Ashes of Time (The After Cilmeri Series) Read online

  “It’s a huge relief to think that it might take some time for the government to find us,” Mom said. “I feel sorry for the poor schmuck on duty if he realizes that something has happened and has to call his superior away from his Thanksgiving dinner.”

  Callum let out a mocking snort. “I was that schmuck once. It isn’t fun. Maybe he’ll take a few minutes to work up his courage.”

  “It’s been a few minutes,” Mom said. “We’ve talked about best case scenarios. What’s the worst?”

  Everyone looked at Callum, who chewed on his lower lip. But it was Art who answered, “They see you’re here, a call is made, then more calls. The closest FBI field office is in Portland. Three hours away.”

  “It wouldn’t be the FBI,” Callum said. “Homeland Security, maybe.”

  “Salem, then,” Art said. “A little farther.”

  Nobody asked him how he knew that, and Art didn’t say. Cassie seemed to take it for granted that he’d have that knowledge at his fingertips.

  “What about local cops?” Mom said.

  Art pursed his lips. “Pendleton police, tribal police, county sheriff, and state patrol.”

  “Without knowing who of you has come through, they would have no alert to send out,” Callum said. “They’d have to send someone to the site, and then track you back.”

  “I don’t see that happening tonight,” Cassie said.

  Art pulled into a driveway and stopped the truck. Anna hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going, but everyone got out of the truck, so she did too. They followed Art across the porch to the front door of the house. It was a small two-story. Their arrival included the return of Cassie’s uncles and cousins, who’d intended to search for Mom and Anna and had followed them back, so now the house was full to bursting.

  “What if it did?” Anna whispered the words to Cassie.

  She bit her lip. “I hope I didn’t speak too soon.”

  The turkey had come out of the oven only three minutes before, and the house was full of delicious smells. Anna was curious to taste modern food again, with all its chemicals and additives. Would it taste bad to her? As it turned out, however, Cassie’s family did things the old fashioned way, and the table in the kitchen was loaded with unprocessed food not that different from what they’d been serving at Rhuddlan earlier that day, except that instead of roast pork and chicken, they were eating turkey and a bunch of other New World foods not available in Wales in the Middle Ages.

  Five minutes later, Anna found herself with a loaded plate, sitting on a couch in the living room between Cassie and one of her eighteen-year-old male cousins. “So,” the boy said through enormous bites of food he wasn’t bothering to chew before swallowing, “how do you know Cassie?”

  Anna glanced at Cassie. From their conversation in the truck, Anna had understood that Cassie had told something of her story to her relations, but obviously not to this one or not the whole story. Admittedly, the whole story was pretty far-fetched.

  “I met Anna and Meg while I was away,” Cassie said between her own bites of food.

  “In Scotland?” he said.

  “Right,” Cassie said.

  Fortunately, before he could ask any more questions, Cassie’s grandfather approached, and the boy stood up so Art could sit down. Art began to eat with utter focus, chewing each bite thoroughly. Nobody said anything. Anna thought about repeating a phrase her mother would sometimes say when David brought his friends home: all’s quiet while the beasts feed, but she didn’t know that everyone would get it and didn’t want anyone—especially Art—to take offense.

  Fortunately, before Anna could put her foot in her mouth, Art said, “You’ll be leaving us, then, Granddaughter?”

  Cassie looked over at her grandfather across Anna, who shrank back on the couch, wishing she wasn’t between them. She felt like she was eavesdropping on a conversation that should be private.

  “Callum and I haven’t talked about it yet, but he’s worried about someone finding Anna and Meg. It’ll be tonight or first thing in the morning that we’ll go.”

  “When you do go, you can take my truck, but I didn’t mean that,” Art said. “I meant leaving.”

  Cassie didn’t answer for a second, and then she ducked her head in a nod. “I have to. I think we have to.”

  Art nodded. “I will miss you.”

  A buzz from Callum’s phone interrupted whatever else Art might have been going to say. Anna was glad, because she had been feeling more than a little uncomfortable witnessing that exchange. Clearly Cassie loved her grandfather, and in a way it was Anna’s fault—and Mom’s fault—that they would be separated again. Because if Cassie and Callum were returning to the Middle Ages, the only way they were getting there was to hitch a ride with Mom and Anna.

  It wasn’t Anna’s fault, however, that they wanted to go.

  Callum had just sat down in a straight-back chair set kitty corner to the couch, but he stood without having taken a bite, his plate in his hand. He checked the screen and then put the phone to his ear. “Callum.”

  Cassie and Anna kept their eyes fixed on his face. As Callum listened without speaking, the muscles around his eyes and mouth tightened. The phone call wasn’t going well. In anticipation of immediate action, Anna split a roll in half and filled it with some of the turkey and cranberry sauce from her plate. As she was working, Mom entered the room. Seeing Callum on his phone, and Anna making a sandwich, she set her plate down on the coffee table and stood looking at him, her hands on her hips.

  Callum said, “Do we have any leads?”

  Anna glanced at Cassie, who leaned in to her. “This must be about the explosion, not you.”

  Callum hung up. Cassie’s whisper had caused Anna to miss the rest of Callum’s conversation.

  “We should go.” Callum looked at Art. “Any chance of finding Meg and Anna a change of clothes before we leave?”

  Art stood and disappeared through the door that led to the kitchen, which Anna took to be a ‘yes’ or at the very least a ‘maybe’. Callum tipped his head towards the hallway that led to the bathroom and bedrooms. If nothing else, Anna was determined to use the toilet before they left.

  “Who was that?” Cassie said as the four companions formed a huddle, their heads together.

  “That was Dave Smith,” Callum said, and then added for Mom’s and Anna’s benefit, “Smith works for the Permanent Secretary of the Home Office, who has overseen MI-5 for many years. Since September, I have reported to him. Before that, as I said earlier, the Project was independent, subject to the oversight of the Prime Minister himself.”

  “September was when they started reeling us in,” Cassie said.

  Callum held up his phone. “First things first: the Home Office wants us to go dark until they can confirm what might have been stolen from GCHQ before the bombing and how catastrophic the loss of intelligence is.” Callum turned to Anna and Mom. “GCHQ was an information gathering agency like your NSA. All of our assets and resources may have been compromised, including our mobile numbers, IDs, and personal information.” He swiftly dismantled his phone by removing the back cover, the SIM card, and the battery. He nodded at Cassie. “You need to take yours apart too.”

  Cassie pulled her phone from her pocket. She hesitated for a second and then took the plunge, taking off the back as Callum had. “I feel naked without it.”

  Callum smirked.

  “What about us? Does MI-5 know we’re here?” Mom said.

  “Not that Smith said to me, and you would think he would have done if he had known the flash had taken place twenty miles from here,” Callum said.

  “You are trusted,” Cassie said. “Smith would have said something.”

  Callum glanced at her and then continued, “I’m sure of nothing at this point.”

  “So the call was only about the bombing?” Anna said.

  Callum nodded. “It was a call I’ve been waiting for since I spoke with Jones earlier about your arrival. MI-
5 is recalling me to help manage the aftermath. I am to make my way as soon as possible to the consulate in San Francisco, which will arrange for a plane to take us home.”

  “Take you home, you mean,” Mom said.

  “How bad is it?” Cassie said. “Did Dave give you the number of casualties?”

  “Not precisely.” Callum checked his watch. “It’s been only two hours since it happened, if that. It’s still burning. At least a hundred were known to be in the building.”

  “Even this late at night?” Mom said.

  “These are technical people mostly,” Callum said. “They don’t sleep at night, and even if they did, GCHQ was manned around the clock.”

  “What about getting in touch with Mark?” Cassie said.

  “He texted me right before the call from Smith came in. He’s picked up some chatter,” Callum said.

  “What kind of chatter?” Mom said.

  “I assume David told you about his abduction from MI-5 two years ago?” Callum said.

  “As much as he knew, which wasn’t much,” Mom said.

  “It was accomplished by a private security company—the Dunland Group,” Callum said. “Since the start of the Iraq war back in ‘03, it was the top bidder on dozens of military contracts all over the world, particularly for the British government.”

  Cassie nodded. “The company was discredited in the UK because of the fallout from what happened with David, but they’ve rebranded and continued to win contracts in other countries, including the United States. The CIA promised us a different outcome, but it didn’t happen. The company is now called CMI—Conflict Management Industries—and it’s like they hardly skipped a beat. They’re bigger than ever.”

  “So … they might be after us?” Mom said, looking from Cassie to Callum and asking the question in a more calm way than Anna would have. What MI-5 had done in the last two instances of time travel was bad enough, but the Dunland Group hadn’t had MI-5’s restraint. Which was saying something.

  “We have a source inside CMI, and he reports that the head office lit up like a beacon starting at 4:30 this afternoon, moments after you arrived,” Callum said. “Admittedly, it could have something to do with the bombing. The two events happened very close together.”

  “Why do we have to do this over and over again?” Mom said. “It’s the same every time.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t have to be,” Anna said.

  “What do you mean?” Mom said.

  “I know that two years ago MI-5 agents sold David to the Dunland Group, but most of the time the people chasing him or you—the vast majority, in fact—were just doing their jobs. Like Callum was doing his when he organized the hunt for you and Papa. These aren’t bad people. There’s no good guys and bad guys here. Just guys.”

  Callum rubbed his chin. “It is kind of you to suggest that MI-5 would do the right thing if it had the whole picture.”

  “It did have the whole picture,” Anna said. “Your office is proof of that, even if the new Prime Minister has lost his nerve.”

  Mom nodded. “Callum was in charge of all of this, and even if it’s fallen apart now, it indicates that some of these people want to do the right thing.”

  “It’s a nice thought, but we can’t take the time to explain it to Director Tate,” Callum said. “If he refused to listen to reason, the consequences would be too severe.”

  Anna let out a breath, trying to put aside her disappointment. She’d had a hope there for a second that reasonable people could find reasonable solutions, but maybe she was too used to dealing with David and Papa.

  “Why would CMI still be pursuing us if your government isn’t?” Mom said to Callum.

  “Their priorities and pressures are not the same,” he said.

  “You may be right about individual choices,” Cassie said, “but everything else has become about money. The Middle Ages has plenty of corruption, I know, but in this century it has only gotten worse.”

  “We could go home,” Mom said. “Stop this before it starts.”

  Anna started to say, “We can’t—” but Cassie looked at Callum and said, “The whole crash-the-car thing could work just as well in my grandfather’s truck as in any other vehicle.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” Callum said.

  “We won’t know until we try,” she said.

  “We need to think hard about the how and the why before we throw ourselves over a cliff,” Callum said. “We have to be sure.”

  “We can’t ever be sure,” Cassie said. “You know that.”

  “But we can minimize the risk,” Callum said.

  “Like Meg did at Chepstow when she jumped with Goronwy and Llywelyn?” Cassie said.

  “Exactly,” Callum said.

  Cassie rubbed the back of her neck, and Callum tapped on his lip with one finger. He knew more than Anna did about the danger they were in, and if they needed to go back to medieval Wales now, she would go. But she had David’s vision in her head too. It wasn’t just his. It belonged to all of them. Anna decided to say it:

  “I know you want to get home, Mom, and you want me safe. I want to be safe. We’ve all had enough danger for one day, and it would be great to make it home almost in time to finish that meal and to put my boys in bed. But we can’t. David’s agenda is too important.”

  “Agenda?” Callum said.

  Anna pulled out the list and handed it to him. “We don’t want to waste this trip if we can possibly help it.”

  Callum unfolded the paper. While he read it, Mom said, “If we don’t try to return right away, where should we go and what should we do? I don’t think it’s safe to stay here.”

  “It isn’t.” Callum spoke absently, still studying the list. “We have to assume the worst, not the best.” He looked up. “We shouldn’t put Cassie’s family in the crosshairs of either the government or its subsidiaries more than they are right now by association with us.”

  “Are they in real danger?” Anna said.

  Cassie’s brow furrowed. “Not for their lives.” She shot a quick glance at Callum. “Not that, but they might find themselves answering uncomfortable questions—and with the anti-terrorism statutes, those questions could get quite uncomfortable indeed.”

  “So we go.” Anna didn’t feel up to asking about anti-terrorism statutes.

  “I don’t disagree. But I repeat: go where?” Mom said.

  “You need glasses, Mom,” Anna said.

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s the least of our worries.”

  Cassie looked at Mom. “How bad are your eyes, Meg?”

  “It’s nothing—”

  “She can’t see anything anymore unless it’s five feet in front of her,” Anna said. “Or maybe three. She needs those progressive things, which we don’t have the technology to make back at home.”

  Callum looked up from the list. “Strangely, I’m thinking that this time around you’d be safer in the UK than here. If we can get you there, we can find ourselves a nice castle with a moat to fall off of.”

  Anna laughed.

  “Anna and I don’t have passports,” Mom said, ever practical.

  “We can get them out on a diplomatic visa, can’t we?” Cassie said to Callum.

  He rubbed his chin.

  “You’ve had an idea, I can see it,” Cassie said.

  “There’s no reason not to bring the rest of you on the plane to Cardiff too. Until then, we’ll stay out of contact with anyone from our government or yours,” Callum said.

  “Not even Mark?” Cassie said.

  Callum held up one finger. “With the exception of Jones.”

  “How are you going to work that?” Anna said.

  “He and I have a backup plan,” Callum said, “saved for just this type of occasion.”

  Cassie made a ‘hm’ sound and fluttered her eyelashes for a second. She looked pleased. “As do we.”

  Callum nodded. “We may get to that.”

  Anna didn’t know what they were talking about
and guessed that she wasn’t meant to. And least not yet.

  “I’m impressed. You’re going to pull us in under the radar,” Mom said. “The bombing is the perfect excuse. Nobody is going to question you as long as you look serious and make noise about national security.”

  Callum canted his head. “Exactly.” And then he added, “It helps that I am serious about national security.”

  Then his attention was caught by something behind Anna. She turned to see Art coming down the hall, followed by one of Cassie’s aunts, who held a stack of clothing in her arms.

  “We guessed your sizes as best we could.” She held the pile out to Anna, who took it.

  “Thank you.”

  Cassie’s aunt turned away without another word. Art made a small movement with his mouth that might have been an apologetic smile. “She’s worried that you have brought down trouble on the family.”

  “I don’t think we have,” Callum said, “especially if we leave within the hour. Only Jones knows we’re here, and he’s scrubbing any trace of our conversation as we speak.”

  “Good.” Art gestured to the bathroom. “Use whatever you need.”

  “Thank you,” Anna said again.

  But Mom stepped forward and dipped her head. Anna had honestly never seen her do that, since nobody in the Middle Ages held a rank higher than hers except possibly her son, and he didn’t count.

  “We really appreciate your help,” Mom said to Art. “I’m sorry for whatever inconvenience we’ve caused you or your family.”

  Art looked back at her, his face impassive. And then he said. “You are family to Cassie.” As if that made all the difference. To him, it seemed it did.

  Mom and Anna crowded into the bathroom, which was long and narrow, wallpapered in shades of brown and yellow, a fashion that predated Anna’s birth. Art and his sister weren’t wealthy by any means, which only made it more generous of them that they were sharing what they had.

  “Do I have time for a two-minute shower?” Anna said.

  Mom nodded, and Anna turned on the water, stripping down while she waited for it to warm up. The sight of water pouring from the showerhead had tears pricking at the corners of Anna’s eyes. It was silly of her to have missed showers enough to cry over them. Though, after a moment’s contemplation, Anna could see that she wasn’t crying about the shower as much as feeling overwhelmed by their circumstances.