Time Snatchers (19 page)

I
land on my belly beside the bottom rung of the fire escape in back of Headquarters. It’s hot and humid, and it’s a good thing I’m lying down, because in my time-frozen, time-fogged state, there’s not much else I can do. My shoulder feels warm and then I realize that’s because it’s rubbing up against my knapsack that has the Xuande vase inside it. All around me is quiet.

I take lungfuls of the humid New Beijing air and feel the time freeze lifting.

My fingernail tells me that it’s only twenty minutes past eight in the morning, but it feels a lot later than that. When I take an unauthorized side trip during a mission, I always program my return to the present as if I didn’t take the side trip at all. That way my little excursions aren’t obvious to anyone checking my file.

After a few more minutes, I stand up and make my way to the front of Headquarters.

I start up the steps. Everything looks quiet. I have a sudden urge to turn back and start running. Or, in my present condition, shambling. It might be the cowardly thing to do, but I have no problem with that. What’s really stopping me is knowing that if I did make a break for it, it would be only a matter of time before Nassim found me and brought me back. No, whatever is waiting for me, I’m going to face it head-on. I step onto the elevator.

“Fourth floor, please, Phoebe.”

The wall screen comes on. Phoebe’s persona is dressed in army fatigues and is slithering on her belly across a muddy battlefield.

“You’re in big trouble,” she says.

“What do you mean?” I say, but already my stomach’s twisting into a knot.

“Frank’s been asking everyone if they’ve seen you. He’s furious with you about something, although he won’t say what. I haven’t seen him this angry in months.”

“Good,” I say. But my shaking voice is giving me away.

“Good?” repeats Phoebe. “Ice cream is good. Holo-flicks of space aliens getting zapped are good. But Frank being mad at you is Not Good. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

Not for the first time, I wish I had taken the stairs.

“The fourth floor, please,” I repeat.

“Show me what you brought me first,” she says. The screen changes, and Phoebe is decked out in a four-star general’s uniform. She’s standing in front of a large map of Europe and is moving some pins around.

I sigh, reach into my bag and pull out the porcelain tortoise.

“You got me a turtle? Are you saying that I’m slow?”

“Not at all,” I say. “Uncle says that the tortoise is a symbol of long life and happiness. And, besides, it’s not just a turtle. It has some writing on it, too. How rare is that?”

“Hmmm. Hold it up so I can read it,” she says.

I hold up the tortoise. Its off-white shell is covered in Chinese letters painted cobalt blue. Then I hear Phoebe recite:

For a blissful moment, it’s quiet on the elevator. Then I hear a long sigh.

“Now, that’s what makes getting up in the morning worthwhile,” says Phoebe. “You know, I’ve been thinking of trying my hand at this. That is, writing some verse for a special occasion. Hey, I’ve got it. I can compose something for your funeral.”

“My funeral?”

There’s a scratchy sound coming from Phoebe that might be her laughing.

“Frank’s really pissed at you, Caleb,” she says. “His word not mine. I wouldn’t rule out a little holiday time for you in the Barrens for this one.”

“What are you talking about?” I say. “It was my snatch. He had no business being there at all.”

“True,” says Phoebe. “But it’s all about spin, isn’t it? And, don’t take this personally, but when it comes to spinning things to Uncle in his favor, Frank’s got you beat six ways from Sunday. If something bad happens to you, can I have that neat little driftwood carving you’ve been working on?”

“What can a computer do with a wood carving?” I ask.

“I was thinking of hanging it in the elevator as a kind of conversation piece. When my riders ask me about it, I’ll say it was carved by a dear friend who tragically passed away before his time. Wait, maybe I won’t hang it. Maybe I’ll just sell it. They say art is worth a lot more after the artist kicks the bucket.”

“Very funny,” I say.

But I’m not laughing. I figure it’s going to be a long time before I laugh again.

Time to hand the vase in to Nassim.

As I enter the lounge, my eyes immediately zero in on Abbie, cozied up next to Frank on the sofa. From what I can tell, she’s enjoying his company, nodding at every gem that comes out of his mouth. He’s wearing a blue, gold, red and white Great Friendship T-shirt, with the sleeves cut off to show his muscles. I watch as Frank flashes one of his megawatt smiles at her. She throws her head back and laughs. Lovely.

He looks my way. First his eyes flick to the cloth bag under my arm and then lock on to me. There’s pure hatred in his stare. Lucky for me he knows as well as I do that Uncle has cameras all over this place and that if he tries to smash me or the vase, he’ll be in big trouble.

I glance away. So much for a quick hand-in. It looks like it’s been a busy morning and no one’s turned in any snatch objects yet. Which means I’ll have to wait my turn. Or I should say Abbie and I will have to wait our turn, since it was a team snatch.

Frank holds up his hands and announces, “Show and tell time, folks. Rat face, you’re on.”

He’s looking straight at Raoul when he says this. Raoul opens his mouth, no doubt to protest his new nickname, but wisely says nothing.

As Raoul unslings a bag from his shoulder, we all gather around.

Raoul is smiling, but I can see his hands shaking.

There’s a hush as he withdraws a large U-shaped object from the bag. But it’s quickly replaced by laughter from Frank and a smirk from Lydia.

“A toilet seat?” says Frank in between guffaws.

Raoul’s turning a shade of twentieth-century fire-truck red. “It belonged to the crown prince of Moravia,” he says with great dignity.

It has the opposite effect of course. Lydia snorts, and Frank doubles over with glee.

I glance over at Abbie. She’s still sitting next to Frank. It looks like their knees are touching.

Frank recovers just long enough to ask Raoul, “Hey, is the throne still warm?”

This draws gales of laughter from both girls.

Then Frank does something unbelievable. He reaches over and puts his arm around Abbie’s shoulder. But what’s even more unbelievable is that she doesn’t even flinch. She actually lets the thing stay there.

Just then the door to Nassim’s office slides open. The laughter stops.

“Caleb and Abbie, you’re first,” says Nassim’s voice from beyond the doorway.

I head toward the open door. Without looking, I sense Abbie making her way from across the room.

It’s pitch-black beyond the threshold. I gently place the cloth bag containing the Xuande vase down on the floor, assume a fighting stance and wait for the attack. A coordinated defense would be better, but for that, Abbie and I would need to be on speaking terms.

I’m two steps in now, concentrating on keeping my breathing regular.

Fifteen seconds pass. Thirty. Still nothing.

At the forty-second mark, I relax slightly. Big mistake. The whirlwind attack leaves me gasping for air and my right arm in an arm bar. The slightest shift, and it will snap like a twig.

“Eighteenth-century poison of choice. Seven letters.”

Normally, I’d hold out a bit longer, but the pressure on my arm is unbearable.

“Hemlock,” I cry out.

“Excellent!” cries Nassim, releasing me. He snaps his fingers and light fills the room, revealing a miniature stone bridge over a floor painting of a jade-green pond. A sculpture of a Mongol warrior in full battle gear toting a curved blade stands on a pedestal just inside the entrance.

You can definitely see Uncle’s touch in the redecorating.

Floating above everything is a red neon hologram of Uncle’s saying of the week: “Don’t dwell in the past. Steal from it.”

I massage my sore arm and watch as he whirls to face Abbie at the center of the small stone bridge.

Abbie’s opening move, a flying side kick, is flawlessly executed. Nassim blocks the kick and counters with an elbow strike, which Abbie blocks just in the nick of time.

“Goliath was one. Ten letters,” shouts Nassim.

“Philistine,” she yells without hesitation, unleashing a torrent of punches, all of which Nassim deflects, but not without some effort.

They move gracefully, trading kicks and jabs for a while but without any serious scoring on either side.

“Enough,” says Nassim finally, signaling a stop. “So what do you have for me today?”

Abbie looks at me for the first time. It’s clear from her eyes what she’s asking. She wants me to do the talking.

“Here it is, Nassim,” I say reaching into the cloth bag, “The Xuande vase.”

I can feel Abbie’s eyes still on me as I remove the vase. But I don’t look her way.

Nassim squints at it and says, “Are you certain this is the original?”

“What do you mean? Of course I’m certain.” But sweat is already starting to break out on my forehead.

“The reason I ask,” he says, “is that this is the second Xuande vase that’s been turned in today. Frank turned one in earlier.”

“Well, why don’t you just scan it?” asks Abbie. “You’ll know in a minute.”

Nassim looks at us for a moment and then says, “I have special instructions on this one. If there is any doubt, Uncle wants to handle any testing personally.”

I try to keep my expression neutral, but it’s so hard. What if this one isn’t the original either? What if I snatched my own replica or if Frank managed to get back there again? Impossible. This must be the original. But did I scan it? My mouth goes dry. All I can remember is that I was in a big rush to get out of there … so maybe I didn’t. But it shouldn’t matter. I snatched it the moment they opened the doors to the kiln after it had been fired. There’s no way Frank could have gotten there before me. Not this time.

“Fine,” I say. “Uncle will see that I’m right.”

I let out a long breath and turn to leave, but Nassim says, “Before you guys go, I have a few questions.”

Panic stabs me. I’ve got to stay calm. He’s just doing his job, that’s all. He’s not out to nail me.

He turns to Abbie and says, “How did the snatch go? Any complications?”

“Nassim, I gave—” I begin.

“I didn’t ask you, Caleb,” says Nassim, cutting me off. “Please allow Abbie to answer.”

“There was one complication,” she says.

“What was that?” Nassim asks.

I’m holding my breath and sweating big-time. A thousand thoughts roll around in my head. What if she tells Nassim that instead of focusing on the snatch I was spending time with Zach and his family? Or what if she says that she suspects that I messed around with history and tells him to check my file for any side trips to the past? Either of those what-ifs will force Nassim to go straight to Uncle. And then … well, best not to think about that part.

Abbie turns and faces me. I meet her glance, careful not to show any emotion.

“Well,” she begins. I hold my breath again. “Expo 67 was just so amazing that we didn’t want to leave!”

I exhale slowly and feel the relief flooding through me. She backed me up!

“Very well,” Nassim says. “We’re done here. You can go.”

We nod and leave Nassim’s office. As we pass through the lounge, I can feel Frank shooting daggers at me with his eyes, but I keep my glance straight ahead until we’re out of there.

“Thanks for backing me up in there,” I say.

“You’re welcome,” Abbie says. Her tone is polite and cautious, as if to say she’s just doing her job as my snatch partner, nothing more and nothing less.

“How did you manage it? The snatch, I mean,” she asks as we walk down the hall.

“It wasn’t easy,” is all I say. I want to tell her everything, but one thing is bothering me. It’s what Phoebe said about Abbie and Frank coming to see her.

She frowns at me. She knows I’m holding back. Thankfully, we
reach the door to the boys’ dorm before there’s time for any more awkward silence.

“Look, I’m really tired, so I think I’ll go rest for a while,” I say without looking at her.

“Okay. See you later, then,” she says. Her tone is flat.

“Yeah. See you.” I slip inside the dorm.

I have the dorm to myself. As soon as I flop down on my bunk, I realize I wasn’t lying when I said I was tired. Maybe I should take a nap. All I’ve got to do is close my eyes and—

A slamming door wakes me.

“I’m going to get you back, Caleb.” Frank’s voice cuts through the air like a blade.

“What?” I ask, groggily.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. The Xuande vase mission. You planted a replica, hoping that I would steal it. And I almost fell for it. Don’t think I’m going to let this one go easily. I never forget when someone crosses me.”

“And I never forget when someone poaches my snatches,” I say, fully awake now. It was probably the wrong thing to say, but with Frank there is no right thing to say. And what did he mean when he said that he “almost fell for it”? He did fall for it. He’s messing with my mind. I’ve got to stay calm and not let him get to me. He can say whatever he wants, but as soon as Uncle scans the vase, he’ll know that the original is the one I turned in.

“Is that so? Do you know what Abbie thinks about all of this?” he says, and the words burn me.

Frank doesn’t wait for my answer. “She says you’ve been distracted lately. That you messed up the snatch this morning.”

I can feel my cheeks burning.

“You don’t know anything!” I shout. So much for being calm. How much does he really know?

Frank laughs and heads out of the dorm. There’s really no reason for him to stay. After all, he’s accomplished what he came here for—making me very angry.