Portals in Time 2

by Michael Beals

  Taking the bag of clothes, she made her way to the women’s washroom. To her relief, it was deserted. Quickly changing, she gazed at herself in the mirror. Giselle had brought jeans, a white t-shirt, and the dark gray jacket that went with her Elite uniform. It was an odd combination and reminded her of the clothes that many bikers or hot-shot film stars wore, but they seemed to suit her, and she found herself scraping her hair back. What was more interesting was the length of her hair. She’d had it cut short when she was staying at the Devis Ranch, but that was over a week ago… actually, six years ago… and her hair hadn’t grown an inch. It was still exactly the same length. Could be hair didn’t grow in Hell. She ran her fingers through it. It was still just as red, her fringe swept to one side, the length at the back just short of her collar, and it occurred to her that they would soon be spending time in 1866. Women hadn’t worn their hair this short in that era. Would people stare at her? It didn’t matter; she would be wearing a hat. Then it would look as if she’d combed it back.

  She found Dore and Giselle deep in conversation, Lily listening with a rapt look on her face. They were talking about Rostock and how it might not be safe to walk around anymore, because it was unlikely he’d be alone. He’d probably team up with another Grantham-loyal cop so that they looked normal. They might even have a squad car to roam around in.

  “How will they manage that?” she asked, sipping some of Dore’s coffee. “Rostock might be a Federal cop, but he’s stationed at West Fork. They’re not going to give him a squad car just because he happens to be in New York City.”

  “Don’t be naïve, Kat, we’re in Hell,” Giselle snorted. “You know what New York City cops are like. If Grantham needs eyes, he’ll almost certainly be bribing someone to look the other way. It wouldn’t be hard for Rostock to team up with a bent cop.”

  “Well, I’m not going to worry about it. I’ll discuss it with Inspector Cabot. I’m sure he could find out what Rostock’s up to. Shall we go? I’ve got a few calls to make.”

  “Where are we going?” Lily asked. “I wouldn’t mind changing, and my clothes are all at the Cosmopolitan.”

  “Fine. Let’s go to the hotel.”

  But Kat found herself staring at every demon they passed as they made their way out to Giselle’s car, and even as they were driving into New York City, she peered at every squad car she caught sight of. It wasn’t until they reached the Cosmopolitan Hotel that she relaxed.

  Once in the room, which, despite Lily living there, was now their headquarters, Kat wasted no time in calling Cabot. As he promised, the elderly inspector picked up immediately. He was in the Morgan Library studying the old Dutch settlements in New York City, and Kat had to wait while he relocated to a place where he was allowed to speak.

  “Miss. Wolfram. How nice of you to call. Are you back in New York City, or are you still in the back of beyond?”

  “You know where I’ve been?” Kat asked, annoyed that the information had been so easy to acquire.

  “I don’t know exactly where you’ve been, but I know you went west. I’ve been trying to keep an eye on you. Persephone’s quite worried about your safety.”

  She felt a wave of relief. If Persephone had asked Cabot to keep an eye on her, she was probably in good hands. Pernass should have been doing this, but that was the problem with being the Elite Police Commissioner. He was responsible for so many areas of policing, although Kat was in the front line of the Grantham inquiry and needed his permission to even talk to the Gypsies, she was probably on the back burner.

  “She called you?”

  “I talk to Persephone every day. How can I help?”

  “Well, I hope you can. I’m worried about Rostock. McInnes has sent him to New York City. I believe he’s here now, but probably disguised as a regular cop.”

  There was a rustle of papers. Cabot was reading while he was talking to her. “You think he’s looking for you?”

  “McInnes wants me out of the picture. He knows I’m looking for Grantham, and Rostock has a personal reason for taking me down.”

  “Yes, I heard. What do you want me to do?”

  “If you’re able to, I want you to find him. He’s probably teamed up with a bent cop. Giselle thinks he might be cruising the streets of New York City, looking for me. If I know the number of the squad car, at least I’ll be able to defend myself.”

  “Well, I do have a few agents working for me. I’ll make inquiries. But it won’t be hard to recognize him when he’s not wearing his hat, that is. Persephone managed to damage one of his horns. Once a demon’s horns have been damaged, they don’t grow back again. Of course, it’s hard to tell when they’re wearing a hat, but most cops take their hats off when they’re driving.”

  “That should help. Once you’ve found Rostock, is it possible to have him followed? At least I’d have back-up if he confronts me.”

  Cabot was silent for a moment. “I doubt if he’ll confront you, Miss. Wolfram. He’ll probably try to take you by surprise. You’ll need eyes in the back of your head.”

  “I don’t have eyes in the back of my head,” she retorted.

  “You might want to grow a pair. From what I know about Rostock, he’s extremely sneaky. He might even follow you when you go looking for Grantham.”

  “Rostock could follow us,” Kat gasped. “But he’d never get away with it. He’s seven-feet-tall and looks like a lizard… with horns.”

  Cabot took a deep breath, which didn’t go unnoticed by Kat. “Yes, well, that’s the other problem. I’m surprised no one mentioned it. When demons travel back to the real world, they change. They don’t exactly look like humans, they can’t get rid of their scaly skin, but they’d pass for a very ugly person in poor light.”

  Kat was shocked. If Rostock could change into human form, he’d be very difficult to spot, especially if he wore baggy clothes, a hat, and a fake beard. “lovely, Cabot, that’s the worse news I’ve heard all day. He could follow us?”

  “It wouldn’t be easy to find you. Rostock would have to know exactly where you’re going, and if you managed to kill him, he’d vaporize, so he’d be extremely careful. He’d also have to stay well clear of Grantham. Grantham hates demons. He’d probably shoot the bastard himself if he got the chance, so it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

  “It’s bad enough. I have to see the Gypsies tomorrow. When I get back, can we meet up?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll tell you what, it may take me a day or so to locate Rostock. Can I call you when I’ve found him?

  “Sorry, Inspector, we’ll be gone in the next day or so.”

  “Gone? When you say gone, what exactly do you mean?”

  “I mean gone. I won’t be here anymore, and I’d quite like to take Rostock out before I go. Can I call you when I’m through with the Gypsies?”

  “Yes, of course you can. I’ll be here in the Morgan Library. It has a tea room, and we can meet up there.”

  “Thank you, Inspector. That would be lovely.”

  Saying goodbye, she told the others what Cabot had said, poured herself a large scotch, and collapsed on the couch.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  K at only took Giselle with her when she flew out to the Gypsy headquarters. There seemed no point in dragging Dore and Lily out there again. She’d nominated such an early call because she wanted to meet up with Cabot. So Kat and Giselle boarded the helicopter at six in the morning.

  Harper seemed grumpy when they arrived. “Do you always get up this early?” he complained, as they made their way across the windy airfield.

  Kat shrugged. “I don’t have a routine. In fact, I’ve never had a routine.” She glanced at Giselle. “Do you have a routine?”

  Giselle laughed. “Not since I met you.”

  “Well, I have a routine,” Harper said as he opened the door for them. “And last night it involved going to bed at one in the morning. I had to test the new time machine. We’ve modified it since I last saw you. It can now go back in time. Not very far
, about ten years, but it’s better than it was before.”

  “In what way?” Kat asked, worried that she might have to learn how to use it all over again.

  He ushered them into the living room, which wasn’t quite as cozy as she remembered. The fire was out, and last night’s coffee cups were sitting on the table. “It’s faster. It used to take about four seconds to teleport, which was quite uncomfortable. Now it’s only two, and it doesn’t make your ears ring.”

  “It used to make your ears ring?”

  “Yes, it was like having severe tinnitus, and it lasted for ages. Now there are no side effects. Slight disorientation if you’re time-traveling a long way, but that’s to be expected. How far into the future d’you think Grantham’s hiding?”

  “Haven’t the foggiest,” she said, plumping into an armchair. “But if Grantham’s invented a time machine without your help, possibly a long way, I would imagine.”

  “Did you manage to buy a tracksuit?”

  “Yes, but it’s a bit heavy. I’ll die of the heat if I have to wear it under a long dress. Can I ask you another question? Is your time machine still only capable of taking one person?”

  “We’ve been working on it, and it’s now a bit more powerful than an artifact. An artifact has an arm-length radius; now it’s twice that. You should be able to squeeze in four passengers with the operator in the center. There is an obvious problem in doing it. If the time machine breaks down or stolen, you are all stuck in the future and will have no way of contacting us. The easy fix to that is… Commit suicide. You’ll be back in no time. Then come see me. We only have the one time machine at the moment, but we should have more, and better, shortly.”

  “Great, because I’d like to take Sergeant Major Dore with me.”

  Kat yawned. She had to admit; it would have been nice to sleep in after their trip to West Fork. “So is that it? No other advice before we take it off your hands?”

  Harper took a deep breath and scratched at his beard, “Not really. Once you activate the device, it will become part of your body, so it’s completely waterproof. When it is not on your wrist, it runs on batteries, but once it’s on your wrist, it’s powered by your body’s electricity. The only thing we don’t know is what happens when you wear it for a long time.”

  Kat frowned. She’d had a feeling that this was all too good to be true. “What do you call a long time?”

  “Hard to say,” Harper said, opening the safe and taking out the watch. “Perhaps two weeks. You could always take it off your wrist, of course, but it would be a big security risk.”

  This latest piece of information was worrying. Kat had no idea how long it would take to capture Grantham.

  “So do I have to put the watch on now, before I leave here?”

  Harper handed her the watch. “I’d certainly prefer you to try it on while you’re here. You might even want to experiment. Try going back…” He looked up at the wall clock. “…ten minutes. You’ll be able to see your helicopter arriving.”

  Strapping on the watch, she gazed at it for a moment and then tentatively tapped it, but nothing happened.

  “Tap harder,” Harper instructed her.

  She glanced at Harper, then looked at Giselle. They were both waiting for her with open mouths. Taking another breath, she tapped the watch harder, and this time she felt the strap tightening on her wrist, there was a strange itching sensation as the watch face lit up, and then it seemed to dissolve into her wrist. It was bizarre. Her wrist was no thicker than before, but the watch now glowed, just above the radius bone.

  “Tap it again, Kat,” Harper said. “The time and date will appear. You stroke the watch face towards your arm to make time go backward. You stroke it towards your fingers if you want it to go forward. When you see the time and date you want, tap the watch face again. The screen is interactive.”

  “That’s so cool... What if I accidentally knock my wrist?”

  “The watch recognizes your fingertip.”

  “Cool!” she exclaimed. “This is really knocking my socks off!”

  But when she gently stroked the watch face towards her arm, the minutes seemed to roll by quite slowly. She stroked the watch face again, but more sharply, and this time the hours, days, and months zipped by, only stopping when she rested her finger on her tingling skin. Again, she swiped her finger, this time more aggressively, and the years rolled by, stopping in 1944. Taking a deep breath, she began to stroke the number forward again until the year was 1954, and the time read ten minutes ago.

  “So now I tap it?”

  Harper smiled. “Now you tap it.”

  Stepping over to the window, she gazed out at the parked helicopter. The pilot was leaning against the canopy, smoking a cigarette. Looking back at Giselle for reassurance, she tapped her wrist. The light in the room seemed to flicker, and both Harper and Giselle disappeared. There was no odd buzzing sensation, no flashing lights, no dizziness. Harper and Giselle had simply vanished, as if a light switch were thrown.

  She turned to look through the window again. The helicopter was there, but the rotors were still spinning, and she could see three windswept people making their way across the grass. And then she panicked. If she didn’t get back to her own time, and quickly, she’d see herself walking through the door, and that would be really freaky. Peering at the watch, she carefully stroked her wrist again, watching anxiously as the minutes rolled by. She had no idea how much time had gone by since she teleported. She could only guess at one minute. She tapped her wrist again.

  “How was it?” Giselle asked, clearly astonished that Kat had disappeared and then reappeared.

  “It was something else,” she replied. “I just saw us walking across the airfield.”

  “If you follow me, I’ll find a dress for Giselle and three more artifacts so all of you can return to 1866. I assume you’d prefer to have one each.”

  So she followed Harper to the props department again, where Giselle tried on various dresses and shoes.

  “I believe a couple of thousand dollars should be enough for this trip for all of you,” Harper said while counting out the money.

  It was an uplifting experience. Not only was it comforting to have so much money, but Giselle also looked astonishing in a long dress. Kat had always been aware of how beautiful she was, but in a long Victorian dress, she looked like a royal princess. It wasn’t hard to see why Dore had fallen for her.

  Dropping Giselle off at the Cosmopolitan Hotel, Kat drove to the Morgan Library. She wasn’t looking forward to meeting Cabot. Kat had a distinct feeling he would have bad news. Parking the car outside the main entrance, she made her way inside. The interior architecture was extraordinary. She could understand why the building had been replicated in Hell. Yet, like The Chrysler Building, the elaborate design of the interior had been flawlessly reproduced. Even the ceiling with its ornate arches looked original.

  She found Cabot sitting at a desk in the main library. He was studying the intricate diagram of the canal complex that the Dutch engineered in the early days of New York City when Central Park was marshland, and New York City was known as New Amsterdam.

  Cabot looked up when he saw her. Standing up, he signaled her to follow him. Making his way down a series of corridors, he led her outside into a large, tree-lined tea garden, where a surprising number of people were lounging at the tables. There were old fashioned teapots and china cups and saucers, some people eating cakes or sandwiches, and it all looked incredibly civilized, as if she’d fallen through a time warp and was somewhere in England. Ordering a pot of tea for two, Cabot ushered her to an empty table.

  “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that we found Rostock,” he began, easing himself into a rickety canvas chair. “And you were right. He’d teamed up with another officer, but I don’t think he knew where you were living. I had three different agents following them. They were cruising the streets, starting in the Upper Eastside, working their way down to Union Square, and then back again. T
hey staked out the Chrysler Building for a while, so they obviously know you’re an Elite, but then they disappeared.”

  “What do you mean, disappeared? Your agents lost them?”

  “Only for a short time. The agents picked up their trail about an hour ago. Rostock was near Central Park.”

  The tea arrived, and Cabot took his time to pour. He then added sugar to his tea and stirred it a little before continuing.

  “You were saying,” Kat prompted.

  “Yes, Central Park. That was where it all went wrong. My agents were in cars, and the traffic was quite heavy. They were on 5th Avenue, and Rostock’s car pulled over to let him out. One of my agents did manage to stop his car, and he followed Rostock on foot towards the lake.” Cabot gazed at her. “But that’s when he actually disappeared. He stepped inside the old boathouse and literally vanished.”

  Kat glared at the old demon. “Are you trying to tell me he teleported?”

  “I can’t think of any other answer. During the day, the old boathouse doesn’t have any boats in it. It’s just an empty room.” He stared back at her. “He must have teleported.”

  “Holy crap!” Kat exclaimed. “You mean he’s waiting for us on the other side?”

  Cabot sipped at his tea. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. You know what date he must have gone to, August 6th, 1866. You’ll be going there earlier than that. From what I can gather, you’re teleporting to August 5th. You’ll be able to avoid Rostock. Even better, if you see him talking to Grantham, you’ll know what he looks like.”

  She had to hand it to Cabot, he’d thought it all through, but where did it leave her? Was Rostock going to stay there and try to sneak up on her, or would he be forced to return? Demons who went back to the real world were very unusual. However, the presence of demons was probably where all the horrors stories came from, stories that most people assumed were just a vivid imagination on the part of writers and filmmakers.

  “How long can Rostock stay there?”