Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(138)

Yes, I do.

Three serious Guv agents, all in their wormhole-black suits took over escort duties. He was herded to a small meeting room. Sitting in one of the ergo chairs, hands folded over her ample chest, was M.A. Fletcher, formerly a member of the Time Protocol Board. Her fiery red hair was highlighted by the glow of the recessed lights.

An acknowledged genius at miniaturization, it was joked that if you gave Fletcher a two hundred-story skyscraper, in an hour you’d have something that would fit in your pocket. In reality, her talents lay in nano technology, but it made a good story nonetheless.

Fletcher greeted him with a nod, which he returned. “Been awhile, Morrisey. You look like death warmed over.”



“Been traveling.” Gingerly, he settled into a chair. For some reason all his bones ached.

“So Klein said. What’s it like?”

“Tiring, exhilarating. Frightening.”

Fletcher gave a knowing nod. “Frankly, I’m surprised they got you out from behind your computer.”

“Blame it on the Restricted Force Warrant. I stay here I’m in jail, so I figured it was time to experience the monster I created.”

A wry chuckle. “Well, I’m sure as hell not going to get myself shrunk to a nanobit just out of curiosity, that’s for sure.”

Klein arrived at that moment. “Fletcher. Morrisey.” The agent tapped his foot twice on the floor plate, and a table slowly rose into position between them. He took a seat. “How’s Lassiter?”

Theo shot Klein a questioning look.

“You can speak freely,” the agent assured him. “Fletcher’s in the loop.”

“Miss Lassiter is holding it together,” Theo replied. “I’ve not seen any signs that she’s out of control. If anything, she’s more subdued than usual.”

“Did she really bust TPB’s shrink in the jaw?” Fletcher asked.

Theo nodded. “Quite a scene,” he commented with a smirk.

“Wish I’d been there.”

The senior agent cocked his head. “I forwarded that coin to Fletcher. Figured she might be able to help us.”

“Cue miniaturization expert.” She tossed the disk on the table. “As you guessed, it’s not of 1888 origin. This critter contains a miniature amplifier. It receives a signal, pumps it up and passes it on.”

“What sort of signal?” Theo asked.

“We’re not sure. It’s not electromagnetic or a vid-rad frequency. Common waveforms do nothing to excite it; neither do temperature changes, humidity or atmospheric pressure.” Fletcher leaned forward. “Why is this thing so important?”

Theo frowned. “How open are we being here?”

“Her security clearance is equal to yours,” Klein replied.

Theo tapped on the table and a small keyboard projected itself onto the top. Another tap, and a port appeared into which he synced up his interface. A holographic display shimmered into being in the air above the keyboard, the electronic version of the maps he’d created while in the East End.



“9 November, 1888. Lord Mayor’s Day. Nineteen explosions ranging from Bethnal Green to Rotherhithe across the Thames.” He pressed a key. “On 12 November…”

By the time Theo finished his holographic destruction of London, Klein’s eyes were closed in thought. A vein throbbed near his temple.

“Damn, that’s ugly,” Fletcher said. “Will it ripple forward?”

“Very likely.” Theo gestured at the disk. “One of the Victorians found this near where they were storing the explosives. I began to wonder if it had something to do with the accuracy of the detonations.”

She grinned. “I think it does. What if a time pulse initiates a chain reaction, moving forward coin by coin?”

“How does that trigger the explosion?” Klein asked.

“If the coin heats up during the process, they just need to have it in contact with the gunpowder,” Theo explained.

Fletcher picked up the coin, studying it under the lights. “Which means your Victorians had a technological power assist.”

“TPB?” Klein pounced.

“Not their style,” Fletcher replied.

“Don’t be so sure. They kicked you off the Board right before this whole thing fell out,” Klein countered. “Seems like a move to keep you out of whatever they’re up to.”

“Davies isn’t that smart,” Fletcher maintained. “Trust me on this.”

Klein leaned back. “Who, then? Do you know anyone doing this sort of work?”

“We haven’t gone this far yet,” Fletcher replied, shaking her head. “Just basic products like the chrono-tint wall color that changes every couple of hours. Making a damned fortune off that stuff.” She picked up the coin. “I estimate this is at least ten years down the line. Actually, less now.”



She grinned, deftly rolling the disk over the knuckles of her right hand and then back again. “We’ll reverse engineer it. I love it when someone else does the R&D.”

Theo’s headache edged up another notch.

“Oh, come on, gentlemen,” Fletcher chided. “We all know this came from the future. Just admit it.”

“That’s the last damned thing I want to admit,” Klein said.