Time Pirate 6, page 1
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Cast of Characters from Book 5:
Francis ‘Frankie’ Johnston: Main Character. Brown hair. Blue eyes. He worked as a security guard at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History, where he discovered a time traveling pocket watch.
Joan Giles: Love Interest. Short stature, dark hair, and has a love of sundresses. She works as a researcher, and she meets Frankie through her late night trips to the museum’s research lab.
Emily Forrester: Love Interest. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Emily comes from the past, the year 1814, to be exact. Frankie helps her escape from her unfortunate betrothal and brings her to live in the modern day.
Lance Thomson: Frankie’s best friend. He’s lanky with red hair, and he works as a researcher at a museum down the road from Frankie.
Craig Thomson: Lance’s husband and DC detective. Cropped hair and broad shouldered. No nonsense kind of guy.
Flora: Frankie’s new ‘accountant.’ Icy blonde hair except for two streaks of colored bangs that frame her face. Gray eyes. Fit and toned from all of her bike riding, has a nose ring and tattoo sleeve. From the Netherlands and definitely has some bad ass vibes. Her job is to help Frankie’s money look legit.
Richard Vennisat: Criminal Lawyer. Big pot belly and high pitched voice, always dressed in nice, expensive clothes. Seems to work for or with the Good Guys.
Ivan Solovyov: Russian. One of the Good Guys. Dark hair, built, friendly. Speaks broken English.
Svetlana Solovyov: Russian. Ivan’s wife. Physicist with the Good Guys. Short and homely looking, speaks good English but accented.
Artyom Artyomov: Russian. Physicist with the Good Guys. Elderly and serious with bushy gray eyebrows and a permanent scowl.
Commander Andreev: Russian. Head of Security for the Good Guys. Action figure physique and speaks English very well.
Sergeant Ilyin or ‘Eel’: Russian. Commander Andreev’s right hand man. Very tall. Doesn’t speak English.
Inessa Umsky: A physicist assigned to the Good Guys’ Russian base. Her long, dark hair, dark brown eyes, and perfect body are the stuff of dreams, but she’s also very smart and dedicated to the Good Guys cause. She seems to have taken an interest in Frankie but is hesitant to pursue anything because of his other romantic attachments.
Cloud Jones: A “famous” nepo baby/influencer. Strawberry-blonde hair and green eyes. She has a reputation for having multiple boyfriends at one time. She was also in possession of another of Sidorov’s inventions, a device that allows the user to control the minds of others. It was stolen by Russians who broke into her house, but Frankie was able to save her life.
Chapter 1
“And now for the latest updates on influencer Cloud Jones, let’s go to our entertainment reporter, Charlene,” the anchor said with a grim expression. “Charlene?”
“Thanks, Matt,” the bottle-blonde replied as her ultra-red lips formed something that may have been a smile or a pout. “We’ve had good news from Cloud’s family. She’s safely out of surgery, and though she lost a lot of blood, her doctors expect her to pull through. She hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but our reporter on the scene says they expect her to wake up any day now.”
“That’s great news,” the co-anchor, a brunette with Tammy Faye inspired eyeshadow, commented.
“It’s just wonderful, isn’t it?” Charlene nodded at Matt and his co-anchor and then turned to look at the camera again with a serious face. “Now, the police are describing this as a failed kidnapping attempt…”
“I wonder what Charlene would say if she knew the truth?” Joan mused as the segment continued.
I was back in DC at our safehouse with my three girlfriends, Joan, Emily, and Flora. We were watching one of the morning news programs in the vain hope we might learn something about Cloud Jones and the LAPD’s investigation into what happened.
Of course, I knew what had really happened, since I’d been there when one of Oleg’s acolytes had broken into Cloud’s home to steal the mind control device that had come into her possession. Cloud had no idea what the little silver box was for, but I did, thanks to the Good Guys, and so did Oleg’s scattered minions.
The nepo baby’s house had been shot to hell, and by the time the police had responded to the neighbors’ 9-1-1 calls, Cloud was lying on the floor in a puddle of her own blood. I’d tried to help her, but Eel had reminded me if I was found at the scene, I’d be stuck in LA while Val made his getaway.
So, I’d left with the Good Guys, though as far as I could tell, my allies weren’t any closer to finding Val and the mind control device. It was frustrating to still be sitting in DC while I waited for someone to tell me where to go next, and all I could do was huff when the morning news program started to replay the aerial footage that showed the LAPD crawling all over the house.
“Well, it almost was a kidnapping,” Flora said. “Even if that wasn’t the original purpose.”
“I hope she pulls through,” Emily sighed.
“The doctors sound hopeful,” I noted.
“They always say that on these shows,” Joan replied. “I doubt the doctors have actually said anything to the press.”
“Well, obviously they can’t discuss the details.” I scratched the stubble on my chin as I flashed back to the image of the strawberry-blonde nepo baby sprawled on the floor. “But the police got there quickly. They would’ve gotten her to the hospital in no time.”
“But she’s still unconscious.” Joan frowned.
“She’s still alive,” Flora countered. “That’s all we really know. And even that may not be true.”
“Don’t say that,” I grumbled.
“Hey, who is that?” Emily said and pointed at the TV screen.
“Police are searching for a young man who left the club with Cloud,” Charlene said as a sketch appeared over her shoulder. “Police are calling him a person of interest, so if you have any information, please call the number at the bottom of your screens.”
The image took over the entire TV, and I tried not to laugh as I looked at the sketch. It looked a little like me, but it also had some of Val’s features. It could only be described as the weird love child between me, Val, and some unfortunate woman with a misshapen nose. At least no one would look at me and denounce me as the mystery man who’d set up the kidnapping attempt, which was the only good thing I’d heard on the news recently.
“I guess Cloud’s friends were confused about which one of us she went home with,” I laughed. “The police must’ve tried to combine the images.”
“I thought you said Val was good-looking,” Emily said with a frown.
“He is,” I admitted.
“Then how can two handsome men be combined to form… that?” the time-traveler asked.
“Genetics are very mysterious,” Flora chuckled.
“If anyone recognizes this man, you’re asked to contact the LAPD right away,” Charlene declared as the camera switched back to her. “And the family has set up a website for anyone who wants to send their good wishes to Cloud. Instead of gifts, they’re also asking fans to please donate to one of Cloud’s favorite causes. A full list can be found at www dot Save Cloud Jones dot-com.”
“Jeez, they’re talking like she’s already dead,” Joan muttered.
“Thank you, Charlene,” Matt said as the camera swung back to him. “Such a terrible event in Los Angeles. It just goes to show you never know when tragedy might strike. Now, let’s check in with Ronnie at the weather desk.”
“Well,” I sighed as I turned off the TV. “She’s alive, so that’s good.”
“I don’t know,” Flora said as she played with her dyed bangs. “That whole business about donating to her favorite charities was very… end of life.”
“Is that what people do in this century when someone dies?” Emily asked.
“A lot of people do,” Joan explained. “It’s less wasteful, and people think it’s a nicer way to remember someone.”
“I can see that,” Emily said and tilted her head. “I’d certainly prefer that than a crumbling headstone.”
“Okay, how did this become so grim?” I sighed. “Cloud’s alive and hopefully doing well. With a little luck, she won’t remember much about what happened, so no one will ever trace anything back to me.”
“Unless they find your DNA or fingerprints.” Flora waggled her eyebrows and then took a sip of her coffee to hide her smirk.
“Ooooh, like that show we watched the other night!” Emily gasped and turned to look at me. “They’ve probably got all sorts of evidence that you were there. Didn’t you say you used a skillet at one point?”
“They have to have something to compare it to,” I reminded my girlfriends.
“They scanned your fingerprints when you went to work at the museum,” Joan pointed out.
“Right, but I doubt that was entered into the FBI’s database,” I said, though I felt the first thread of doubt start to creep in.
“Well, even if they have all that, they’ll have a hard time explaining how you could be in LA during the attack and then back in DC moments later,” Flora said. “Good thing Ivan thought to take you to that club near the White House so he could film you dancing with some of the girls.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered.
I was saved from any further conversation about the unplanned stop at the Lemon Drop Dance Hall by my phone. I checked the caller ID and saw it was my longtime friend Lance, so I nodded to the girls as I hopped off the stool and headed for the living room.
“Lance!” I almost shouted when I answered the phone. “You have a talent for saving me from uncomfortable conversations.”
“Mmmm,” he hummed. “Oh, did you and the girls just watch the latest updates from LA?”
“Er, um, yeah,” I admitted.
“Craig and I were watching as well,” the redhead whispered dramatically. “We’re taking bets on whether that sketch was supposed to be you or not.”
“Did it look like me?”
“Sort of.” Lance sounded disappointed that I didn’t admit I was involved, and then I heard Craig’s voice in the background.
“How’s your husband doing?” I asked in a shameless attempt to switch the topic.
“He’s doing fantastic!” Lance declared. “In fact, the doctor said he should be ready to go home in a couple of days.”
“That’s great news,” I said with a grin. “Some of the best I’ve heard all day.”
“It’s only eight in the morning,” Lance pointed out.
“Okay, so the best I’ve heard in a few days,” I corrected.
“It is good news,” Lance replied and then started to whisper into the phone. “Though I haven’t really been keeping up with the house. Craig’s going to be so disappointed when he sees the mess I’ve left behind.”
“I’m sure he’ll forgive you,” I laughed. “You’ve been at the hospital almost every hour since he was shot.”
“There is that,” my friend said. “Still… well, he knew who I was when he married me.”
“And he was still willing to go through with it,” I tutted. “Messy piles of paper everywhere and all.”
For a moment, Lance didn’t say anything, and I thought we’d been disconnected. But when I checked the screen, I saw Lance was still on the line.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t survived,” Lance finally said with a hitch in his voice. “The idea that he could just die like that…”
“Don’t think about it,” I warned. “Or you’ll end up in a very dark place that you may not be able to escape. Just acknowledge it’s a possibility when he goes to work and leave it at that.”
“You’re right,” he sighed and thought for a moment. “So… you didn’t deny you were in LA.”
“I have proof I was in DC,” I assured him.
“Uh-huh,” he chuckled. “Supplied by the Russians, no doubt. Of course, that kind of thing will be fine for anyone who doesn’t know what the Good Guys have hiding in their basement.”
“You make it sound so dirty,” I huffed. “Like they’re running a pornography ring or something.”
“At least that would sound believable,” he replied.
“Good Lord, how does Craig put up with you?” I teased.
“Very easily, especially after he’s had some of my special penne alla vodka,” Lance laughed and then paused again. “Oh, shoot. I left the pots in the sink last night.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll make you an offer.”
“Oh, this should be good,” Lance said.
“The girls and I will get the house ready for Craig’s big return if you agree not to ask any more questions about LA,” I said.
“Mmmm.” I could almost picture the redhead as he scratched his forehead and scrunched his nose. “I don’t know. That sounds like a really interesting piece of the story.”
“Which I will tell you about at a later date to be determined by me,” I said. “But for now, we don’t discuss it.”
“And you’ll really clean the house?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” I replied.
My friend considered the offer for another minute, but he finally sighed.
“Alright,” he said. “But the house better look amazing. I’ll send you the code for the alarm. You know where the key is?”
“The house will be perfect,” I promised. “And yes, I know where the key is.”
We chatted for a few more minutes, and then Lance hung up when the surgeon entered the room where Craig was currently residing. I walked back to the kitchen, where the girls were now going through the latest edition of Elle magazine for ideas on what to wear now that fall was in the air.
“Are you really going to wear that?” I asked as I peered over Joan’s shoulder at a long dress that looked like it’d been made out of a giant sheepskin.
“It’s probably very warm,” Flora noted.
“So’s a sweater,” I said. “And at least that doesn’t make you look like you escaped from the set of some prehistoric movie.”
The girls looked at the picture for a moment and then started to laugh.
“Oh, Frankie,” Joan finally wheezed. “You don’t need to worry. No one in this room is going to wear that.”
“Unless we need to collect a few items from the stone age,” Flora added.
I rolled my eyes but joined in the laughter for a moment. It felt good to be happy again, even if Cloud Jones was still on her deathbed.
“So, that was Lance,” I said when I could speak. “I offered to clean his house before Craig comes home--”
“Craig’s coming home?” the buxom blonde time traveler gasped as she bounced in her seat. “When?”
“Soon,” I said with a shrug. “Another day or two, it sounds like.”
“That’s good news,” Flora said.
“It is,” I agreed. “But cleaning hasn’t been high on Lance’s list of things to do--”
“Oh, please,” Joan said and shook her head. “It’s not like Craig’s been in the hospital for months. The four of us can have the place cleaned up in no time.”
“That’s why I offered--” I started to say.
“Well, why don’t we head over now?” Joan interrupted again. “The shop’s almost running itself at the moment, and Flora’s wrapped up her work for her other clients.”
“I have,” the Dutch woman agreed. “This will be good. My grandmother always had me help whenever she did the spring cleaning. Ah, what was that song we always sang…?”
Flora started to hum to herself as she walked toward the door, and Emily and Joan followed behind her. I looked around the now empty kitchen, shrugged, and grabbed the keys to the Volvo.
The girls were already gathered around the SUV when I stepped outside, and I saw a couple of the neighbors watching them with surreptitious glances. I was probably the youngest guy on the block, aside from the kids, and I found myself grinning when I saw the other men, all of whom were married, watching my girls as they chatted.
“Another beautiful day!” I shouted to the guy across the street, who was supposed to be trimming the hedges.
He smiled and gave me a half-hearted wave before he turned around and buried his nose in the shrubs. The other neighbor, a middle-aged guy with a noticeable beer gut, quickly ducked behind the car he was washing and then shouted at his kids when they knocked over the bucket of sudsy water.
We drove past similar suburban scenes until we hopped on the Beltway and drove toward Craig and Lance’s place. Traffic was actually moving for once, so we made decent time to my best friend’s home. The place was quiet when we pulled up, though I noticed Craig’s black Charger was still parked conspicuously in front, probably to convince any potential burglars that someone was home.
I pulled in behind the Charger, and then we walked around to the back door, where Lance and Craig had hidden an emergency key under an old weathervane Lance somehow never got around to restoring. The weathervane moved around the yard every so often, but the plastic baggie with the key was always with it. I’d never had a need to use it before, so it felt weird to poke around in the dirt until I felt the Ziploc bag and pulled it out.
“I’m surprised a police officer would keep an extra key outside his house,” Flora said.
“At least it’s not under the welcome mat,” I chuckled. “And seriously, would you think to dig around the weathervane?”
