Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(128)

She waited for the startled expression at her raw language. Instead, the woman fished a tattered notebook and a short pencil out of a pocket, eyes aglow. “Good heavens, she’s just like they said.”

“Prudence!” the man hissed.

“Oh, this is perfect. I never thought we’d have a chance to talk to a Past.”

“Prudence!” the man hissed again, louder.

Past? The ha’penny dropped. “You’re Futures, aren’t you?” Cynda asked.

The woman nodded enthusiastically.

“Why are you following me?”

“You’re Jacynda Lassiter! I mean, what an opportunity. You’re a legend,” the woman gushed.

Her companion shook his head in dismay. “Before my colleague goes any further, you must forget you saw us.”

“Not likely. So why come from…” Cynda waved her hand to indicate sometime in the future, “to watch me work? I’m good, but not legendary.”

“Well, according to DeMoss, your techniques were responsible for—”

“Pru!” This time the man’s warning worked, and the woman’s lips snapped shut.

Drat. I was so close. “Were you following me the night I stopped the assassin at the party? My interface registered someone, but the readings were inconclusive.”

A cautious nod.

“So why aren’t you registering now?”

“We blocked it.”



“Why didn’t you block it that night?”

The man looked chagrined. “We forgot,” he admitted.

“So where else have you been?” The two traded looks. “Come on!” Cynda cajoled.

The fellow cleared his throat. “In Rotherhithe, near the Spread Eagle and Crown when you attempted to cross the water to Whitechapel; the night you were tossed under the beer wagon, and—”

“Never mind.” Why hadn’t she seen them before? What else was she missing?

After a quick look around, he offered his hand. “I’m Thomas, by the way.”

“Glad to meet you, Thomas.” They shook. “Is your last name Anderson?”

“Ah…no,” he said.

It was worth a try.

“Prudence,” the woman said and giggled.

This was embarrassing. “I’ve never had my very own entourage before,” Cynda remarked. “I really must screw things up.”

Pru became engrossed in the tip of her pencil.

Oh great. “Any tips so I don’t get myself shot, stabbed, or my brain remapped again?”

Silence. At least from the two in the alley. Out on the street, a baked potato vendor called out his wares in a sing-song voice.

“That bad, huh?” she said, growing nervous.

“Not really good,” the man admitted.

“Fate-of-the-whole-world stuff?” Cynda joked.

The man looked at her sharply. She’d hit home without meaning to.

“You’re remarkably calm about all this,” he said.

“Mostly because I don’t have a clue what’s going on. Something’s up. Something bad, but I don’t know what. It would be a great help if you guys could fill me in.”

“You don’t know?” he asked incredulously.

“That’s what I just said,” Cynda shot back.

“That’s not right. By now you should—” He stopped abruptly. “Why is it going wrong?”



“Just a hint would help,” Cynda urged. Please.

Prudence shook her head. “Tampering with history. Can’t do it. Cost us our grant.”

“You have a grant to follow me around? I really must screw things up if you got funding.”

The two Futures traded looks, and then Thomas moved closer. “I would suggest that you take a visit to…” He looked around. “Tomorrow, Lord Mayor’s Day. Anywhere in the East End. Just be careful when you do.”

“Well, I could do with a bit of a holiday,” Cynda mused.

“It won’t be any holiday, that I can tell you.” Thomas pulled out what appeared to be a pocket watch, but it was fatter and a bit more rectangular, like a vintage cigarette case. “It’s clear, Pru. You ready?”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Cynda said.

“Our time is up for this session.”

“But—”

There was no light, no sound. And no people. Time travel technology had clearly made some awesome improvements.

~??~??~??~



Theo was pacing. She’d never seen him do that before. “Fulham is trying to track down Harter,” he blurted before she could say a word. “He’s having no luck. Klein doesn’t have him, either. No one knows where he is.” He shook his head. “This is so off the rails.”

“Why not go back to the party and catch him?”

“We don’t dare, not in front of that many people,” Morrisey replied. “Too dangerous.”

“How about when they take him to jail?”

“That’s a possibility.”

“Well, if you wait long enough he’ll surface eventually,” she replied.

He gave a grunt of displeasure. “I want him somewhere safe.”