Timewatch (6 page)

For a guy in his 60s, Caleb sure had a lot of energy. He'd hustled them around like someone half his age.

Once or twice, he had caught Caleb looking speculatively at him and at Laney. She seemed to have wound Caleb right around her little finger. She had that effect on men, even older ones, it seemed. When Caleb looked at Laney, his gaze softened and even his voice got a touch gentler. He must have been a terror in his day. Probably still was.

With a faint smile on her face, she said something or other to J.J. (Laney had said that the boy preferred to be called that), who looked ill at ease with his hands jammed into his pockets.

Dan sighed. It seemed so long ago, he thought, since he'd been that age, but reliving his youth was something that didn't really appeal to him. Growing up had been tough at times. His father had been in the military and moved his family often. That meant new schools where the other kids all knew each other and he was always the odd one out. They didn't pick on him—he was tall and strongly built like his father, and they found out that, while he wouldn't pick fights, he wouldn't back down from them, either.

“It's quite the view, isn't it?” said Marjory.

“Sure is.”

He cleared his throat. Aunt Marjory reminded him of his high school English teacher, Miss Crawder, tall and thin like her with short gray hair. You wouldn't have dared to mouth off at her like some of the kids did today with their teachers. She'd have put you in your place fast, but she was never mean, just really smart and absolutely determined to see that you learned the basics of English grammar and essay writing.

He'd been an okay student simply because there wasn't too much else to do. Because his family never stayed long in any one town, he quit trying out for football. Ditto for girls. After a while, he learned not to mind that everyone, except for the one or two buddies he'd managed to make, left him alone.

“I thought it would be nice if we could have a little chat and get to know each other.”

“Sure, why not?”

His tone must have been too hearty. He could see that in her hazel eyes, so clear and direct and compassionate, too—not something he was used to seeing. It gave him a funny feeling. He was so used to hiding his real feelings under a friendly smile: “Hi! How are you? How're the wife and kids? Me? Just great. Couldn't be better.” Better not try that routine with this lady.

“Such a lovely young woman, your daughter. Laney, I believe her name is?”

“Ah, yes, Mrs. Bennett.”

“Please call me Marjory. Where are you from, Dan?”

“Minneapolis. Great city with beautiful lakes.” Before Dan had split up with Laney's mother, Pam, they lived near Lake of the Isles in a handsome old house that Pam's father had given them for a wedding present. She and Laney still lived there, while these days he was bunking with an old Marine buddy—a temporary arrangement that would last for only another month.

“From your accent, I'd guess that you're English,” Dan said, filling the silence.

“That's right.”

“What part of England?”

“After my husband died, I moved from London to St. Ives, Cornwall. If I may ask, what do you do, Dan?”

“I used to do cost assessments for a construction company. I'm looking for other work now.” Yeah, ever since Pam had run to Daddy—his boss—and complained once again about her marriage. His father-in-law had fired him and replaced him with Pam's brother. Shortly after, Pam had filed for divorce.

“That must be dreadfully hard for you. Work is so important to most people. We often define ourselves by what we do, rather than in terms of who we are.”

Dan shrugged. “Too true. But I'll find another job. Jobs are always available for anyone who wants to work and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty.” Except that it was getting harder to get a job. He was getting sick of going in and seeing the eyes of the interviewers shift as they gave him the old lines: “No openings … put your application on file … keep you in mind …”

He was almost ready to give up. It was Laney who kept him going. He owed it to her to act like a responsible parent.

“Life does seem very unfair at times, Dan, but maybe your luck is about to turn.”

“You mean Caleb's going to cut us in on some kind of deal?”

Marjory permitted herself a small smile that softened the rather angular planes of her face as she said drily, “I rather doubt if my cousin has anything so altruistic in mind. He strikes me as a man who has definite reasons for whatever he does.”

Geraldine, who had been walking alone, came up beside her aunt.

“You've met my niece Geraldine, of course,” said Marjory.

“We've said hello.”

The hand she extended to him felt soft and fragile as bird bones.

“Call me Gerry,” she said.

The tiny freckles sprinkled across Geraldine's nose gave her a pixieish look.

“I've enjoyed talking with you, Dan. I think I'll go chat with Caleb.”

“Nice talking to you, too, Marjory.”

That left Gerry and him.

Without looking at him, she walked over to the wooden railing and began staring out to sea. She had a nice profile—kind of lean like her aunt's—with a straight nose and small chin.

“You ever been to America before?” asked Dan, coming over and standing beside her at the railing.

“Once, not recently.” She turned and looked at him with green eyes laced with sadness. “After I graduated from university, Aunt Marjory and Uncle David treated me to a trip to New York.”

“Lucky you. I was there once after I got out of the Marine Corps, but the city was too noisy and pushy to suit me. Some great clubs, though.”

“I didn't frequent the club scene when I was there, but I did visit the Met, which had some fascinating exhibits. The costumes of Catherine the Great of Russia were superb.”

“I liked the Natural History Museum with the rainforest exhibit and the dioramas.”

Gerry nodded and went on. “I enjoyed the plays, too. There was a Neil Simon one that was particularly amusing.”

She didn't look as though she laughed much.

“Have you ever been here, to San Francisco?”

She shook her head.

“Me, neither. Minneapolis is my town.”

A lonesome look on her face, Gerry stared at some windsurfers scudding over the waves and a ferryboat with its top deck crowded with passengers. Gulls screamed overhead.

She didn't look much older than Laney, thought Dan, certainly younger than his 42 years.

“So what do you do for a living, Gerry?”

“I edit books. When my boss discovered my interest in metaphysical matters, he sent books like
How to Become a Psychic in Ten Easy Lessons
my way.”

Nice to see that she had a sense of humor.

“Sounds interesting.”

She nodded stiffly, as though she hadn't really heard him.

“Some days it hardly seems worthwhile getting up,” Dan said pensively.

Startled out of her reserve, Gerry really looked at him.

On an impulse, he asked, “How'd you like to grab a bite to eat tomorrow, just you and me, Gerry?”

“I have to see an author in the morning, Dan, but thank you for asking.” She attempted a smile and walked away.

At least she didn't actually say no, thought Dan. He could hear Caleb telling Marjory as he pointed to the slate-green water, “About 150 species of fish live in the Bay. Great white sharks have even been spotted here.”

Leaning over the railing of the pier, her ponytail blowing in the breeze, Laney exclaimed, “Look! Sea lions!”

Thumbing through her guidebook, Marjory said, “Apparently the first male showed up here in 1989.”

“We'll cruise by them when we get to my yacht,” said Caleb, who began pushing his way through the crowd of tourists sauntering along the pier. His relatives dutifully followed him.

“There she is,” he said, pointing with satisfaction to a large white yacht. “She has twin engines that can go up to thirty knots and four cabins, which sleep eight. I sometimes bring clients out here.”

A man dressed in white slacks and shirt hailed them from the gangplank. “Welcome aboard.”

“This is Joseph, my captain,” said Caleb. “Let's go up to the flybridge.”

He led the way up to an open area with spacious seating.

“Take us out, Joseph,” ordered Caleb.

“Yes, Mr. Morgan.” Standing at the helm, Joseph started the engines and began easing the yacht out of its berth between two sailboats.

“Nice,” said Dan, running a hand over the highly polished teak railing that ran along the side decks.

As they were moving slowly past the dock area, Joseph remarked, “Mr. Morgan, a man came to inspect the safety equipment.”

Caleb said sharply, “I didn't ask for an inspection. Who was this so-called inspector?”

Flushing under his deep tan, Joseph replied defensively,” I don't know. He was wearing a company uniform and said you had sent him.”

His bushy eyebrows climbing right up into his hairline, Caleb frowned and said, “I should have been contacted earlier about this.”

“There wasn't time. He came about half an hour ago and left just before you came aboard.”

Marjory darted a look at Joseph. She was looking older than she had a few minutes ago.

“You feeling a little seasick?” Dan asked her.

The normally clear hazel eyes were clouded as she said in a low voice, “No, no. It's just I'm getting a very bad feeling about this.”

A tremor of unease ran down Dan's spine. His expression must have given him away because in the same low voice, Marjory added, “You feel it too, that something is wrong.”

Gerry looked at her aunt with concern.

Sensing something was up, J.J. and Laney drifted over to them. “What's going on?” asked Laney.

“I don't know. Maybe nothing,” said Dan, putting a hand on his daughter's shoulder.

“Where did this guy go?” demanded Caleb.

“Near the locker with the life jackets,” replied Joseph meekly.

With an angry jerk of his shoulders, Caleb turned and went below, followed by his relatives.

He began throwing open lockers. Suddenly, he went very still.

Dan peered over Caleb's shoulder. What he saw made him suck in his breath.

Caleb put out a hand to touch the object. “Don't touch it!” yelled Dan.

“What is it?” asked J.J., crowding in close behind him.

“Bomb,” said Dan tersely. He still had nightmares about the ones exploding in 'Nam, which was why, after his tour of duty was over, he had refused to accept any job having to do with his specialty—disarming the damn things.

Peering at a clock connected by wires to what looked like a battery, Caleb said urgently, “There's only ten seconds left!”

Marjory paled and put a gnarled, veiny hand to her throat, while J.J. froze. Laney let out an involuntary, “Daddy!” After she'd said it, she looked embarrassed. Then he could see the fear creeping into her eyes. That was what he feared most at this point—panic. He'd seen it kill more than one man.

“Couldn't we get off on one of the life rafts?” asked Gerry. Except for a muscle twitching in her cheek, she appeared very calm.

“Dad, why don't we just throw it overboard?” interrupted Laney, fighting hard to keep her voice calm.

“Not a good idea.”

Laney's voice went up a notch. “Then what are we going to do?”

“Two seconds left … zero.” Caleb's voice was flat.

No one moved. Time seemed to slow down. Dan forgot to breathe.

Dumbfounded, Caleb looked at him. “We're still alive!”

“I know, I know.” Dan pointed to the bomb. “You'd better tell Joseph to stop the yacht. Now … and very gently! And bring some wire cutters.”

“I hope you know what you're doing.”

“In the military, I used to disarm bombs. Now go get those wire cutters!”

To his credit, Caleb didn't argue, just left, taking the stairs two at a time and bellowing for Joseph.

“Here,” Caleb said, breathing heavily when he returned and slapped the wire cutters into Dan's hand.

Dan snipped some wires. “Now the bomb can't go off.”

A ragged cheer went up.

He glanced involuntarily at Gerry. The freckles on her nose were standing out starkly on her skin, which made her look even paler than usual. She had one arm around her aunt.

Caleb was clenching his fists. “Someone will pay for this!”

His voice cracking with an effort to appear cool, J.J. asked, “Why would anyone want to kill us?”

“Oh, surely not!” protested Gerry. “What possible reason could anyone wish to do us harm? We just arrived the other day and don't know a soul here.”

Marjory cleared her throat. “Maybe this has nothing to do with us.” She turned to Caleb and asked, “Do you have any enemies who might want you dead?”

“Dear lady, I have many enemies, but none, I think, who would actually go to the trouble of killing me—at least as far as I know.”

His curiosity temporarily getting the better of his fear, J.J. edged closer to the bomb and asked, “I don't get it. Why didn't the bomb go off?”

“After the timer counts down, the mercury in the glass thing needs to be joggled hard enough to complete a circuit. Then the battery activates the detonator, causing the C-4 to explode.”

“What's C-4?”

Dan pointed to what looked like a brick of modeling clay. “We used a lot of the stuff in 'Nam. It's pretty safe, won't go off by itself. Sometimes we even burned it to make a fire for cooking food. There's enough C-4 here, once it's activated, to have blown us out of the water.”

“Why is there a timer as well as a switch?”

“The IRA used to build their car bombs this way. The timer would be set to give the bad guy enough time to safely place the bomb and get away. After the timer counted down to zero, the bomb still wouldn't go off until there was enough sudden acceleration—could be a car or, in this case a yacht—to move the mercury to the end of the glass thing. Then boom!”