Timewatch (17 page)

“Very well,” said Brother Jude, his gaze flickering over his visitors. “I'll see what I can do.”

His sandals slapping firmly against the floor, he left. After returning a few minutes later, he led them down a bare hallway with whitewashed walls into a room that wouldn't have been out of place in any office building. The abbot was working at the latest IBM computer model sitting on an oak desk in front of him.

He stood up and said, “I'm Father Lawrence. I understand from Brother Jude here that you are the Morgan family, who have come to retrieve a box left here by your ancestor, Jeremy Morgan.”

As the abbot spoke, Dan looked him over carefully. Father Lawrence's robe only partially concealed a build that would have been a football coach's delight.

“May I ask how you learned of this box?”

“From a memoir written by a family member,” said Marjory.

“I'm sure that must be very interesting,” said the abbot politely. “A lot of people these days are investigating their family trees. However, I'm sorry to tell you that I know nothing of any box.”

He was about to dismiss them when J.J. burst out, “Could it be in a cellar maybe, where everyone's forgotten about it?”

The abbot's face creased into a smile as he said, “We have no cellars here.”

“It's really important, Father Lawrence, that we find this box.”

“Yes, I'm sure it is, but I really don't see how I can help you. However, if you'd like to take a tour of our mission, Brother Martin would be happy to show you around.”

“Thank you. You've been most helpful,” said Marjory.

Brother Jude showed them out and took them back to the reception room where they'd waited earlier. “Brother Martin will meet you here very soon,” he said and left the room.

“Silly idea to come here in the first place,” muttered Caleb to Marjory.

“Welcome to our mission. I am Brother Martin,” said a monk coming into the room a few minutes later. A regular Friar Tuck with a round cherubic face and a body to match, he was everybody's idea of what a monk might look like.

Leading them at a brisk pace over to a modern-looking building, Brother Martin said, “We run a small winery here. Thanks to some generous donors, we have all the latest equipment, which you will see shortly.”

An hour later they had been shown, in more detail than Dan had ever wanted to know, exactly how the wine was produced. They had gaped at 15-foot-high redwood casks banded with metal in which wine was aged for a year before being put into oak barrels, and then toured the bottling room where automated equipment filled the bottles with wine.

“Dad, shouldn't we ask about the box?” whispered Laney, looking with concern at a quiet and withdrawn J.J.

“Why, Laney? What makes you think there really is a box?”

Too late, he realized he should have kept his thoughts to himself.

“Do you think J.J. was making it all up, lying to us?” she asked in a fierce whisper.

“No, but …”

Throwing a disgusted look at her father, Laney flounced away from him and over to the monk. Her voice was clear and carrying as she said, “Brother Martin, I expect there isn't anyone else here at the mission who knows this place the way you do.”

“That's probably true,” said the monk, smiling at Laney. “I've been over every inch of this place at one time or another.”

“Then you might have seen an old box that was left here for us Morgans by a Morgan. It's awfully important we find it.”

Under the combined stares of the eight of them, Brother Martin flinched, then asked guardedly, “What's so important about this object?”

“I'd like to see this infernal box now!” bellowed Caleb.

Offended, the monk drew himself up straight and was opening his mouth to reply when J.J. sent him a look of mute appeal and Laney cried, “Please!”

“I don't know if it's what you're looking for,” said Brother Martin in a reflective tone of voice, “but there is a rather interesting box I came across some months ago. Come with me.”

He led them into a small room where old ledgers were stacked neatly on shelves going from floor to ceiling.

“Our mission was founded by Father Francis, who received a dream that told him to go north and found a mission. This was in the seventeenth century, long before any other missions in California were founded. Some of these records go back that far.” Reaching under the lowest shelf, Brother Martin brought out a small wooden box, hinged with brass clasps discolored with age. “Is this what you're looking for?” he asked.

Caleb took the box and opened it. Nothing in it but a yellowed lining that might have been cotton.

“Did you find anything in the box?” asked Caleb.

Brother Martin shrugged. “Nothing but a bottle of brandy.”

“What happened to it?”

“The bottle was empty, so I threw it away.”

Dan could see the disappointment in his relatives' faces as they looked at each other. After the big buildup they'd been given, it was a real letdown to discover that there was nothing to it.

Cummings, who had been trailing behind their party, glided up to Caleb and murmured, “You might, sir, like to take the box with you.”

“What's the point?”

“A souvenir, perhaps?”

Caleb grunted something incomprehensible. He was being made to look foolish, and he didn't like it one little bit.

A look passed between Cummings and Brother Martin. Then the monk said, “You might as well take it,” and handed the box to Cummings.

“Let's get out of here,” said Caleb.

At that moment they heard the clatter of sandals. Brother Jude swooped into the room like a windjammer under full sail and said, “Brother Martin, the abbot would like to see you. He has some instructions for you.”

Turning to the Morgans, he asked, “I trust you enjoyed the tour?”

“Oh, yes. Wonderful,” said Marjory. “Your winery is as well run and efficient as wineries I've visited in Provence and Tuscany.”

Looking gratified, Brother Jude inclined his head graciously toward her and said, “You must stop at our tasting room, but I'm afraid the younger ones of your party will not be allowed to sample the wines.”

“Oh, that's okay,” said J.J. quickly.

Brother Jude led them to another room made attractive by a stained glass window and some kind of ivy sitting on a ledge. “I'll leave you here with Brother Matthew,” he said, nodding at a pleasant-faced young man, who looked hardly old enough to drive and was standing behind a counter made of rough stones for a base and a polished stone top.

“Ladies and gentlemen, would you care to try a chardonnay first?” the young monk asked.

When they nodded, he took down some wineglasses that had been hanging upside down from a rack suspended from the ceiling.

“Ah, very good,” said Caleb approvingly after taking a sip. “Aromatic with a kind of lemony, citrus quality and a very long finish.”

“Quite so, sir,” said Brother Matthew, looking at Caleb with respect.

“Perhaps, Mr. Stevens, since you're in the antique business, you might find this article of some interest,” murmured Cummings, gesturing to the box he'd placed on the counter.

“Why, yes, thank you.”

Taking the box and examining it carefully, Nicholas said, “Probably of seventeenth-century manufacture.”

“Are you picking up impressions from it?” asked J.J.

There was a twinkle in Nicholas's eyes as he said, “Why, I suppose I am.”

“So you have an ability, too!”

Caleb, who had been listening, asked, “Is the box valuable?”

“Not particularly. The workmanship is rather crude. Wait a minute. What's this?” All the time Nicholas had been talking, his long white fingers had been exploring the box.

“Something seems to have been tucked behind the lining. See how it appears to be padded on one side only. Do you mind if I tear the lining?” Nicholas asked, looking at Caleb.

“Take the whole damn thing apart, if you like. It's no use to us.”

Dan heard a collective indrawn breath from the other Morgans as Nicholas ripped open the lining and what was behind it fell into the box.

CHAPTER 16

“I'd like the fricassee of sweetbreads with lentils in a sherry wine vinegar sauce,” said Caleb, speaking to the waiter as he pointed to his menu.

Not for her. She'd settle for a regular hamburger and fries. The restaurant was a pretty nice place. She liked the Spanish theme with paintings of senoritas in their flouncy dresses kicking up their heels in a flamenco dance. She almost expected to see a guitar player in a big sombrero come strolling through one of the arches.

They waited until the waiter had gone to the kitchen with their orders before they started speculating about what Nicholas had found.

“As a former librarian, this is more your department than mine,” said Nicholas, handing a piece of paper to Marjory.

“Possibly,” she said, putting on her reading glasses and smoothing out the yellowed paper.

“What does it say?” asked Laney.

Marjory didn't need any further prodding. “The letter is dated 1683 and begins, ‘My dear kinsmen, As Providence would have it, I have been led, along with Father Francis, to this rustic and secluded spot where I am about to die.'”

“Skip all that folderol,” said Caleb, “and give us the gist of it.”

“Jeremy writes that he worked at the mission for some years. When he knew that he was dying from a wasting disease, he gave the monks a box containing a bottle of brandy and the instructions you are now reading.

“‘I am spending these last years of my life in contemplation of the sacred mysteries as did the ancient Hermetic philosophers, who knew that it was by accessing inner wisdom that one could discover the hidden laws governing the universe.

“‘And it was given to me to know that within certain cycles of time there exist windows of opportunity wherein the informed individual may travel to times in which the course of history may be altered.

“‘Now there are those who would try to alter world histories for their own ends, disregarding the good of humanity as a whole. It is to stop those who would limit the choices of the many in order to favor a few that I would enlist you, my dear kinsmen, in this great project.'”

Her dad was rolling his eyes. This mystical stuff was beginning to get to him, but she could sense that he was impressed by the fact that they had actually found a letter written by Jeremy.

“But, Marjory, what does Jeremy want us to do?” asked Caleb in a kind of frenzy.

“He says that he made a decoction with herbs given to him by an Indian shaman. The lining of the box was steeped in this decoction, and then used to line the box. Each of us needs to cut out a piece of the lining about the size of our thumb—this will ensure that we ingest the right amount—and then put it on our tongue. The herbs impregnated in the piece will dissolve and enhance our natural abilities. At the same time, we must hold in our minds the intention to go back to the time where we will be most useful.”

“You mean, we're going to take over other people's bodies, possess them?” asked Laney.

“It's our own bodies—the ones we used to have—I think,” said Gerry.

“Laney, you can't be serious about going!”

That was her dad, still trying to protect her. “Who says I'm not?”

Interrupting her, Mr. Stevens said, “I'd like to be part of this venture.”

“Why?” Caleb asked.

Mr. Stevens drew a deep breath and turned a little pale, but his voice was steady as he said, “My name isn't really Stevens; it's Holtz. I had the misfortune to grow up in Germany during the Second World War. I was a boy of sixteen when I was marched off to fight for the glory of
Die Fuehrer.
The things I experienced …” He shuddered and went on, “I wouldn't want anyone to go through it. I lost everyone I loved. My home in Dresden was reduced to a pile of rubble.”

“Firebombed,” murmured Marjory.

“Quite so. And that's why I insist upon being part of your group. If I can do anything, anything at all to prevent the Nazis in another time frame from winning the war and enslaving Europe, then I will do it.”

Marjory said nothing, but laid a hand on Nicholas's arm and looked at him with a concerned expression.

“You're welcome to join us, Nicholas,” said Caleb.

Just then the waiter returned with their orders. It wasn't until everyone had mostly finished eating that Marjory took out Jeremy's letter from her purse. “It seems that we're to go to the garden at the back of the mission. What he calls the ‘window,' a kind of portal I gather, is located in the garden.”

“And what do we do once we get there?” asked Dan, putting down his fork.

“Follow the instructions I just read to you.”

“How long is this window open?”

“Apparently for one day, June 21.”

“Which makes it today. But what do we do when we get to the past—if we do get there?”

No one had an answer for that. Would they all die if they couldn't do what Jeremy wanted them to do?

“Seems to me,” said Caleb, “that Dan's right. There's an awful lot of information we don't have. But all we can do is to follow instructions and wait for Jeremy to pull the strings.”

The others nodded their heads in agreement.

“That's settled then,” said Caleb.

Laney noticed that, except for her, everyone had finished eating, while she was still picking at her fries.

“What's the matter, honey?” her dad whispered.

“Nothing.”

“Must be something.”

“Supposing something happens, Daddy, and we don't see each other again?”