A Hoboken Hipster In Sherwood Forest (35 page)

"On V-Day, huh? What a Hallmark moment that must have been."

"Yes, evidently McGurn cared enough to send the very best... assassins," Man in Black #2 quipped back wryly. The other two men turned to stare at him, evidently un-appreciative of his attempt at humor. "Uh, anyway, Bugs and his men were supposed to meet a truck on Clark Street, to obtain a shipment of bootleg whiskey from Canada. McGurn's men dressed as police, made like it was a bust, then killed seven men. But Bugs overslept and so they missed their real target."

"Before this, the Time Warriors have simply been time tourists," Man in Black #3 spoke up. "Sure, they interfered in a few things here and there, but they never changed big historical events." He cleared his throat. "This time is different.

"This time we believe Nick Fitzgerald is planning on waking Bugs up on time so that he'll get whacked as well. And since something like that could completely wreak havoc on history, we need someone to stop him."

"Right. And you think that 'someone' should be me," I concluded.

The four men nodded in perfect unison.

"No." I shook my head.

"No?"

"Is that word not part of your FBI vocabulary?" I asked. "First of all, even if what you're saying is true and I'm not in some weirdo reality show, I am way too busy to go back in time. I've got a story on the air tonight and I haven't found anyone to interview for it. The rest of my week"— I pull out my phone and click on the calendar app—“is completely booked.
As is the rest of my month. I have absolutely no time to play your little reindeer time travel games." I stuffed the phone back in my purse. "Secondly, what makes you think I could stop Nick Fitzgerald from doing this, anyway? Even when we were dating, he'd never ever listen to a word I said. The pig-headed prick. It's safe to assume he's not going to start now."

"Ms. Duncan—"

I rose from my seat, nodding to each man in turn. "Thank you for inviting me and telling me about your little time machine. It's fascinating stuff, really, and when you're ready to release it to the media, definitely email over a press release. But for now, I must be on my way. Unless...," I smiled sweetly, "any of you would like to tell me how you're too stressed for sex?"

Two of the men shot each other uncomfortable looks, leading me to believe that perhaps I wasn't too far off the mark with my question. But neither seemed too interested in confessing, which was really fine, considering I didn't have a camera with me to record it all, anyway.

"Ms. Duncan," Man in Black #1 said, "we understand your busy schedule and that this request might be seen as a bit inconvenient. But I don't think you grasp the severe implications of this scenario."

Against my better judgment, I paused at the door.

"If Nick Fitzgerald is not stopped, he will alter history forever. The world as we know it will cease to exist and we will spiral off into some parallel universe. Quite simply, the future of the world rests in your hands."

My shoulders slumped. Sheesh, talk about laying on the guilt! These guys were better than my Catholic grandmother. And she was the master. "I'm sorry. I'm not really the 'save the world' type," I argued, my defenses already crumbling. "Not anymore."

"Look, Ms. Duncan, we know what Nick did to you back in Iraq. And we understand why your facing him would be a somewhat... undesirable situation. But think about the damage he could do. Not just to you this time, but to the entire world."

I turned around slowly. What else could I do? Even though this whole thing seemed so ridiculous, I couldn't exactly refuse to save the world—could I? Especially from Nick the Prick.

I drew in a breath. "Fine. What is it you need me to do?"

"Sit down, Ms. Duncan," Man in Black #2 said with a wide smile, looking far too smug for my liking. "We'll brief you on your mission."

They blabbed on forever, but here's the gist: they could send me back in time, but not as myself. Not as Dora. No, instead I had to basically body snatch someone who already existed in 1929. For this mission, they had chosen Louise Rolfe, girlfriend of the infamous Jack "Machine Gun" McGurn, the gangster who'd ordered the hit on Bugs Moran. They felt that by me being on the inside, I'd be better able to figure out Nick's whereabouts and stop him from his future-altering plan.

I asked them what made them think I wouldn't inadvertently screw things up on my own (that was my specialty, after all) and accidentally change history myself. But they evidently had a contingency plan in place. I'd be meeting up with a contact who would help me learn the lay of the land and let me in on just how things should play out, historically speaking. Besides, they said, if small things changed because of my actions, it wouldn't be a big deal—might lead to a sequel to Showgirls or something. It was the big historical events they were most concerned with.

And why me? Why not someone trained for this kind of thing? Well, mainly because there was one big snag in their otherwise oh-so-perfect plan. None of them had any idea whose body Nick had jumped into. Not one clue. He could be absolutely anyone. And so these rocket scientists figured with my "extensive" knowledge of his personality, I could figure out who he was in time to stop him.

So, basically I had to go find a lazy, arrogant jerk
who still had the ability to make my toes curl and was looking to change the world.

Oh yeah.
Piece of cake.