Guardians of Time (11 page)

“A consultant,” Callum said, lying boldly as
David had predicted.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “He’s awfully
young.”

“He gets that a lot.” Callum held out a hand
to David to indicate that he should come forward. “This is Dr.
David Llywelyn, our profiler.”

Under the principle that a guilty person
would never be so bold, David stuck out his hand to the police
officer, who shook it warily and said, “Pleasure to meet you.”

David nodded a greeting, deciding at the
last minute that he wasn’t going to try for an English accent, and
it was better to say nothing at all. Likely, these two cops had
never even seen one MI-5 agent before, much less four. However this
turned out, both of them would be bug-eyed at the dinner table
tonight, telling family and friends about the presence of the
Security Service in Gwynedd. So much for keeping a low profile.

It was taken as a given by all who lived in
Wales that the country was the most neglected region of the United
Kingdom. This wasn’t just in terms of infrastructure, social
services, and resources either. London saw places like Caernarfon
as remote and inaccessible, which was why in the Middle Ages the
Gwynedd kings and princes had managed to stay independent for so
long.

Compared to a country the size of the United
States, calling Caernarfon ‘remote’ was laughable, but the whole of
Britain, including Scotland, was the size of Oregon, so people
thought on a smaller scale. Likely, the people who lived in Orkney
thought they were treated the same way, but they couldn’t drive to
London in four hours either.

The patrolman jerked his head towards the
bus. “We got a report of a bus driving the wrong way down the
motorway. The caller said the bus was orange and green, from
Cardiff, and until I saw the bus sitting here, I didn’t believe
him.”

“This is, of course, why we’re here too,”
Callum said.

“Since when do the Security Service get
involved in traffic violations?” the policeman said.

“May I see your badge?” Darren pulled a
notebook and pen from the inside pocket of his trench coat.

The policeman cleared his throat. “Yes,
sir.” He held it out to Darren, who made a note of the name and
number.

Callum nodded. “A person of interest was
last seen on this bus.”

The younger officer had finished his
inspection of the exterior of the bus, and now he stood near the
front door with his hand on the top of his head, just looking at
it. “This really is a Cardiff bus. What’s it doing here?”

A sinking sensation overtook David’s
stomach. He could practically see the gears turning in the man’s
brain.

“Never you mind,” the older officer said.
He’d been semi-hostile up until now, like a commoner might feel
about the gentry, but his young partner seemed to annoy him more
than Callum did.

The younger officer’s brow remained
furrowed. “Remember last year when a bus disappeared into thin air
during the bombing of city hall in Cardiff? They played that clip
over and over again. You know, this bus looks just like—” His eyes
widened as he turned to the MI-5 agents.

The older officer scoffed. “What are you
going on about?”

But Callum was already holding his badge in
the young man’s face, and when he spoke, his voice was lower and
sterner than David had ever heard him. “This is a matter of
national security. You two need to get back in your vehicle and
drive away. Leave this to us.”

The younger officer looked like he was going
to protest. Callum swung around to get confirmation from the
partner, and the older man responded as expected, jerking his head
and saying, “Let’s go.”

The younger man obeyed, but his face shone
with excitement as he walked back to the car.

Before they got in, Callum said, “Happy
Christmas to you.”

The older patrolman lifted a hand in
greeting. Then his partner started the car, backed it up, and drove
away.

Cassie let out a burst of air. “The cat’s
pretty much out of the bag now, isn’t it?”

“I’d say so,” Callum said.

“Sorry,” David said.

“Why are you sorry?” Darren said. “You’re
the last person whose fault this is.” He turned to Mark. “Can you
shut this down?”

“From Cardiff I could. I can’t from this
laptop, not without the right passwords to get past security.” He
pointed with his chin to where the police car was now driving away.
“You can bet they’re on the radio, talking to central command. You
know they are.”

“This just means we need to work more
quickly than we hoped,” Callum said.

“It was still a good idea to come here on
Christmas Eve, David,” Cassie said.

“How can you say that, given that we’ve
already been discovered?” David said.

“They didn’t write down our names,” she
said. “They’ve got a skeleton staff on duty, and all anybody
working right now wants to do is to go home or down to the pub.
It’ll be all over Bangor tonight that the bus is here—and even more
that MI-5 is here—but it might not go beyond Gwynedd just yet.”

“She’s right,” Darren said. “Maybe this
hasn’t gone as pear-shaped as we think. Even if the officer had
written down our names and badge numbers and called them in, most
likely he wouldn’t have reached a desk with a live person at
it.”

“We can’t assume we’re safe, though.” Callum
pulled out his phone and handed it to David. “Ring Anna and let her
know what’s happened. Math and your father need to keep a watch in
case those bobbies return.”

“Okay,” David said, knowing that ‘bobby’ was
British slang for police officer.

Callum continued talking. “We need to hide
the bus right now, and find ourselves more subtle transportation.
What do you have for me, Mark?”

“Preferably a van that seats ten.” Cassie
swung through the door of the bus and plopped into the driver’s
seat.

“It’ll be tough to find that on Christmas
Eve.” Darren sat in a seat near the front of the bus.

Anna picked up on the second ring. “What is
it?”

“How’s Mom first?” David said.

“She’s fine. Just getting underway here,”
Anna said. “The sirens stopped.”

David related their conversation with the
police officers, and he could hear Anna taking in a breath of
disappointment that they’d been discovered so quickly.

“I’ll send Math and Papa down to watch the
door,” she said.

“We’ll keep in touch. Call if anything
happens. This is Callum’s phone, but we’re on our way to acquire
one for me and replacements for everybody else.” David hung up.

“The internet is our friend.” Mark had his
computer open on his lap again. “I’m working on a vehicle
first.”

Cassie started the bus and drove it out of
the parking lot.

“Do you mind if I ask you about a couple of
things?” David said to Callum. “I don’t want to sidetrack us
but—”

“Are you really asking me if it’s okay for
you to talk?” Callum said.

“I don’t want to distract you with stupid
questions about how MI-5 works.”

“Until Mark finds us a vehicle, we’ve got
nothing but time. Ask away,” Callum said.

“What kind of equipment does Mark need in
order to find out if anyone back in your old office is paying
attention? And can we get it or get to it? I want to know if the
time travel initiative exists in any form anymore. Obviously, just
from what that police officer said, they have your disappearance
from Cardiff on video. If they played that over and over again all
across the world, somebody somewhere should have started asking
questions I’d rather they weren’t asking.”

“I’ve been sifting through news articles
from last November,” Mark said. “The government left a great deal
out. Reading between the lines, after our disappearance, the time
travel initiative didn’t die entirely. The Security Service will
know we’re here and where we are from the flash as we came in.”

“Does the bus have a GPS?” David said. “I
can’t believe this is the first time I thought to ask that.”

“We disabled it,” Callum said. “You don’t
have to think of everything.”

“Can it be turned on remotely?” David
said.

Callum laughed and cleared his throat at the
same time. “I misspoke. I should have said that we ripped it
out.”

“Then there’s Lee,” David said, above the
general laughter at Callum’s response. “I would very much like to
find out what became of him, if anything.”

“I would too,” Callum said, “but, sire,
concerns about Lee have to be secondary to the greater
mission.”

David didn’t blink at Callum’s use of the
honorific, just ducked his head. “I know. I’m not asking anything
more than what Mark can find in his spare time—which I grant he may
not have. But Lee is here, somewhere.”

“Because of the flash, there will be a
record of his return—and your subsequent and immediate departure,”
Callum said. “We can find out where he started out, if not where he
is now.”

“I need a better computer and connection to
do any of that,” Mark said, “and our colleagues to be asleep at the
wheel.”

“Burner phones are our first priority, after
a new vehicle,” Cassie said.

“There’s another Tesco on the outskirts of
Bangor,” Mark said, “and I’m working on a car hire right now.” He
looked up at Callum. “Same ID as before, you think?”

“Why not?” Callum said. “We weren’t tracked
on our way through California. It was getting on a plane supplied
by MI-5 that got us into trouble.”

“Just as long as the accounts are paid and
current.” Mark stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as
he concentrated.

“That should be automatic,” Callum said.

“And … it is!” Mark said as he pressed a key
on his laptop with a flourish. “We have a rental van at a garage a
few hundred yards from the aforementioned Tesco.”

Cassie accelerated towards the major road
that would take them east from the clinic.

As they rumbled through the snow-covered
landscape, David couldn’t help thinking that where he really wanted
to be right now was either pacing the hallway of Abraham’s clinic
with Math and Dad or at Dinas Bran with his wife and son. He was
almost jealous of Bridget and Peter for getting off the bus.
Hopefully they were having a cozy time of it right about now.

Peter

A
s it turned out,
Peter was not having a cozy time of it—with Bridget or anyone
else.

He’d returned Bridget’s kiss and held her
hand, and all was right with the world—except that instead of
sharing a carafe of wine with her before a warm fire up at the
castle, he was crouched over the body of the French emissary and
his escorts. The temperature hovered just above freezing, and it
was raining at the same time, which was pretty much what one
expected in England in winter but still wasn’t Peter’s cup of
tea.

“What are you thinking?” Bridget stood to
his left, bent over with her hands on her knees.

Peter didn’t answer right away; he was
distracted by both the body and what was going on with him and
Bridget. It left no time for conversation. He knew that he should
have been the one to say something to Bridget first, but he wasn’t
sorry she’d taken matters into her own hands. It was a relief to
have their relationship clarified.

The emissary lay within the shelter of the
ruined carriage, which was half-tipped onto one side. At first
Peter had thought the carriage had crushed the man, but none of his
limbs were directly underneath it.

In deference to the weather, Molier wore a
thick wool cloak over his finer wool garments, which included
shirt, pants, undertunic, overtunic and knee-high boots. All in
extra-large.

To tell the truth, the emissary was one of
the fatter medieval people Peter had encountered, the very
definition of what a rich burgher might look like, though he was a
politician instead.

As Peter patted at the man’s torso, shifting
him slightly, his hands came away bloody. More blood stained
Molier’s clothes and the ground underneath him, but as Peter moved
around the body, he couldn’t find any wound beyond a swelling to
the back of the man’s head.

“Hard to believe bandits could be operating
this close to Dinas Bran—on Christmas Eve no less—without being
detected sooner,” Bridget said, “and even harder to believe that
they would just happen upon, as their first target, a caravan
including the emissary from France and the High Steward of
Scotland.”

Peter realized at that point that he still
hadn’t answered Bridget’s first question and, in fact, had
forgotten she’d asked it.

“Don’t forget Geoffrey,” Peter said
hurriedly, having decided that he didn’t want her to give up on
talking to him entirely, so he’d better contribute to the
conversation.

Bridget nodded. “He’s a powerful man in his
own right and has David’s ear.”

“If this was a simple robbery, everyone
could have been subdued with the promise of free passage once
they’d given up their jewels and gold.” Peter glanced over at
Bridget. Her green eyes were alight with interest, and she was
showing no signs that she minded standing over a dead body with him
in the pouring rain. “This was
meant
to look like a highway
robbery gone wrong.”

“Theft doesn’t always mean hanging in
David’s England. Murder does,” Bridget said. “They have to know
they’re for the gallows if they’re caught.”

“Which is why I find it hard to believe
they’d go so far as to kill for gold they can’t spend,” Peter said.
“Maybe during one of England’s civil wars they could have found
refuge in the land of an opposing faction, but England is at peace,
and Wales is no haven for robbers.”

“So what can these men possibly be
thinking?” Bridget said. “David isn’t going to be happy to learn
that his roads aren’t safe, and even worse, to have to inform the
French king that his emissary is dead on English soil. That, along
with the abduction of James Stewart, means they’ve caused an
international incident.”