Page 21 of The Book of Lost Hours

“I don’t know what the hell they’re thinking dragging you into all this.

The conflicts brewing in the time space are serious.

Not a place for a kid,” James said heavily.

“But what I can tell you is that I don’t think the rebels have anything to do with it.

It’s just as likely that the department concocted that story themselves, so they’d have an excuse to get you involved. ”

“But why would they want me to be involved?”

“I don’t pretend to understand their logic.” He paused, glancing at the door as if expecting Moira to burst through it at any moment. “Look… If you ever need anything… help or a place to hide… look for the timekeepers with blue flowers. They’re the ones you can trust.”

“Blue flowers?” Amelia asked.

“Forget-me-nots for Lisavet Levy. Tell them that you’re Ernest’s niece, and they’ll help you.”

Forget-me-nots for Lisavet Levy. A symbol of the rebels?

She thought of the book again. Blue leather with the five-petaled flower pressed on the front.

Like a forget-me-not. Amelia’s hands were shaking, and she shoved them into the pockets of her coat.

Something cool and smooth to the touch met her fingers and she pulled it out, frowning down at it.

It was silver and circular and fit easily into the palm of her hand. But she didn’t recognize it.

“What is that?” James asked abruptly.

When Amelia looked at him, his face was dark.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.”

“Bullshit,” he said. Instantly he was as he had been. Cold and aloof. All traces of sympathy or friendliness gone. “That’s a transmitter. She’s listening, isn’t she?”

His eyes flew to the bedroom door where his children and wife were hiding. Fear shone on his face. Suddenly Amelia remembered Moira’s comforting half embrace, a strange gesture, in retrospect. Moira had planted this.

“What have you done?” James murmured, as much to himself as to her.

“I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”

Moira’s voice sounded from the doorway. “It’s all right, Amelia,” she said, stepping into the apartment.

James crossed the room in seconds. “You set this up,” he growled.

“Of course I did. And clearly I made the right decision. The rebels wear blue flowers, you said? That’s interesting.” She gestured to Amelia. “Come on, Amelia. It’s time to go.”

She turned toward the door and James suddenly slammed his hand against it, holding it shut. Amelia’s throat constricted.

“Please…” he said desperately. “Don’t do this.”

Moira slid one hand into her coat. “Mr. Gravel, step aside.”

“If you think I’m just going to let you…”

There was a click and a rattling noise and then Moira raised a silver revolver to the underside of James’s chin. Like the badge, Amelia had not known she was carrying it.

“Excuse us,” she said calmly, tapping two fingers against the door.

James hesitated, his eyes darting from Moira to the bedroom door and back again.

At last, he dropped his arm and stepped aside.

Amelia felt his eyes trained on the back of her head long after the door closed behind them.

Her heart thudded as Moira unlocked the car and motioned for her to get in.

Only when Moira had started the engine and shifted the gears into drive did she put the gun away.

M OIRA COULD feel Amelia’s anger pulsing in the air.

Building steam. She cursed Jack in her head.

Damn him. If it hadn’t been for his impatience, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

He had to have known this would happen. That James would say or do something to sow the seeds of doubt in Amelia’s head and derail everything.

She kept driving, pulling onto the highway.

Her eyes gravitated to the cassette recorder in the back seat.

Evidence that James Gravel was in fact affiliated with the growing movement of rebels.

Rebels who could be identified by the forget-me-not insignia they carried on their person.

All in the name of Lisavet Levy. She thought about the other things that James had said.

There were things on that tape that Jack didn’t know about.

Things that might make him question her loyalty.

She veered off course, taking the exit south toward Providence.

“Where are we going?” Amelia asked at once.

“You’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, they reached an old wooden bridge over the river. Moira stopped the car right in the middle.

“Where are we?”

Moira didn’t answer. She turned the car off and reached into the back seat. She removed the cassette from the tape deck and held it out to Amelia.

“Here.”

Amelia stared at it. At her.

“Go ahead,” Moira said, extending it farther. “Get rid of it. I’ll tell Jack the mic malfunctioned. It’s new technology anyway; he’ll believe me.”

“You mean… you won’t… tell him?”

“We’ll tell him that James was telling the truth. That he doesn’t know what happened to Ernest.”

Amelia hesitantly took the tape, holding it between two fingers. “What about everything else? About the flowers and…”

Moira reached into her coat and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.

“If we tell Jack about the flowers, he’ll send people in after James.

They’ll kill him. His wife and children will lose a husband and a father.

And then he’ll start using the intel to hunt down every other rebel he can and do the same to them.

Whether or not that happens… that’s up to you. ” She nodded at the tape.

Amelia made a noise of confusion. “I don’t understand. Why did you take me there? Why would you plant that mic if you’re just going to let me destroy the tape?”

Moira lit the cigarette and took a long, deep breath, shutting her eyes so she could think. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Was it Jack Dillinger’s idea?”

Moira instantly disliked the way his name sounded coming out of Amelia’s mouth.

“Yes. He wanted to see what James might tell you. He suspects that James might have been involved in Ernest’s death. That maybe he’s the one who’s been allying himself with the Russians.”

“But you don’t think that?”

“I think we can both agree that he’s far too disagreeable to be forging any kind of secret alliance with another country. As for the part about your uncle… no, I don’t believe he was involved in that.”

“What makes you so certain?” Amelia asked.

“Intuition.”

“That’s not a real reason.”

“Maybe not. But it is my reason.” Moira took another pull from the cigarette and let out a long, loud exhale. “Here’s our predicament, Amelia. I did see your uncle the night he died. But Jack doesn’t know that.” She met Amelia’s gaze and held it.

“H-he doesn’t?”

“No. And it’s best for everyone if he never finds out.”

“But… why? Why were you meeting with him?”

“I can’t tell you that. Which is why I called this a predicament.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. I know. But I need you to trust me on this. Ask me anything else, and I’ll answer. Just not about that. Okay?”

Amelia was quiet, scrutinizing her. Trying to decide whether or not to believe her. “What about the rest of the things James said about you? The disappearance of Lisavet Levy? Were you involved in that?”

Moira liked hearing that name come out of Amelia’s mouth even less.

“If you consider the timing just for a moment, you’ll have your answer. James said that Lisavet Levy disappeared from the time space in 1952. I didn’t begin working for Jack until 1955. How could I have had anything to do with what happened to her?”

“But do you know what happened?”

Moira looked away, past Amelia and out the car window. “I don’t. Those files have been sealed for years.”

“Does Jack know?”

“He might. Probably.”

“You don’t like Jack that much, do you?”

Moira had to bite back a smile. “Not particularly, no.”

“Then why do you work for him?”

Moira’s first instinct was to give Amelia a small lecture about the world and a woman’s role in it, but refrained, opting for a less pedantic, albeit uncomfortably personal version of things.

“What James said about the abnormal trajectory of my career is true. I was just a secretary before I got promoted, and before that I was nobody. Jack was the first person who saw something in me worth taking a chance on. Before him, the life laid out before me was a bleak one. So though I may not always like him… he is the reason I’ve gotten to where I am. ”

Moira could tell that Amelia was too young to fully understand the logic of this. The doubt in her eyes was tilting in both directions. She believed nothing and no one. Trusted no one. Not James, and most certainly not her.

“I understand why you might not want to believe me,” Moira said at last. “But even if you don’t, I need you to trust me. I need you to trust that I’m keeping the truth away from Jack for a reason. So do us both a favor, me and James Gravel, and get rid of that tape.”

They stared at each other, listening to the sound of the river outside the car. After a time, Amelia got out, clutching the tape in one hand. Moira watched her cross to the side of the bridge and throw the tape over the railing. They were silent all the way home.