Time Snatchers (15 page)

“I don’t know, Zach,” Diane says. “He probably has to get back to his own family … but I suppose you could ask and see if he’s available.”

Zach lets go of his mother’s hand, takes a step toward me, glances at his Mickey Mouse wristwatch and says in a serious voice, “Caylid, are you ’vailable to eat birthday ice cream with me and my mom and my dad? I’m four years old, but I’m gonna be five in … how many minutes, Daddy?”

Jim takes Zach’s wrist and says, “Three minutes, Zach.”

“In three minutes,” Zach repeats.

“No, you’re not ’vailable, Mr. Hero,” comes the once-sweet voice of my snatch partner over my mindpatch. “Now, make like a banana and split! We’re already into our fifteen minutes of overtime. If we don’t do the snatch pronto, we’re both going to be in deep trouble with
you know who
.”

My mind is racing. Fifteen minutes of overtime. Three of those
minutes already used up. Subtract a couple of minutes to get to the Jade Café. Take off another five minutes for having a quick ice cream and then another two for the walk back. That leaves only three minutes to spare. But what if the ice cream doesn’t come in five minutes? Well, I can always give some excuse and hurry back here.

And what about the lights? I slip a hand into my pocket. The remote is still there, but it’s useless against the backup generator. I’d have to wait until the system is reset, and who knows how long that will take? Well, maybe I can just forget about the lights and do a quick smash and grab.

This is crazy. How can I even be thinking of going for ice cream? This is the most important mission of my career. Abbie is counting on me. And Uncle has already made it crystal clear that I’d better not fail.

Zach tilts his chin up toward me, waiting for my decision. I don’t even know him. He’s just another small boy at Expo 67 with his family, isn’t he? If I say no, he’ll be disappointed for maybe a minute, but at his age, he’ll probably forget all about me by tomorrow. So then why am I making such a big deal of this. Why can’t I just say no?

Jim and Diane are looking away, waiting for me to say something.

Zach sticks a hand in his pocket and pulls out his toy soldier. Then he lifts the hand holding the soldier as high as his almost-five-year-old arms will allow him, and with his eyes locked on mine, says in a grave voice, “My soldier is ordering you to come.”

Emotions swirl through me. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Images flash into my head: of the father in Beijing lifting his young son high in the air, of the smiling boy in London being pulled along the sidewalk and swung by his two sisters. Looking at Zach, I see more than just a four-year-old boy holding a toy soldier. I see
myself and all my hopes and dreams for a normal life as part of a normal family. I can’t say good-bye to him. Because if I do, I’m afraid—no, more than that, I’m terrified—that I’ll lose an important part of myself.

But what about Abbie and Uncle and …

What about me?

I raise my hand slowly, palms out and listen to myself say, “All right, soldier. I surrender.”

Then I switch to mindpatch and say to Abbie, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She doesn’t answer, which means she’s either turned off her patch or is very angry with me. Or both.

T
he Jade Café looks even more impressive from the inside. While I was waiting to get into the Republic of China Pavilion, I’d noticed the fancy shrubs, but now I can see that they’re actually carved in different animal shapes: tortoises, birds and even a bear.

“My most fav’rite flavor in the whole wide world is chocolate ice cream,” Zach announces as we sit down at our table. “And my other most fav’rite flavor in the whole wide world is strawberry ice cream.”

“You can only have one most favorite flavor, Zach,” says Jim.

“Daddy’s right,” says Diane, pulling a pack of crayons and some paper from her bag and setting them down in front of Zach. “Only one most favorite per customer. You’ve got to decide, sweetheart.”

“And butterscotch ice cream,” Zach adds, reaching for the crayons. Everyone laughs, including me.

It feels good to laugh. And there’s another feeling too. One that’s making me feel all warm and tingly inside. This one’s a bit harder to nail down. A kind of “rightness” is the best way I can describe it. Like I’m meant to be here at this moment. With Zach, Jim and Diane.

The place is packed. Lots of families with children. I wonder, do they think that I, Caleb, time thief slash orphan, am Zach’s older brother, maybe? Just a normal person who is part of a normal family?

“Where’s
your
mom and daddy?” Zach says, bursting the bubble of my fantasy.

“They are … not here,” I say, realizing as soon as I’ve said it how dumb that must sound. I half expect to hear Abbie chime in with “Good one,
O Master of the Obvious
.” But my neural receptor stays silent. There’s only seven minutes of overtime left. I should really get going. But the thing is, I don’t want to go yet.

“Why not?” Zach says, reaching for a blue crayon and drawing a large circle. “Don’t they like it here?”

I glance across at Jim and Diane. They’re both rolling their eyes apologetically, but I can tell they’re also waiting for my answer.

Just then, the waiter arrives with our ice cream. I swirl a big spoonful of vanilla around in my mouth. By the time I swallow, I’ve already thought up a great story of how it is that I’m here without my parents. It goes something like this: my dad is a top heart surgeon and couldn’t come because the Belgian ambassador had a sudden heart attack while on a state visit to Washington, and my dad was flown in Air Force One to attend to him. And my mother, well, she couldn’t come because she’s in the High Arctic teaching children to read, and she couldn’t get a flight because the airport’s closed due to bad weather. But they both thought it was a good idea if I came to Expo 67 anyway, so here I am.

But amazingly, when I open my mouth, the lie doesn’t come out.

Instead I say, “I don’t live with my parents, Zach. I live with … my uncle.”

“Uncle who?” Zach looks up at me, modeling his new chocolate ice cream mustache. “I have Uncle John and Uncle Tim. And I also have Auntie Mary and Aunt Lois, but they’re not uncles, they’re aunties.”

I laugh and say, “He’s just Uncle. He doesn’t have another name.”

Zach scrunches his eyebrows and draws two figures with a brown crayon. “Is he nice?”

I don’t say anything.

“I’m sure he’s nice,” Jim answers for me. “C’mon, Zach. Finish up. It’s almost time to go.”

Zach looks right at me and says, “My uncles are nice. Uh-oh. There’s no green.” He spills all of the crayons onto the table. “What color should I make the grass?”

I look over the color choices. “How about purple?”

Abbie’s voice breaks in over my patch. “If you’re not here in one minute, I’m gone.” Her flat tone tells me that she’s beyond angry. I stand up quickly.

“Uh … thanks for the ice cream,” I say. “I’ve got to go now.”

Zach springs up from his chair, wraps his arms around me and squeezes hard. “Mom, can Caylid come with us tonight to that La Road place where they have all the rides? I’m gonna go on the pyramid ride and then on the big water coaster for my birthday.”

“It’s La Ronde, Zach. Not La Road,” Diane corrects him. “I’m sure Caleb would love to come, sweetie, but he probably has other plans.”

Zach releases me from the hug and says, “C’mon, Caylid. I’m five now. I can go with you on the water coaster. Right, Daddy?”

“I … uh … well, I don’t think I’ve got other plans,” I say. “I mean, I’ll try to see if I can come, but Uncle, he might want me back …”

Jim smiles at me and shrugs. “If you can make it, we’d all love to see you. Do you know La Ronde? There’s a ride there called the Gyrotron. You can’t miss it. Just look for two pyramids. We’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Okay,” I say.

I hurry toward the café’s exit. At the same time, I try reaching Abbie over my mindpatch. No answer.

Where is she? Maybe she already left 1967. But would she really have left when there are still … I glance at my fingernail again—only
two minutes of overtime left! I feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead. There’s no way I can do the snatch in two minutes. But I’ve got to try.

I sprint to the front of the pavilion, pushing people out of my way as I run. Taking the escalator steps two at a time, I arrive at the snatch zone, breathless.

Thirty seconds to go.

There’s a small crowd gathered around the exhibit. But Abbie isn’t one of them.

If I had more time, I’d create the perfect distraction. Maybe a little fire with some nice, thick smoke.

Too bad I don’t have more time.

I push through the crowd until I’m standing right in front of the glass case. Next, I grab my knife, cut a strip off my shirt, curl my fingers in a fist around it so that a quarter inch of handle is sticking out, and wrap the strip of cloth around my fist.

“Kiaaaaaah!” I cry as I smash the glass case.

I’m guessing that the reason why none of the thirty or so people watching have tackled me yet is because they’re too stunned to act. That’s fine by me. In fact, it’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Of course, you can’t expect stunned to last forever. I figure I have about five seconds max before it gives way to angry.

Still, you can do a lot in five seconds.

I pull the Xuande vase from the shattered case. For a split second, I think of putting the replica inside the case, but what’s the point of that? Everyone here has already seen me snatching the original.

At least, I’m hoping it’s the original. With everything going on lately between me and Frank, I can’t be sure of anything. I glance around. The crowd is still mostly passive, but there are a few guys who look like they’re ready to take me on. I’ve got to do this quickly.

I run my fingertips lightly over the vase, comparing it against the specs in my mission briefing notes. Two seconds later, I’ve got the results of the scan.

It’s a fake!

I can’t believe it! No, I can believe it. Frank has done it to me again. But I’m not going to let him get away with it. Not this time.

Uncle’s words echo through my brain: “It left China onboard a ship piloted by the famous admiral Zheng on May 10, 1431 … upon arrival in the Ottoman Empire, the vase was regifted to Sultan Murad II. After that, the trail goes dead until 1967 …” The ship voyage! That’s where Frank must have done the switch!

A hand grabs my arm, and as I shake free, the vase falls to the ground, shattering. I’ve got to get out of here right now!

I tap away at my wrist. I really shouldn’t leap from here. There are easily over fifty people who will see me. But I’m in survival mode.

Just then, I hear a familiar voice.

“Move in a bit closer and crouch down, hon, so that I can get you and the smashed vase in the same shot,” says Sidney Halpern, aiming his Rolleiflex. “Now, hold still …”

He takes the shot, and as the flash goes off I can feel my body begin to fade.

The last words I hear before I leave the twentieth century are Louise’s: “If you say ‘hold still’ one more time, Sidney Halpern, I’m going to smash
you
.”

I
’m gasping for air. The wind’s been knocked out of me. My knapsack lies half open a foot away, the top of the replica Xuande vase poking out. I turn over onto my back. Patches of blue and white. Clouds? I blink and look again. No, not clouds. Sails. Six glorious, massive sails, billowing in the wind.

I’ve got to hand it to Uncle. He sure knows how to make a time travel device. I mean it’s no small feat to land hundreds of years in the past on the deck of a sailing ship at sea. One small slip in either time or space, and I’d be floundering around in some very cold water.

Too bad Abbie isn’t here with me. On second thought, she probably wouldn’t be all that impressed with anything I do. After all, I’m not Frank.