Final Hours (9 page)

Mac tapped furiously
on the screen.

“No—no, no, no—” He almost had them both in his grasp,
before he lost Kane completely, along with the ghost tag that was Elizabeth.
They just zapped out of existence. “Damn this free thinking technology—I’ll
find them.”

It was the middle of the night, and Mac couldn’t remember
when he’d slept last. He slurped more of his high-octane soda, set the mega
size go-cup on the floor, and slid his chair over to a secondary screen. Time
to do some free thinking of his own.

But before he buried himself deeper in code, he needed the
bathroom.

With a giant yawn, he wandered over to the main doors, and
pushed one open. He stopped when he heard voices in the hall.

Colette’s low voice had him smiling. It faded as he realized
who she was talking to.

“Damn it, Harper—this has gone too far. You said no one
would get hurt—”

“These are acceptable losses, Sergeant.”

Mac clenched both hands into fists. Harper’s slimy voice
always ignited violence. The man was a menace. If Doc hadn’t sanctioned his
smirking presence, Mac would have booted him a long time ago. He was still
tempted to—

Colette’s voice crashed into his thoughts.

“—think Guy will succeed?”

“We will have the answer to that soon. I must go.”

His designer shoes tapped on the floor. Headed straight for
Mac.

He ducked back inside the lab and grabbed the door before
the latch engaged. Harper’s slick backed profile appeared in the round window,
halted for heart stopping seconds, before he moved out of sight.

Mac sprinted back to the console, his need for the bathroom
gone. He just made it to the chair, hunched over the console, when he heard the
door open.

 “Hey, Mac.” Even though he expected it, the voice still
made him jump. He glanced up; Colette stood just inside the doorway, one hand
on the grip of her pistol. “A little late for portal jumps, isn’t it? I thought
we were on lockdown.”

“Colette. Hey.”

She let out a sigh. “Sergeant, Mac. At least while we’re
both on duty.”

“Got it.” He inched the chair over as he talked, until his
body blocked the smaller screen. “I’m tracking Kane. I don’t feel comfortable
leaving him alone out there, not with Guy jumping whenever the hell he feels
like it.”

He watched her closely for a reaction. Her lips tightened,
but that could have been her usual annoyance with him. If she whipped her
pistol out and shot him—well, then he’d know for sure she heard him in the
hall.

For now, he’d play stupid, good ole boy. At least until he
got more evidence. And, oh, he planned on following up, sniffing out Harper’s
real motives—as soon as he made sure Kane and Elizabeth were safe.

Colette wandered over to the platform. Like most people, she
seemed to be drawn to the portal, even when it was dormant. “Have you ever
wanted to,” she waved at the portal. “You know.”

Not even if they shoved a fiery brand up my—
“No. I’m
all tech, all the time.” He smiled, cursing silently. The longer she stayed in
the lab, the tighter his nerves wound as he waited for her to confront him. “If
you don’t mind, I’m working on some sensitive—calculations.”

“You can just tell me to get out, Mac.” The smile she gave
him lit up her face, and he blinked at how—pretty—she looked. So, no gut
shooting tonight. Not when she smiled at him like that. Man, he really needed
some sleep. Now he was lusting after the ball busting Security— “Hello, Earth
to Mac.”

“Here.” He rubbed his face. “I’ll be shuffling off myself in
a few.” Hours. “Go on, so I can finish here without creating an international
incident.”

“Gotcha.” She strode to the door, and paused before she
closed it. “Don’t lose Kane, Mac. He’s one of the good guys.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

Once the door closed behind her, he slumped against the
chair, his heart pounding faster than a jackrabbit. “Damn, that was close.”

Now that he was in the clear, his bladder couldn’t wait any
longer. He bolted across the lab, and straight to the men’s room around the
corner.

Once he relieved himself, he felt his energy surge. He had a
mission, and he refused to let Kane and Elizabeth down. “Come on, you free
thinking mother.” He slid into his chair, hunkered over the small screen. “Let
me in.”

Elizabeth pressed her
hands against the wall.

I will not panic.

She focused on Kane, hunched over the transport, cursing
under his breath every time his entry failed.

I refuse to panic.

The attack she expected didn’t come, even though they were
standing in London, on the worst-hit night of the months long Blitz. She should
have been a quivering mess. Instead, she felt incredibly focused.

A siren screamed through the night air. Kane’s head snapped
up.

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

“What the bloody hell is that?” He sounded like he already
knew.

“Air raid siren. They’re coming.” She clutched his sleeve.
“We have to find shelter. Now.”

“This building should—”

“It won’t.” She forced a calm into her voice she didn’t
feel. She had to make Kane understand. “Thousands of people were killed and
injured in this air raid. We have to get underground. As far as possible, as
fast as possible.”

Her urgency sank in. Kane lifted her off her feet and
carried her to the head of the street, set her down once they’d passed the
worst of the rubble. She scanned their surroundings for a landmark—not easy
with the city in blackout.

“Slow down,” she whispered. “Think. What was the most
prominent…”

She ran for open space as the answer hit her.

“Beth!” Kane caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “What
are you—”

“St. Paul’s.” She tugged free, surprising both of them with
her burst of strength. “Look for the dome of St. Paul’s.”

“There.” He pointed behind her. Elizabeth whirled, saw it.
The white dome glowed against the dark sky, the darker city.

She recognized the cityscape between, and relief flooded her.
“We’re close to Holborn, and an underground station.”

“Point the way.”

She did, running to keep up with him as he took off. “You
don’t know where the station is?” He shook his head. “Tell me you still have
underground stations.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you would hardly recognize my
London.”

He wrapped his left arm around her waist as they turned on
to a main street, and right into a crowd, every one of them headed to the same
place. Over the low, tense voices, Elizabeth heard the drone of plane engines.

She had seen too many films from this time period,
fascinated and moved by a nation of people who stood up against Hitler’s war
machine, and in the end, defeated him. An unfortunate side benefit of all that
watching—she knew the sounds of an air raid. Now she was living it, surrounded
by the live wire fear, and the dread of not knowing if they would survive the
night.

Kane pulled her in closer, reminded her she wasn’t facing it
alone. Not this time. He let go of her, then took her hand and twined their
fingers together. “Hold on tight. I don’t want to be losing you in this crowd.”

They stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the street, headed
toward the entry to Holborn station.

One plane appeared over their heads, followed by another,
until they filled the sky. The engines deafened her, drowning the screams of
the people around them. Kane shouted at her. She nodded, not hearing a word,
and ran faster. A young girl skidded to a halt right in front of her. Elizabeth
put out her hand, unable to avoid a collision.

She slammed into the girl and they went down. The impact
jerked Elizabeth out of Kane’s grip.

“My brother!”

Elizabeth only heard the girl because her ear was right next
to the girl’s mouth. She struggled to sit, and found the reason for the girl’s
abrupt action. A boy huddled on the street, clutching his leg. Blood soaked his
hands.

Elizabeth caught the girl’s shoulder, turned her. “Let me
look at him!”

She nodded. Tears streaked her face, her bottom lip
trembling. Elizabeth leaned over the boy and touched his arm to get his
attention.

“Beth!” Kane’s bellow startled both kids. “We have to get
inside!”

“Not without them!”

Kane lifted the boy and headed across the now empty street.
Elizabeth took the girl’s hand—and froze at the high pitched whistle.

“Kane!”

He whirled and ran toward a side street. Away from the sound
of a falling bomb. Elizabeth dragged the girl with her as she followed him. By
the time she caught up with Kane, he had the boy on his feet and flat against
the side of a building. He caught her outstretched hand and yanked them both
in, using his body as a shield.

“Kane—”

Strong hands shoved her against the wall. Right before an
explosion rent the air.

The concussion smacked the building. Brick and mortar shook
under her hands. She heard the walls closest to the blast topple, and tightened
her hold on the girl next to her.

Absolute silence filled the street, broken only by the bricks
tumbling from the devastated building. She let out a shocked cry as the air
sucked at them, tore at their clothes, threatened to drag them back to the
blast site. Kane braced himself and held on to them.

Finally, it let them go. Elizabeth sagged against the wall, touched
the girl’s arm. “Are you okay?” Her voice sounded muffled, her ears rang, and
she was probably shouting. The girl nodded, tears mixed with the dirt on her
face.

Kane lifted the boy into his arms. When he turned around,
Elizabeth saw the blood on his right sleeve. He had been closest to the end of
the building.

“You’re—”

“Later, Beth. I’m fine. Let’s get them inside.”

His voice was raw, but his arms strong as he carried the boy
into the station, not stopping until they reached the platform. The crowded
platform.

“There.” Elizabeth touched his arm, pointed to a spot near
the wall. “Let me clear the way.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “You do that, love.”

His endearment lodged her breath in her throat. Why did it
affect her so much more now? She pushed the question aside for later and eased
her way forward.

“Excuse me—please, excuse me.” Her polite murmurs got them
nowhere. So she took on the drill sergeant tone of her last foster parent. “Out
of the way! I have an injured child—give me some space, please!” The please
made her feel better for barking at them.

Her semi-rudeness worked. People cleared a spot directly in
front of her. Kane lowered the boy to the cold concrete. “My name is Kane, and
the lovely woman with your sister is Beth.” It was a guess, but most likely a
good one. They both had the same pale blonde hair, the same delicate build. “I
need you to let go of the wound, now.” His voice was gentle, his hand on the
boy’s wrist just as gentle. “I can’t be helping you until I can examine it,
lad.”

“Robin.” The girl knelt next to him. “Let him take a look.
I’m right here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Lindsay?” His tear-choked whisper tore at Elizabeth. “Where
are Mum and Dad?”

Lindsay brushed sweat soaked blonde hair off his forehead.
“I know they are here, somewhere. We simply got separated in the mad rush. Let
him look at you, Robin. Please.” Her voice cracked over the last word.

Unable to stand by and do nothing, Elizabeth knelt beside
Lindsay and laid one hand on her shoulder. She glanced up, tears blurring her
green eyes.

“That’s it, Robin, there’s a good lad.” They both looked
back down when Kane spoke. Robin lay on his back, fingers clutching the concrete.
“Beth.” Kane held out his hand. “I need you.”

She took his hand, fought back her own tears. No one had
ever said that to her.

“What can I do?”

“Hold his leg still.” He lowered his voice so only she could
hear his next words. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt him.” Elizabeth
understood why when she finally got a good look.

 A long piece of metal shrapnel stuck out of his left thigh.

It obviously hadn’t severed an important artery, or he would
have bled out by now, but it had to be excruciating. She nodded, trading places
with Kane so she could hold on to Robin’s ankle. Kane crouched next to Lindsay,
cradled the back of her head.

“Can you move to his right side for me, sweet girl? I need
you to hold tight to his shoulders, keep him from moving about.”

“Yes,” she whispered. Tears spilled down her face. Kane
wiped them away, his fingers so gentle on her cheeks. “Thank you for helping.”
She crawled around Robin’s head, knelt next to his shoulders and took his right
hand. “I’m right here, Robin. We’re going to take care of you.”

“Hurts,” he whimpered.

“I know, lovey. Kane is going to make it right.” She looked
up at him, sheer adoration in her eyes. Elizabeth hoped he could live up to it.

“All right.” Kane rested his hand on Robin’s knee. “Hold
tight to his shoulders now, Lindsay. Beth, keep your grip on his ankle. We’re
going to get this nasty bit of metal out of your leg, Robin. I’m sorry, lad,
but it’s going to hurt worse before it gets better.”

Kane let go, shook out his hands, took in a deep breath. Their
drama had an audience now. The people camped around them were silent as they
watched every move Kane made. Elizabeth sent up her own prayers.

 “Beth, there’s a handkerchief in my left coat pocket. Get
it out for me.” She did, watched Kane wrap it around his palm, then close his
fingers over the shrapnel. “Ready now, Robin?” The boy nodded once, closed his
eyes. “On the count of three, then. One, two, three—”

He yanked out the shrapnel. Robin screamed, hands scrabbling
for his leg. Elizabeth kept his leg pressed tight to the floor. Lindsay held on
to his shoulders and whispered to him, her voice soft against his ragged sobs.
Kane whipped off the handkerchief and pressed the cleanest part to the wound.

“Good lad. You’re a strong, brave one, Robin. That’s it,
hold still now. We’ll get this cleaned and bandaged and you will be as good as
new.” His low, quiet voice calmed the boy. “You can let go of him now, Lindsay.
You were perfect, and I want you to rest a bit while I take care of him.”

A hand touched Elizabeth’s wrist. “Here.” The woman behind
her held out a bucket, half full of water. “It is clean, boiled water I brought
myself. Go on, use it.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth took the bucket, set it next to Kane.

“Martha, where are those bandages?” A buxom woman pushed
through the onlookers, handed over what looked like a homemade first aid kit.
“Here you go. Take care of that boy, and shout for Bridget if you need anything
else.”

“Thank you, Bridget.” The older woman smiled. Elizabeth lowered
the kit to her lap, took out a rolled bandage, and created a pad for Kane to
clean the wound. “Here.”

He glanced over at her, took the wad of cloth. He looked
beyond exhausted.

“The wound will need stitches. Can you thread that needle
for me?”

“You know how to do this?”

He flashed her a tired smile. “Holdover from a misspent
youth.”

Elizabeth pulled off a length of heavy black thread, and lit
a match, running the tip of the needle through the flame to sterilize it. After
threading the needle, she handed it to Kane, and watched him stitch the wound.

He was efficient, gentle, careful, talking to Robin as he
worked. He explained every step to the boy before he did it. When he got a
trembling smile out of Robin, warmth flooded Elizabeth—and warning bells
started going off in her head.

She ignored them, handed Kane supplies as he needed.
Watching him with the boy showed her yet another side of this man she had
started to depend on. Dependence she couldn’t foster, not when she had to leave
him once this was over—

“Lindsay.” His voice jerked her out of her runaway thoughts.
“Can you come and take over for me, sweetheart? His leg will do for now. I’ll
check it again in a half hour, to be certain the bleeding has stopped.”

She crawled over, took Robin’s hand, her blonde hair
curtaining them as she whispered to him. Kane sat back on his heels, his left
hand braced against the concrete, his fingers shaking.

Elizabeth reached for him—and he grabbed her wrist. Sweat
slicked his skin, his face shock white under the dark beard stubble.

“It seems to be my turn for a bit of attention.”

“Where?” She had a feeling she already knew. He had not let
her see his right side since the bomb blast.

He shifted, and she finally got a good look.

“Oh, Kane.” Blood soaked his coat, most of it over his right
shoulder and his arm, where she imagined shrapnel from the explosion
concentrated. “I don’t want to do this—”

“In front of the children?” He flashed a smile. “Help me
stand, and we’ll take it to a dark corner.”

“Promises, promises.” She grabbed the makeshift first aid
kit and slipped under his left arm, glad the dim light hid her blush. She never
flirted or teased a man. It had always been so far outside her comfort zone she
didn’t bother trying.

It took a good bit of groaning from both sides, and it
wasn’t easy to do with the first aid kit in one hand, but Elizabeth got him to
his feet, and started looking for a place to tend him.

Bridget waved at her. “Bring him this way. Wait—I’ll make a
path for you.”

As good as her word, she did, using courtesy and smiles to
get people to shuffle closer together. Elizabeth followed her as voices whispered
comments on what Kane had done. He probably didn’t even realize how much an
effect his act had on these people.

“Sit him right down. I’ve got you, boy.” Bridget helped
Elizabeth settle him, and shooed her back. “Give me the kit, now. I’ll get him
sorted. You rest, my dear girl. Both of you have given enough for one night.
It’s time some of us gave back, in thanks. Martha, get the girl some soup.”

A metal cup was pressed into Elizabeth’s hand. The scent of
chicken soup made her mouth water; she couldn’t remember her last meal. The
soup consisted of broth, with no meat, and only a few chunks of vegetables.
Elizabeth sipped it, grateful and guilty. She was most likely drinking someone
else’s dinner.