All Clear

“You did last time,” Colin said, “and I had to rescue you, remember? What if that happens again?”

“It won’t.”

“Mr. Dunworthy?” Linna said from the console. “I have the coordinates if you’re ready.”

“Yes,” he said, and saw Colin dart a calculating glance at the draped folds of the net and the distance between it and where they were standing. “Thank you, Linna, but I need a few more minutes. Colin, on second thought, I believe you’re right about the torch. If I’m to get Polly out quickly, I can’t afford to sprain an ankle falling off a curb.”

“Good,” Colin said, holding the torch out to him.

“No, this one won’t work,” he said. “It’s too modern. And it needs to be fitted with a special blackout hood to eliminate the beam’s being seen from above. Go ask Props if they have one with a hood, and if they haven’t, then paste strips of black paper over the glass. Hurry.”

“Yes, sir,” Colin said, and dashed out.

“You have the coordinates ready?” Dunworthy asked Linna as soon as Colin was gone.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “We can do it as soon as Colin—”

He went over to the door and locked it. “Send me through.”

“But I thought—”

“The last thing I need is a seventeen-year-old tagging along while I’m trying to find a missing historian,” he said, walking over to the net and ducking under its already descending folds. “A seventeen-year-old who, as Badri can attest, has a history of stowing away on journeys to the past.” He centered himself on the grid.

“Ready,” he said to her.

“I think you should at least wait until we’ve set up the return drop,” Badri said. “If there’s increased slippage, and you go through later than—”

“You can set it up after you send me through. Now, Linna.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. She began typing, and he saw the beginnings of the shimmer.

“Don’t send anyone else through on assignment till I return. And if Polly comes back through to check in, keep her here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Colin’s not to be allowed anywhere near the net while I’m gone.”

The shimmer was beginning to grow and flare, obscuring Linna’s features. “He’s not to come through after me—or Polly—under any circumstances,” he said, but it was too late. The net was already opening.

Very well met and well come!

—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,

MEASURE FOR MEASURE

Bletchley—November 1940

TURING. OH, GOD. HE’D COLLIDED WITH ALAN TURING AND nearly got him killed. “That was Turing?” Mike asked, and grabbed for the wall, his legs suddenly unsteady.

“Oh, you are hurt!” Elspeth said. “Here, come inside and sit down. And you’re limping!”

“No, that’s not—” he began, but the girls were already helping him up the steps and inside.

“People like that should be forbidden from riding bicycles,” Mavis said indignantly. “Let me see your foot.”

“Did you say Turing?” Mike said. “Alan Turing?”

“Yes,” Elspeth said. “Do you know him?”

“No. I knew a guy named Turing in college. A math—”

“That’s him. They say he’s a genius at maths.”

“Well, I don’t care if he’s a genius or not,” Mavis said. “I intend to give him a piece of my mind!”

“No! Don’t say anything to him. I’m all right.”

“But he may have broken your foot—”

“No, he didn’t. It was shot off.”

Their eyes widened, and Elspeth, obviously impressed, said, “Were you at Dunkirk?”

“Yes. The point is, he didn’t hurt me. I was just shaken up for a minute. There’s no need to say anything to Mr. Turing. I was the one who wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“You were the one?” Mavis said indignantly. “Turing never pays the slightest attention to where he’s going. He simply plows through pedestrians.”

Elspeth nodded. “Someone needs to tell him he must be more careful! He could have injured you!”

And I could have injured him, Mike thought. Or killed him. If Turing had lost control of his bicycle and crashed into a lamppost instead of the curb, or into a brick wall …

Mavis said, “I’ve a good mind to tell Cap—”

“No. There’s no need to tell anybody. I’m fine. No harm done. Thank you for picking me up and dusting me off.” He picked up his bag, which Mavis had carried in.

“Oh, don’t go,” Elspeth said. “We want to hear about Dunkirk.” She perched on the arm of the couch. “Was it exciting? It must have been dangerous.”

“Not half as dangerous as this place,” he said.

Elspeth laughed, but not Mavis. She was looking curiously at him. “Why were you at Dunkirk? Aren’t you an American?”

Oh, Jesus, worse and worse. He hadn’t even been thinking what he was saying, he’d been so upset about nearly killing Turing, and now he’d just blown his cover.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“I knew it,” Mavis said smugly, and Elspeth added, “Oh, good, we adore Americans. But what were you doing at Dunkirk?”

You can’t say you’re a reporter. “A friend of mine had a boat. We thought we’d go over and see if we could lend a hand.”

“Oh, how thrilling!” Elspeth said. “You’ve no idea how exciting it is to meet someone who’s actually doing something important in the war.”

“You must stay to tea and tell us all about it,” Mavis said. “I’ll go put the kettle on.”

“No, don’t.” He stood up. “I’m sure you’re busy, and I’m interrupting—”