Page 54 of The Book of Lost Hours

MOIRA SAT FIDGETING AT her desk, watching the door to Jack’s office.

Ernest had been in there for over an hour.

Surely that wasn’t a good sign. She tried to busy herself with typing up memos, but the sound of Jack’s laughter on the other side of the door spiked her blood pressure. Was laughter a good thing?

She and Ernest had been seeing each other for six months and last night, Moira had spent the night in his apartment for the first time, putting to an end the long torturous waltz they’d been doing on their way to the bedroom.

Ernest was much shyer about sleeping with her than he had been in the time space.

Seven years and two significant familial losses had made him more guarded. Until last night.

That was why he was in Jack’s office. Moira had woken up to find him already awake beside her, fretting over what he was going to say to Jack.

He was determined to tell him, convinced that their charade was sure to be found out now.

Moira felt a sharp pain in her chest at the very thought and tried to dissuade him.

But Ernest was firm. And what could she say to stop him?

Moira’s foot tapped ceaselessly on the floor while she waited.

So loud that Shelley shot her several annoyed glances.

She was in the middle of imagining the worst-case scenario when the door opened, and Ernest stepped out.

He shut the door behind him, head bent, chewing on his lower lip as he approached her desk.

“Well? How did it go?” she asked breathlessly.

Ernest raised his head to look at her, one corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile. “He wants to talk to you.”

“H-he does?”

“Uh-huh. But don’t worry. He didn’t seem angry. I think we’re in the clear.”

Oh, Ernest , Moira thought to herself. If only he knew that they would never be in the clear. With a final encouraging grin, he returned to his office and she went in to see Jack, feeling like one of the damned on the road to hell.

Jack was closing the door to his safe, holding a velvet drawstring bag in one hand.

“Shut the door,” he said, returning to his chair.

He opened his desk drawer and took out a pack of cigarettes.

Without speaking, he held the carton out to her.

She took one warily, recognizing their time-honored tradition.

He lit the cigarette for her and did the same to his own.

She didn’t smoke it, holding it awkwardly between her fingers.

Ernest didn’t like her smoking, always reading off the health warnings whenever she picked up a cigarette. She was trying to kick the habit.

When Jack finally looked at her, he had a tense sort of smile on his face.

“Six months,” he said. “Six months it took you to tell me. Or excuse me, for him to tell me. I expected better from you.”

Moira blinked. “You… you knew?”

“Of course I knew. What, do you think I’m an idiot?

I saw the way he started giving you those puppy-dog eyes almost as soon as I got back from Denver.

You, my girl, are very subtle, but he reads like an open book.

I caught on around the time you two had your fourth or fifth date and sent someone to tail you. Just to confirm things.”

“Brady?” Moira asked.

“Fred Vance,” Jack said with a conniving grin. “I’ll tell you, he’s not the brightest bulb in the box but he’s sneakier than we give him credit for.”

“I don’t understand. You knew and you never said anything?”

“I wanted to see how it would play out. And I wanted to see how long it would take you to crack. You never did. You kept your cool the whole time. It was quite impressive. I underestimated you, Moira.”

Moira wasn’t reassured by his words. Here she’d thought, yet again, that she was fooling him when in reality all she had done was teach him what she really looked like when she was lying. Maybe that was his whole point.

“So… you’re not angry?”

He looked down at her untouched cigarette.

“No, I’m not angry. But I am disappointed.

Letting yourself get caught up again with the man who got you pregnant and made you vulnerable.

He betrayed you back then, you know. Told me everything there was to know about you with the same mouth he used to tell you that he loved you.

He’s the reason that you’re here. And now you’re falling for his doe-eyed, good soldier act all over again. ”

“What happened then was different,” Moira said.

“If you say so. All I’m trying to say is you could do better. There are plenty of other men out there. A pretty girl like you has options.”

Options , he said. She didn’t have any options and he knew it. He’d made himself such a domineering presence in her life that any other man would never dare look twice.

“Did you tell Ernest that he could continue seeing me?” That was all that mattered, after all.

“For now. Who knows? I might even be able to use it to my advantage one of these days.” Jack stubbed out his cigarette in the little glass ashtray.

“Speaking of advantages… I hope you and Ernest don’t have any plans for this evening.

Or else I’m going to need you to cancel them.

” He took a file from the stack beside him and slid it over to her.

“Because you and I have a date with a Russian tonight.”

Moira opened the file to find the profile of a Russian timekeeper, a hollow-eyed man in his thirties. She recognized him at once. The Russian who had followed her in the time space. The one who had taken her book.

“Vasily Stepanov,” she said, reading off the name.

“Do you recognize him?”

“I saw him a few times, but we never spoke. He’s the one who took the book.”

“Interesting. He’s been interfering with our timekeepers lately. Saving memories the way you used to.” He slid the velvet bag he’d taken from the safe over to her. “Here. You’re going to need this too.”

Moira opened it hesitantly. Inside was a familiar silver revolver. The one Ernest had given her seven years ago, still loaded with six bullets in the chamber.

“What’s this for?”

“Just in case,” Jack said, giving her a kind of smile that made her skin crawl. “It seems that this one knows a thing or two about Lisavet Levy.”

A foreboding feeling settled in Moira’s stomach. This was another test of her loyalty. Timed so perfectly after the confession that she wondered how long he’d been planning it.

T HEY STOOD on the other side of the door, waiting for the timekeepers to emerge.

Jack remained by Moira’s side, one hand on her shoulder.

He had placed it there when Patrick Brady and Fred Vance had opened the door to the time space, noticing the way she’d stepped toward it, drawn like a moth to flame.

“How long does it usually take?” she asked, shifting on her feet in a way that made her conscious of the gun hidden in a holster beneath her skirt.

George Collins was the one who answered, turning the syringe containing the tranquilizer over in his hand to keep it from settling. “Took us about four hours to track you down. But you weren’t exactly coming and going. I’d say we’re looking at about six hours give or take.”

They waited for seven. There were no clocks or windows in the tiny room on the lowest floor of the TRP building, so Moira measured the time through the scrape of seconds dragging by in the back of her head.

A thudding sound came from behind the door, and Jack relinquished his grip on her to raise his gun.

“Stay behind me,” he warned.

The door opened. Brady and Vance emerged, dragging a third person between them.

Vasily Stepanov was fighting hard, a struggle that ceased only when Jack struck him across the face with the butt of his gun, dazing him.

Moira looked away, her stomach queasy. The door to the time space slammed shut.

Collins came forward with the syringe, but Jack raised a hand.

“Not yet,” he said. “I want him to talk first.”

Brady shoved his pistol against Vasily’s head and jerked him onto his knees. Vasily spit on the ground at Jack’s feet and said something particularly vulgar in Russian.

“No need to get crass with me, Vasily,” Jack said in a calmly sadistic voice that Moira knew too well. “We just want to ask you a few questions.”

“Why do you know my name?” Vasily asked as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes scanned the room in a frantic search for a way out. He locked eyes with Moira more than once, but it was clear that he didn’t recognize her.

“You think I wouldn’t know the name of the man who’s been giving my boys such a hard time in the time space?” Jack said. “Collins and Brady said they’ve seen you interfering with our work. Saving memories we’ve chosen to eliminate. All in the name of Lisavet Levy.”

“Are you going to get rid of me?” Vasily snarled at Jack. “Make me disappear like you did to that girl.”

Moira flinched for more reasons than one as Jack struck him again.

“How about I ask the questions, okay? What do you know about Lisavet Levy?”

“Enough,” Vasily said. Jack raised a hand in warning. “Before she disappeared, I was the one my country sent to find out about her. They wanted me to interrogate her and learn who she was working for… but I changed my mind.”

Jack snorted. “Changed your mind?”

It took another blow from Jack to get him to explain. “She was with child,” he said through a bleeding lip. “I was going to help her. I could have at least saved the child if she had let me. But she always ran.”

“How noble,” Jack said, squinting at him. “Rumor has it the child died.”

Vasily Stepanov smiled in turn. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so certain. A child born out of Time would not fall victim to it so easily.”

Moira felt Brady’s eyes on her and wished that the man would stop talking.

Jack laughed at him. Openly and cruelly. “So what is it you’re hoping to gain by interfering? You failed to save her or the child, so what’s your end game?”