Time Pirate 6, page 2
“It’s an old one,” Joan said as she leaned in for a closer look. “We could probably sell it--”
“Oh, no,” I cut her off. “We won’t be doing that. I’ve already heard the story about how Craig and Lance bought this on their first official date, and I have no desire to listen to that story again.”
“Why not?” Emily pouted. “It sounds charming.”
“It is,” I said. “Until Lance gets to the part about the leeches.”
“Leeches?” Joan gasped and then shuddered.
“Exactly,” I said as I headed for the back door.
The door opened without so much as a squeak, and I quickly entered the alarm code Lance had texted me. Once I was sure the alarm was off, I stepped into the house and looked around.
It looked the same, except for the thin coat of dust that seemed to be everywhere. I could even see a few pieces floating in the sunlight that shone through the windows. The house smelled vaguely of Lysol and fried peppers, which meant Lance had probably cooked something spicy the night before, and I spotted the pot and dish in the kitchen sink.
“I’ll start with the bedroom and master bath,” Flora offered. “Make sure they have fresh sheets and towels, and a clean tub to bathe in.”
“I’ll start some laundry,” Joan said. “And then see what I can do about all this dust.”
“The kitchen’s mine.” Emily clapped her hands as she looked around at all the appliances, and her blue eyes sparkled with glee.
“Um, are you sure?” I asked. “Some of these things probably have very specific requirements about how you’re supposed to clean them…”
“Shoo,” the blonde insisted and pushed us from the kitchen.
I shared a look with Joan and Flora, but neither one of them seemed to know why the time traveler wanted to handle the kitchen. Flora finally shrugged and headed back toward the bedroom while Joan opened the utility closet to search for something she could dust with. I finally claimed the broom and vacuum cleaner and set to work on the floors, which aside from the dust, were basically spotless.
At some point, someone turned on some music, and we danced and sang to our favorite songs while we worked. It was a fun, light-hearted time, which was never something I’d ever imagined I’d say about house cleaning, until the radio station went to a newsbreak and the reporter mentioned the LAPD was scheduled to hold a press conference on the Cloud Jones case in the afternoon.
We stopped what we were doing and gathered around the radio like the people in an old war movie, but the reporter didn’t offer any hints as to what the meeting was about. He moved on to the next blurb about rocket fire in the Middle East, and then the station started to play several ads.
“I don’t suppose they’ve arrested someone,” Joan said as she rubbed her dust rag back and forth over the same spot on the kitchen table.
“No,” I said and frowned. “They would’ve already announced it if they had.”
“They’re probably on a fishing expedition,” Flora said. “They’ll show some more sketches and ask anyone who was there to come forward if they haven’t already.”
“I’m surprised they don’t have any video,” Joan said. “I mean, don’t those people film most of their lives for TikTok?”
“It is weird,” I said and then glanced at the pocket where I kept the watch. “But I did a lot of time traveling before that. Maybe they don’t have a clear image of me.”
“That would be a relief,” Joan sighed.
“This Val character,” Flora interjected with a furrowed brow. “Do you think he knows how to use the mind control device?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I mean these are all people who believe the same things Sidorov did. And they seem to know a lot about his inventions.”
“Do you think they killed Sidorov’s granddaughter?” the Dutch woman asked as she tapped her nose ring.
“But she was one of them,” Emily gasped and turned her bright blue eyes on the other blonde.
“Maybe she was,” Joan said. “But we don’t actually know anything about what she believed. We just know she completed the work, and then someone killed her for it.”
“But it’s a mind control device,” Emily argued. “What possible good could that be? You’d only build one for a bad purpose.”
“She’s got a point,” I chuckled. “And frankly, I don’t really care. Whatever her reasons, the device is now out there in the hands of someone who will definitely only use it for evil. That I do know.”
“I’m surprised they haven’t called yet,” Joan said and glanced at the cell phone I’d left on the counter. “They’re usually so quick.”
“It says something that the Good Guys haven’t tracked him yet,” I noted.
We all stared at the phone as if we could will it to ring, but the device remained stubbornly quiet. When the music started to play again, we went back to our chores until the house was sparkling like everything was brand new. Even the kitchen looked like something from a photo shoot, and I even peeked inside the oven to see it had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life.
“It’s clean enough for the White House!” Emily declared.
“And everything is still working,” Flora noted with a grin. “I was sure you’d break something.”
“I know not to dunk any of these things in water,” the buxom blonde countered.
“That was a hard-won lesson,” Joan mumbled.
Emily’s cheeks reddened, but she lifted her chin and gave us a defiant stare. The truth was the woman I’d rescued from the War of 1812 had come a long way in the short time she’d been in the twenty-first century, and a broken toaster was a small thing on the road to success.
“I’d say we earned some time off,” I announced. “The house is spotless and ready for the happy couple to return, and we still have some items to collect for our shop.”
“Let’s reconvene at the shop then,” Joan suggested. “After we pick up some lunch.”
“Can we get some fish and chips?” Emily asked. “From that cute place on the corner.”
“That does sound good.” Flora grinned and wiggled her fingers. “I like mine with extra malt vinegar.”
We closed up the house, buried the key, and headed back to the Volvo. We drove back to the shop, with a quick stop to pick up lunch, and then finally settled around a table to devour our fish and chips. Joan pulled out her computer to check on our online sales while we ate, though the grin on her face was all we needed to see to know it was going well.
“The Civil War items were really popular,” the brunette said. “And we still haven’t fulfilled the request for an original Mathew Brady photograph.”
“We’re in the perfect area to collect more Civil War memorabilia,” I said. “This part of the country saw a lot of battles.”
“You know, Brady took a lot of photographs around here as well,” Joan mused. “Some of his most famous pictures of Lincoln were taken in DC.”
“I don’t think Mr. Brady will let you into his studio while he’s taking a photograph of the President,” Flora snorted.
“But they weren’t all taken in studios,” Joan replied as she started to type on her computer.
A moment later, she opened a page filled with pictures taken by Mathew Brady or one of his assistants. Most of them were taken after famous battles, but there were plenty of Lincoln as well, and not all of those were obviously posed or taken in studios. We narrowed down the options to those that were taken in the field, preferably one not taken during the middle of a battle. I was hoping for a famous moment, like the Gettysburg Address, but the one photo we could find of that was filled with so many people, it was almost impossible to find Lincoln.
“I think this one will do,” Joan said and pulled up a photo of Lincoln and another man inside a tent.
“Who’s that?” Emily asked as she leaned forward and touched the image of the other man.
“George McClellan,” Joan replied. “Commander of the Union Army of the Potomac.”
“I remember him,” I said. “Wasn’t he fired by Lincoln?”
“He was, about a month after this photo was taken,” Joan acknowledged. “Neither man trusted the other, which is a bad thing between a Commander in Chief and his generals.”
“A very bad thing,” Flora agreed.
“Why didn’t they trust each other?” Emily asked as she cocked her head.
“There were a lot of reasons,” Joan sighed. “But the final straw was actually the battle where this was taken. The Battle of Antietam. It was a vicious battle, and the Union had the advantage at the end, but McClellan refused to send his troops after the Confederates, which might have ended the war, or at least shortened it. Lincoln finally decided McClellan wasn’t up to the task and what the Union forces really needed was someone who was willing to take the war into the Southern states.”
“Do we know where this photo was taken?” I asked. “I mean, more than just somewhere near the battlefield.”
“Actually, we do,” Joan replied. “And the best part is that it’s currently part of a park where they regularly do reenactments. So it won’t look strange if you’re walking around in clothes from the 1860’s.”
“I guess you’ll have to draw me a map, so I know where to go,” I said.
“Or…” the brunette said and then cleared her throat.
“Or?” Flora grinned as she nudged Joan.
“Or I could go with you,” Joan suggested as she looked up at me through her lashes.
“I’m always happy for the company,” I said and studied the brunette. “But I thought you hated time traveling.”
“I don’t love it.” Joan took a deep breath like she could already see the world fading away around her. “But I think I could be really helpful for this trip. I know where to find the tent, and I know what types of items we should look for.”
“What, I haven’t brought back anything good?” I asked in a fake offended voice.
“No, no,” she said quickly and blushed. “You’ve done great. But if we’re going to be near a battlefield…”
“It’s okay,” I assured the historian. “I’d love to have you along. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get the chance to travel with you again since you disliked it so much.”
“Oh, it’s so much fun,” Emily giggled. “And you’ll get to meet Mr. Lincoln as well!”
“Well, I don’t know if we’ll get that close,” Joan replied. “We’re really there to meet Mathew Brady.”
“But how will you get the photograph?” Flora asked.
“Don’t know yet,” I said. “But I’m sure we’ll think of something. We’ve had good luck so far when it comes to finding what we need.”
“We know Brady will be there,” Joan pointed out. “And this was a man who poured every cent he had into taking photographs of the war. If we offer him some money for one of Lincoln, I’m sure he’d share it.”
“All we need is something for Joan to wear,” I noted.
“You could try on the dress I wore during the race,” Emily suggested.
We looked at the blonde and then at the brunette. The Dutch woman and I shared a quick look, but neither of us was willing to point out the obvious.
Which was that Emily was a lot more… blessed in some areas compared to the researcher.
“That’s nice…” Joan said slowly. “But you know what, it might be easier if I had a dress of my own.”
“Sounds like another call to that costume shop.” I grinned as Joan nodded and then buried her face behind the computer screen.
“So, what--?” Flora started to ask.
Just then, my phone began to ring, and we jumped in surprise. We stared at the screen like it was about to turn into a man-eating monster, and then I reached across the table and picked up the phone.
“It’s Ivan,” I said and then swiped to answer. “Is this a good call?”
“Da,” the gruff Russian replied. “Are you ready to travel, Frankie? We’ve found Val.”
Chapter 2
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Russia, where else?” Ivan scoffed. “But come to Playground. Andreev has called a meeting to discuss what we know and make plans.”
“I can be there in twenty minutes or so,” I said and then glanced at the clock. “Better make it thirty. Traffic will be getting ugly.”
“I tell him forty-five,” Ivan chuckled. “See you soon.”
“They found Oleg’s guy?” Joan asked as I hung up, and she looked up from the computer.
“They have. He’s in Russia somewhere.” I shrugged as I stood up, and then I stretched to work the kinks out of my back. “I think we might need to invest in some more comfortable chairs for this place, especially if we’re going to be spending a lot of time here.”
“It’s on the to-do list,” Joan replied.
“Are you going to the Playground?” Emily asked with a pout.
“I am,” I said. “Andreev’s called a meeting.”
“I’ll go with you,” Flora said as she stood up. “Just in case you can’t keep up with the Russians.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Joan said as she glanced up from the computer screen. “Not that you haven’t learned a lot of Russian, and I do like the Good Guys, but…”
The brunette trailed off and then glanced at the two blondes. Both Emily and Flora nodded in agreement, and even though I wasn’t part of their silent conversation, I knew what was being said.
As much as I liked Ivan and the rest of the Good Guys, I couldn’t ignore the fact they wanted to destroy the pocket watch. For now, we could work together to stop Oleg’s minions, but one day, the Russians would turn their focus to me and the watch, and I knew there was no way I would let them destroy it.
“We’d better get going then,” I said. “You know how the Commander is about people who are late.”
“Da,” the three girls replied in unison and then burst into laughter.
I was grinning as I headed for the door, and I held it open long enough for me and Flora to slip outside. The air was cool but still pleasant, and the days were still long enough that there was sunlight at the start of the rush hour. But the leaves were starting to turn red and brown, and the usual humid air that hung around DC in the summer was starting to develop a chill bite in the nighttime. Fall had officially arrived, which meant I’d probably have to dig my jacket out of the back of the closet soon.
Despite my best efforts, we still got stuck in traffic for a good chunk of the trip. I tapped the steering wheel impatiently, and even the full hour of Beyonce songs Flora found on the satellite radio couldn’t lift the grim mood that settled on me. I wanted to blame it all on the other DC drivers, but I knew I was just anxious about the next mission.
I would be heading back to Russia, and I had a bad feeling it wasn’t going to be as straightforward as the mission in Saint Petersburg.
A very short woman popped up next to the SUV as soon as we rolled to a stop near the dilapidated building, and I handed her the keys without even thinking about it. She grunted and then climbed into the driver’s seat, and after several adjustments to the seat, finally set off to park the Volvo.
“I really hope she’s one of the Good Guys,” I muttered.
“I’m sure she is,” Flora laughed. “Besides, do you really think anyone else would be willing to pose as a Good Guy in this neighborhood?”
“Probably not,” I admitted. “I’m sure Ivan and Eel would hunt them down personally.”
“Who would I hunt down?” Ivan shouted merrily as he stepped from the elevator.
“Anyone who pretended to be a Good Guy,” I replied, and then I let the big Russian pull me into a hug.
“Is true,” he agreed and winked at Flora. “Come, the others are in the conference room already.”
“Yes, well, it’s a lot easier to get here on time when you can just use the teleporter to get around,” I noted.
“Frankie,” the giant man chided. “What would Americans do if they couldn’t drive cars?”
“He has a point,” Flora laughed.
I listened to the pair tell jokes about Americans and their cars all the way down to the floor where the Playground was housed. It was a massive space, the size of several football fields, and it included a MOUT training center, MMA rings, an obstacle course, and anything else the modern soldier needed to master for modern warfare. It was, as always, filled with Russians who shouted at each other as they went through their training, and I noticed there were already a couple of vodka bottles making the rounds, so things would probably be moving over to the cafeteria soon for dinner and more vodka.
The conference room Ivan led us to was one we’d used before, and the rest of the team was already in their usual seats. I nodded to Ivan’s wife, Svetlana, as we entered, and the plain-faced physicist, with a square build that matched her husband’s, gave me a quick smile. Next to her was Artyom, her fellow physicist and eternal grump, who made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a snort when we stepped into the room. The last two occupants were Commander Andreev, who looked like the G.I. Joe figures that’d been so popular when I was a kid, and his second, Sergeant Ilyin, better known as Eel, a tall, lanky man who spoke no English.
“Frankie,” Andreev said as Flora and I took our seats. “Miss Larrson.”
“So formal.” Flora’s eyebrow quirked up as she pushed a few now-blue-again hairs from her face. “Things must be very dire.”
“That depends,” the Commander said as he leaned back in his chair.
“On what?” I asked suspiciously.
“On how you feel about Siberia.” Andreev didn’t grin exactly, but I could tell he was enjoying the moment.
“Siberia,” I repeated and tried not to shiver too obviously. “I can’t say I know much about it, other than it’s supposed to be very cold.”
“Oh, it is,” Andreev replied. “Certainly the winters are brutal. But other times, it’s quite… charming.”
“Charming.” I shook my head and glanced at Flora. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word used to describe Siberia before.”
