Chase (ChronoShift Trilogy) (11 page)

In short, they created a camouflaged fortress in the middle of Boston.  It was the only place in the world they could feel safe from any type of infiltration by Rialto or someone like him.

The only Achilles' heel to the whole setup was that Rialto could monitor the streets outside the building and snipe one of them before they ever got inside.

The solution was to create an underground access entrance in the sewers.  Back in 1910, Mark had the sewers enlarged directly underneath the building to accommodate his plan.  They added another steel vault door down there.  Once past the door, stairs or an elevator would take you up to the headquarters.

Shift detectors were installed down in the sewers along with infrared motion detectors.  If anyone tried to ambush them down there, they would have ample warning ahead of time from the security system. 

Savannah came to work every day entering through the front door.  She would be the only person seen coming in and out of the building each day.  Mark, Hardy and Ty (if they could rescue him), would always come in through the sewer, never being seen.  This was especially practical because the sewer could be entered from virtually any point in the city.

To facilitate the sewer tactic, Mark used several untraceable, dummy corporations to purchase other buildings at various locations within several blocks of the headquarters.  He built access ways from these building to the sewers, again with coded entry locks on steel doors covering their entrances.  They would randomly use these different locations to enter the sewer each time they traveled to headquarters, which would make it impossible for anyone to effectively plan an ambush.

They hoped they would only have to keep all of this up until Rialto could be taken out.

Mark and Hardy had been on the go for months now, first running from Rialto, then doing research with Prescott and turning their headquarters into a fortress.  To say they were tired would be an understatement.

Satisfied with the defensive actions they'd taken, they shifted back to the night of the same day Hardy had originally left to rescue Mark from the Lincoln plot.  They would pick up with their lives where they'd left off.  Now that they had a safe house, the first order of business was to rescue Ty.  After that, they'd begin an offensive plan against Rialto.  Nobody ever won a war playing defense.

They decided to take the rest of the night off to recuperate before going after Ty.  Mark crashed on his bed at headquarters.  Hardy wanted to go back and see Laura.

He crouched in the dark shadows of the street below his apartment building for a long time.   He peered through the darkness for anything or anybody who didn't belong.  Rialto was just as likely to watch their residences as he was the office.  Just being seen could mean death for any of them.

He waited for hours, but nothing seemed out of place.  An occasional vehicle passed, mostly taxis bearing drunken revelers to their homes.  He used high-powered binoculars to scrutinize the roof line of every building in view, including his own.  The doorman visible in the yellow light spilling from the lobby was the same man he'd seen every day since he'd moved in.

He was going to have to duplicate the security system at headquarters for his and Laura's apartment.  He couldn't go through all this trouble every time he wanted to come home.  It would not be easy convincing her to move, especially to an older building.  He certainly couldn't take her back to headquarters.  Flaunting their relationship under Mark's own roof day in and day out didn't seem like a good idea.

Stealthily, Hardy crept to the rear fire escape, hugging the shadows all the way.  He silently climbed the rungs up to the penthouse, one floor at a time.  As he stepped onto his balcony, he sensed something was wrong.

The doors leading into their bedroom were flung wide open, cotton curtains slowly billowing in the breeze.

That by itself was normal.  She liked to do that.

No, something else was up.  He sensed it like a cat senses water without seeing it.

Sliding his pistol from its holster, Hardy advanced to the opening.  He found the bedroom empty, a single lamp lit by their bed.  The bed sheets were strewn as if Laura had been sleeping but had gotten up.  Alarmed, he checked the bathroom.  Nothing.

He made his way through the rest of the apartment, but every room was empty.  His pulse raced.  Her silk nightgown lay in a puddle in the floor of their closet.  Her clothes had been rifled through.   A number of empty hangers hung like silent witnesses to the truth, hangers that had been covered in blouses, dresses, and skirts this morning.  He wasn't sure, but it looked like a suitcase was missing too.

The note in the kitchen clinched it, confirming a worse truth than the kidnapping he'd feared.

"Bye, Hardy," It read, scribbled in big red letters, like she'd written it with lipstick.

She was gone.

***

The worst part of her leaving was that he would have to face Mark and tell him what had happened.  He hoped Mark wouldn't humiliate him.  He might even get angry all over again.  At a minimum, he'd probably act smug, feeling just deserts had been delivered.  Mark didn't really believe Hardy hadn't stolen her from him.

Still, Hardy had no desire to spend the night in the empty, luxurious apartment.  Wasn't his style.  He'd really only bought it for her.

He was mildly surprised to see how little he was broken up over her leaving.  He'd thought he cared for her, at least a little bit.  Maybe the novelty of her had just worn off, like gold paint wears off a piece of fake jewelry.  Sure, she was a looker, but he'd find someone else.  No big deal. 

He really should have broken up with her when Mark had flown off the handle.  Their friendship was more valuable than some shallow romance.  Funny how crystal clear hindsight can be.

His main concern was what Mark would say.  He didn't care if Mark rubbed his nose in it, he just didn't want to hurt the guy again.

Headquarters was enshrouded with night when he got back, all of its lamps extinguished.  He went up through the elevator.  Light flooded the dark hall outside its doors as they slid open on the second floor.

"Hardy?"

"Yeah."

"Good.  Guess the new security system works.  It said you were a friendly."

Hardy smiled and walked in.  Mark looked to have been sleeping.

"Man, I was out for the night.  Thought you went home to be with Laura."

"Yeah, about that...she flew the coop."

"What?"

"I mean, she's gone.  Took off.  Hightailed it."

"Why?  Where'd she go?"

"How should I know?  Left a note.  It said ’Bye, Hardy.=@

Mark's brow creased in concern.  "Are you sure she wasn't kidnapped?  I wouldn't put something like that past Rialto..."

"No, Mark.  It was just a matter of time.  The only reason she was with me was ’cause I could buy her things.  I knew that."

"She wasn't like that."

"Yes, yes she was.  You just couldn't see it."

"Then, why did she leave
me
?  I've got more money than you do."  Even in the dark of the room, Hardy could see Mark's face darken.

"Who knows.  Same reason she left me?  Whatever that reason is, only she knows it."

Mark stared at him for a full minute, both men silent.  "So, are you done with her then?  Even if she came back, are you done with her?"

"Yeah.  You?"

"Yeah, I'm done," he sighed, having finally resigned himself to the truth about a woman that had infatuated his heart.  "Let's get some sleep.  Tomorrow we're gonna find Ty."

Surreal was the only way to describe it.  The scene unfolding before them was so eerily familiar, one which had played over and over again on television sets throughout their lives.  They'd seen the black and white photographs.  They'd seen the pale, grainy color video of Jackie Kennedy in her pink dress crawling toward the trunk of her vehicle, having just witnessed the violent death of her husband.  Mark had even been to the Book Depository Museum once.

But this...

This was real life.  Full vivid color, up close and personal.

The President's motorcade was coming around the corner. Mark and Hardy watched its progress from the other side of the street opposite the book depository.  They kept away as far as they could without handicapping their ability to operate.  Knowing Rialto could recognize them, Mark and Hardy resorted to disguises.  Not your average handlebar mustache disguises either, but professionally done latex masks which altered the shapes of their faces.

They spotted Ty.  He stood at the front of the crowd, about a hundred feet away.  Mark and Hardy would not approach him until they were sure where Rialto's men were.  Otherwise, they might walk into a trap.

Hardy's job was to keep an eye on Ty, observing who took him and where they went.  Meanwhile, Mark scanned the scene for Rialto, Usher, or Grey Tuft.

Bringing more than a concealed handgun to a presidential assassination was liable to get them arrested or worse, so they resolved to just follow Ty and his captors to wherever they were going to hold him.  Then, they would return for weapons.

Mark studied the faces in the crowd as well as he could from that distance.  He couldn't resist glancing up at the famous window on the sixth floor of the Book Depository from where Oswald would take his shots.  Mark was about to witness first hand whether or not there had really been a conspiracy or just a single shooter.

He had no doubt there was a shooter up there.  Mark could see the shadow of a man just beyond the window's opening.  A rifle snaked out as Kennedy drew closer.

To his astonishment, Mark saw that it was obviously not Lee Harvey Oswald up in that window.  Oswald was clearly wearing an orangish shirt and standing down on the sidewalk in front of the depository, watching the motorcade pass by.

Mark shook his head to clear it.  If that was not him, then Oswald had a twin.  It certainly was the spitting image of the accused assassin.

On the grassy knoll, two men dressed in suits stood together just behind a picket fence at the top of the small hill.  One of those men looked strikingly like Rialto. 
 Now, that is interesting,
Mark thought.

Inconspicuously, the two men behind the fence raised rifles to bear on the string of official cars.  They fired their weapons, one very quickly after the other, followed shortly by a third shot from the shooter up in the depository.  After that, the man behind the fence who didn't look like Rialto fired a fourth shot.

Mark could see the panic etched across Jackie Kennedy's face as she madly scrambled to get away from the horror that had just invaded her life.  The motorcade accelerated.  People screamed.  Cops ran, darting to and fro, barking orders, adrenaline rushing.

Mark calmly made his way over to Hardy.  The scene they'd witnessed had not been unexpected.  Mark didn't believe it was preventable either.  The mysterious force that held his children in eternity would never allow such a monumental event to be changed.  There
had
been a few unpredicted twists however.

"So, what happened?"  Mark asked.

"Grey Tuft and a couple of thugs grabbed Ty and dragged him behind that building over there.  You figure out who really killed Kennedy?"

"Yeah, and you won't believe who might have been involved."

***

Mark followed the men holding Ty as discreetly as possible to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Dallas.  Hardy hung back, providing security for Mark.  If Mark were ambushed by a time shifter, Hardy would be far enough away to see it and shift back in time to prevent the ambush on Mark.

Mark observed the warehouse and then fell back to give Hardy a report.

"Where is he?"  Hardy squinted in the sunlight.

"Not where they want us to think he is," Mark replied.  "They took him inside that door over there, but my new detector registered a shift signature from inside that building.  Someone shifted to later tonight.  Something tells me that if we were to go in that building right now, there might be some happy gunmen waiting for us, but no Ty."

"You think they shifted him out?" Hardy asked.

"I'd bet on it."

"Rialto doesn't know we have detectors yet.  He thinks we're blind to any shifts he does out of sight."

"You got it.  Let's jump ahead to tonight.  See what we see."

"How about we take turns?  If we hang on to each other, you can shift me in, and then, I'll shift you.  That way we'd have up to 12 shifts before we get shut down instead of 6.  That could give us an edge."

"Good idea.  Let's do it."

Hardy gripped Mark's shoulder, hit his shifter, and the sky melded into a deep, dark blue.  A few stars were beginning to twinkle in its wide expanse.  They were now a few moments away from full twilight.

They watched as the warehouse door swung open warily.  The kidnapers reemerged, dragging Ty with them.  They hauled him to a warehouse on the opposite side of the run-down, industrial complex.