Revolution in Time (Out of Time #10) (6 page)

She nodded. “I am overflowing with folic acid.”

Jack made a sour face and Elizabeth laughed.
 

Simon didn’t join in. “It’s very important that you—”

The doorbell chimed again and Elizabeth grinned. “Saved by the bell.”

Elizabeth made a quick exit and Simon followed. She grabbed her sweatshirt and put it on as she opened the door.

The flower delivery man held a large colorful bouquet and read from his clipboard. “Cross?”

“Yes.” Simon stepped forward and signed for the flowers.

“Pretty.”

Simon frowned, but took the flowers inside and set them on the table. He read the card. “From the Mythology department.
Didn’t think you had it in you, old boy. Best, Aumond.
”
 

Simon grunted. He hated Aumond under the best of circumstances. Not to mention the idea of those pompous busybodies at university having a window into his world outside of those dreary halls. And now, somehow, they’d found out about Elizabeth’s pregnancy.

“How sweet,” Elizabeth said as she admired them. Then she noticed Simon’s expression. “What?”

“How on earth do they know?”

She cringed adorably. “I might have let it slip yesterday when I went in to collect those papers for the staff meeting.”

“Elizabeth—”

She held up a hand. “I know, I know. You don’t want people all up your business, but they’re just happy for us. They mean well.”

Simon wasn’t sure Aumond did, but her point was made.
 

She carried the flowers into the kitchen.

No matter how much he wanted the world to stay just the two—

“Hey,” Jack called from the kitchen.

Or three, Simon silently corrected, the world simply didn’t work that way. He hadn’t even told his family in England yet. He knew they’d be happy for an heir, at least. And happy for him, he supposed, as much as their cold, barren, patrician hearts could be. He added sharing the news with his family to his to-do-someday list. But for now, he was content with the family he had here.
 

“How about barbecue for dinner?” Jack yelled out. “I think I need ribs.”

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” Simon asked as he rejoined them in the kitchen. Jack had been lingering around more than usual these days. Something about an upheaval at the Council leaving him at loose ends.

Jack shook his head. “Nope,” he said and then grinned. “I’m all yours.”

~~~

Elizabeth bared her teeth in the bathroom mirror. “I think I have brisket in there somewhere.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Between you and Wells, I barely had any at all.”

She gave him a mock frown. “Poor Simon.” She turned and kissed him.

“Definitely brisket,” he said.

She genuinely frowned this time and looked back into the mirror. “Really?”

Simon chuckled. “No.”

She swatted his arm playfully and he walked back into their bedroom. Her voice followed him.

“Don’t be too hard on Jack. He’s sort of lost right now, I think.”

She was right. It couldn’t be easy for him. For Simon, however ….

He passed through the bedroom and into their closets. They were adjoining his and hers spaces with a large set of shelves for sweaters and linens between them. His gaze unerringly landed on the mahogany box sitting on one of the shelves.

They hadn’t said more than a few sentences about the watch or the Council since returning, except for Jack’s vague mention of something about something that Simon had dutifully ignored. If the whole thing ceased to be, that would honestly suit Simon just fine. In fact, if he had his way, there would be no more missions at all—at least not for them.

It was a subject they’d avoided, but the conversation would have to occur eventually. Now seemed as good a time as any.

He took off his shirt and tossed it into the hamper. He’d nearly finished changing when Elizabeth joined him.

“Minty fresh.” She put a hand on his bare chest and leaned in to kiss him and prove it.

“A vast improvement.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and moved into her part of the closet to grab her pajama top.

While she changed, Simon went into the bedroom to gather his thoughts. He didn’t expect this talk to go smoothly. Elizabeth would surely resist the idea. Helping people, even at the risk to her own life, came as easily to her as breathing. No longer doing that would not be easy for her. But it was for the best.

Elizabeth came out of the closet and paused at the edge of the bedroom as she saw his expression.

“What’s wrong?”

Simon reached out a hand and she went to him, settling on the bed next to him. She searched his eyes for a clue as to what he was going to say.

“I’ve been thinking a great deal about something,” he said. “About our role with the Council.”

Elizabeth exhaled slowly and nodded, but a sort of tension had settled into her jaw while she waited for him to continue.

“Considering our … situation,” he continued, “I don’t think we should be involved with any of that anymore.”

She started to say something, stopped and frowned.

“You mean never time travel again?”

He nodded. “It’s far too dangerous. It was bad enough when we only risked our own lives—”

“It’s not like I’m going to take our baby to Pompeii.”

He heard the hurt feelings in her voice and took her hand. “I know,” he said, and he did know that, but … “But what if something should happen to us?”

Elizabeth looked down at her hands and after a moment back to him.

“I understand what you’re saying. Having Charlotte changes things.”

He almost breathed a sigh of relief, but she continued.

“But giving up time travel forever?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I love what we do. And it matters. I’m not sure I’m ready to close the door on it completely, not forever.”

Simon had hoped she’d see it his way. His disappointment must have shown.

“For now,” she said and squeezed his hand, “yes. Somehow, I think this will be adventure enough for a while. But …”

“Never say never?”
 

She nodded.
 

“All right. I had hoped to close this chapter of our lives, but putting a bookmark in it will have to do.”

She smiled and stood. “Speaking of books.”

She picked up an old volume from her bedside table and held it out to him.

A warmth filled his heart as he took it. He ran his fingers over the worn cover but shook his head. “She can’t hear yet.”

Elizabeth crawled onto the bed. “But I can. And ….” She shrugged. “Maybe Charlotte’s precocious?”

He smiled to himself. “No doubt.”

He turned off the overhead light, leaving only one bedside light on, and settled against the headboard next to his wife.

Elizabeth leaned against his shoulder and he lifted his arm to pull her close.

Resting the book on his lap, he flipped it open and began to read.

“In the days when everybody started fair, Best Beloved, the Leopard lived in a place called the High Veldt ….”

~~~

Jack nodded to the bartender in greeting and lifted a finger as he passed by. He’d been coming here on and off for over a month now, meeting Travers and sometimes just for a quiet drink, and Frank knew the routine.

As usual, he found Travers sitting in their corner booth. But this time, his Shirley Temple had grown up into an adult drink. And that didn’t bode well.

“Trouble?” Jack asked before he even sat down.

Travers nodded and moved a few of the large folders scattered on the table out of Jack’s way. “A great deal, I’m afraid.”

As Jack sat down, Travers’ eyes followed him; the dark circles under them had circles of their own.

Frank, the bartender, brought Jack’s beer over and set it down on the table. Travers waited until he’d gone back behind the bar before he spoke again.

He tapped his finger thoughtfully on one of the thick brown folders. “A great deal.”

Jack took a swig of his beer and put it aside. “Okay. Lay it on me.”

Travers took a deep breath and spread his hands out on top of several of the files. “For the last few weeks, I’ve been doing a little research on our new leaders.”

“A little?”
 

There were five or six file folders, most of them over an inch thick.

Travers smiled modestly and picked up one of the folders. “You remember George Hawkins?”

“Sure, he canned you and put himself in charge.”

“Succinctly put, yes. Hawkins has been with the Council for seven years. During that time, it appears he continued to belong to another organization—The Society of Elect. Are you familiar with it?”

Jack shook his head.

“Perhaps you know it by another name,” Travers said and slid the file around so Jack could see it.

The top page was an image Jack had seen thousands of times before—a triangle with an eye in the center of it. The symbol appeared on US currency but was more closely associated with a mysterious and, as far as Jack was concerned, apocryphal organization. “Seriously? The Illuminati?”

Travers blanched at the word and looked around nervously as he closed the folder.

“That’s just fairy tale stuff.”

Travers pursed his lips. “Like time travel?”

Jack had to give him that. “Okay, that’s fair. But the—”

Travers held up a finger to his lips to keep him from saying it again.

“You’re saying this Hawkins character is one of them?”

Travers nodded. “It’s not quite that simple.”

Jack reached for his beer. “Of course not.”

“The you-know-whos aren’t just one organization; they’re many. And they go by dozens of different names—The Order of One, the Secret Brotherhood, the Guardians of the Grail. In their various guises, they’ve risen and fallen throughout history.”

He opened the folder again. “The one in we’re currently interested in is the Society of the Elect of which Hawkins was an elite member until two years ago.”

“What happened two years ago?”

“I don’t know, some sort of falling out.”

“That’s helpful.”

Travers frowned. “Gathering information on secret societies is not an exact science, you know.”

“Sorry. Go on. So, what’s the deal with Elect?”

“They were founded by Cecil Rhodes. You’ve probably heard of his scholarship.”

Jack had. Rhodes Scholars were some of the brightest of the brightest.

“He was one of the wealthiest men in the world, a powerful businessman and politician in South Africa in the latter part of the 19
^th
century. He was also fiercely loyal to the crown. A dyed-in-the-wool imperialist who believed that the Great British Empire should be expanded to the point of Global Governance.”

Jack had known a few people in his time in London who felt pretty much the same way. “That the sun should never have set on the empire?”

“Precisely. Rhodes’ notions were peaceful, unifying. The Society of the Elect was founded on those principles.”

“But it didn’t stay that way?”

Travers flipped through a few pages. “For the most part, it did. But, more recently, there were members like Hawkins, who wanted more. But without a means to achieve it, the Society was little more than a gentlemen’s club.”

Jack was starting to understand. “Enter the Council. A means.”

Travers’ face darkened. “Yes.”

“So they’re going to … what? Change history?”

“I believe so.”

Jack leaned back. “Well, that’s not good.”

“No. I’m still trying to get more information about precisely what they plan on doing and how.”

“And when.”

“Right.” Travers stacked three of the folders and placed them in front of Jack.

“A little light reading?”

“There’s more in the car.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Travers sighed and sat back in his chair. “There’s something else that’s troubling me.”

Jack looked down at the four inches of research. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“They’ve put a freeze on the watches. None of them work. That in and of itself isn’t all that surprising.”

Jack nodded. “They want to make sure they have control of all time travel before they make a move.”

Travers frowned in thought. “Yes. But they seem to be waiting for something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. It’s almost as though the first part of their plan requires something to happen here. Now.”

“Maybe they’re just getting things ready. Taking over the world and reshaping history takes planning, I’m guessing.”

Travers nodded. “Possibly.”

“But you’re worried?”

Travers picked up his drink and stared into the glass. “We’re facing a potential rewriting of everything we’ve ever known.” He looked up at Jack. “So, yes, I’m worried.”

It was a chilling thought.
 

“Of course,” Travers said, “maybe I’m wrong about it all.”

Jack rolled the cold glass of his beer between his hands. In his heart, he knew Travers wasn’t.

E
LIZABETH
PAUSED
AT
THE
open door to the nursery and peered inside at the renovation. They’d made a lot of progress in the last few weeks.
 

Simon insisted they always keep the door open. He said it made him feel closer to Charlotte. Elizabeth didn’t point out that this was exactly the sort of thing he said was “stuff and nonsense” when she’d suggested it. She loved how much he loved Charlotte and if leaving the door open to an as-yet unoccupied nursery made him feel closer to her, she was all for it.

“We’re late,” he said as he came down the hall.

She looked at the counting sheep clock on the wall. “We’re not.”

He tapped his watch. “Yet.”

“Just getting my coat, El Capitan,” she teased with a mock salute. He kept them on a strict schedule and today was marked in red on the calendar.

Today was the ultrasound. The thought of it made her nervous for some reason. All other tests showed Charlotte was perfectly healthy and developing on schedule, as if Simon would allow anything else. But today, today they’d see her. She’d probably look more like a blob than a baby, but they’d
see
her. Proof positive. Irrefutable evidence.