Page 10 of After 5
“Marco has a similar one on his back,” I said.
“Are you injured?” Jake asked, suddenly aware he hadn’t considered my well-being.
“I’m fine. Not even a scratch.”
Someone spoke to Jake. He reached behind him and produced a head cover. Securing it on the unconscious brigand, he opened my door and allowed me to exit my vessel.
I stepped down off the platform and we watched the medics load Toches on a stretcher.
“That’s going to leave an ugly mark. The rock was the size of my fist and the kid had a slingshot that would make David envious and Goliath run for cover,” I said to one of the medics as she gave Toches a sedative.
The drug would keep Toches floating happily in la-la land for a few hours. Enough time to doctor his wound and secure him in a cell. He’d wake up with no idea where he was or how he’d arrived.
If Jake had to release him, Toches would receive another round of the magic cocktail, and one of the transporters would be summoned to deposit him in an undisclosed location.
A beefy security guy followed behind the stretcher as it was wheeled out of the hangar, in case the magic cocktail wasn’t enough to keep Toches down for the count. Marco walked with the medics, giving me a sour look as he exited the hangar.
“Where’s Marco going?” I asked Jake.
“I sent him to the infirmary to have his back examined. He insisted he was all right, but I ordered him to get checked out, anyway.”
Marco hated doctors, medicine, and people prodding him. I knew Jake would insist he see the doctor. Marco might say he was fine, but I imagined the welt on his back told a different story. Telling the boss he’d taken a hit explained Marco’s irritation at me. He’d pay me back later for being a tattletale.
“What was Toches doing in Salem?” Jake asked me after the entourage left the area, minus one expressionless security officer who loomed at the entrance.
“He wanted to see a witch burn,” I answered.
“They didn’t burn witches in Salem.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“You spoke to him?” Jake asked me, an undercurrent of irritation lacing the tone of his question.
“It was more of an interrogation.”
“That’s it?”
“As far as I could tell. He saved a woman accused of witchcraft, but there wasn’t any sign of a key, and I didn’t get any sensations of another traveler among the mob of angry peasants chasing us into the woods.”
Jake paused and arched an eyebrow at me. “Why were they chasing you?”
Oops. I wasn’t going to mention we were seen speaking with Toches in the tavern. “Guilt by association. A girl who couldn’t have been more than twelve accused Toecheese of being a witch, and she might have seen us together at the tavern.”
“Do I even need to ask why you were having a beer with a dangerous brigand?” Jake sighed.
“Um, convenience?” I bit my lower lip.Did I say we had a beer?
“I can’t hold him for saving the woman unless we can prove she’s a brigand. But I’ll have to confirm the changes, if any, he caused to the present.
Jake turned toward me. “Meet me in the blue room. You can debrief after our meeting. The other members of your team are already there.”
I saluted and received one of Jake’s dark-brown puppy-dog eye rolls. Over his shoulder, Marco’s Indy racecar reflected the fluorescent light. The beautiful car stretched catty-corner on the landing pad, its front end inches from the edge.
Each traveler landed on one of the pads directed in by the magnetic force. Jake and his men in black always stood toward the back wall in case the magnetic force failed and the vessel did a skid. This never happened, but it was good to take precautions.
I exited the hangar. The moon cycle began earlier in the countries to the east, allowing Jake to manage several teams in the same moon cycle.
There was a time when the British secret service controlled the travelers outside of the United States, but due to budget cuts or whatever, MI6 handed the reins off to the CIA.
