Jump City: Apprentice Page 19

  “The girl, Franny, save her…” he said unexpectedly.

  Fynn came over and stooped down. “The two men are returning,” he said quietly.

  I could see at least one of them creeping back by the garage, and I looked around frantically for Franny. I spotted her hiding over near a wood pile. She was crouched down, hunched up and shivering. I came upon her silently and slipped my hand around her mouth. By doing so I probably stopped her from jumping ten feet in the air. I felt sheer terror seize her body. She tensed with panic and then turned to see my face. I could feel her relax again.

  “I almost took a bite out of your hand,” she whispered as I shushed her again.

  “Come on, this way…” I said and helped her up.

  “It’s him,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “Kaiser.”

  “The killer?” I asked.

  “No, lying in the driveway. Two guys jumped us. He was trying to save me.”

  “Who jumped you?”

  “Couldn’t tell, they had ski masks.”

  “Did you find out who it was? The hero?”

  “No.”

  “See that driveway?” I pointed.

  Franny nodded.

  “Follow it to the road and run down the hill to the shopping plaza. It’s not that far. Call nine-one-one, or Jamal, or find Officer Mendez at the station.”

  “I don’t have a phone.”

  “Take mine. Now go, be safe. Quick.”

  I watched Franny tear up the driveway, slipping a few times on the snow. Once she was out of sight, I went back to Fynn. The two masked men had fled again, but now a single figure appeared in a large overcoat, backlit by the garage floodlight. I squinted. He stepped from the glare. It was Drummond for certain, but Drummond from twenty years ago. He stepped forward to greet us.

  * * *

  chapter thirteen

  double dip

  “I’m not who you think I am... I’m Desmond Lambert.”

  I tried to understand what he meant. This Lambert could have also been one of the twins, only twenty years older. “Drummond is your father?” I finally asked.

  “You might say that, though it’s not the word I’d use.”

  “What then?”

  “You’ve got me there, Mr Jardel,” he replied with a smirk and looked over at the inspector who was slowly rising to his feet. “And Mr Fynn, I think… I know both of you, and I know you two are not who you say you are. I’ve read about you in the sacred texts.”

  “The sacred texts?” I asked.

  “The journals at the ranch.”

  “You have us at a disadvantage, Mr Lambert. Should we be concerned for our safety?” Fynn spoke this time.

  “No, not by me. It’s Drummond you should be worried about. He’s a dangerous man. Best leave while you can. He’s liable to do you harm or worse…” Lambert looked around. “Where’s the girl?” he asked.

  “Which girl?”

  “The skinny one.”

  “She’s safe for the moment.” I eyed him suspiciously.

  “Good. You two should go. I can take care of Kaiser, here.”

  “You know Kaiser?”

  “Not really. He knows Douglas though.”

  “Are they working together?”

  “No, I wouldn’t say that. He’s an old family friend, always nice to me when I was growing up.”

  “Here, you mean… in Nederland?” Fynn asked.

  “Yup.”

  “And Drummond?”

  “He’s a dangerous man, like I said.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Over the next ridge there, Barker Road.” Lambert pointed, then came closer to the parked SUV. “Help me get Kaiser in the backseat…”

  Fynn and I immediately withdrew our support and took a step back. He looked at us perplexed. “What?” he asked.

  “The backseat?”

  “Oh— right… that’s not what I meant. I just thought he should be laying down and warm,” Lambert said. “Help me get him inside then.”

  The three of us carried Kaiser Wayne into his own house and lay him comfortably on a large sofa. Stale cigar smoke lingered inside. One wall was pretty much a giant window that probably had a spectacular view of the reservoir, though tonight not much could be seen except a few lights on the far mountains. Kaiser was still groggy from the gash on his forehead, but tried to speak: “He did this… these killings… I’ve been watching all these years…”

  “Who?”

  “Douglas.”

  “Why?”

  “To save his son…” Kaiser glanced over at Lambert who was pacing the room. “A guardian angel turned avenging angel.”

  “Have you been protecting him?”

  “No, of course not… just watching him. I didn’t know till you told me about the ice…”

  “Why did you call the ranch?”

  “What?”

  “Morris told us.”

  “Oh… I was looking for Drummond, on vacation.”

  “Why did you pick up Franny tonight?”

  “Protect her…” Kaiser sputtered. “Said she knew… He’d kill her otherwise…” Wayne slipped back towards unconsciousness. I found an old blanket and covered him.

  “It seems you owe us some sort of explanation, Mr Lambert,” Fynn said rather loudly.

  “Me?” He laughed. “I might say the same thing to you guys. I know you’re not quite who you say you are… and that there’s something weird going on. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re just like Drummond.”

  “In what way?” I asked.

  “You two are back-travelers.” Lambert stared at us.

  “And you are not?”

  “No…”

  “Please explain.”

  “Not sure where to start.” Lambert glanced at Fynn with some apprehension.

  “The fourteenth of February, nineteen seventy-three.”

  “What? Oh… yeah, that was me in the backseat. I was just a little kid… He came to save me but he didn’t need to. I was about to get out on my own.”

  “Douglas Drummond, you mean.”

  “He’s your father?” I asked again.

  “No… more like a brother, maybe. He’s my double.”

  “Your double?”

  “One of many.”

  “Your imaginary friend?”

  “Hell no, he’s real— kind of creepy too. From an early age, I always felt like he was following me around.”

  “And the others?”

  “What others?”

  “Toby and Travis. Are they doubles too?”

  “More like nephews, I guess,” Lambert said, then laughed, “Or typists.”

  “Typists?” I asked.

  “Drummond has them keying in the journals day and night.”

  “The resemblance is uncanny.”

  “Think so?” Lambert asked, not convinced.

  “They look just like you.”

  “Well, they shouldn’t— he had kids of his own— Douglas, I mean.”

  “And do they know how to travel as well?” Fynn asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are they really twins?”

  “No. They’re doubles too.” Lambert slipped into silence and then sank into a nearby chair. “It’s complicated.”

  “I’ll bet,” I muttered and sat opposite.

  “Perhaps you’d like to explain all this, Mr Lambert?” Fynn said rather gently and also sat nearby.

  “Not particularly.”

  “It’s not every day you get to speak with someone who is inclined to believe you.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it is,” Lambert laughed and leaned forward. “It all goes back to Drummond’s ranch… Texas, where I live, or where I’m a prisoner.”

  “A prisoner?”

  “That’s a little harsh, I guess.” Lambert fidgeted in his seat. “You might call me the curator there.”

  “Tell us about this ranch,” Fynn said. “What things do you curate?”

 
“The chronicles. All the journals of all the Drummonds who have travelled to the past.”

  “And how many would that be?”

  “Hundreds.”

  “How is this possible?”

  “Drummond has the hidden knowledge. He knows when to jump, and from where.”

  “Itero vitae, alterius vitae, novae vitae…”

  “Yes…” Lambert was dumfounded by Fynn’s words. “How can you know this?”

  “Such things are familiar to me.”

  “Well, not to me,” I interrupted.

  “A repeat life, an alternate life, a new life,” Fynn translated. “It appears Mr Drummond is a doubler.”

  “A what?”

  “An unusual kind of traveler. Surely you remember doppelgängers, Patrick?” Fynn nearly whispered, then turned back to face Lambert. “You were saying: where and when— why is this the hidden knowledge?”

  “It doesn’t work otherwise.”

  “Of course. Can you give us the particulars?”

  “I better not,” Lambert hesitated, seeming almost fearful. “Where do you two jump from?” he asked instead.

  I was about to speak but Fynn cut me short with a glance. “Ah… well, for us, things are a bit different. We travel by means of a special device.”

  “A device… the cane?” he asked excitedly.

  “No. But how do you come to know about a cane?”

  “I read about it in the journals… just rumors, like a myth… some guy, Professor Challenger… No— Professor Mallinger had a special cane.”

  “When was this?”

  “Nineteen thirties, I think.” Lambert paused. “But you’re from the future, right?”

  “Originally, yes. Though we can never return,” Fynn lied convincingly.

  “I heard tell there’s another place to jump, back east, a town called Fair Oaks.”

  “You know more than us then.” Fynn smiled. “But I must guess that you do your traveling from the ranch.”

  “Not me personally, but the others,” Lambert said. “There’s a tower on the property called Jacob’s Ladder. They climb to the top and jump off… and that’s when they just disappear into thin air.”

  “You’ve witnessed this yourself?”

  “Damn straight.” Lambert paused. “Doesn’t work every time though… Only once a year when the day is exactly right… the hour, the very minute… Heaven’s time, the divine moment… ”

  “You are meaning sidereal time?”

  Lambert repeated, “Sidereal time… I saw that mentioned in the journals too…”

  “Is Mr Drummond the very first to travel?”

  “No… well, who can be sure? But I’ve read the forbidden texts, the apocryphal journals.”

  “These suggest otherwise?”

  “Yup. This Drummond is the second coming. He’s already erased the future once, but he could not erase the past. Many had already escaped, and are hiding.”

  “I see…” Fynn said soothingly.

  “He calls himself the rule giver, this Drummond— but I read a journal from eighteen thirty-nine, Dominick Drummond, one of the first holy sevens.”

  “And what did he write?”

  “There is no voice of god, no sacred knowledge.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Well, that’s what he’d have us all believe.”

  “Douglas Drummond, you mean to say?” Fynn asked.

  “Yes.”

  “But what do you know about the first traveler?” Fynn persisted.

  “Very little. He did not follow the rules, the dictates, it is said.”

  “What rules?”

  “Itero vitae is forbidden now, but not always…”

  “And novae vitae?”

  “That’s every twenty-two years.”

  “Wait… what?” I asked.

  “A new life,” Fynn said. “Mr Drummond is able to create duplicates of himself by jumping to a time before he was born.”

  “How does that work?”

  “It’s like a hard jump to the past. He travels back and waits for a new Drummond to be born. A process that can be repeated almost indefinitely.” Fynn paused to give me a glance. “Though it seems that he can only jump twenty-two years at a time.”

  “That’s about right,” Lambert commented.

  “Traveler or not, you do understand your double is quite mad,” Fynn said. “I suspect he’s suffering from itero vitae.”

  “What?” Lambert seemed shocked by the idea; I was just as confused until I realized Fynn was talking about soft jumps, traveling back to a younger self.

  “There’s a very good chance he’s repeated this particular life innumerable times.”

  “My life you mean?”

  “It’s certainly possible, if he understands about itero vitae.”

  “But he’s killed everyone I’ve known.”

  “And what is your part in this?”

  “The murders? Absolutely nothing,” Lambert shot back.

  “Not the murders,” Inspector Fynn said, “the ranch.”

  “Oh, that… Well, when I turned twenty I got this letter saying that I had some kind of legacy, an inheritance… I was told to travel to the ranch in Uvalde to claim it.”

  “Did you?”

  “Of course… who wouldn’t?”

  “What happened?”

  “That’s when I first met Drummond, formally at least. He was around forty years old; thing is, he wasn’t alone. There was a whole bunch of them, all different ages.”

  “Doubles?”

  “Yeah. But at first, I thought he was plumb crazy. Kidnapped me and held me hostage at that ranch of his… Gradually though, I realized he wasn’t insane— not after a couple of barbecues.”

  “Barbecues?”

  “Family reunions. I saw it with my own eyes. They just jumped off the tower and disappeared into thin air.”

  “And you?”

  “All I got was a mouthful of dirt. I never disappeared, if that’s what you mean.”

  “But the others?”

  “They travel to the past… or they wander in from all over.”

  “Wander in?” Fynn asked.

  “Sure, they drag their sorry asses in through the front gate by the dozens. All different ages maybe, but all bedraggled and confused, and none of them pop in out of thin air.”

  “When is this?”

  “Once a year, in September. It all started in nineteen eighty-eight, when I turned twenty.”

  “And these journals?” Fynn asked.

  “One copy always remains in the present, and one they carry back with them to the past.”

  “Why?”

  “So they might know what’s to come.” Lambert hesitated. “There are some gaps of course, and it can take years and years for a journal to make it that far back.”

  “How far back?”

  “Eighteen thirty-six.”

  “Why then?”

  “The birth of Texas, I guess.”

  Fynn seemed to have heard enough and rose abruptly from his seat. “We must speak to your father now,” he declared and started towards the door.

  “I’ll come with you then. He wouldn’t dare hurt me…”

  A hound started a low howling nearby. We heard boots crunching in the snow. I ran to the window.

  Fynn turned to me. “Patrick?”

  “Visitors.”

  “We should hide Mr Wayne… Quickly now.”

  Fynn and I carried a barely-conscious Kaiser to the kitchen and then to a closed-off pantry. We gently deposited him on the floor with the caution to remain silent. There was a banging on the front door as we returned to the living room. It burst open and in came Douglas Drummond and his two sons, Toby and Travis, the Texas Twins. Their ski masks now rested on top of their heads. One of them held a crowbar.

  “Well, well, lookee here, it’s a regular old shindig,” Drummond said with a smirky smile. He was waving a gun as well.

  “Should I search ’em?” Toby or T
ravis asked.

  “Nah, if they had guns they would’ve used them by now.” Drummond turned to us. “I see you’ve met Desmond already. Hope he hasn’t talked your ear off.” He laughed a bit, then looked around the room. “What the tarnation did you tell them, Desmond?”

  “Nothing they didn’t already know.”

  “No harm done, I reckon…” Drummond smiled again. “Where’s the girl?”

  “Gone,” I said.

  “And Kaiser?”

  “With her.”

  “Toby, Travis, have a look around, will ya?” Drummond stared at me. “C’mon, Jardel, we saw you drag him inside… there’s no reason to lie to me.”

  I had no reply.

  “Both of you… you shouldn’t be here… y’all are dangerous men. That much, I can tell,” Drummond went on as he started to take off his heavy jacket. I noticed his belt buckle now, a uroboros slithering between two large D’s. “I don’t rightly know what you two caballeros are doing around here, but I don’t like it.” He glanced at us both as he sat on the sofa. “What, you think I don’t know who you are?” Drummond laughed. “I read all about you two hombres.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “In the journals. You’re both mentioned, and none too kindly, I might add.” Drummond paused. “I have it on good authority that you both did some considerable meddling back in the Depression.”

  “Did we? Who told you this?” Fynn asked.

  “The divine chronicle. Ha, and everybody knows Tractus Fynn.”

  “You mean, Mr Mortimer?”

  “Now, that’s a name I hear plenty of.” Drummond laughed again.

  “And I assume you are in his employ.”

  “Nah, wouldn’t go that far. Let’s just say we shared a history together. I kept tabs on things for him… Probably don’t remember yet, but y’all crossed paths once in that crazy library.”

  “You are the Texan?”

  “No sir, he was one of my brothers. Didn’t much care for you, Fynn.” Drummond’s expression changed markedly. “I do know you’re responsible for his murder.”