Chapter 31
2057 A.D.
TEM Enterprises Morrisey drummed his fingers on the desk, awaiting the verdict.
Is what Samuelson told us correct, Mr. Hamilton? he asked, uncharacteristically edgy.
Ralph dragged his eyes from the holo-screen. Yes, it is. His wife negotiated a special deal that allowed him to take along a companion at less than full price. It was valid if both parties were going to the same time period and returning together.
Understandable. TIC needed cash flow, and the additional weight wouldn’t have upped the transfer costs that much.
After that, it stops making sense, Ralph added. The Passenger Log shows Walter Samuelson as the only tourist. The Chron Log says the same. His brother’s ESR Chip unit didn’t register for the transfer.
Could he have already removed it before the trip? Morrisey asked.
I doubt it. The first thing the customer reps do is scan the chip to ensure they have the right person going to the destination and time.
After that screw-up last year with—
Morrisey waved him off. Never trust the backup logs, Mr.Hamilton. Check the master files and see if there’s been any alteration.
I’ve already requisitioned them from TIC. The only guy left in Records says he’s up to his keister because of the bankruptcy, but he owes me one.
Good. What about this socalled bogie?
Ralph consulted the holo-screen. Geoffrey Samuelson, a.k.a.
Dalton Mimes, has a doctorate in history, taught college for a number of years, and then became an author. Until recently, his graphic murder mysteries sold rather well.
How violent are they? Morrisey asked, hands tented in his usual pose.
9.8 out of 10 on the Graphic Violence Scale. They make you sign a waiver before you buy one to ensure you don’t sue the publisher for mental distress.
What would this man want so desperately that he would risk being stranded in the nineteenth century? What is so important that he would kill to obtain it?
Fame. Everything in Mimes’ profile screams ego.
Explain, Morrisey challenged.
When he debuted Blood-Crossed Nuns, he held a press conference in front of a convent and handed out sharpened crosses, inviting the onlookers to try them out on the good sisters like a scene in his book. The Vatican had a fit.
Which in turn sold more product, Morrisey noted. That makes him a shrewd marketer, albeit a sacrilegious one.
Mimes pulled a similar publicity stunt in front of a daycare center to plug his latest book. He substituted pruning shears for the crosses and caused another uproar. He craves publicity, and is fascinated with murder and mayhem. What better symbolizes that than the Whitechapel killings?
To what end? Morrisey asked, frowning.
I think it’s the old ‘find the Ripper’ ploy.
Morrisey’s frown deepened. If he chooses to play that game, it comes with its own set of rules.
What if he gathers evidence from one of the crime scenes and brings it back to ’057 to make his case? Ralph suggested. Before Morrisey could answer, he shook his head. Nah, that wouldn’t work. His credibility is zip if it’s learned he went back to ’88.
Which might be why he’s running under the radar. We had no idea he was there, after all. Apparently, he obtained a good deal of information from Mr. Stone before he killed him. I would suspect Mimes knows how to use the interface and plans to return at a time of his own choosing.
He might have gotten away with TIC showing only one transfer out, but when he and his brother go Inbound together, the ruse is up.
You’re assuming he intended to collect his sibling from Colney Hatch.
You mean, leave him there? Ralph asked, incredulous.
Why not? He doesn’t have an ESR Chip. As far as TIC is concerned, there was only one tourist in ’88. If Miss Lassiter hadn’t been such a good tracker, we wouldn’t have found Dr.
Samuelson.
But he’d have to implant his brother’s ESR Chip for it to work, Ralph argued.
Actually, no. It’s not common knowledge, but all you need is for the ESR Chip to come in contact with the skin. He could have easily stuck it on his person with a bandage. The Rover’s interfaces wouldn’t have known the difference.
Is that why Mimes attacked her? Did he realize she was getting close?
I’m not sure. However, none of this reveals what he’s up to.
Morrisey addressed his holokeyboard, fingers moving with the speed of a man who once made his living as a programmer.
Figures and diagrams swirled in the air.
Request? the computer voice asked.
Run speculative analysis based on premise that Dalton Mimes, a.k.a. Geoffrey Samuelson, returns to 2057 bearing evidence from the 1888 Whitechapel killings. Factor in psychological profile of subject, personal reading list for the past decade and scan published body of work for potential scenarios.
As the computer worked, an exquisite graphic of Van Gogh’s Starry Night formed in the air, comprised of colorful binary code.
Analysis complete.
Hypothesize scenario, Morrisey ordered.
Subject obtains evidence that will support his claim in 2057.
Evidence may be secreted in 1888 to be discovered in present day.
As materials will date from appropriate time period, evidence will receive serious investigation.
If all these events occur, will Mimes be able to pinpoint the murderer?
Negative. Evidence sufficiently contaminated to prevent identification of murderer or murderers from suspect pool.
Bother, Ralph muttered, shaking his head. This just isn’t working. We’re missing something.
Morrisey rubbed the side of his nose. Speculate Mimes’
purpose in 1888.
Personal history indicates Mimes may attempt to implicate an innocent in the crimes.
Whoa, Ralph said, abruptly shifting forward in his chair.
The computer continued, Mimes has falsely accused four academics of plagiarizing his work and filed suit against three. All cases were subsequently dismissed. Two of the author’s novels, Forever in Blood and Damned Bloody Days, utilize ‘framing-ofinnocent’
as major plot thread.
Speculate type of person Mimes would try to frame,
Morrisey posed.
A few seconds and then, Subject would follow generally accepted description of Whitechapel killer as per contemporary police reports; male, single, thirty to forty years of age, with possible working knowledge in the medical field or in the slaughterhouse industry. Current or previous residence in Whitechapel.
Access Miss Lassiter’s Run Report. Review her contacts in ’88
and compare against generally accepted description of killer,
Morrisey ordered.
Comparing. The completion beep came nearly instantly, almost like an audible period. Doctor Alastair Stephen Montrose, probability match 97.8%. Sergeant Jonathon Davis Keats, 58.4%.
Mr. Clyde Owens, mortician—
Cancel, Morrisey said, pensive. Speculate why Mimes gave Miss Lassiter the time interface after his attack.
If premise accepted, the discovery of Miss Lassiter’s body in 1888 presented a threat as she was out of time sync. Ergo, her death would be noted by professional researchers, a.k.a.
Ripperologists, bringing scrutiny upon Montrose before Mimes could reveal him as the Whitechapel killer.
Ralph murmured, He figured she’d die in transit. Still, he took a big risk. He admitted he killed Chris, bragged about it.
A sober nod. Remember his bloated ego? This is a game to him, Morrisey said. ‘Catch me if you can,’ just like the Ripper.
There’s one problem with all this: TIC’s bankruptcy. Mimes doesn’t know his return ticket is invalid.
Morrisey eyed him. Insure the chron equipment is calibrated to initiate the transfer from Mr. Stone’s interface. When Mimes returns, I want him here.
Ralph turned to the holo-screen and began his work. A minute later, there was a series of three beeps. Done.
Thank you. Computer, calculate probability Mimes’ plan will come to fruition if evidence obtained and subject’s trip to 1888 is concealed.
94.3%.
Mitigating factors?
Presence of remaining Time Rover in 1888.
Our ace in the hole, Ralph said.
Indeed. Morrisey pondered for a time. Go and pressure your contact at TIC to give you that file. We need to know exactly what happened during that transfer. If you must offer him a bribe, do it. We need that information as quickly a possible.
Once the door closed, Morrisey extricated a nanodrive from his pants’ pocket, plugged it into the terminal and tapped in his security code. After the required biometric scans, the computer announced, Input request.
Run random security question.
What was Dante’s name before it was shortened?
Durante degli Alighieri.
Cleared.
Morrisey straightened in his chair. Run history and profile for Geoffrey Samuelson. Query—is he Transitive?
A brief interlude and then, Negative. Samuelson does not have Transitive capability.
Run history and profile for Alastair Stephen Montrose, nineteenth-century physician, London. Same query.
A minute pause, and then a beep. Montrose’s history indicates Transitive status.
Source?
Private memoirs of Hastings, George Arthur, member of London Conclave from 1887 to—
Any other citations? Morrisey broke in.
Personal biography of Wescomb, Lord John Sagamor Archibald, member of Parliament from—
Morrisey cut in again, not wishing the minutiae. Consult previous analysis of Dalton Mimes, a.k.a. Geoffrey Samuelson. Is Mimes aware Doctor Montrose is Transitive?
Access records indicate extensive research into Montrose biography over the course of ninety days prior to Mimes transfer to 1888, including memoirs of Hastings and Wescomb.
Who authorized access to those classified biographies?
Joseph Godby of Edgewater, Harper and Godby Publishing Company International.
Identify linkage to Mimes.
EHG Publishing Co., Inc. is subject’s publisher.
Probability that subject will tie Ripper murders with the Transitive community in a book issued through EHG Publishing?
100%.
Why would Godby…? Morrisey murmured. Addressing the computer, he asked, Speculate reason for publisher’s breech of security.
EHG Publishing Co, Inc. is experiencing financial difficulties secondary to founder’s terminal illness. Previous four quarters show losses in excess of three point nine million—
Cancel. Morrisey wearily rubbed his face and then placed his head in his hands. How ironic—sold out by one of our own. He had no need to ask the computer the outcome of Mimes’ book—the Transitives would be unmasked, equated with one of the most disturbing serial killers in history, the illusion of personal security shredded.
Their future now rested on the thin shoulders of Jacynda Lassiter.
God help us if she fails.