“Smashing. And where lies this untamed land, may I ask?”
“In a remote region of Central Africa,” Tangeni said. “That is where our next adventure begins, and a perilous one at that, if even half the legends are to be believed. It is a trail that leads into the bowels of the earth.” He handed Cecil a flat, granite rock about the size of a fist. Inscribed upon it was the Embrey family coat-of arms! “The clues all point to Eembu and Embrey, to something extraordinary having occurred in a world far beneath our feet.”
“McEwan’s antediluvian realm?” Breathlessly, Cecil swigged the remainder of his brandy and asked for a refill. “And time travel? Has Professor Sorensen-”
The African lifted his eyebrows. “He will have to explain that to you, I’m afraid. He has yet to emulate your great feat, but he says he is close to a breakthrough-one that could be the key to rescuing our friends marooned across time. He requires your collaboration.”
“And he shall have it.”
Tangeni raised his glass. “Cheers, Professor. Here’s to your escape, and the return of old friends.”
“Hear! Hear!” Cecil and Billy responded in chorus.
On the wall next to the starboard oil lamp hung a framed photograph. The date was marked 1907. It featured the entire crew of the Empress Matilda, arm in arm, forming three ranks. On the back row he recognized Kibo, the proud engine man wearing his smart waistcoat; Djimon, who had lost his life in the diving bell; and the two tall Kenyan women, Reba and Philomena. The middle row was full of faces he recognized, some of whom he might yet see again. And in the front row, centre, the unmistakable duo, whose great friendship and resourcefulness had triumphed over the direst moments of their prehistoric adventure, crouched side by side, grinning joyously. Verity’s cropped red hair and beautiful face were indelible, her spirit insuperable. And Tangeni had proven his loyalty to her across two epochs.
On the left of the photograph hung a small portrait of Lord Garrett Embrey, the most impressive man Cecil had ever had the privilege of calling friend. Despite his youth, Embrey was already worthy of his father’s title and others higher still, for he represented all that was best about the English under pressure. Despite all that had transpired to kill his compassion, he had never lost sight of the meaning of family.
He was a man after Cecil’s heart. And they would meet again soon.
Let God stop it if He must.