No, not as a bribe. They said not to bring any money back. He flashed a grin. I was rather lucky at cards.
As long as we agree it is not a bribe. A nod. Okay, then I’ll pass it onto someone who needs it. The doctor came to mind. He’d know an unfortunate or two who would benefit from a few regular meals.
Thank you. Turner took a wistful look around, as if saying farewell to a lover. I’m going to miss this.
You’ve got to be kidding. Think of the really interesting stories you can tell at those dull academic parties.
He quirked a smile. I can, can’t I?
She winked. Especially the ones about the brothels.
He gave a mannish grin. Just as long as the old toil and strife isn’t around, he said, employing Cockney rhyming slang for his spouse.
Unfolding the watch, she logged on and typed in a retrieval order code. On the other end, chron-op would realize her charge didn’t have a time band and after a quick sign-off from a higherup, would send one. It cost TIC more money this way, but it got the tourist home. No doubt, the accounting department would try to stick Turner with the additional expense. While they waited, the professor fidgeted. Cynda tried hard not to do the same.
Any moment now, she said.
She tensed as a couple walked by the alley’s entrance. They continued on. A familiar hum echoed around them as a replacement band appeared near her right foot. She scooped it up, then regretted the move as her head exploded from inside.
Someone flipped a switch and the world went orange again.
Cynda offered the band to her charge, waiting until he installed it on his wrist. She executed a mock salute and tripped the watch. The professor vanished. A chirp issued from the time interface a few seconds later. The tourist was home.
Yes! Cynda collapsed the watch and hid it for safekeeping, positioning it away from the more sensitive parts of her anatomy.
She stuffed Turner’s largesse in the top of her right boot, a feat in itself. Task accomplished, she strode out of the alley like a Roman conqueror.
As Cynda stood on a street corner waiting for the stream of carriages and carts to pass by, she felt a slight tug on her skirt. A quick grab netted her a grimy hand. The small boy attached to it squirmed like a snake, shouting at her.
Nice try, she said, and then let him go. He fled, narrowly missing an old woman in his escape. Cynda put her hand in the pocket—the remaining piece of chocolate was gone. Hope you enjoy it, kid.
Come on, come on, Cynda grumbled impatiently, tapping the little wand on the pillow next to the expanded pocket watch. It usually didn’t take this long.
Logged On, the screen typed back at her.
Ralph?
Yes.
Leaving soon—30 min or less Negative. New assignment.
No, no, no! she snarled. KATL getting bad. Must come home.
No go.
For a moment, she was tempted to type back a swear word, and then decided against it. TIC would review the logs, and cursing was penalized by a charge against your paycheck. She frowned and tapped the wand on her chin in thought. Hadn’t he been urging her to finish the assignment and get home? Now it was just the opposite.
She pushed the envelope. If I come home solo?
There was a lengthy pause. You don’t want to do that.
This time, she swore out loud. She was screwed.
Who is it? she asked.
Dr. Walter Samuelson. Details to follow.
The Retrieval Order dutifully trudged across the dinky screen.
No photo was included. Another cost-cutting measure, no doubt.
She skimmed through the minor details and then checked the tourist’s retrieval date. Samuelson had gone AWOL four weeks earlier. That was a lifetime in TIC’s world.
What the hell is going on back there?
Instead she typed, Why didn’t they act sooner?
He’s a psychiatrist. Check the hospitals and the asylums.
Why not sooner?
First Rover unsuccessful. Lost contact with second Rover three days ago. Last report stated tourist was being elusive, but Rover closing in.
Cynda rocked back in shock. Rovers did not disappear. TIC
should be turning over every rock to avoid a governmental investigation.
Why didn’t they mention this when they’d inserted me in this time period? Who could be missing?
A bolt of fear shot through her. Chris. She leaned forward again and typed the question with an unsteady hand.
Is it Chris?
The pause seemed to last hours. Yes.
Oh, my God, she whispered. The last time they were together, he’d said he was going on special assignment, some highpaying contract job. He’d not given her the details, but then that wasn’t unusual. Working as a freelance Rover, Chris alternated between the three time insertion companies. His hours were erratic. Often they didn’t see each other for weeks. When they finally did connect, they were too busy working off the time lag in bed to talk about their respective jobs.
Why didn’t they tell me before I was sent here? she typed.
CTA.
Covering their asses, she translated. If the Rover caused a Time Incursion, there were substantial fines. It was probably why the dates on Turner’s Retrieval Order had mysteriously changed.
TIC would do anything to avoid the spotlight, especially with bankruptcy rumors swirling around them like dust devils.
I’ll find both of them, she typed in uneven bursts, her hand shaking harder now.
Work fast and be VERY careful.
Cynda’s blood chilled. Ralph rarely issued a warning so plainly.
Log Off, she typed.
Logged Off.
Cynda returned the pocket watch to its compact shape and clutched it between her palms. It felt icy against her skin, a reflection of the dread forming in her heart.