Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(144)

He slowly completed another circuit, conjugating one of his favorite swear words under his breath. Then again. A cask appeared out of nowhere.

“Oh God, Lassiter was right.”

~??~??~??~



Cynda propped herself up against a fence, exhausted. She’d hopped back five minutes to rest because her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Once she caught her breath, she’d go after the remaining casks.

“Good job,” her delusion said.

“Thanks,” she wheezed. “I never would have seen that last one if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

The spider acknowledged the compliment. “We make a good team.”

“Got that right. Let’s just not do the umbrella trick for a while, okay?”

“Lassiter?” It was Hopkins. She’d never get used to those silent transfers.

He was staring at her, his face smudged with what appeared to be gunpowder. “Who are you talking to?”

No reason to hide the truth any longer. “I was talking with my hallucination. Don’t worry, you keep traveling and you’ll earn one of your own.” Or more than one.

“You actually talk to it?” he asked, incredulous.



“Sure. He’s been a great deal of help.”

The expression on Hopkins’ face said he thought she was over the edge. Your turn’s coming, kid.

“Did you get them?” she asked.

“Yes. The interface seemed to be able to sense where they were. Made it a lot easier.”

She straightened up. “I’m going to disarm Theo’s two, then try to find him. You go to Rotherhithe and help Keats. We have no idea if the bombs are already in place over there, or they’ll ferry them in at the last minute. I’ll join you as soon as I know the boss is okay.” Then it dawned on her Hopkins probably didn’t have a clue what the sergeant looked like. She fumbled for her pendant. “I have a picture of him.”

“No need. I studied the files before I came. Thought it best I know which Victorians you’d been interacting with.”

Smart guy. “See you sooner...”

“Or later,” he shot back with a grin, trading the old Rover joke between them.

They coordinated their interfaces and went their separate ways.





Chapter 17




Cynda would have gotten them all if it hadn’t been for the bowler. When she couldn’t find Theo at the first location, she disarmed his bomb, her nerves taut. She’d been about to move onto number two when she spied the bowler lying in the mud. Its brim was ripped and battered. A broken umbrella lay nearby.

Heart sinking, she dropped to her knees to study the footprints around the hat. This was more than push back. This felt like an ambush.

In the distance she heard a hollow thump, the last bomb detonating right on schedule. “Oh, God.” Cynda flipped open the interface, intending to jump back and warn Theo of the ambush.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

She whirled to find a man watching her. He was of medium build, dressed like a Victorian. He’d arrived without her hearing him.

A Future. “Why not?”

His expression went flat, like someone trying to project an image of impartiality. “Because you just can’t. There’s a reason this has happened.”

She glowered at him, gripping the interface so tightly the stem dug into her palm. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

“I’m Robert Anderson. I’m from your future.”

The man Rover One had spoken of. “You have anything to do with this?” she asked, gesturing toward the hat.

“No.”

“Then who has him? Copeland?”

Anderson held out his hand. “I’m sorry, but I have to have the interface first. Then I’ll tell you.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“I need to get this back to the academics or there will be consequences upstream. We’ve bent the rules as far as we dare at this point.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” she demanded, livid at being cornered like this.



Anderson frowned. “Nothing but my word.”

“Which means nothing to me. You might be the guy who talked to Defoe, you might not.”

“I am. I’m also the one who off-timed him to New York and sent you to the Thames the night your lover died.”

She reeled back. “Why are you guys doing this?”

“Because we have to. Things are so off track we have no choice.” He gestured toward the watch. “Please, just give me the interface.”

“Damn you!” With a cry of anguish, she tossed it at him. Anderson caught it on the fly.

“Thank you.” He tucked it in a pocket. “Copeland has your boss.”

“Where?” she snapped.

“Defoe is the key to all this,” he replied, avoiding her question. “Copeland’s masters want him. We’ve hidden Rover One in the time stream while we figure out why he’s so important to them.”

“Why take Theo?”

“Your boss is leverage. All that matters to Copeland is that he remain on the good side of his employers. He’ll do anything to stay alive.”

Anything.