Part 6 (1/2)
What time had he spoken with his father on that night? On this this night? night?
He couldn't remember. He'd been watching the TV but wasn't sure what had been on. Okay. It was simple enough. The time at the moment was eleven minutes after nine. He set the Q-pod to take him forward to ten o'clock.
The darkness faded and came back. And he realized he was standing in the middle of the driveway. Time traveler run down by father.
But no car was coming, and the garage was still empty. He was sure the call hadn't come in after eleven, so he set the device to move forward one hour. This time he walked onto the lawn before activating.
And the black Skylark had arrived. Inside the house, lights were on.
Who said Shel wasn't brilliant? He congratulated himself and knocked at the front door. There was movement inside, the living-room lights came on, and the door opened.
His father's eyes went wide. ”Adrian.”
”Hi, Dad.” They stood for a long moment staring at each other. ”Did you want to invite me in?”
”Yes. Of course.” He stepped back. ”I just got finished talking to you.”
”I know.”
Michael Shelborne resembled Jerry more than he did Shel. Or would have had Jerry not picked up weight. His father was tall, lean, with thick black hair and the kind of face that would have allowed him to play Sher lock Holmes. ”Adrian, were you in your car when we talked?”
”No.”
”I thought not.”
Shel showed him the Q-pod. His father acquired a distinctly unhappy expression. ”Come in,” he said, using a tone that one might adopt to a sixteen-year-old caught smuggling his girlfriend into the house.
They sat down while the elder Shelborne contented himself with glaring at one of the walls. Then the eyes, dark, penetrating, cool even when he was irritated, locked on him.
”Where are you going, Dad?” Shel asked innocently.
”Why does it matter?”
”That lunch tomorrow?” Shel made no effort to hide an accusing tone. ”You never showed up. Or, rather, you won't won't show up.” show up.”
”What happened?”
”That's what I wanted to ask you.”
He'd settled into an armchair. Now he pushed back in it, licked his lips, and braced his jaw on one fist. ”Is that why you're here?”
”Isn't it sufficient reason?”
”Don't tell me any more,” he said.
”Why not?”
”Trust me.” He indicated the Q-pod, which Shel had attached to his belt. ”How long have you known about that?”
”A couple of days. To be honest, it's hard to be sure. What day is this?”
”Monday.”
”Incredible. A few minutes ago it was Thursday.”
Michael's eyes closed. ”Look, Adrian, I know you're probably upset.”
”Did you make this thing?”
”You were supposed to destroy it.”
”I'm glad I didn't.”
”I'm sure you are.” Michael pressed his lips together. ”Yes, I made it. Along with a colleague.”
”Why do you want it destroyed?”
”Because it's dangerous.”
”Why's that?”
”For a number of reasons.”
”Tell me about them. I don't have a clue what's going on.”
”I take it I haven't turned up since the lunch?”
”No. You've been missing nine days.”
”Okay.”
”Where were you planning to go?”
He laughed. ”You wouldn't believe it.”
”At this point, I'm ready to believe anything anything.”
He smiled, casually, easily, like a man in charge of the world. ”You know what the converters can do.”
”A converter. Is that what you call it?”
”Yes. But the name's not important.”
”I guess not. So where did you go? Where are you going?”
”I'd always wanted to spend some time with Galileo.”
”Galileo.”
”Or maybe Cicero. Or Ben Franklin.” He managed a smile. ”I haven't made up my mind yet.”