Portals in Time 2 Page 4

  “D’you think it worked?”

  “Yes, I do. If we were following the escapees, would we call a cop?”

  “You’re a genius, Kat. Why are we going to Lincoln Square?”

  “Because it’s a very expensive residential area, and it’s near Central Park. I’m not expecting to see Grantham wandering around. I just want to have a look. Then we can find somewhere to have lunch. I’m starving.”

  But Lincoln Square was something of a disappointment. There were a few expensive houses, brownstones, and mansion apartments, but there were also many not-so-expensive corner shops, and houses that were in a poor state of repair. Perhaps it had once been expensive, but it wasn’t anymore. Kat could imagine immigrants living there, certainly not the likes of Grantham. They would have to explore the Upper East Side, which was on the other side of the Park.

  “Why don’t we walk to the park?” Kat suggested. “I saw a six-penny restaurant quite near where we arrived. We could have lunch, walk through the park to the Upper East Side, and then head back to Giselle.”

  They started walking. “Wouldn’t we be better off looking for a suitable hotel? When we come back with Giselle, we’ll be staying for a few days. Then we can check out the Upper East Side, although I doubt if we’ll find Grantham like that. We’re more likely to find him if we stake out the park, or maybe even go to the harness races at Goshen that Harper suggested.”

  “The thing is,” Dore said, “we don’t know where these people are transporting to. Maybe we were just lucky to find that guy.”

  “I don’t think so. Grantham quite obviously lives in New York City. It’s also the most populated city in the US, so it’s easier for people to disappear here, especially if they’re coming to different years. What I’d like to know is, how does Grantham meet up with escapees if they all go to different time periods. Unless he has a time machine, he can’t be at all of them.”

  Dore stopped walking. “God Almighty, you may have just hit on something.”

  “What!”

  “A time machine,” he said excitedly. “Grantham goes into the future to make his artifacts. How does he do that? He can’t be going back to Hell, just to navigate into the future, it would be too risky. He must have another way of traveling into the future and then coming back again.”

  They were passing another church, as the congregation was emptying into the street. And for a while, it was hard to talk. When the crowd finally thinned, Kat said, “Do you think that’s possible?”

  “It’s more than possible. If Grantham’s making his own artifacts, he can design them any way he wants. That’s why no one’s been able to find him. We have no idea where he lives. We’re assuming it’s the mid-1800s because it’s easier to convert gold into bankable money without anyone checking on him, but what if he’s gone further than that?”

  “What do you mean, further?” Kat asked.

  “If Grantham’s able to travel in time, he can change his identity. Harper said he was a genius. What if he changed his name to William E Boeing? Or, what if, in the future, his name is Howard Hughes? Grantham could be anyone.”

  “Wow, Jock! Did you get a bump on the head when you were killed? I’ve never known you to have such an imagination. Sure, any of that’s possible, but then why would he bother to welcome escapees into the past?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Grantham’s recruiting people.”

  “But the guy by Macy’s had been a journalist.”

  “Which maybe was why Grantham left him to his own devices. But the guy who followed us wasn’t just some heavy, put in place to bump us off. He was a small guy, probably employed for brains rather than muscle.”

  “So, you think we’ll find Grantham?”

  Dore shrugged and wrinkled his eyes. “Well, actually, we might. If he has people watching escapees, he must come here every so often. Tell me, if you had a choice about which year you wanted to live in, when would it be?”

  Kat tried to imagine the perfect time period, “I’d like to go back to 1934 when I was 16.”

  Dore stared at her. “16, eh? You were at your happiest when you were 16?”

  “I think so. It’s tough to know. My twenties shoulda been the happiest, but they were buggered up by the war.”

  “Uh-huh. How old was Grantham when he died in his last life?”

  “I’ve no idea, Jock. I didn’t ask.”

  “I think we should. Because if Grantham was in his early twenties when he died, he might want to go back to that time.”

  “You don’t think he’s living in the future?”

  Dore shook his head. “I don’t know, Kat. The whole time travel thing is blowing my mind.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  D espite being English, Kat grew up in Berlin, so she was used to the swanky service in some of the finest restaurants, but Eduardo’s Diner took the biscuit. The waiters were dressed in pristine black aprons and white shirts, the table settings were immaculate, and the maître d’s manners were impeccable. But what really hit her was the smell of roasting meat and freshly ground coffee, causing her mouth to water before she even read the menu.

  Glancing at the other diners to see what they were eating, her gaze homed in on two portly gentlemen tucking into what looked like roast beef, boiled potatoes, dumplings with gravy, and she found herself licking her lips. She didn’t need to read the menu; that was precisely what she wanted. The food at West Fork was okay, she certainly couldn’t complain about it, but this was food such as she’d never experienced. She was now in 1875 when the food was fresher and more natural than anything she’d ever known. The most frustrating thing was having to wait to order.

  Dore had taken a bathroom break, and he’d been gone for ages. What the hell was he doing? Her stomach was rumbling, and she needed to eat like never before. They’d been given a window seat, so to distract herself, she gazed out at the passing horses and carts. They were opposite Central Park, and she could see the oak tree where they’d arrived. It was growing on a stretch of lawn that was bordered by a sandy pathway. Through the trees, she could see a lake where people were boating. There were women and children in the park when they arrived, but it was quiet now, only a lone woman pushing a pram, but like no pram she’d ever seen before. It was a strange-looking device, a kind of wicker basket on wheels.

  “You’re not going to believe this.” She looked up to see that Dore was back, but he was back with a vengeance. His eyes were sparkling, and there was a pink hue to his face. Even the way he sat down portrayed a wave of suppressed energy. “I’m normal again.”

  She stared at him. “What d’you mean, you’re normal again?”

  “My manly parts,” he whispered. “They’re back. I’m also starving. I was never this hungry in Hell.”

  “You’ve got all your bits and pieces?” she gasped in astonishment. “Does that mean that I’m normal as well?”

  “Are you like, starving?”

  “Famished.”

  “So am I. We’re both normal again.” He stared at her. “I don’t want to go back, Kat. I want to stay.”

  She knew exactly what Dore was feeling. She could feel it herself, the pure joy of being alive. She’d been astonished by what Hell was really like and hugely reassured by Giselle. Even Hades had seemed like a regular guy, and Persephone was a pleasure to be with, but it wasn’t the same as being alive. Just the smell of roasting meat and freshly ground coffee was a kind of joy.

  “Jock, I’m truly sorry, but we can’t. I’d like to stay here as well, but I gave my word to Hades.”

  “But there must be a million people in New York City. It would be impossible to find us.”

  She thought about Hades, the things he liked to collect, and his beloved horses. She thought about Persephone and Pegasus and her arrows of retribution. But most of all, she thought about Giselle and what good friends they’d become. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Giselle after everything they’d been through together, and after all her generosity. “There
must be a better way. I’m sure I could talk Hades into doing something to help us. We’re also coming back here again, and for much longer. And we’ll have Giselle with us.”

  Dore snorted and signaled a waiter. “I guess we have to go back, if for nothing else, to bring back Ellie. Shall we eat?”

  “How long if we order beef and dumplings?” he asked the waiter. “We’re incredibly hungry.”

  The waiter cocked his head and grinned. “Minutes, my friend. Is that what you both want?”

  “Yep! Same for me,” Kat said. “And lay it on heavy with the gravy.”

  “And two steam beers,” Dore added.

  When the waiter had gone, Kat said, “Jock, this was just an experiment. I only came here to see how it feels. Next time we come, we could be here for days, maybe even weeks. Why don’t we look for a hotel and then go back? I’ll go to the Palace and talk to Persephone. We’re never going to find Grantham just by wandering around.”

  They fell into silence, waiting for the food to arrive. As the waiter promised, it was on their table in a matter of minutes, glistening slices of roast beef, boiled new potatoes with the skin peeling off, and steaming dumplings swimming in a rich brown gravy. Dore let out an audible sigh before tucking into it, and they had almost finished eating before either of them spoke again.

  “Oh, my God,” Dore groaned, downing half his beer. “I could eat that all over again.”

  Kat giggled. “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a meal so much in my entire life.”

  “Or death,” Dore remarked, grinning at her.

  She let out a long, satisfied groan. “Don’t remind me. Do you realize we’re not dead anymore? It’s like some kind of miracle.”

  He shook his head. “Yeah, but you’re right. We can’t stay here. Our best shot at being allowed to live again is finding Grantham. It’s hard to calculate how many people he’s brought out of Hell, but if he’s been doing it for a while, we’re probably talking about thousands. I’m sure you could do a deal with Hades. It’s going to take a lot of ingenuity to find Grantham and stop the rot. It must be worth something.”

  “I hope so, Jock. You haven’t met him, but Hades is a regular guy. I’m sure he’d agree to something.”

  Dore sipped at his beer and nodded. “The thing is, how are we going to find Grantham? If he’s as clever as Harper says he is, he’s not going to make it easy for us. I mean, how would you avoid being caught if you were him?”

  Kat thought about it for a moment. If Grantham could travel backward and forward in time, he could live anywhere he wanted. He could live like a sailor with a girl in every port, only coming to specific time periods when it was necessary. For all they knew, there were set periods for escapees to travel to, dictated by Grantham to fit his preferred schedule.

  “Well, if I wanted to be really safe, I’d have various pied-à-terre that I only used for escapees. I’d arrange with McInnes that for a short period, all escapees must transport to 1825, then I’d change it to 1832, then 1843, and so on. I’d employ watchers to keep an eye on the escapees. Then I’d have a home in a specific time period, where I’d build my own life. Because I was rich, I’d run a large company to legitimize my wealth. It wouldn’t matter if the company was successful because I could keep rescuing it.”

  “What would Grantham do with a wife who grew old, and he didn’t?” Dore asked, taking a sip of beer.

  “I don’t think Grantham’s got to that stage yet. But that’s not how we’re going to find him. I doubt if we’ll ever find Grantham’s pied-à-terre. We need a spy to find out where everyone’s coming to. It’s probably Central Park. Did you know that Central Park used to be marshland?”

  “Is that relevant?”

  “In an odd sort of way. People used to disappear in marshes. If Grantham’s some kind of genius, I think he would have found that amusing.”

  Dore shrugged and downed the rest of his beer. “So we need a spy who we can trust. A spy who can go with the escapees, then come back and tell us where they all are, which is a problem. We don’t know anyone.”

  Kat grinned. “We know someone who can find someone.”

  “We do?”

  “Giselle. She must know a great number of people.”

  Unsure how much the bill would be, Dore extracted a $10 bill from the wad of money he was carrying and slapped it on the table. He doubted it would be anything like $10, but he’d given the only $5 bill he had to the cab driver and asked him to keep the change, which, being a Scotsman, was very unusual. To his surprise, the bill only came to $2.46, $3.00 with the tip.

  Leaving the restaurant, they crossed the road to where all the Hansom cabs were standing, then wandered into the park. There were more people now, which was a problem. There were probably rules about disappearing in front of people.

  “There’s no real hurry. Is there anything you’d like to do before we go back?”

  Dore shrugged. “We’re going to need somewhere nice to stay when we return. Maybe we should check the hotels.”

  “I’ve just realized, The Fifth Avenue Hotel. It was built in 1859 and had a reputation as New York City’s most elegant hotel. It also has views of Madison Square Park. It’s quite expensive, but who cares. It’s not like we’re poor.”

  “What, like it’s got bell boys and en-suite bathrooms?”

  “It’s got everything.”

  “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. You always were good with hotels. I’ll never forget that palatial hotel in Vienna.”

  “Or that it was reduced to rubble,” she remarked, “half an hour after we checked out.”

  “As I said, hard to forget.”

  They reached a fork in the footpath. To their right lay an open lawn area, to their left, the park’s boating lake. Dore turned left.

  “Where are we going, Jock?”

  “Well, as the Great Sioux War hasn’t started yet, and we’re not in the Wild West,” He grinned at her. “I thought we could rent a boat.”

  “What Great Sioux War?”

  “1876, one year from now. The US Army will fight the Sioux for a year. I read about it at school. But you’re dressed up as a lady, it’s a lovely day, and I fancy doing a bit of rowing.”

  “I must admit, it would be nice not to have to think about Grantham for a while.”

  Five minutes later, they were approaching the boathouse with heavy, old fashioned rowing boats lined up at the jetty. The lake was dotted with people in small sailboats and rowboats enjoying a beautiful New York City summer day. A young couple who just rented a boat, and were rowing out into the lake, looked like a scene from an old English painting. The man doing the rowing was in his shirtsleeves and wearing a straw hat, and the young woman was wearing a long dress, and a hat, and holding a stripy parasol. Kat wanted to laugh. She’d seen this sort of scene in romantic period movies, now she was seeing it for real.

  Renting a boat for two hours, Kat and Dore climbed aboard, and Dore rowed out into the lake, hauling on the oars with practiced skill. The only odd thing was that his pistol holsters kept appearing and disappearing with each stroke. Even though he was wearing riding boots, which already looked very out of place, he looked like a wealthy gangster.

  “Jock, you look ridiculous. Can’t you take your jacket off and unbuckle your pistols, put them on the bottom of the boat or something?”

  He stopped rowing and docked the oars with a loud clunking sound. “I don’t suppose it would harm,” he said, taking off his jacket and dropping the pistols in the bottom of the boat. “I don’t plan on shooting anyone.”

  Kat laughed. “I don’t suppose you planned on going to Hell either. Does it feel weird being alive again, and in the past?”

  “Yes, it does. Very eerie. My great grandfather was just a teenager in 1875 and was born in New York City. He was a seaman and used to ply the route between New York City and Liverpool, which was where he eventually jumped ship.”

  “Your great grandfather was born in New York City? You mean, he’
s alive right now, somewhere around here?”

  Dore began to row again, the muscles on his hairy forearms bulging and relaxing. “Yes, he is, but I’ve no idea where he lived, or what he looked like. Still, it’s an odd feeling to know that he’s running around somewhere. Where did your great grandparents come from?”

  But Kat was no longer listening. She was squinting at a rowing boat that seemed to have no one aboard. It was about sixty yards away, and just drifting with something moving just below the gunwale.

  “That boat’s not empty, Jock. Someone’s lying underneath the seats.”

  “What do you mean, hiding?”

  “They’re lying in the bottom of the boat.” She peered at it. She could see the occupant now. She could see his shoulders and the top of his head. He seemed to be holding something long and stick-like. And then she realized what it was. “Jock,” Kat yelled. “He’s pointing a rifle at us.”

  “What?”

  And then the muffled crack of gunfire echoed across the water, and a chunk of wood flew off the bow. Grabbing one of the pistols, Kat threw herself to the bottom of the boat.

  There was a soft splash and then nothing. Jock was swimming underwater. Kat tried to pinpoint where he was, but there wasn’t even a ripple. Suddenly she noticed that the other gun was missing. Leaning against the prow, she aimed at the man. Kat could see more of him now. The man was peering into the water to see where Jock had gone. Aiming at his chest, she pulled the trigger, but her shot missed the boat altogether. She fired again, this time hitting the boat, but not the man. Pistols weren’t very accurate at sixty yards.

  Another shot was fired, missing her by inches. She felt the velocity of it as it flew through the warm summer air. She was furious now. Only one person could be firing at them. The man in the brown coat had obviously escaped the mounted policeman and came looking for them.

  She aimed the pistol at him again. He was more visible now and peering into the water. Over a minute passed before Jock reached the rowing boat. She needed to distract the man. She pulled the trigger again, and this time her shot caused the man to jump and raise the rifle. He was in trouble, and he knew it.