Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(141)

This feels right.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. The last kiss warmed her all the way to her cold toes.

Theo drew back. He smiled, as if he’d won a major victory. “That’s all I needed to know. Keep yourself safe, for me.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she cautioned, her eyes threatening to fill with tears and embarrass her. “The paperwork would be a bitch.”

He laughed and strode away, opening his black umbrella. Right before he turned the corner, he blew her a kiss. Cynda watched until he was no longer in sight. A shard of foreboding sliced through her. She shook herself, trying to ignore it. Theo Morrisey would take care of himself. They’d sort things out later. She had bombs to disarm.

She heard a slight pop and found Mr Spider had just opened his own umbrella. That was just too weird for words.

If this went wrong, there would be no TEM Enterprises, no job or family. Theo would be just some guy walking around London in the rain, trying to find a way to get them home. Whatever home might be like at that point.

“Let’s get this fixed,” the spider urged.

Johns Hopkins leaned against a mailbox. It was garish red, with that stylized VR on it to let you know the Queen owned the thing. Why bother to put the initials on it? She owned almost everything as far as he could see. He cut into the nearest backyard through a wicker gate and surveyed the terrain. Privy, outdoor water pump, a patch of mud that might have been a garden in the summer. Consulting Morrisey’s map, he skirted along the side of the house to where the barrel should be.

Nothing.

For a second, he thought he’d entered the wrong yard. He searched the area again. No barrel. A thick knot began forming in his stomach as he headed for his next location.



“Where the hell are you?” Cynda muttered. Mr. Spider bounded off her shoulder, floating downward with his wee umbrella. “You see anything?”

“No.”

She studied her paper again, trying to keep stray drops of rain from falling on it. At least the deluge had let up. Jamming the paper into a pocket, she did one more circuit. No barrel. Her interface said it was half past ten. They were cutting it too close.

Hopkins was losing time. The woman in front of him was huge, with fists any boxer would envy. He’d hoped the constable loitering in the street would hear the commotion and deal with her, but so far that hadn’t happened.

“I don’t like no strangers waltzin’ around my house,” she exclaimed, glowering at him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You a rozzer?”

From her tone, it sounded like a good idea not to be a police officer. “No, ma’am. I’m with…” The Pinkerton cover wouldn’t work with this sort. “I’m with the gas people. We were concerned about a leak.”

“Oh…” she said, her arms uncrossing. “Why you workin’ on a holiday?”

“Just my lot in life,” he said, spreading his hands.

That seemed to mollify her. “Well then, have a look round. I don’t want to pay for no gas that I don’t use, you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, touching his hat in respect. She retreated into the house to screech at an indeterminate number of grubby urchins.

He let loose a puff of air and then spent time examining the gas pipe as expected. When she didn’t return, he headed toward where the barrel would be. It wasn’t there.

“Now come on,” he said, swiveling in the mud. A few minutes later, he was back on the march toward site number one, the knot in his stomach now the size of a baseball.





Chapter 16




Theo knew precisely where the barrel should be without consulting his map. It was conspicuously absent. He circled the yard, twice. No bomb.

A prickle of warning swarmed up his back. He turned to find a man watching him from beside the gate that led to the alley.

“Copeland,” he said, tensing.

His nemesis greeted him with a sadistic smile. “The geek freak himself. I couldn’t believe when they said you were here.”

“What do you have to do with this?”

“Almost everything.” Copeland pulled something out of his pocket. It looked like a Vespa box. Before he could react, Theo was on his knees, fighting for breath.

“Neuro-blocker,” Copeland informed him. “The great equalizer.” He dialed the thing down a couple notches and administered another dose.

As Theo folded over, nose nearly touching the mud in an effort to pull enough air into his lungs, he heard Copeland call out. A short time later, three sets of worn boots lined up in front of him.

“Warm him up a bit, lads. He needs to get into the proper frame of mind.”

~??~??~??~



“Lassiter?” Hopkins trudged into view.

“Did you find them?” Cynda asked.

“No. You?” She shook her head. He issued a choice expletive. “I talked to the others. They’re having the same problem. I don’t understand,” he complained. “Morrisey said the bombs were there.”

“Now they aren’t,” she replied, staring at her pocket watch. Just past eleven. She began to wind the interface.

“You’re not supposed to sync up,” he warned.