James Palmer - Shadows Through Time

“And thus come back here to prevent it,” said Burton.

Miss Hemlock smiled. “Exactly. You have done this before, haven’t you?”

“More than I would like. So, where should we head first?”

“The Diogenes Club,” she said.

The explorer nodded. “We should round up Inspector Abberline. We might need his assistance.”

“Very good,” Miss Hemlock said, smiling.

“But how do we approach him?”

Miss Hemlock stood. “Leave that to me. Now, please exit your home as you normally would, and meet me down at the corner.” She pointed out the study window. “The less people who see us together, the better. I need to keep as small a footprint in this time period as possible. My own future could depend on it.”

“All right,” said Burton. “Then we’ll go find Frederick and get this Map of Time business attended to.”

As instructed, Burton donned his coat and topper and left his home through the front door, then turned right and walked to the corner. He had waited several minutes for Miss Hemlock to join him when a familiar voice called to him from a carriage pulling pulled up to the curb. “Captain Burton.”

He climbed into the carriage. “Where did you go?”

“This carriage was clopping by when I left through your servants’ entrance,” she said. “I hailed it and we went around the block. Oh, and I must apologize. I’m afraid you will have to pay the fare. I’m not carrying the proper coin of the realm, as it were.” She blushed.

Burton smiled. “No problem at all, Miss Hemlock. A common occurrence in your line of work, I’m sure.”

“Where to?” the driver called down.

“The Diogenes Club,” said Burton. “Do you know it?”

“Aye sir. Indeed I do.”

The driver urged his horse forward, and they started off.

“Were we not supposed to fetch Detective Abberline?” asked Miss Hemlock.

“If I know Frederick, he is already there waiting for us.”

Twenty minutes later, they alighted in front of the infamous Diogenes Club to find Inspector Abberline leaning against the formidable brick building. “Captain, Miss Hemlock,” he said cordially.

Burton paid the fare and shook Abberline’s hand. “What are you doing out here?”

“Those ruffians threw me out! Me. An officer of the law!”

“What happened?” asked Miss Hemlock.

“I told the doorman I needed to see Mycroft Holmes at once.” He glanced about the street before continuing, lowering his voice. “It’s about those bloody Morlocks, you see. They’re up to their old tricks again. More people have gone missing, this time somewhat closer to home.”

Burton raked his fingers through his beard. “They’re spreading outward.”

Abberline nodded. “I thought Holmes would want to know, since defending the Crown against esoteric threats seems to be in his purview, but he didn’t want to hear any of it. He had some of his bloody scoundrels throw me out, while he takes a meeting.”

“With whom is he meeting?” Miss Hemlock asked eagerly.

“I don’t know. Two men. I didn’t recognize any of them.”

“Wait,” said Miss Hemlock, reaching into her coat. She produced a leather wallet and extracted from it two square pieces of paper. One by one she unfolded them and showed them to Abberline. “These people?”

Abberline studied the first one, a reproduction of an engraving depicting a man wearing a dark suit and long, bushy sideburns. “Yeah. That’s him. Looks a bit younger in the flesh, but that’s definitely him. I’d stake my badge on it.”

Miss Hemlock glanced up at Burton. “Daniel Gooch, railway engineer.”

She showed Abberline the next piece of paper, this time a reproduction of a photograph of an older man with a high forehead and receding hair. “That’s the second man,” declared Abberline.

“Charles Babbage,” said Miss Hemlock.

“Yes, I’ve heard of Babbage,” said Burton. “He invented something called a Difference Engine, said it would revolutionize industry. But he ran out of money before he could complete it. He’s been begging for funds ever since.”

Miss Hemlock returned the papers to her wallet and the wallet to her coat. “Then it seems I am too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I had hoped to stop has already begun to transpire. Mr. Gooch and Mr. Babbage are two of the men responsible for creating the machine that Mycroft Holmes will one day transfer his consciousness into.”

“You think Mycroft Holmes is already in possession of the Map of Time?” asked Burton.

“It is the only reason he would want to prolong his life,” said the Time Agent. “So he can oversee and guide humanity through these major upcoming moments in our history.”

“You haven’t missed your chance,” said Abberline.

Burton and Miss Hemlock stared at the policeman.

“You wanted to wait until your mysterious villain handed it off, right?” asked Abberline.

“Yes,” said Miss Hemlock.

“Well, he’s done so. Now you can get it.”

“But I don’t know where it is. I need to retrieve it without his knowledge.”

“He’s going to keep something like that close,” said Burton. “We’d need to know the precise moment he acquires the document and see where he puts it.”

“We can do that,” said Miss Hemlock, “if I can get inside his—what is it called? Stranger’s Room?”

“You certainly know your business, Miss Hemlock,” said Abberline.

“I know my history,” she corrected.

“But how can you spy on him when he’s so close?” asked Abberline.

Miss Hemlock grinned. “As Mycroft’s more famous younger brother would say, it’s elementary. Captain Burton, you’ve traveled through Time. You know of its effects?”

“You mean the way Time moves around the traveler?” said Burton. “Yes. Like watching the whole world speed up or slow down around you, in either direction. Bismillah. You mean to—”

“Travel back in Time, in Mycroft’s presence, until the moment he is given the Map. Then I’ll zoom forward and look for a good opportunity to abscond with it.”

“Bloody brilliant,” said Abberline. “But there’s just one problem. You can’t get in to see him. No one can. Especially—and I beg your pardon—a woman. No one but a member can get inside the Diogenes Club without special invitation.”

Miss Hemlock scowled. “You are right, of course. Besides, he is going to guard that map with his life. Whomever gave it to him must have warned him about attempts to retrieve it.”

“Also, you must take into account that taking the Map in the past will alter the future, er, our present,” Burton said. “One of Herbert’s bloody paradoxes will ensue. Taking the Map then will eliminate our need to take it now.”

“Bloody hell,” barked Abberline. “Here we go again. All this Time travel rot is giving me a sore head.”

“Not if we return to this precise moment,” said Miss Hemlock, “and Mycroft Holmes doesn’t learn of our deception until after I’ve returned with it.”

Burton and Abberline mulled this over in silence for a long moment.

“I’m not saying it won’t be dangerous,” she continued. “Right now, there are too many variables to calculate our odds of success. But whatever damage we cause now is small potatoes compared to what Mycroft Holmes can do with the knowledge contained in that Map. We have to get it back, damn the consequences.”

Abberline scowled disapprovingly at her epithet, but said nothing.

“What if I did it?” said Burton.

“What?” Miss Hemlock and Abberline said, almost in unison.

“I can get closer to him than you, a stranger and, forgive our backwards customs, a lady. We only need a distraction so that I can move through Time. One minute—one second—out of sync would make me invisible to him.”