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A fter we were dismissed from the meeting, I cornered Jake while he was logging out of his computer. “I’d like to speak with Toecheese.”

Jake paused. “I can’t hold him much longer. I’m going over to question him, now. You can watch from the two-way mirror in the interrogation room.”

“No. I want to talk to him alone, in his cell. He knows others will be watching, listening, in the interrogation room. I want to speak to him in private. Since I saved his life, he might give me a clue to the Mafusos’ plans.”

“Jen, it’s not safe.”

“He’s in a padded cell. How dangerous could he be? I can protect myself from him. Besides, he won’t have anything but his hands, and you can cuff him if you think it’s necessary.”

“OK, but I’m securing his hands and feet, and I’ll watch through the window.”

“Hands only, and you won’t watch.”

Jake sighed. “Why is everything a battle with you?”

I shrugged.

“Hands and feet, I won’t watch, but you’ll tell me everything.”

“Deal,” I held out my hand to seal the deal, and he ignored it. Instead, he made a call to alert the guards on duty of my impending visit.

I turned to leave, and he grabbed my wrist.

“Don’t think that because you saved his life, he’s indebted to you. Keep your distance, he’s still dangerous.”

“I will,” I said.

He released my wrist, stood and picked up his laptop. “And after you speak to him, I need to debrief you. Meet me in my office. General Potts is in with Marco now, so you get me.”

General Potts wasn’t always on base, but when he was, he demanded to debrief the defenders. He liked receiving his intel from the horse’s mouth. He’d embellish the details and report to Washington. It was fine by me, because the snooty secretary who followed Jake around like a lost puppy had to serve the general’s needs when he was on base.

Jake and I parted ways. I turned left toward the stark white area used to detain the prisoners. The WTF annexed holding cells from Gitmo for the captured brigands. They couldn’t be combined with the prisoners at Gitmo for fear they would figure out the location.

If we were lucky enough to force them to remove their keys, they were given a nice, comfy, padded cell, but not much human contact. Currently, all cells were empty except the one occupied by Toches and the one containing the Cracky brother.

The WTF normally exchanged the brigands for something important, like the crown jewels, but so far, we haven’t caught anyone important enough to exchange for Caiyan’s key. I assumed the WTF was trying to barter Toches for the key. I doubted Gian-Carlo would bite. He didn’t like Toches for reasons beyond my paygrade.

If he knew I’d rescued Toches, he’d know we didn’t have probable cause to hold him. Giving up a valuable possession like Caiyan’s key would be in vain, and Jake knew he didn’t have much time until the Mafusos would demand his release. The shifty brigand would be free in a matter of days.

I peeked through the tiny, round window. Toches stretched out along the bunk in his cell. A taller man would have to bend at the knees to fit on the bed. His wrists and ankles were cuffed like Jake promised.

Toches in present day clothing appeared different from the man I dealt with in my travels. Gone were his scraggy locks from Salem, and in their place were a tidy beard, dark hair, and beady eyes that stared at the cracked plaster ceiling. He reminded me of the Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, from the first Hunger Games Movie.

Since I didn’t apprehend Toches, he retained the key he wore, and he wasn’t shy about hiding it.

I motioned for the officer to open the door. According to Jake, the staff wasn’t in the loop. They rotated every twenty-four hours, so having a new guest was not always a concern for them.

When I entered, the chains clanged as Toches sat up and swung his legs around to sit on the side of the bed. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and interlocked his fingers.

“I wondered who was coming to call after they shackled me like a terrorist.”

His forehead sported a large bandage. I leaned against the wall opposite him. The holding cell was small in comparison to the living arrangements of the normal Gitmo prisoners. The WTF worried a brigand might summon a vessel, so they safeguarded by providing tight quarters, making it impossible to call for a ride home.

In the past, a brigand had his key until the WTF could torture it off. Proper torture took time and planning. Since the WTF discovered I had the ability to remove keys, the torture took a back seat, but we still took care when snatching keys to avoid the repercussions from the brigand’s posse.

“How’s your head?” I asked Toches.

“Hurts like a son of a bitch. But they gave me good drugs. I imagine it would hurt ten times worse if I didn’t take the meds.”

I nodded.

“I hate this place.”

“Most do.”

He bit his lower lip then looked up at me. “Why didn’t you leave me in Salem?”

“I couldn’t let you die at the hands of the hangman’s noose—that would be too poetic.”

“Those people were nuts.” A nervous laugh escaped, and he lowered his gaze to his bound hands.

“Why were you really there?” I asked.

“I told you before, I wanted to see a witch burn.”

“Who was the girl?”

“Just a girl.”

“Was she a traveler?”

Silence.

“Why did you save her?”

“I can’t tell you. Mortas would have my balls for breakfast.” He sighed. “He’s going to go berserk when he finds out I’ve been captured.”

“Toecheese, you weren’t captured. I saved your life.”

“Stop calling me that. It’s disgusting.” He stared at me in defiance, then dropped his head. By the way his shoulders slumped, I almost felt bad for the guy. “You don’t understand.”

I pushed away from the wall and squatted in front of him. “Help me understand.”

He raised his eyes to mine. “The old man thinks I’m a loser. Not good enough to be in his family.” Toches air quoted the word family with his fingers. “He considers me on the same level as the Cracky Clan. I might as well be pond scum.”

The Cracky Clan were the bottom feeders of the time travel world; however, they rarely caused damage to the past.

“Why do you care what Gian-Carlo thinks?” I placed my hand over Toches’s clasped hands, and a wave of jealousy and frustration washed over me. Toches yanked his hands out from under mine. The force knocked me back on my ass, and he laughed at me.

The ache in my backside reminded me of Jake’s warning not to touch Toches.

I stood and crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t giving up that easy. “If you give me something, I’ll try to get you out of here.”

“They can’t hold me. I didn’t do anything.” He fidgeted. “Besides, it’s personal.”

“You saved a girl from hanging. They can keep you until they find the girl.”

“For real?”

“Yes. Could be months, years before they locate her.” I knew this wasn’t entirely true, but hey, what’s one more little white lie in my book of tall tales? I crossed my fingers for good measure.

Toches huffed, confirming my notion he didn’t know all the rules of the pact made with the Mafusos, and I played it to my advantage.

“I’ll put in a good word for you. Saving the girl and all. I’ll also tell them you saved Marco and me by alerting us of the angry mob.”

“That was nice of me, wasn’t it?”

I turned and headed for the door. “Have it your way.”

He spoke before I raised my fist to knock and alert the guard. “I’m surprised your Scot has really switched sides. I didn’t believe it at first. I even warned Mahlia not to trust him, but now…”

“Now what?” I turned toward him.

He cocked his head in my direction.

“If he was keeping your sheets warm, you wouldn’t be here asking all these annoying questions.”

“What are the Mafusos doing with Caiyan?”

“Your Scottish boyfriend is in danger.”

“What kind of danger?” My heart skipped a beat.

“I’m not at liberty to say, but I can tell you, I don’t mind if he gets dumped in the past and forgotten.”

“They’re going to leave him in the past?” My voice raised an octave. “Don’t you care he’s going to be left without a key?”

“No.”

“Toecheese, I saw you rescue that girl. I know you have a heart in there somewhere, and you know how miserable it is to be stuck in the past.”

When I first met Kishin Toches, he was stranded in 1945 at the height of World War II. His key had been stolen from his ancestor, and it was as if he never received it, leaving him with no way to get home.

He grimaced. Either because he recalled the horror of remaining in the past, or because I used the nickname he hated.

“Let’s just say he’s going to get something I want, and I don’t want him to have it. If he gets lost in the past well…” he shrugged, “makes it easier for me.”

“I thought Gian-Carlo wanted Caiyan to join the Mafusos? You told me in Salem he was going to induct him into the family.”

“Yeah, Gian-Carlo wants your boy in the gang, but Mortas doesn’t, and he’s calling the shots. Oh, the old man has the upper hand, but Mortas has seen to it that once Caiyan finds the key, the Scot will be lost forever, and the Mafusos won’t have to worry about him changing sides again.”

“What key?”

“Oops, now I’ve gone and given the game away.” A devious smile pulled at his upper lip.

His chains clinked as he scooted back on his bunk. Leaning against the wall, he stared at me. “You still care about him even though he’s going to…” he paused leaving his words dangling in the air.

“Even though he’s going to what?” Toches was probing me. I was familiar with the technique of leaving a question dangling to see if the other party knew the answer.

When he was certain I was in the dark, he continued “I can’t say, but I have the only transporter key, and if you don’t release me, Mortas will probably have McGregor killed. His mission is based on dropping him in the past, and only a transporter can carry him there.”

A confident smile crossed his lips.

“Did you plan this with Mahlia?” When I said her name, his face softened. “Is that why you have her key?”

“I have her key because Mortas wanted to mix things up. Lead you fools on a wild goose chase. When the time comes you won’t know where the Scot is or who is with him.”

“Don’t you think Mortas will give him a key to get whatever Gian-Carlo wants?” I asked, knowing Mortas wanted to please his grandfather more than life itself.

“They’re not that crazy. Even the old man knows the crafty Scot can use his gift to get away. If McGregor gets the key, then he can exchange it for his own key. If not…then he can live out his days singing Dixie.”

“Why would they leave Caiyan in the past? Isn’t he more valuable working with them?”

“Only if he’s really switched sides. He has to prove his loyalty.”

“How? He’s left the WTF. He left me. He came to Gian-Carlo of his own free will, to make a deal with the Mafusos.”

“He came naked. Without a key, he doesn’t have any power, only the gift. The Mafusos have plenty of gifted talent. What they need is another key.”

I had seen Caiyan tumble locks, and make other travelers drop in pain. But did he have other gifts I didn’t know about?

Toches huffed. “I’ve said too much. I can’t tell you any more. If I do, I’ll never be allowed inside the family.”

I saw the wall go up behind his eyes and thought a small plea for help shouted at me before the last brick was set in place.

“I’ll see what I can do to get you out of here.” I knocked three times on the door.

“Much obliged. And by the way,” he paused. “Thanks for saving me.”

“You’re welcome, Toches.”

Ace met me on my way back from speaking to Toches. “There’s been another jump.” His voice taking that aggravated tone that meant our shopping trip was about to be put on hold.

“What? The moon cycle is closing. Who’d be so stupid to travel this late?”

“Looks like we are the stupid ones, because Agent Sexy Buns has ordered us to the lab. I was on my way to get you.”

The other travelers left for home following the meeting. Ace was waiting on me for some post-travel shopping.

Jake’s shoes clipped down the hallway. “Good, you found her. Since you two are the only travelers left on base, you get to make a late jump.” He barked orders as he passed us and motioned for us to follow him.

Ace and I tried to keep up.

“Christ, I can’t waste another minute summoning someone else back to base. Mortas has jumped to Purley, Texas, and I need y’all to track him.”

The last time I traveled with Ace, our mission was not approved by the WTF. We attracted trouble like ants to a summer picnic.

“Tell me quick, what did Toches say?” Jake made a right turn, and I hustled by his side.

“He didn’t reveal anything about the girl, but he told me Caiyan’s in danger.”

“What kind of danger?”

“He hinted the Mafusos might leave Caiyan in the past, and when I touched him…”

“You touched him?” Jake stopped in his tracks and Ace almost bumped into him.

“Um—” I said. Warning bells went off in my head, forcing me to choose my next words carefully. “I read him. Anger and jealousy over something Caiyan’s going to receive from Gian-Carlo that Toecheese wants.”

“Probably the old man’s unrequited praise,” Ace said. “Kishin has self-esteem issues.”

“Jen,” Jake’s agitated stare bore trouble. “I ordered you not to touch him, but I don’t have time to argue with you now. I’ll meet you in the travel lab. I need to secure funds and intel.” He left in a flurry of angst.

“That one needs some serious spa time,” Ace said as Jake disappeared around the corner.

Al stood at the threshold of the door to the travel lab. His blue eyes danced with delight from under gray, bushy eyebrows when he saw us approach. He wore a wrinkled white lab coat over his button-down shirt and brown slacks. The array of colored pens, pencils, and gizmos lining the breast pocket of his lab coat clattered as he hugged me.

“Seems like you’re going on another adventure,” he said, smiling and greeting us as we entered the travel lab. The computers hummed and buzzed. Lights flashed on flat screens located in various positions throughout the room. The travel lab had come to life with the aftermath of the events of the recent travels.

“Brilliant,” Ace mumbled, the syrupy sarcasm thickening the tone of his voice.

Pickles sat behind his semicircular workstation, hands flying over keyboards, dreads cut short Wiz Khalifa style. He glanced up and gave us a wide smile.

I sent him a finger wave.

Al shuffled us over to the giant screen that held center court in the room. A map displayed on the screen that normally flashed with multi-colored dots now only held a trail of red. Remnants of the travelers’ paths, and the people they connected with in the past, were indicated by red dots moving like ants across the map. All the teams had returned from fighting the brigands and saving the past from corruption.

He pushed a few buttons on a remote-control contraption he held in his palm. The map spun and focused on my home state and a location not too far from my Aint Elma’s farmhouse. A black dot blinked at me, indicating a brigand on the move.

I swallowed hard. “Is Mortas after my family?”

“I don’t think so,” Al said, choosing a pointer from the pocket on his lab coat. Al tapped at a place on the map. “There’s a clearing here.”

I studied a picture of my landing spot. When I traveled, my vessel needed about ten feet of secure area for landings and takeoffs. I had landed in tighter spots, but it wasn’t safe. The chance I could end up in a wall, or in a body of water, scared me to my core.

I preferred not to drown in the past. The town was about five hundred yards away from a secluded wooded area. I agreed it was the closest secure area.

“Jennifer, if you land here, the walk to the town will be close to half a mile.” Al tapped on the route to the town.

“Hold the front door,” Ace said, hands on hips. “I’m driving.”

“Jennifer should drive,” Al said to Ace. “Her outhouse is less likely to cause concern if seen.”

Ace huffed. He never liked traveling without his cozy vessel, but his photo booth wasn’t exactly something found in the middle of the woods; then again, most of the vessels weren’t, but when we had the option to blend in with our surroundings, we took it.

Pickles came over and added some insight to our mission. “Dis is a sleepy town. Not much going on here, so I’ve no idea why Mortas is d’ere.” The lyrical cadence of his Jamaican accent had a calming effect on me.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sensing another traveler has broken da time portal, but I believe it’s from a jump in da past.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He means,” Ace said. “There’s activity from a past traveler who has jumped to this time mucking his vision.”

“There’s always the chance another traveler has been to this time,” Al added.

“Can you see the other traveler?” I asked.

“Sometimes I can, but it’s difficult for me ta see who it is until I’ve gone into da deep meditation. There’s no time for dat now, da portal is closing.”

“Is it hard to have so many visions?” I asked Pickles.

“If I remove my key, my mind has a vacation.” He tapped a finger against his temple, and the stack of leather bracelets he wore slid down his smooth, mocha skin.

“This is where the man in the newspaper clipping lives. The man who owns the sword.” I chewed my bottom lip. “I’m curious why Mortas wants the sword.”

“With the switcheroo games these Mafusos are playing, it bloody well could be any one of them.” Ace moved forward, examining the black blinking dot designated to Mortas.

“No. Dats Mortas. I see him clear as da bell.”

I considered the way Pickles envisioned the decisions of the destinations made by the travelers. “Can you see the time portal if you wear a different key?” I asked him.

“Das a good question. I’ve never worn another, but unless da key belonged to a seer, I do not believe I could see da portal.” He shook his dark curls. When he met my eyes, a glint of understanding for the reason behind my questions sparkled in his eyes. “It’s important to wear da key given to you by your ancestors. It holds energy from da wearers of da past. It’s da best key.”

“So, if someone didn’t have their key, they wouldn’t be able to use their extra gifts.”

“Most often, that is the case,” Al said.

And the reason Caiyan seeks his key. In my opinion, Caiyan’s gifts of tumbling locks and causing pain in another traveler wasn’t reason enough to quit our relationship and leave the WTF.

“It’s possible all has not been revealed, but maybe the answers you seek will present themselves.” Al gave me a grandfatherly pat on the back and motioned toward the exit. “Time to go.”

I committed the landing coordinates to memory, and Ace and I left the travel lab.

“That guy creeps me out sometimes,” Ace said, referring to Al. “He’s starting to sound like Yoda. What did he mean by all has not been revealed?” he asked, imitating the legendary Jedi Master from Star Wars .

“I’m not sure,” I answered, but I had my suspicions there was more to Caiyan than he allowed me to see.

Jake met us in the landing area. “Be careful. You don’t have much time until the portal closes. In fact, it’s quite risky to make the jump so late in the moon cycle. The time continuum is acting strange, but since Mortas hasn’t traveled in months, I want to know what he’s up to. This is an in and out mission.”

When I first began traveling, I would return a few hours after I left. Easy to call in to work and disappear for a short time. My family didn’t question where I’d been.

Now, the time has stretched. We are missing days, sometimes the entire five days of the travel cycle. Pinocchio’s nose would’ve extended three New York City blocks if he told the lies I’ve told my family. Having Gertie in the know helped; she covered for me most of the time, but Eli had blown up Jake’s cell more than once trying to locate me.

Life became easier when we found out Eli had the gift. The WTF doesn’t know Mamma Bea gave him the key and vessel that belonged to her husband, my papa Cloud. Another truth I withheld from Jake. I was really racking them up, but Eli refused to travel. If the WTF knew about his recent acquisitions, they’d be all up in his business trying to recruit him. Or even worse, take his key.

Eli’s more understanding about me being absent from work for a few days, now. We had to come up with a reason for me to miss work, and I now have a condition called CFS, or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, brought on by the Epstein-Barr virus responsible for mononucleosis. It’s a good cover, and the office manager bakes me cupcakes when I return.

I focused on the orders Jake was dishing out. “Only observe. You should have about five hours, then you need to return, regardless of whether you found Mortas. Do you understand?” He was looking directly at me.

“Roger that, Captain,” I said with an air of bravado while I held my knees from knocking together. Chasing Mortas with only a smidge of time left before the moon cycle closed made me not only nervous but scared. Without Marco to lend his support, I went from Wingwoman to Wonder Woman. I hoped I could muster up her courage if things went south.

Jake moved to speak to one of his agents, leaving Ace and me preparing for travel.

“I’ll be with you, doll. No worries,” Ace offered, as if my thoughts were transcribed across my forehead like the ticker tape for the New York Stock exchange.

“I’m not worried.”

“Why do you look like you just shat your knickers?”

“I’ll be fine,” I confirmed, but my inner voice pulled the cord on her life preserver as Ace and I boarded my outhouse to jump to Franklin County, the year 1949.