Time Rovers 03 Madman's Dance (65 page)

“Go ahead, be smug. Your day is coming, buddy.”

He guffawed. With Copeland dead, Hopkins was euphoric. He still hadn’t learned that the good guys don’t always win.

It took some time for her run report to reach the tables and the Vid-Net.

“How about a kiss for luck?” Theo whispered in her ear before giving it a gentle nibble.

“Sure.” He planted one on her cheek.

She swore he enjoyed being the center of attention. It’d taken some of the patrons awhile to recognize him, but once they did their eyes lit up. She knew vid-messages were bouncing around the city with the latest gossip.

Let them chatter.

Theo blew in her ear. It was so damned erotic and so not TEM, the man who used to calibrate window blinds at twenty-three percent.

“I’m still waiting to hear your answer,” he whispered.

That was the other thing. The proposition he’d popped on her after one particularly tender lovemaking session.

“I’m still thinking.”

“It’s a pretty easy decision.”

For a time she’d thought he was proposing, he’d been that serious. Instead, it was business: he’d decided he wanted her as a partner in TEM Enterprises. A full partner. That felt weird. She’d always been a worker bee, not a queen, and certainly not
management
.

She was a Rover, first and foremost. It was in her blood.

“I have to be able to travel,” she’d protested.

“It’s not worth the risk,” he’d said as they lay curled around each other, tentatively learning the curves and passion of each other’s bodies. The conversation had ended shortly thereafter when they’d found yet another way to make love.

On the plus side, his proposition would solve her issues with dating higher up the ladder. She and Theo would be equals, at the top of the heap. The flip side was that he didn’t want her to travel. That was a restriction she didn’t think she could tolerate.

Either way, he was going to need an answer soon.

“Here it comes,” Ralph said, keying up the report on the table in front of them.

She watched the wall with a mixture of eagerness and dread. Her name had vanished from ninth place. Was that good? Hopkins shot up to second. He shouted in approval. Third place was someone named Madigan.

“Who’s that?” Ralph asked.

“No idea,” Hopkins replied. “Must be new.”

Then T.E. Morrisey’s name appeared in the lights under First Place.

“Me?” Theo said. “
Me?
” he repeated, even more incredulously.

“Will you look at that!” Ralph said. “They’ve never had a non-Rover on the board before.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Theo protested.

“Yes, you did,” Ralph shot back. “Cyn’s run report included your work in ’88, disarming the explosives and all that. You’re getting the updraft from it.”

Theo shook his head in amazement.

Cynda’s name was nowhere on the board. She sighed. Still, Theo’s performance in the time stream had been awesome for a rank newbie. He deserved the praise.

She turned to kiss him, whispering, “I’m very proud of you.”

Suddenly, Ralph let out a yell. “All right!!”

“Look,” Theo said, pointing.

First through fifth place hadn’t altered. What had changed was the Emeritus portion of the board. Harter Defoe, Time Rover One, was no longer alone. Next to his name was a new one.

“Jacynda Lassiter,” Ralph proudly read, “Time Rover TWO.” He leapt from the chair, launching a fist into the air. “Yes!”

“Oh my God,” she murmured. That honor would never change, no matter the whims of the groupies or TPB’s rulings.

The bar erupted into frenzy cheers. “Speech!” someone shouted from the back. Suddenly, this didn’t seem like a great idea.

Theo pushed her upward. There were calls for silence, and amazingly it worked.

“I…” She looked at the men around the table. Ralph, her oldest friend, was beaming at her. Johns Hopkins gave her thumbs up. Then there was Theo, his eyes glowing with love and admiration.

She lifted her pint. “To Rover One, wherever you may be. You cleared the path for us so we could follow in your footsteps.”

And paid the ultimate price.

When the cheers died down, she turned to the Memorial section. “To Christopher Stone and all the others who’ve died on this journey. A Rover is eternal, forever traveling through time. Someday we’ll all be there with him. Until then…” She blinked away tears. “We miss you, Chris.”

There was absolute silence for a few seconds.

“Tales!” someone called. “Tell us a tale!”

It was tradition. No one was truly gone if there was a story to be told.

A man stood. “I remember my first trip with Defoe. He kept me from being speared by a tribesman in New Guinea and becoming a shrunken head. He never let me forget it.”

The tables were pounded in approval.

Another rose, a young fellow with sideburns. “My first run was with Chris Stone. He taught me how not to get mugged in 1970 New York.”

So it went, tale after tale, like a verbal wake. Cynda sank into her seat, a myriad of emotions flowing through her.

Theo looked wistful. He leaned close. “Just remember, I will be waiting for you at the end of every journey.”

He was saying he understood what it meant to be a Rover and would not deny her that freedom.

Cynda’s heart melted and she leaned over and kissed him again, touching his cheek fondly. “Even better, come with me.”

“What?”

“Why not? You’re in First Place. You don’t want some youngster like Hopkins kicking you out of that. Come with me. There’s a lot to see.”

“I can’t, not with the—”

“Fulham will watch over things. He’s very good at it.”

“But—”

“You could go anywhere and meet
anyone
,” she said, throwing bait under his nose. “Well, I’d skip the lunatics and the dictators. They’re never any fun.”

He looked up to his name on the board. She could hear the wheels turning. “Anyone?”

She unveiled the ultimate prize. “Even…da Vinci.”

His mouth fell open.

“Oh, that’s not playing fair,” her blue delusion complained, crawling out from underneath a bar napkin. “You know he’s nuts about Leo.”

All is fair in love and war.

She’d seen the books in Theo’s library, the drawings on his office walls that competed for room with all the Oriental watercolors. Every man had a soft spot and Leonardo was evidently his.

“I hear he’s a blast,” she added, upping the ante. “Before we go, we’ll have to work on your Latin.”

There was a lengthy pause. “We’ll study together,” Theo decided. “We can start now.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, earning them some harassment from both the spider and Ralph.

Then he whispered into her ear, “Te amo.”

That one she did know.

1495 A.D.

Milan

Cynda leaned in the door of the villa, enjoying the breeze sweeping across her face. Behind her, in the workshop, she could hear animated voices rising and falling in a waterfall of Latin. They’d arrived the night before, found themselves a room at an inn and after a dinner of wine, bread and cheese, had curled up in the narrow bed. Despite not getting much sleep, Theo had been up at dawn, promising he wouldn’t take very long. She knew better. While she had no worries about her lover tainting Leonardo’s timeline, the reverse was always an issue.

The sound of sandals drew near. Theo leaned close. “This might be a bit longer,” he whispered to her in English. “He has some drawings to show me. I know they’ll be incredible.” He added a kiss on her cheek for good measure. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, not at all,” she whispered back. “Enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, I am,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Cynda smiled at the thought. After another hasty kiss, he scurried off like a kid who’d found himself locked inside a toy store over a long weekend. It was the third time he’d made such a request. She didn’t have the heart to say no.

A donkey cart rolled by, kicking up little puffs of dust. She leaned back against the door frame. For once she wasn’t keen to go anywhere in a hurry. No desire to jump out in traffic like the daredevil she’d always been. It felt good to be here with him. Her father had once told her that sharing the journey made it more meaningful. Now she knew what he meant.

“I like it here.” Mr. Spider hung from a makeshift cerulean web near the top of the doorframe, watching a potential meal buzz haplessly near. “Lots of flies.”

Glad to hear it.

Behind her, Theo’s voice rose in a flurry of Latin, telegraphing his excitement. He would tell her all about it later in glorious detail after they returned to 2058. A few days rest, and then he wanted to see the Columbian Exposition in 1893 Chicago. From there, they’d go directly to 1889 Whitechapel, their clothes nearly compatible. What would a few months have wrought for Alastair and Keats? What exciting forensic mysteries would the doctor have uncovered? What of Keats’ new career? How had he adjusted to life outside the Yard?

Maybe they could all go to the Crystal Palace again. Theo had never seen it. She could only imagine what his analytical mind would make of it.

“Where after that?” the spider asked, winching down on a thread so he could sit on her shoulder. He settled there with a contented sigh.

Cynda spread her hands. “Who knows?”

We have all the time in the world.

The End

Jacynda’s journey doesn’t really come to end in this book, but it pauses at a resting place, a moment in her life where all is in balance. When I began her story I had envisioned it as sexual romp that I might sell to one of the erotica publishers. That’s why all the mention of chocolate and sex to cure time lag. Cynda promptly told me that wasn’t going to be the case, she was in 1888 to find a tourist, not get laid. She asserted her authority early and for that I am grateful.

Over the course of the three books readers have long pondered which of the two Victorian gentlemen she might choose as her lover, which one might be her soul mate. Both were worthy. Alastair and Jonathon are wonderful men, each with their own strengths. I could easily see her choosing either one. When Jacynda and Keats nearly become lovers in
Virtual Evil
, I thought she’d made her choice. In some ways she had, but her damaged mind wouldn’t let her go there. In retrospect, that was the right decision.

T.E. Morrisey came to be as a tip of the hat to Tee Morris, who introduced me to Gwen Gades, publisher of Dragon Moon Press. The similarity in name is the only commonality they share as Tee is an energetic soul and Morrisey is the Zen Master. I initially wrote Morrisey as a mysterious, almost creepy, boss who pulled strings and manipulated people. The only hint that Morrisey had more to him than just eccentric behavior is when we learn that Chris Stone, Jacynda’s dead lover, was his nephew.

We don’t hear Morrisey’s first name until late in the second book. At that point Theo began to take on a real personality, but wasn’t on my radar as Jacynda’s choice. There were little “tells” however, that this author didn’t see until after the fact. Theo makes his first time travel journey to help Jacynda, because, he said, he couldn’t trust the sensitive information to anyone else. Surely there had to be a Transitive in his company he could have sent.

He runs interference for her with both Guv and TP, at great personal and financial risk. I finally realized something was up in Virtual Evil, when he gently squeezed her arm and called her by her first name as she prepares to return to 1888 after the TPB trial.

As
Madman’s Dance
unfolded in my mind, I saw their story. Theo’s protective instincts kicked in, though he didn’t really know why. His respect for Jacynda, and the huge gamble he took allowing her to rebuild herself from within, were turning points for him. His willingness to go to 1888 to be at her side was the final emotional commitment, though he was ill-equipped to survive in that era. In the end, it was Harter Defoe’s immeasurable loss that allowed Jacynda to take that leap of faith and finally accept that love could be hers if she was willing to take the risk.

Jacynda and Theo’s story is certainly not at an end. No doubt we’ll see more of them down the line. I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed their journey so far. I know I’ve loved writing it.

Oh, and Mr. Spider wants me to ask if you might spare him a scone morsel or two. Matchmaking, he says, is very hard work.

Jana Oliver

September 2008