Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(42)

“Miss Lassiter was assaulted,” Alastair informed them. “She sustained a head injury and lost her memory. She has no idea who Keats is, or I, for that matter. All your questions are a waste of time and will only frighten her further.”

Arnett looked down at her. “What are those marks on her neck?”

“Someone tried to strangle her.”

“Who?” Hulme demanded. Jacynda did not answer. “If this is a trick, I shall file charges,” the inspector threatened.

“It is not,” Alastair replied hotly. “Have your own physician examine her. He will concur.”

Arnett sighed. “No need. She was a better witness for the defence in any event. Let’s go, Hulme.”

Then they were gone.

“Well, that went better than I thought it would,” Alastair remarked, closing the door and bolting it.

He found Jacynda back on the couch, clutching the ferret tightly to her chest. She jumped when he re-entered the room.

“They’re gone.”

“Not nice.”

She has that spot on.

He knelt in front of her, taking her hands, his depression deepening. What if she never regained her full faculties? What if her people did not come for her? How would he care for her?

Jacynda pulled her hand free and tugged playfully on his pocket watch chain. He unclipped it and handed it to her. A pleased expression settled on her face as she began a deliberate winding pattern with the stem. He remembered the sequence from when she communicated with the future. She repeated it over and over, peering at the watch face, as if expecting something to happen.



“Not right,” she said, giving the watch a sharp shake, as if it were malfunctioning.

I wonder…

Alastair hurried up the stairs, two at a time, and then extracted her own watch from the bureau drawer where he’d hidden it. As he clattered back down, caution rose. Maybe he shouldn’t let her touch it. What if she accidentally sent herself somewhere unpleasant?

He sat on the couch and watched her repeated efforts, then copied the winding pattern. Nothing happened.

I was a fool to think otherwise.

He dropped the watch in amazement as a red glow appeared above it. When Jacynda’s hand reached out to touch the dial, he pulled it back.

“Best not. I don’t want you disappearing on me.”

She glared at his interference. It was the first sign of anger he’d seen in her. When she pointed at his lap, he issued a gasp. The watch had generated an illumined grid of letters. It reminded him of the keys on the typewriters the clerks used. He stared at the image above the pattern of letters. It hung in the air without any visible means.

“Incredible.”

He gingerly moved the contraption, placing it on the seat of a wooden chair and then drawing the chair closer. There was a slight noise and a word appeared in the air without any prompting.

Password?

Of course, they would want some security for this remarkable technology. A wild notion leapt into his head—perhaps he could communicate with Jacynda’s contemporaries and they could tell him how to treat her.

This time when she reached toward the watch, he didn’t stop her. She didn’t attempt to touch it, but instead pressed one of the illuminated keys. An F appeared in the air.

“Go on,” he urged. “Don’t think about it, just put in the letters.”



She looked down at the stuffed animal and frowned. She tapped the stuffed animal’s head and gave him a distressed look.

“Fred?” Alastair prompted. A shake of her head. “Weasel?” Another shake. “Ah, ferret?” he tried. A quick nod.

Her finger typed an E, then an R. The letters appeared one by one. Then she stopped, bewildered.

“Ferret has two r’s,” he informed her. That just confused her. “Let me.” He tapped on the red square and an R appeared in the air.

“How remarkable,” he murmured. He typed an E, followed by a T. “Now what?”

She cuddled the stuffed creature closer, rocking back and forth in agitation. Alastair resisted the need to swear openly. They were so close.

“Fred,” she said.

Not knowing what else he could do, he typed in the word. Nothing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do.”

The words tore through him. He was supposed to help her, but he was powerless, an infant in the face of such advanced science. It was agonizing. He had long worshipped technology; now he only felt the need to curse it.

Alastair peered at the board, trying to sort through the keys and what they might mean. When he’d been in the bank setting up his account, he’d watched a clerk using a typewriter. It had fascinated him. When the fellow reached the end of a page, he pressed a lever that returned the carriage to the other side of the paper. What if this device required something similar to send the message into the future?

With a nervous wince, he pressed the key with a reverse arrow, praying it didn’t make the watch disappear.

Another odd noise.

“Is that good?” he asked.

The air screen typed Logged On.

More letters, typed rapidly now. Cyn? Where have you been?



“Ah… ah….oh my God, it worked!” Hands shaking, he began to type, praying that whoever it was wouldn’t grow tired of waiting for him to reply and shut down the connection.