Time's Divide (The Chronos Files Book 3) (25 page)

Somehow I manage to lock in the stable point. I’m at a lower angle than when I set it, so I have no idea how this will work, but I can see the open car door and Trey’s feet. A bullet pings against the desk, followed by footsteps. And then my eyes open to see gravel beneath Trey’s car.

“I’m okay! It’s not my blood!” The words are out before I realize that might be a bad thing to yell when there are people within earshot and a pistol in my hand.

I’m already up and moving toward the car when Trey reaches me. My knees are wobbly, and I’m about to sink down into the seat when I remember that my jeans are a gruesome mix of dirt, gravel, and blood.

“Is there something I can sit on? I don’t want to get—”

“I’m not worried about the damned car, Kate.” He cups my face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yes . . . it’s Julia’s blood.” His eyes slide down to the gun. “No! I didn’t shoot her. But since she was very clearly murdered, I think it’s a bad idea to get her blood inside your car.”

“Hold on.” He grabs a rain poncho from the trunk and spreads it across the seat, then tosses two reusable grocery bags onto the floorboard.

“I could just jump back home.”

“Not until we’re out of here. We’re getting odd looks from that guy at the pump. No—don’t look at him! Let’s just go.”

Once we’re back on the road, he asks, “Are we still going to Tilson’s?”

“Not yet. Find somewhere else to pull off while we think about what to do. I need to call him.”

I’m glad my hands weren’t shaking this badly in Julia’s office or I’d probably be as dead as she is. That thought doesn’t exactly steady me, but I manage to dial anyway.

“Hello, Trey,” Tilson answers.

“No, Dr. Tilson. It’s Kate. Are Max and Eve there yet?”

“Not yet. Is there a problem? You sound—”

“Yes. I jumped back to earlier this morning, to Julia’s office. I needed to talk to her before the meeting, and . . .” I take a deep breath. I don’t get the sense that he and Julia were especially close, but he’s still very old and this may come as a shock. “Are you sitting down? Because . . .”

“Oh my God. How?”

“She was shot. Twice.”

“And you’re certain—”

“Positive. The gunman was either still there or, more likely, he’s a jumper who was monitoring the office, because he fired at me, too.”

Trey says, “You skipped that part earlier, Kate!” at the same moment Tilson asks if I was hit.

I give Trey an apologetic look and tell Tilson, “No. I had to dive under her desk. But listen, I’m very, very concerned that Eve Conwell’s there. I can’t imagine any scenario where she’s on our side in this. Her father is Cyrist inner circle. In the timeline I remember, he was regional Templar for North America. And Eve . . . she was a self-centered bitch, so unless she’s had a radical personality change . . .”

“No,” Tilson says, “that’s still a fairly accurate description. Max would even admit that most days.”

Trey pulls off at a small park, backing in so that we’re facing the lake.

“Your house could be bugged,” I tell Tilson. “For that matter, I don’t even know if this phone is safe, but . . . I had to let you know.”

“I don’t think we’re bugged. I’ve taken precautions in that regard—” He stops, and I suspect he’s thinking the same thing I’m about to say, so I just wait. “But I suppose Julia did, too.”

“I’m sure she did. You, Charlayne, and Ben need to get out of there before Eve arrives. I don’t know about Max . . . can he be trusted?”

Tilson sighs. “I think so. I’ll find a way to get a message to him about . . . all of this. Hopefully without alerting anyone else.”

“You might want to wait on that. I’m—” I pause because Trey’s not going to like this. “I’m going back in to see if I can save her.”

Trey shakes his head vehemently, and Tilson says, “No. You’re not.”

“I’ll be careful. I can’t just let her—”

“Kate,” Tilson says, “please take a look at the papers you signed when you joined the Fifth Column. The rules are absolute. No time alteration for any reason not directly related to preventing the Culling. Julia made it clear that this included preventing member deaths, even her own. There are no exceptions . . .” He pauses like he’s about to add something, then just repeats, “No exceptions.”

I know Tilson’s right in terms of the big picture, but it feels so wrong not to even try. “I actually never signed those papers. And Julia’s gone. There’s no one to enforce those rules anymore.”

A long, rather ominous silence follows. “Don’t count on that, Kate. You’ve only seen the surface of the Fifth Column. And you’re sensible enough to realize there’s more at stake here than one person’s life.”

I’m tempted to tell him it’s easier to say that when you’re not drenched in that one person’s blood. But I don’t.

“Hold on. I’m going to give the phone to Trey.”

I press mute and hand Trey the phone. “Back in a few seconds. Try to figure out a meeting place without telegraphing it to anyone who might be listening.”

When I lean forward to kiss him goodbye, he grabs my arm. “You’re not going back there, right? Please tell me you’re not going back there.”

“I’m not going back there.”

He starts to smile and then it fades. “Are you just telling me that because I asked you to, or . . .”

“No. Tilson’s right. This is just another of those cases where all the choices suck. But I’ll keep my focus on the big picture. I’m going to shower, change, and come right back. Promise.”

B
ETHESDA
, M
ARYLAND

September 12, 10:47 a.m.

I peel off my jeans in the bathroom and toss them, along with the poncho, into the sink. This entire situation reminds me of jumping back from Georgia with Delia’s blood all over my sweater. And then just before that, jumping back from Six Bridges in the containment suit when Kiernan and I got the virus sample. Maybe I should set a stable point inside the shower to save time.

While the water runs over my body, I take deep breaths and try to center my mind so I can devise a game plan. But I keep seeing Julia’s face.

Smoke hits my nose as I’m tugging on a clean pair of jeans. The detector in the hall goes off the same second, as if my noticing the smoke reminded it to do its job already.

Whatever calm I found in the shower shatters instantly. I snatch a T-shirt from the closet and grab my phone as I run to the door, remembering at the last second to see if the handle is hot before opening it.

It’s cool, but smoke is pouring from the library, and I see flames in the corner. Books are pulled off the shelves, dumped onto the floor, and their dry, brittle pages are perfect kindling.

“Katherine! Connor!”

No response.

I run to the railing and look down over the living room. It’s empty except for Daphne, who’s at the door, whimpering. She moves toward the stairs as I run down, dragging one back leg.

“Oh my God! What happened, girl? Where are Connor and Katherine?”

I dial 911, then scoop Daphne into my arms. She yelps when I lift her, but I can’t stop now to see where she’s hurt.

The emergency worker answers as I reach the backyard. Once I’ve given the address, they tell me to stay clear of the house. Sound advice, even though I can’t follow it until I find Connor and Katherine.

“Daphne, stay!” I command, setting her down near the bench swing. “Stay!” She whimpers, but doesn’t follow.

The garage door is open, which is unusual. I reach inside the door to grab the fire extinguisher, only to find it missing. Then I head back inside, despite the voice in my head screaming that it’s a very, very bad idea. The smell of smoke alone has me looking over my shoulder, half expecting to see H. H. Holmes following me.

The fire extinguisher inside the pantry is gone, too.

I check Katherine’s room, and Connor and Katherine aren’t there. That leaves upstairs. I run to Connor’s rooms, Dad’s, and then the attic. Between my shrieking and the smoke alarm, they should have heard me by now unless they’re unconscious.

Or unless . . . they’re
in
the library?

I fly down the attic stairs, hitting the last few steps on a skid. Smoke billows from the library. I pull my T-shirt over my face and am about to plunge in when it occurs to me that I’m approaching this, as Kiernan would say, far too linearly.

I yank out my key, set a stable point outside the library, and roll the time back ten minutes to when I was in the shower. I may go back further and prevent the fire eventually—Julia’s Fifth Column rules be damned. But for now, I need to see what we’re up against and, most importantly, locate Connor and Katherine.

Through the CHRONOS display, I see the fire was pretty much out ten minutes ago, so they must have had it nearly under control and then it blazed up again. The windows are open and spirals of smoke drift outward. White dust, possibly from a fire extinguisher, coats the bookshelves, walls, and carpet. Connor is sprawled on the floor, one canister in his hand and another near his head.

Maybe he and Katherine were overcome by smoke trying to put out the fire? But where’s Katherine?

I jump in. As I approach Connor, one of the monitors lights up, startling me. My movements must have jarred the mouse, pulling the computer out of sleep mode. I press my fingers to Connor’s neck to check for a pulse, giving a short prayer of thanks when I find it.

I’m just turning around to search for Katherine when I hear Simon. “Well, hello, Katie.”

I whirl toward the sound, cursing myself for leaving the gun in Trey’s car. But unless I was planning to shoot Connor’s computer, it doesn’t matter. Simon’s face is in close-up on the screen until he moves a bit back from the camera. He’s older, thinner, sitting in the back of a large car . . . a limo, maybe? He wears jeans and an antique-looking New York Yankees jersey with several jagged rips running down the front. There’s a makeshift bandage the same color as the jersey on his left forearm.

He slips the CHRONOS key back into his pocket and looks up at the camera. “Yes, I’ve been watching you through the stable point to see when you’d come in. Ain’t technology grand?”

I give him a foul look and grab my own key.

“Nuh-uh-uh. Drop it.”

The location at Trey’s car is locked in. I scan forward ten minutes to the current time and see he’s still there.

I’m about to blink away when Simon says, “Drop it, Kate. Otherwise I’ll have to start winnowing down hostages, and I hate doing that so early in the game. It just ruins the suspense.”

I drop the key as soon as I hear the word
hostages
and take another look around the library. Katherine’s not here, so I’m not really surprised when Simon shifts the camera to show her, gagged and tied to the seat next to him.

“Katherine, are you okay?”

He shifts the camera back to his face. “She’s fine. Just a bit of excitement, right, Grandma? She was playing fireman with your buddy on the floor when I dropped in. I was beginning to worry the fire would gobble him up before you finished your shower.” A slow grin spreads across his face. “Did you enjoy it? I certainly did.”

Simon lets that comment sink in. My shiver of revulsion must show on my face because he laughs.

“I’m glad you ducked out of the way at Julia’s office. Not only because I enjoyed the view just now—although I really did enjoy the view—but because you and I have a common goal. We can
work
together. I just needed to find the right incentive to . . . motivate you.”

I tell him exactly what I think of him and his incentives.

He laughs. “You talk like that in front of our grandmother? Sheesh. But on that last part, we’re in agreement. We both know my mother, and yes, she
can
be a bitch.”

I snatch my medallion up again, and he stops laughing abruptly.

“I’m not stupid, Kate, and I’m under a key, too. If you’re thinking you’ll go back and change things, make sure I don’t grab Katherine, that would be a very
bad
idea.”

The next thing I see is him holding up an image. Mom. She’s in the same position as Katherine, except she’s unconscious. I think she’s in a hotel room, although it doesn’t look like the one in London. The barrel of a pistol is wedged under her throat.

I can’t breathe. It’s not just the smoke. Mom looks helpless, totally at the mercy of Simon’s thug. My first thought is that I should never, ever have let her stay in London. But I’m not sure what I could have done short of kidnapping to get her home. And maybe home isn’t any safer, since Simon has Katherine, too.

“Prudence should be right there with her, but she can be a slippery one. My point is, if you change anything about this sequence of events, I’ll know. So don’t go splitting any of my memories if you want these two ladies alive.”

“What do—” I stop, coughing as a bit of smoke catches in my throat. “What do you want?”

“The same thing you do. Pru can’t get her hands on the other keys. You bring them to me—intact—and I’ll let them go.”

“Why don’t you get the keys yourself?”

He shrugs. “Easier to let you do it. Yes, I could jump in there and get Pru’s key from you, but I really don’t look much like her, and then I’d have to fight the guy, find the keys—”