and dismissive. “I’m the only contact you’ll need. Ask me for anything and I’ll find some way to get it to you.”

  She was trying to shut him down and he was having none of it. “Why is everything surrounded in so much secrecy?”

  She twisted her mouth, her face pensive as she studied him. “You’ll see,” she said at last. “I think it’s too early for you to know. I don’t want to overwhelm you with too many facts.”

  “That’s your call but I can promise you that not a lot fazes me these days.” He returned her gaze with as much honesty and sincerity as he could muster. He wasn’t used to having to prove himself but it felt important to him that he gained this self-contained young woman’s respect.

  “It’s early days yet,” she said cryptically. She bent her head to check her phone, scrolling through the screen with practiced fingers. A lock of hair fell across her face, the dark strand casually defining the shape and form of her features. She had a strong bone structure with sharp cheekbones and a stubborn jaw. She was an attractive woman but he would never call her pretty. Not pretty like Annie had been. She looked up suddenly and he hastily looked away, hoping she hadn’t caught him staring. “There’s an apartment available for you in a building a few blocks from where I live but you can’t move in until tomorrow. Looks like you’re spending the night at mine. We’ll head back there now and I’ll see if I can contact Darcy. He’s probably climbing the walls with worry about you by now. I think I’ve made him wait long enough. Do you want me to drive?”

  “No.” Elliot stood up so quickly he nearly knocked his chair over. “I’ll drive.”

  She pouted as she got up to follow him. “Is that because you believe women shouldn’t be in control of a car?”

  “Partly.” He ignored her frowns and swung the restaurant door open for her. “After you, ma’am.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Elliot sat at the table with his deck of cards while Ramona tapped away at her computer over on the couch. She’d been working away for more than an hour now, occasionally uttering a mild expletive or mumbling to herself. Elliot knew she was trying to contact Darcy and it seemed she was right when she’d said it was a complicated matter.

  He had no interest in the computer himself, or not yet anyway. He was unable to see the value in peering at the world through a tiny screen when his eyes could show him the real thing without assistance. He dealt out his cards to begin a game of solitaire, musing over how quickly his own solitary state had changed. If someone had told him yesterday morning of the things that he was about to experience, he would have laughed in their face and suggested a visit to Peckham House might be in order.

  “Yes!” Ramona punched the air in triumph. “I’m through to him. Come and sit over here, Elliot. He’s going to want to talk to you.”

  “You’re talking to him through the computer?” Elliot left the table and walked dubiously across to the couch. The era decoder had been an enormous help but all the same, there was still a lot that made little sense to him in 2020. How could they talk through a computer with a man living more than one hundred years in the past?

  “It’s a program that we’ve had specially written for us but like most of the other equipment, it’s still in the beta testing phase. There’s probably some blips and glitches that we haven’t discovered yet. I personally have my fingers crossed for an improvement in the communications side of things. I have to give up at least an hour of my life every time I need to contact anyone and it’s beyond frustrating.”

  Elliot lowered himself down onto the seat cushion beside her, expecting to see Darcy. Disappointingly, the computer screen was a hazy blue with several fuzzy lines running through it. “What are we supposed to be looking at?”

  “Just wait,” she said, clearly impatient herself. “He was there a moment ago but he had to go and adjust something. He’ll be back any minute.”

  “I didn’t see anything that looked remotely like a computer at Darcy’s house. How is going to talk to us?”

  “He has a phone. He’ll video chat us on that.”

  “But…” Ramona darted him an irritated glance and Elliot clamped his mouth shut on his questions. He guessed he didn’t need to know how Darcy managed to connect to 21st century devices when he was living in the 19th century. If he decided to go down that route, he should probably evaluate how he came to be here and the thought of that made his brain hurt. He stared at the fluctuating screen and then suddenly there was Darcy, grinning like a white-whiskered maniac from his front room back in Victorian times. Elliot grinned back without hesitation. “Hello, Darcy.”

  “Elliot! You gave me one heck of a fright when you disappeared.”

  “I think it’s the other way around. You could have warned me about what was going to happen.”

  “You weren’t supposed to go anywhere. The vortex fuse mis-fired and I’ve spent the last three hours trying to fix it. I had to get the local blacksmith to cobble together a temporary part until the tech department can ship me one back.”

  “Luckily I saw the lights as the machine swung past the apartment block,” Ramona put in, her tone mildly accusing. “I’d hate to think what would’ve happened if I didn’t. You need to take more care.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Darcy spluttered indignantly, while Elliot hid his smile. It seemed Darcy had no issues when it came to dealing with Ramona’s bossiness. “I had no idea that was going to happen. The force of the machine leaving nearly knocked me off my feet and for a moment there, I thought I’d sent him to 1941. I had minor conniptions until I got the dials working again.”

  “You’ve got it working again?” Ramona eagerly leaned in, closer to the screen. “The time machine is working?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Not the time machine. However, the speed dials, the auxiliary cable, and the era monitor are working just fine.” He beamed again at Elliot, switching tack with comparative ease. “You’re looking good, young man. You fit in well there. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were born to that life.”

  Elliot modestly stroked his hand down the front of his sweatshirt. “The clothes are surprisingly comfortable.”

  “And is Ramona looking after you? Did she make sure to fit you with the era decoder as soon as you arrived?”

  “Ahem, I am still here,” Ramona grumbled. “You can talk directly to me.”

  Darcy turned his charismatic smile on her. “Sorry, Ramona. I’m just so pleased to see that he arrived safely. All sorts of dire thoughts were running through my mind when he disappeared.”

  “In answer to your question, yes he is wearing an era decoder. It does have a small blip in it but you might be able to tweak it at some stage.”

  The good humour immediately slid off Darcy’s round face. “What kind of blip?” he asked warily.

  Ramona glanced at Elliot, her expression unreadable, before addressing Darcy again. “Gender equality is missing. He still thinks women are the weaker sex.”

  Darcy scratched thoughtfully at his whiskery jaw. “That might not be a bad thing given the criteria for this particular job.”

  “Yes, I did wonder about that.”

  Elliot interrupted, tired of the pair of them now talking about him rather than to him. “Ramona said you’ll be able to tell me about the task you want me to do. I know you didn’t have a chance this morning before I left.” This conversation felt far too banal considering what had happened over the course of the day.

  “Ah, yes. I had hoped to tell you in person but I suppose this works well enough.” The screen suddenly crackled and Darcy’s face disappeared, leaving behind the blank blue screen intercepted with a few fuzzy lines.

  “Dammit. We’ve lost him again.” Ramona began to stab her fingers frantically at the keyboard. “I hope we can get him back. Losing him halfway through a call makes it harder to reconnect next time. He really does need to put some time into fixing this.”

&nbs
p; Elliot waited patiently as Ramona continued to mutter to herself and fiddle with the keyboard, keen to know more about his mysterious task. He felt as if he was about to become part of something important and worthwhile and it had been a long time since he’d felt like that. Too long.

  “He’s back.” Ramona’s shoulders sagged with relief as Darcy’s image flickered back onto the screen. “I thought we’d lost him for good that time. Darcy, what happened? I think the problem was at your end.”

  “The problem is always at my end. That’s the trouble with being the inventor. Now, where were we?”

  “You were about to explain my task to me. I’m interested to know everything I can. Ramona did say that it has something to do with protecting women who use dating apps.” The words rolled off his tongue and somewhere in his brain, unknown cogs whirred and turned and allowed them to make sense.

  “Yes, something like that. We’re envisioning you in the role of a guardian, if you’d like to look at it that way. Do you think you’re up to the task?”

  “I think I’m up to the task but what exactly do I have to do?”

  “We’ll allocate you a couple of test assignments to get you started…”

  Ramona interrupted with a groan. “Please don’t use the word test. It’s not working too well for me at the moment.”

  Darcy chuckled. “Don’t be like that Ramona. If it makes you any happier, we’ll call them sample assignments for today.” He returned his gaze to Elliot, again arranging his good-natured face into grave lines. “There is something else.”

  Elliot would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t expected a catch. Everything in life came with a catch. There wasn’t any way he could have this pleasurable new life with hot showers and his own automobile unless there was a catch of some kind attached. “What is it?”

  “This may be upsetting to hear, but the ultimate objective of the mission will be for you to trail a serial killer who is about to begin a sustained attack on the women of London. He’ll be using the dating apps to select potential victims and zero in on his targets.”

  The cogs in Elliot’s head whirred and turned again while the era decoder hummed, neatly matching serial killer with Jack the Ripper.

  Darcy was still talking. “We want you to find him and stop him. Are you willing?” A note of anxiety had crept into Darcy’s voice and out of the corner of his eye, Elliot saw Ramona shift her position on the couch beside him.

  However, it didn’t take Elliot long to make up his mind. If he could save others from suffering through the agonies that he’d suffered following Annie’s tragic and unnecessary death he would be the first to raise his hand and volunteer his services. This was his opportunity to make a murderous man pay for his sins and to right some heinous wrongs. This was not a catch to living here; this was a reason for living here. “I’m willing,” he said firmly. “When do I start?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ramona turned the key in the door and pushed down the handle. The door swung open to reveal a sunny and warm apartment with expansive views across the Thames. The Thames had been another surprise to Elliot, but a good one. During the months that he’d worked down at the docks the river had flowed sluggishly, choked with filth, animal carcasses, human excrement, and other unmentionable and hazardous objects. These days, while not exactly a sparkling testament to the wonders of fresh water, the river was certainly cleaner and clearer.

  Ramona clicked her tongue in annoyance. “I told them to leave the place clean and tidy.”

  The apartment looked clean enough to Elliot. If she didn’t think this was clean and tidy she should visit some of the slums he knew so well back in Victorian London. “Looks fine to me.”

  She stalked irritably into the apartment and marched across to the kitchen, where Elliot now saw an empty wine bottle and two glasses sitting on the bench. Muttering to herself, she stomped her foot on the pedal of the rubbish bin and dropped the bottle in, where it hit the sides with a resentful clang.

  “Who left those there?” Her reaction had piqued his interest, more so than if she’d said and done nothing about the items on the bench.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She pulled her mouth into a tight purse, discouraging any further questions on the subject.

  Elliot shrugged and took the suitcase full of clothes that Ramona had given him into the bedroom. He had no problem with sharing this enormous apartment if the person who had left the wine bottle there decided to return. After sleeping in dubious doss houses of varying standards all over London, this place was a veritable palace.

  Ramona’s phone began to ring and she turned away to answer it, keeping her voice down so he couldn’t hear the conversation. Hoping to give her some privacy, he stepped into the bathroom to enjoy the never-gets-old thrill of a fully functional flushing toilet.

  “Elliot?” Ramona’s voice floated through the wall. “I have go. I’ve left your keys on the bench and you know how to use your new phone. Call me if you need anything, otherwise I’ll phone you at 10am tomorrow morning.”

  He didn’t have a chance to answer her before the front door slammed and apartment fell into an eerie silence. For the first time since Ramona found him in the woods, he was on his own in the year 2020. It was an exciting yet frightening thought. If he found himself in sudden difficulties he’d either have to work it out himself in this strange new world or suffer the consequences of getting it wrong.

  He paced around the apartment, looking in the cupboards and checking the contents of the refrigerator. The inventions in this era continued to astound him. It seemed ease and comfort were an obligatory part of life. Already, he doubted whether he’d happily assimilate back into his old life and he’d barely left it yet. He flopped down in one of the cushiony recliners and popped up the footrest, marvelling over how even the furniture was designed to cosset and pamper. These chairs treated each occupant as a valued guest.

  The silence deepened. This quietness was new to him too. He’d asked Ramona about it last night, curious as to how her apartment prevented the noise of the city from seeping in. She’d explained the wonders of double glazing but he was still finding it hard to get used to. Where he was from, a man lived with constant noisy reminders that he was never alone.

  He laid his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a few minutes, thinking back over the events of last evening at Ramona’s apartment. Naturally, Darcy was pleased when he accepted the assignment and he’d just started to explain the details when the connection dropped out again. Ramona muttered and cursed over the keyboard for a further hour as she tried to reconnect but in the end, she’d thrown down the laptop and declared mutinously that Darcy needed to provide her with workable tools if he expected her to do her job properly.

  She’d sulked for a while after that, answering Elliot’s questions with abrupt, one-word replies, and he’d eventually left her alone to wallow in her bad mood. He was used to amusing himself anyway – it wasn’t as if he required someone to entertain him.

  By the time Ramona offered to cook dinner, she’d settled into a more amicable mood although she was still unhappy about the lack of communication from Darcy. As she explained to Elliot, she didn’t know enough details about the upcoming assignment yet and she felt as if she been caught out unaware, a situation that didn’t sit well on her. This was to be their biggest task ever, which was why they’d been so thorough in choosing candidates and vetting everyone before deciding upon Elliot as the best man for the role.

  He’d asked her again then, as he helped her peel the vegetables for dinner, about the other candidates. He’d expected her to fob him off, just as she’d done last time, but instead she sighed and nodded. “I wanted to speak to Darcy about this first but clearly that isn’t going to happen. There were a total of five candidates and to be honest, you were the last one we picked for the interviewing panel. I wasn’t too keen on pulling someone in from as far back as the 1800s but it seems other people know best.” She twisted her last
few words with a faint note of sarcasm.

  “Where were the other men from? And what qualities were you looking for?” He wasn’t fishing for compliments – he was genuinely interested in what it was that had set him apart from his unknown peers. As far as he could tell, he was an average and ordinary man. There were many far braver, stronger, and more intellectual men out there from which to choose.

  “We were looking for precise and scientific criteria for the candidates. Years have gone into developing a ‘master list’ as we jokingly called it. This project is important. It’s important to all of us.”

  “All of us?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t say anything more about that.”

  “So what was the criteria?”

  She gave him an apologetic smile. “I think I’ve already said too much. If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Darcy first before revealing anything more about it.”

  “When do you think you’ll be speaking to him again?”

  She glared over at the laptop where it lay as she’d left it on the couch. “Who knows? As soon as Darcy has fixed it. This method of communication was never supposed to be permanent. He should’ve come up with something better by now. He’s had plenty of time to do it.”

  Realizing his mistake in raising the topic of the broken connection again, Elliot swiftly changed the subject. “I’ve finished the vegetables. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “No. I’ll do the rest. You’re my guest for the evening. Go and sit down and I’ll get you a drink.” She opened the refrigerator and raised her eyebrows in enquiry. “Beer?”

  “Cold beer?” The concept was shocking to a man who now considered himself as somewhat of an expert after his last six months of regular patronage at dockside taverns.

  She’d laughed at the appalled expression on his face. “You’re used to drinking it at cellar temperature, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I promise that cold beer will grow on you.”