Kidnappers from the Future Page 7

  “Yeah, uh . . . me neither.”

  To her shocked look no one else on the team had any ready answe

  10

  Future Reporter

  Jeffery Nezsmith grabbed Claire’s hand and immediately began shaking it vigorously. Then, seeing the uncertain expression on her face, he dropped it with a quick apology.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m just so flustered to meet you. As a history major of course I’d know you on sight. I remember the first story of yours I read was about your trip back to the Revolutionary War. You really made it come alive for me. That’s what made me decide on history. And your story from the eighteen nineties when you nearly met your mother before you were born? Informative and comedic!”

  “Uh,” Claire began uncertainly, “you’re welcome?”

  “And this must be the rest of the team,” the young man continued, going over first to Ben. “You must be Mister Hill—uh, Professor Ben Stein.”

  He reached out to take Ben’s hand in a quick shake, during which Ben cast a quizzical glance at Agent Hessman. Lou replied with a shrug that might have said, “Go with it.”

  “How’s it feel to be married to such a famed reporter, Professor Stein? Oh, and that looks like Captain Beck before he finally retired,” the young man continued, breaking off from Ben to move on to the next one on the team. “I don’t recognize the guy in the suit and sunglasses, but the big one must be the bodyguard of the day. Is this your first trip with Miss Hill?”

  Chief Duke simply growled, to which the lad backed quickly away and continued his search of the team.

  “I don’t see Dr. Weiss with you, but he was never on all of them. But where’s Agent Harris? Why isn’t she with you? She was maid of honor at your wedding, after all.”

  “She’s, uh, recovering,” Claire replied.

  “Oh, that’s right,” the young man said with a slap to his own forehead. “The 1919 incident where they first picked you up. Say, does this mean that this is your first trip out? Oh, I’m so thrilled!”

  “Lou,” Ben said, stepping up next to the government agent, “I think I’m starting to get the gist of things here.”

  “And I have an uncomfortable feeling that we’re both getting the same gist. Uh, Mr. Nezsmith was it?”

  “Just call me Jeffery.”

  “If you could give us the thumbnail of what you’ve heard of Miss Hill.”

  “Still calling her ‘Miss Hill’—that should have been my first clue.”

  Claire broke in with a pleasant smile, taking the lead. “What he means is, this being my first trip to this particular time period, if you could just give me a little background of what you know about me so I can get an idea of where in my own timeline I happen to find myself.”

  “Of course!” Jeffery beamed. “As much traveling about as you do you always need to see when you are, make sure you’re not getting ahead of yourself. Okay then.”

  Glancing around, he led them away from the corner, a few yards in the direction of the river. That’s when they noticed a few details about the man with the sandy blond hair. Like the fact that he didn’t look much older than Claire, and under one arm he was holding tight to what looked like some sort of laptop computer. Claire, meanwhile, came up next to Agent Hessman for a quick word.

  “We can take advantage of this, Lou. We need a local, just like you guys needed me back in 1919. And it’s not like we’d be messing up the past or anything, and he really does seem eager.”

  “Very well, Miss Hill, but only him. We don’t need anyone else knowing about us; we’re not supposed to be here, remember.”

  “Got it. You’re a doll.”

  She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then spun around to confront her new fan as they came to a stop under the eaves of the corner building. It looked like some sort of drugstore, its holographic sign billing it as the most reliable source of pill-form liver cancer cures.

  “Okay, first,” she began, “how exactly do you know of me?”

  “Simple,” Jeffery said. “You’re just about the most famous cross-temporal reporter of all time. In certain circles, at least.”

  “Like history majors?”

  “Yeah,” he shyly admitted, “and temporal physics students, of course. I think I’ve read all the reports you ever wrote of your trips. Civil War, Watts Riot, a couple of back-to-back trips to the early eighteen hundreds, that trip to old China where Dr. Weiss’s knowledge of physics got you guys a visit to the Imperial Court because they thought he was a traveling wizard‍—all of them.”

  “Uh, Miss Hill, if I may interject,” Agent Hessman began, “but that report that you wrote of your experiences when we found you?”

  “All filed away the way you told me to. No one outside the base has seen it.”

  “Oh, all her papers were under tight security for a while,” Jeffery filled in, “but eventually a couple got to circulating, and after about fifty years the government finally released them. Now they’re required reading for history and journalism majors.”

  To this Claire beamed a very broad smile to Ben, who rolled his eyes in response, followed by Claire giving a pleading shrug, then Ben pantomiming his defeat.

  Agent Stevens finally spoke up. “This Mr. Nezsmith knows too much of our mission. We should do something to silence him.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t say a thing,” Jeffery assured him. “I know all the rules of cross-temporal interaction.” He then gave the man a closer look followed by a frown. “Poor replacement for Agent Harris. I was really hoping to meet her as well. Oh well.”

  “Uh, Jeffery,” Claire began, “we could really use your help right now. You see, we’re new to this time and could really use—”

  “Oh my God, you want me to be your local! I wonder if that means I’m in one of your papers that I haven’t read yet. No, of course not. Any reports on future travel would have been a lot more strictly quarantined. But sure, I’ll do anything to help you out. What do you need?”

  “To be blunt,” Agent Hessman began, “we’re looking for some Russian time travelers who kidnapped a friend of ours.”

  “Oh, the Time Bubble. It’s down there at the university.” He pointed down the street straight in the direction of the University of London, specifically at the large domed structure that Ben had said was new. “It’s part of the History Department and usage is strictly overseen. Historical observations only allowed.”

  “And any Russians?” Claire pleasantly prompted.

  “Well . . . I did hear that some Russian group has some time on it right now.”

  Hearing this, Agent Hessman pulled out his portable tracker and aimed it in the direction of the university. “Nothing,” he announced. “We should be well within range, but no chip signal. They’ve moved her.”

  “No way you could have gotten in anyway,” Jeffery told them. “Security is really tight over there.”

  Agent Hessman put his detector away, setting his mouth into a thin line. “That means our trail is cold. We have no way of knowing where they may have taken her, even if this was our own time. Mr. Nezsmith,” he said, turning to the young man, “we’re really going to need your help, but I should warn you: it’s going to be dangerous.”

  The eager grin on the young man’s face only got wider.

  11

  Warming Trail

  “Perhaps we should take this to a venue where a bunch of people just standing around looking suspicious won’t stand out quite as much,” Captain Beck suggested.

  “Robert’s right,” Agent Hessman agreed. “Mr. Nezsmith, would you know of such a place?”

  “Not too far from here,” Jeffery replied. “This way.”

  Jeffery Nezsmith led the way, Chief Duke just behind him to act as human plowshare through the crowd for the others, with Agent Stevens bringing up the rear. Across the one busy street, down
a block, then up a side street, during which time Agent Hessman took the opportunity to engage the college student in a little informative conversation, while Clair continued to look around at all the wonder about her and sigh by Ben’s side.

  “London is one of those places I wanted to go once I became a famous reporter,” she remarked as they walked. “You know, out on assignment in the likes of London, Paris, Berlin, or Rome.”

  “Well, now you’re here.” Ben grinned. “Just a little later than you’d planned.”

  “I also wanted to treat my parents to a trip,” she added. “Now I’ll never . . . I wonder if they ever made it on their own.”

  “Feeling a bit melancholy?”

  “That”—she sighed again—“and more than a little bit in shock, first from the wonders of your modern age and now this.”

  “The term is ‘future shock,’” Ben supplied. “A term based on an old book someone wrote in the seventies about what life would be like in the futuristic nineties.”

  “Well, I’m suffering from plenty of future shock, I guess.” She wrapped her right hand around his waist and pulled herself in closer to his side. “Fortunately, I have a fantastic shock-buffer,” she added with a smile.

  While Claire was noting the wonders by Ben’s side, Agent Hessman was using the walk to grill Jeffery for a little information.

  “The brief time I was on that kiosk, it showed a video of a storm at sea.”

  “Yeah, we get plenty of them,” the college student admitted.

  “This one seemed particularly vicious and perhaps a little unseasonal.”

  They passed up a string of small shops, each with its small holographic signage displaying its services. Shoes made on-site by robotic hands, an Indian restaurant boasting of a live human cook, an ‘Auto-Seamstress,’ another hatter, and perhaps the first bookstore with actual physical books they had yet seen in this century and a pretty rare sight even in their own.

  Jeffery thought for a moment on Agent Hessman’s words before replying with a shrug, “Yeah, I imagine they would seem pretty vicious compared to what you’re used to.”

  “And the dykes,” the agent also noted. “Since when does the river Thames have dykes like Holland?”

  “Well, I’d say since about the last forty or fifty years, actually. It gets pretty wet and cold around here under the best of circumstances, though I’m just glad I’m not back home right now. I hear it’s hurricane season again in the Midwest. An F six just ran through the middle of Kansas last week.”

  “F six? What manner of—”

  “There we are,” Jeffery suddenly indicated. “Park up ahead. Just in time, too, ’cause that sky looks like it’s going to break wide-open any minute now.”

  He quickened his pace, the others following his example, while a glance up showed the reason for his concern. The clouds were dark gray and rapidly getting darker, the air temperature dropping by the second. The park that Jeffery had indicated stretched on for about a city block; a miniature landscape of rolling hills, quaint footbridges over little streams, a scattering of trees, and of course the occasional statues, though in this case not ones made of stone and mortar. As they stepped onto the grass they could see what at first looked like a statue of a warrior of many ages past standing proud with his brass spear; then a flicker and the statue shifted position, bearing his lance level as if before an enemy. The figure’s proud features shifted to something more threatening and he stabbed the lance forward before flowing back to his previous noble stance.

  Jeffery saw the look on Agent Hessman’s face, not to mention everyone else’s, and grinned. Claire in particular was hugging herself extra tightly to Ben’s side.

  “Holographic statues,” the college student supplied. “Look pretty real, don’t they? At least until you know how to spot the scan lines. This one’s supposed to be of a figure out of Celtic mythology, but I remember one time when a few kids from the computer department at the university hacked the system and as a prank had it displaying a naked nymph from Greek mythology trying to seduce passersby. They got suspended for a week, and I got myself some great snapshots downloaded.”

  Across the small park he led them, right up to what looked like a park bench and accompanying overhang just as thunder rumbled from the sky and the first cold droplets began to come down. The bench was plastic and looked sculpted after an ocean wave, with no back, and long enough to seat four. The overhang stretched an extra couple of feet past either end and three extra feet each to the front and back; it looked like a flat blue plane curved down at the edges and raised along the center. It was just big enough to shelter them all as the skies opened up.

  Agent Hill, Jeffery and Ben

  Jeffery sat down in the middle of the bench, Agent Hessman to one side, Ben and Claire to the other, while Captain Beck stood behind them and Chief Duke took front position with a sharp eye out at their surroundings and anyone passing by. Agent Stevens stood off to one side just beneath the shelter, though he seemed to have an eye out for the underside of the roof just above them.

  They watched as Jeffery put his case on his lap and opened it up. It was indeed a laptop, but the screen and a number of virtual controls floated in the air above its surface. In place of mechanical buttons there was a black panel, featureless until Jeffery activated his system; then the panel partitioned itself off into rows of buttons, complete with beveled surfaces rising up. Hovering in the air, starting an inch above the surface of the laptop and going up to fourteen inches above it, was the screen, filled now with a starry three-dimensional background and what looked like a row of winged toasters. Toasters flying through space shooting slices of toasted bread at each other.

  Jeffery saw the looks on their faces and grinned sheepishly.

  “My screen blanker. Based on the old toaster screen-blankers from back around your day.”

  A pass of his hand through the image and it vanished, replaced by a series of charts, rows of floating three-dimensional icons, and an open text field. Jeffery stabbed a finger into the text field, and it vanished in a flicker.

  “Term paper,” he explained.

  “So this is what computer laptops are like nowadays,” Ben said, while sitting beside him Claire was speechless with wonder.

  “Not exactly top-of-the-line,” Jeffery replied with a hint of pride, “but it’s mine. Latest in holographics, high multitasking capability, all the usual hookups, including a built-in 3D printer for small stuff, Net access‍—the whole bit.”

  “And this is how you access the internet?” Agent Hessman now asked. “Because I noticed at that kiosk it said something about no chip implant being detected.”

  “Nearly everyone has a Net-chip implant, of course,” Jeffery answered, “myself included. And it’s great for general info access and stuff, but for really big assignments the bandwidth can be limited, at least not without giving someone an aneurism. So, that’s when you break out a datapad. I need mine for my assignments, not to mention the latest in 3D games. Have you seen Car Wars 2550 in multiplexing 5200 p with a stag-core engine?”

  The collective reply he received was a circle of blank faces, save from Chief Duke, who was still on guard detail, and Agent Stevens, who was examining one of the two poles that held up their protection against the weather. Meanwhile, just outside their shelter, the rain was coming down in sheets and the wind was tossing it all about‍—though somehow none of it seemed to get anything beneath the roof wet.

  “No, I don’t suppose you would have.” Jeffery sighed. “Okay, to work. What do you need from me?”

  “The Russians,” Ben supplied. “We need to find them.”

  “And rescue poor Samantha,” Claire added. “But how do we do that in a city this big?”

  “A problem for which Mr. Nezsmith may have already given us an answer,” Agent Hessman stated.

  “I have?” The lad perked up. “Yay m
e. What’d I do?”

  The pounding of the rain washed out nearly all sight and sound of the world without, the howling wind pushing it into a hard slant while chilling travelers to the bone. And yet, as Captain Beck now noticed, they all remained bone-dry and pleasantly warm.

  “You said that nearly everyone has these chip implants,” Agent Hessman said.

  “Pretty much,” Jeffery replied. “It’s like a rite of passage when you hit thirteen.”

  “Including people from Russia?”

  Jeffery’s was not the only face to begin to brighten as Agent Hessman continued with his idea.

  “Assuming the Russians did use the London time chamber to kidnap Samantha, then their chips would have been used at some point—”

  “And could be tracked!” Jeffery completed. “You know, as a history major I have access to the facility, and with a little help from a computer-major friend of mine, I might be able to log in to the system and get the chip codes of the last few users. If they’re Russians, then we have your guys.”

  “Do you think your friend would do it?” Claire asked.

  “And without revealing anything about us,” Agent Hessman added.

  “My friend’s a conspiracy nut,” Jeffery said. “All I have to do is tell her that I may have a lead on some new conspiracy and that I need the info. Not a problem. Just give me a few minutes.”

  “Then before you do,” Captain Beck broke in, “could you explain one thing to me?”

  With a pass of his hand toward the wall of water just behind him, he cast the young man a questioning look.

  “Just a flash storm. Give it a few minutes and it’ll be back to London sunshine again, which is to say weak and fog-filtered.”

  “Not that,” Captain Beck amended, “but the fact that the slant of the rain should be drenching all of us and Claire’s floppy sunhat should be a drooping mess by now.”