Chapter 2

The Mona Lisa Mission

 

DATELINE: APRIL 20, 2070 PLACE: HISTORY TRACKING CENTER, NEW YORK CITY

John Hyder entered the History Tracking conference room waving a book as he said, “Sorry I’m late for lunch, gang, but the new, ‘Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club’ book just came out and I had to get it before they ran out.”

“Hey, John,” said Jerry Sullivan, “Is my mission in it? The Flying Dutchman made great reading.”

John turned to the table of contents as Alexis asked, “John, please check and see if my missions are in it too.”

Joseph Sergi stood up and his six-feet six-inch frame seemed to dominate the room as he said boastfully after he loudly cleared his throat, ”So, it was a good idea after all? Right guys?”

Maryellen Muldey grinned as she rolled her eyes and answered her friend and coworker, “Yes, Joseph, it was a good idea to write-up the missions as fiction and get some revenue out of our toils.” She faced the group and said in jest, “Will everyone stand and give Mister Joseph Sergi a round of applause for his great idea.”

The others ribbed him by booing and hissing as they banged on the conference table.

“All right, all right,” said Joseph as he pushed a lock of black hair away from in front of his eyes, “I know jealously when I hear it. So my next idea, I’ll keep to myself.”

“Yay!” shouted John Hyder, “It worked, guys. You heard him yourselves, he won’t tell us about his next big idea.”

Maryellen stood and faced Joseph. “Joseph, you know that we’re just fooling around with you. The book was a wonderful idea.” She turned to the group and said, “Right gang?”

They answered by giving Joseph a standing ovation and the big man blushed.

John Hyder passed the book around the table. The cover of the book showed a brownstone building that looked exactly like the real 1800 Club, and the cover copy reads: ‘Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club: Book I’. The byline said it was written by: Robert P. McAuley, a ghostwriter the group hired. All proceeds go to charities selected by the group.

“So,” asked Alexis Shuntly, “which of us are in Book 1?”

Joseph answered, “John Hyder handled the President Roosevelt mission, but the, then-president of the club, Prescott Stevens, handled the Lincoln mission. If you all recall he was the president before Bill Scott.”

The rest of the meeting was spent by the members taking turns reading the book aloud.

 

DATELINE: MAY 3, 2070 PLACE: LUELLEN’S TEA SHOP, NEW YORK CITY

Two weeks after the first book was published, Maryellen Muldey sat in a teashop with Maud Kipner, an elderly woman who lived in the same complex as she did. As Maud went through her very large pocketbook for her lipstick, she took out a book, and placed it on the table.

“Oh,” quipped Maryellen, “I see that you’re reading ‘Time Travel Adventures of the 1800 Club’. How do you like it?”

“Well,” said the slim woman as she came up with her cosmetic, “I really enjoy this type of book. I think that time travel would be fun. I’d travel back to two weeks ago and go to Kumps department store and buy another tube of Discrete Pleasures lipstick because they were out of it when I went yesterday.”

Maryellen grinned but covered it by wiping her mouth with her napkin. “That could be helpful. Have you read the story on Lincoln or Roosevelt?”

“I just finished the Lincoln Mission and it was wonderful. But,” she added as she looked around the eatery, “as we both know time travel could never be, so we must read what some writer dreams up. I also believe that there are some grammatical errors in it.”

Maryellen shrugged as she arched an eyebrow and said, “Perhaps you are mistaking the slang and accents that the people of the time had, as being grammatically incorrect?”

Maud unscrewed the lipstick’s cap, looked in a small mirror she held and said, “The book says that it is Book 1 and I wonder how many more there will be? I really like to read stories of what might have been and hope there will be more.”

As long as there are missions to be done, there will be books on them, Maryellen thought, but she answered, “From what I heard the writer has many more books on the way so you don’t have to worry about the books ending. Just enjoy them one at a time.”

“I shall, I shall, however,” Maud said as she seemed to drift away, “my family has an old secret that some swear is true while others just laugh at it. If I had a time machine maybe I’d go back and see if it is true or not.” She shook her head as though trying to clear it as she looked intensely at Maryellen and went on, “Would you like to hear it, my dear?”

“If you wish to share it, Maud.”

“Promise me that you won’t laugh.”

Maryellen crossed her heart, “I promise.”

She took a sip of her tea and said in a low voice, “My mother’s great aunt robbed the Louvre in Paris. She took the painting, the Mona Lisa while she worked there.”

Being familiar with the theft Maryellen asked, “Are you sure it was the Mona Lisa? I know it was stolen a long time ago, but it was stolen by a man not a woman.”

“Well, my dear, that’s what the museum people would like the world to believe, that it was a man who robbed them, not a woman.

She sipped her tea and Maryellen smiled inside as she left a huge smudge of lipstick on the dainty teacup and then went on.

“Adel Damien, my mother’s great aunt, was an artist at a time when only the male artists were recognized. She purposely took a job at the Louvre two years before the theft to decide which painting she should take and, even though the da Vinci was not famous yet, Adel knew that some day it would be. She enlisted a male artist friend to be seen leaving the museum when it opened in the morning. He had a white smock on, which she provided, and a plumber who passed the gate the same time every morning on his way to work, stopped and helped the man out of the locked gate as he thought he was only helping one of the museum staff.”

Seeing that she was the center of Maryellen’s attraction, Maud took another sip of her tea before continuing.

“While the police of Paris looked in every conceivable place for the painting, it was with her in the sewers of Paris.”

“The sewers of Paris?” asked a shocked Maryellen.

“Yes, she never returned to the museum and nobody really missed a cleaning woman. The sewer system had a colony of artists who lived and painted beneath the Parisian streets. They were a tight-knit group and although the police searched them, the sewers had twists and turns and only those living in them could navigate them.”

“But,” asked Maryellen, “didn’t a man return the painting to a museum in Italy in 1913?”

“Yes. And by then the Mona Lisa was famous worldwide and the museum authorities were ecstatic on its return as the lines of visitors were around the corner. Business had never been so good.”

“That’s some story, Maud. Glad it had a happy ending. What happened to Adel?”

Maud smiled largely as she leaned across the table and, still in a low tone of voice said, “Oh deary, that’s just the beginning of the story.”

“There’s more?” asked Maryellen as she met her halfway across the round table.

“As they say, ‘the best is yet to come’.”

Her voice seemed to change into the sort of voice a storyteller had. The sing-song voice of an elderly person was gone and became stronger when she spoke of the theft and escape with the masterpiece, yet gentle when she mentions Adel’s name; and happy when she mentions the bumbling museum curators and gendarmes.

“As you know, the Mona Lisa was stolen on 8/21/1911 and while the police looked for a man, she sat tight with the masterpiece as it became worth more and more with each passing day because of its notoriety.” She took another sip of her warm tea before going on.

“In 1913 she decided to take it to America, but first she needed cash and wanted to see if she could make the painting worth more. In her art circles she heard of an Italian man, Vincenzo Peruggia, who wished to own the masterpiece and as she was an artist who had spent years looking at the painting in the Louvre and an extra two years studying it every night, she painted him an exact copy using da Vinci’s same type tools and techniques. She had the man who had worn the white smock that night, tell Peruggia that he owned it and would gladly sell it to him as it was too hot to sell in France. Believing that he was the man who stole it as he fit the description, Peruggia agreed and purchased it from him. For some reason the new owner contacted an Italian museum and said he had it and would sell it to them. The head of the museum came to his apartment and Peruggia took a valise from under his bed, emptied it of papers and other items before getting to the bottom and removing the painting. The museum man’s eyes went wide and he agreed to pay the man, but instead he had the police waiting downstairs and after signaling them, he stepped aside as they rushed into the room, grabbed Peruggia and handed the painting to the head of the museum.”

“Wait,” said Maryellen, “are you saying that the Mona Lisa hanging in the Louvre is a forgery?”

Maud shrugged her shoulders and said, “As I said, it could just be a story that began and ended in my family history.”

“Well, what happened to Adel?”

“This is the sad part,” she said, “With the money she received from Peruggia, she and her boyfriend booked first-class passage aboard the Titanic to find a rich buyer in America.”

Maryellen recoiled, “Oh, how sad.”

“Well, not that bad. She survived but he didn’t.”

Maryellen had to ask, “What happened to the original Mona Lisa?”

Maud shook her head as her voice suddenly went soft, “According to Adel, while aboard the Titanic, she was pulled aside by a gruff private detective who told her that Peruggia had him track down the man in the white smock by watching where most of the artists’ hung out and her friend told him the complete story. According to her, the detective said, ‘We have the entire trip across the ocean before us and believe me, sooner or later I will go through your baggage and claim the reward for the real Mona Lisa.’”

Both women stopped and sipped their tea before Maud went on.

“Adel and her boyfriend, Jim, stayed in their cabin with the painting in a box trying to think up a way to get it off the ship when it docks and after being locked up in the cabin for four days they were tense, so to speak.”

Suddenly Maryellen saw Maud’s eyes tear up and her chin trembled slightly. She continued slowly, “According to my family, she said that on the night that the Titanic hit the iceberg she was devastated that after all these years she was going to lose ‘her’ painting.” Maud looked at Maryellen and with a small smile said, “Yes, ‘her’ painting. You see, she studied it before she stole it and after, when she lived for a few years in the sewers of Paris. It was her companion, her family, her baby, so to speak. She felt that before she took it, the so-called art critics of Paris looked right past her, never seeing what she and Leonardo saw in the painting.” Maud looked over the lip of her teacup and said, “Of course it was wrong of her to take it, but she did, and she did bring it to the world’s attention.”

Maryellen’s tea was cold but she dared not stop to refill it, as she needed to hear the rest of the story. “Maud, please tell me what she did when the ship hit the iceberg.”

Maud smiled, “She was awake in her cabin when they hit, and feeling the vibrations as the ship’s side scraped along the iceberg she looked out her window and seeing the huge mass of ice going slowly by, she grabbed the painting and said, as she flung it out the porthole window towards the iceberg, “If I can’t have her, nobody will and it will be my Mona Lisa that hangs in the Louvre for eternity.”

Maryellen sat back with a gasp, “Oh my! This-this just can’t be true! The painting that was returned would have been scrutinized so closely that a forgery would never have gotten past them.”

Maud smiled and said with a wink, “And therein is the beauty of the story. Those museum people had egg on their faces when it was stolen and they had the chance to remove the egg simply by telling the world that it was now back where she belonged: in the Louvre! Now, perhaps the forgery was done so well that even though they must have inspected it, they too were fooled by a female artist, my great-aunt, Adel Damien?”

“But today they can carbon test it and tell the real date that it was painted,” said Maryellen.

“And do what with the information?” answered a smiling Maud, “Tell the world that for well over one hundred years they were showing a forgery? Not likely, my dear.”

Maryellen was stunned by the story and then Maud’s voice slid back into the singsong voice of an elderly person.

“Well, my dear, I really must be off as I have to get a birthday card for the woman next door to me. I do so enjoy our tea time and look forward to the next one.”

Maryellen offered her arm to Maud and both left the teashop.

 

DATELINE: MAY 4, 2070 PLACE: HISTORY TRACKING CENTER, NEW YORK CITY

Maryellen sat at the center of the conference table. The entire crew was there and all were eating cookies made by Jerry Sullivan.

“I had no idea,” said Joseph as he flicked crumbs off of his red tie, “that you were so multi-talented, Jerry. These cookies are delicious. Your recipe?”

“Yep!” answered a proud Jerry, “I’ve been a closet cookie maker for years.”

“Hey,” said John Hyder as he took a bite, “this tastes like Girl Scout Cookies.”

The rest of the crew laughed and Jerry quipped, “Well of course they do. I once went back in time and gave the recipe to them.”

The friendly laughter filled the conference room.

It was Alexis Shuntly’s turn to chair the weekly meeting of the History Trackers Group and she smiled as she said, “Jerry, I hereby appoint you as the person that brings cookies in for our weekly meetings.” She did a quick look around the room and asked, “All in favor?”

The raised hands of John Hyder, Joseph Sergi and Maryellen Muldey answered her question. “Done, then,” she said as she wrote it down on a memo pad. “Any new business, gang?”

Maryellen Muldey stood and said, “I have a possible mission, but I need to bounce it off of you all.”

Alexis sat back and said, “”Go ahead, Maryellen, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Alexis,” she said and then faced the others and started her briefing.

“I’m sure that you are all familiar with the Mona Lisa being stolen from the Louvre back in 1911 and returned in 1913.” As all nodded silently she went on as she started to pace the floor. “Well, there is a chance that the painting hanging in the Louvre is a forgery.”

Joseph raised his hand and asked, “Maryellen, did you see something in a hologram?”

“No. I had tea with an elderly neighbor who told me of an old story that has been kept quiet in her family for over one hundred and fifty years.”

“Well,” said Jerry as he searched his laptop for the story on the theft, “It just goes to show that it’s not always the hologram that starts a mission, it can be an old letter, a hunch or, as in this case, a person telling an old family story over a cup of tea.”

 

Maryellen spent the next twenty-minutes telling the group the story she heard from her friend, Maud. After she finished, Alexis nodded and said as she stood, “I believe that we should send back a probe to watch the theft and, though I’m next, I propose that Maryellen takes the mission.”

All agreed and Maryellen opened the conference room door and motioned to Clara Murphy, the young girl who sat there in case a hologram was needed.

“Clara,” Maryellen said as the dark-haired, freckle face girl entered the room, “I’m going to work up a hologram request for you and your group in a few minutes.”

“That’s fine, Miss Muldey. I’ll activate it as soon as possible.”

Jerry handed Maryellen a slip of paper with the coordinates and time of the theft written on it.

“Thank you, Jerry,” she said as she turned and handed it to the girl from the Hologram/Drone Department. “Here, Clara. Can you tell me how soon we will have the hologram?”

The young lady looked at the coordinates and said as she closed her eyes for a moment, “About three hours, Miss Muldey.”

“Fine. Thank you so much, Clara. Will you alert Edmund Scott about the delivery to the 1800 Club?”

“Yes, m’am.” She walked quickly down the long hallway, through the double doors at the end and went down to the second floor. Using her key, she entered an unmarked door and after closing it behind her, threw the light switch that illuminated the six, wall-to-wall shelves. On the shelves were various drones that travel back and capture history in their hologram units for the History Tracking Group to go over. She picked up a speedy Peregrine Falcon, one of her favorites. She read the status ticket attached to its leg. Flight status: Ready. Hologram camera: Inspected. Infrared camera: Installed 6-1-70. Fuel: six C61 pellets.

Nice, she thought as she placed it on the worktable. She then entered into her laptop the mission coordinates and data that Maryellen gave her for the flight to England. Next she connected the laptop to the drone and downloaded the mission information. Finished, she left the room with the drone and went up to the Time Transfer Room.

Fred Murphy, an elderly man with pure white hair, guarded the time travel door. He wasn’t there to stop anyone from going back as much as he was to keep a record of all who went back and their return.

“Hello, Clara,” he said as she approached his desk, “Taking a trip back?”

“Yep!” she said with her usual smile as the man turned his laptop to face her. She said, as she entered the information into the computer, “Clara Murphy, I.D. 075, August 21, 1911, 5:00 p.m.” She then hit the activate button and the door behind Fred’s desk opened.

Fred held out a small plastic bag with a set of filters in it as he said, “Will you be needing nose filters, Clara?”

“I’ll just be a moment,” she said before changing her mind, “You know what, Fred, on second thought, yes, I’ll take those filters.” She opened the bag and inserted them into her nostrils, inhaled deeply and said, “Guess there’s no reason not to be prepared for anything.” Picking up the bot she went through the open door and stood for a moment on the cool landing as she took in the light of the gas lamps reflecting off of the red brick walls. She went down the stone steps and soon stood before the large, steel security door. She used her passkey to open it and stepped out into the garden of August 21, 1911.

 

DATELINE: AUGUST 21, 1911 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY

As it was only 5:00 p.m. the warm summer sun was still beating down on the shrubs, trees and flowers of the club’s garden.

This is beautiful, she thought as she looked around. Seeing the pond, Clara went and sat on one of the flat stones that encircled it. She wet her fingertips in the cool water and was pleasantly surprised when the goldfish came to her. “Oh, you think I’m going to feed you,” she shook her head and went on as she flicked the water around, “I’m sorry. Next time I’ll bring some fish flakes along.”

“Why not use these?”

She stood quickly to see who had spoken when a figure stepped out of the shadows of a large evergreen tree.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” the tall, good-looking man said as he showed her the can of fish food he held. “We keep the fish food back here on one of the limbs of the evergreen so we always know where it is.” He was well dressed in a blue, three-button suit with a high, white, stiff collared shirt that covered the knot of his deep blue silk tie. He wore highly polished black shoes and a black, flat fedora with a gray hatband. Though it was a warm day he wore black form-fitted leather gloves and carried a slim walking stick.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” she said as she tried to hide the bot behind her back.

“Please,” he said, “don’t be afraid, I’m Bill Scott from the 1800 Club, and seeing your drone, I figure you are from upline. Am I correct?”

Relieved, she nodded, “I’m sorry for the mistake, Mister Scott, but I thought you were from 1911 and had somehow entered the garden.”

“I completely understand,” he said as he offered her his hand. “As I said I’m Bill from the 1800 Club.”

Clara’s eyes opened wide as she stammered, “Mister Scott, it is an honor to meet you, sir. I’m Clara Murphy from the H&D, ah, I mean the Hologram/Drone group.”

They shook hands.

“Grab a seat, Clara,” he said as he sat on one of the garden’s stone benches.

She sat next to him. “This is so beautiful and peaceful. I envy you, Mister Scott.”

“Please, Clara, call me Bill.” He took his hat off and looked around. “You are right about that, Clara, it is beautiful and peaceful.” He looked at the drone, “Guess someone in the History Watcher’s Group asked for a bot mission?”

She mentally slapped her forehead as she stood, “Oh, I have to send this out immediately. Miss Muldey is waiting for the hologram.”

“How far does it have to travel?”

“France.”

Bill nodded as she stood in the middle of the garden and activated the drone before tossing it up. They both watched as its flapping wings carried it around the garden twice as it started to follow the path that was programmed into it. It flapped its wings faster and as it flew away, it climbed higher. Both knew that when it was too high to be seen from the ground its small rocket engine would kick in and it will fly supersonically across the Atlantic Ocean to its destination.

She turned to Bill and said, “Well, that’s done. I better get back to the group now. It was nice meeting you, Bill.”

“The pleasure was mine. Clara.” They shook hands once again and Bill said as they walked to the door, “Hey, do you know my grandson, Edmund Scott?”

She turned with renewed interest and said, “Edmund Scott? He’s your grandson? Yes I know him, he is cute.”

Bill grinned, “I’ll tell him that you said that.”

Her smile was warm as she said, “Actually, I’ll tell him myself as we’re having dinner tonight.”

Now Bill smiled, “Well, tell him I said hi and I hope you two enjoy yourselves. Now, go ahead and set your time into your TFM and then I’ll do mine.”

She entered her time into the TFM and smiled as she said, “Bye, Bill. Hope to see you again.” She opened the door and after closing it behind her, Bill entered his time destination into his Time Frequency Modulator and pressed the activate button, opened the door and went back to the 1800 Club.

DATELINE: MAY 4, 2070 PLACE: HISTORY TRACKING CENTER, NEW YORK CITY

Maryellen Muldey was on her laptop reading all she could about the Mona Lisa robbery and its return when there was a tap at the conference room door.

“Come in,” she said as she stretched her back.

Clara entered with a hologram in her hand. “Here’s the hologram you wanted, Ms. Muldey.”

“Thank you so much, Clara. Are you still on duty?”

“Yes. Ten minutes before I’m relieved by Ted.”

Maryellen smiled and turned to the hologram. Using her thumb, she depressed the end of the cool metallic cylinder and a small scene suddenly appeared on the conference table. The History Tracker watched and as it took shape she rubbed her hands together.

“Like a little girl on her birthday”, John Hyder had once said as she opened a hologram, “It’s as though you are opening a present on your birthday.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, John. I just like my job, that’s all,” she said as he went out the door and she giggled as she thought, Actually, John, it’s more like opening two presents on my birthday every time I open a hologram. And it is like a present because you never really know what you’re going to get.

This time the hologram showed a beautiful sunset of reds and yellows with the Eiffel Tower in silhouette as the drone flew in a gentle circle as it sought its target.

Maryellen mentally bit her lip as she chastised herself, Drones or ‘bots as the young kids of the Hologram/Drone or HD department called their toys. She shrugged her slim shoulders and said to herself, “Tut-tut, Miss Muldey, no matter what they are called, they are the life of the program and the young boys and girls who repair and send them out are the sharpest kids in history as far as the Time Watcher’s Group is concerned.”

She watched as the Falcon drone swooped down and perched itself on a windowsill of the famous art gallery; the Louvre. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the interior lights reflected off of some of the greatest pieces of art the world would ever know. She watched as a small-framed woman with her black hair tied up in a bun slowly pushed her cleaning cart along the corridor as she dusted here and there.

Maryellen glanced at the information that showed up at the bottom right hand side of the hologram. It was 8:00 p.m., August 21, 1911.

Looking back at the scene she saw that the woman seemed to have stopped at one painting during her rounds. The Time Watcher adjusted the hologram’s zoom feature and saw that she was admiring Leonardo da Vinci’s painting, the Mona Lisa. She dusted the glass case that held the painting to the wall and then gently removed the heavy case from the wall and placed it in her cart. Suddenly it seemed that she had shed twenty years as she straightened out and almost flew down the corridor pushing her cart before her.

Maryellen flung open the door and summoned Ted, who had just relieved Clara.

“Yes, Miss Muldey? How can I help you?”

“Hello, Ted, will you be so kind as to summon the group for me?”

“Right away, m’am,” he said as he walked towards the double doors at the end of the corridor.

Twenty minutes later the rest of the group took their seats and after their nods and greetings, Maryellen addressed them: “Hi, gang. Let me get right to the point.” She stood and for an unguarded moment ran her fingers through her pure white hair nervously. Thrusting her hands into the pockets of her blue jacket she said, “Let me show you all the hologram I just received, then we’ll talk.” She activated it again and the group watched as the cleaning lady robbed the museum of its, soon-to-be, greatest painting.

Maryellen said, “I checked our history computer and the painting was taken on that date, but the person who took it was a man, not a woman.”

“Maryellen,” asked Joseph Sergi as he stood, “maybe it was a guy dressed as a woman?”

“Maybe,” she said, “but here’s the timeline of what happened. On Monday morning August 21, 1911 a plumber named Sauvet spotted a man in a white smock motioning to him and pointing to the broken gate that kept him locked inside of the museum. The locked gate was the only way the thief could leave without being stopped by the guards. Figuring that he was one of the workers, the helpful plumber used a pair of pliers and a key to open the gate for him. Thinking back later, the plumber figured that the white smock covered the painting, ‘Mona Lisa.’”

“What if she was his accomplice?” quipped Jerry Sullivan. “She hid him in the museum and after she stole it, gave it to him to smuggle out of the Louvre.”

“Perhaps,” said Maryellen, “but it makes you wonder: was she just a cleaning woman who was forced into stealing it or is Maud’s story correct?

“Well,” added John Hyder as he looked at his own laptop, “As we know it was brought to a museum in Italy in December of 1913 and the museum returned it to the Louvre. But the funny thing is it was never really famous before it was stolen. It became famous after it was stolen and even more so after it was returned. In fact the Louvre was hard pressed to control the crowds that came to see the now-famous painting.”

“Just as Maud told me.” She walked a few steps, then stopped, turned and said, “Wait, I have an idea,” Maryellen ran the hologram once more. She slowed and stopped it when the woman’s identification badge came into view. “Adel Damien,” she said as she wrote the name down. “The same name given to me by Maud over tea.”

“I’m on it,” said Joseph as he typed away on his laptop. It took a few times for the program to settle on the right Adel Damien.

“Got something,” said Joseph as he stood and pushed back his hair from his eyes. Adel Damein was born in Paris on May 6, 1886. Attended school, grades 1 through 9 then studied art where she became a great mimic of the old masters. She put herself through school by working in the Louvre. She was a survivor of the Titanic and settled in New York City where she worked as a cover artist for various magazines.

He shrugged his shoulders and went on, “Maryellen, I don’t see anything really out of step with the way it went down in history.”

Alexis stood and the sound of her chair as it slid back got everyone’s attention. “Hey, gang. I’m not sure why, but I agree with Maryellen on this. I mean, for years everyone thought it was one guy who took and then returned it. Now all of the sudden we find out that history could very well be missing a chunk of the truth.”

Jerry asked, “Maryellen, do you feel that we should check into this deeper?”

“Yes, Jerry. I believe that we should send someone back and check it out.” She looked around the table and asked, “All in favor?”

All agreed and Maryellen said, “I agree that it’s not the most important mission, but it is missing history and I’d like to see who the thief really was and what their motive was, after all, as you said the Mona Lisa wasn’t even famous yet.” She paced a small circle then stopped suddenly and said, “But, rather than send someone back on the doomed ship, why not just send a bot and watch as the ship hits the iceberg to see if someone tosses an object out of the porthole and onto the berg?”

Once again the affirmative nods told her that they were all in agreement with her. “Okay, gang. Why don’t you all go home and get some sleep. I’m going to set up a hologram mission and do the same. We can all meet here at nine tomorrow morning.” She looked over at Jerry and asked, “Jerry, did you get the coordinates and time for the mission?”

“Yep, right here,” he answered as he slid a folded slip of paper across the table to her.

“Thanks, Jerry. Will you please send Ted in and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ted entered and Maryellen handed him the paper with the information for his drone. “Ted,” she said as she ran her fingers through her hair, “This is touchy. We need to see if someone aboard the Titanic tossed a package from their window, and see if it landed on the iceberg that sank her.” She rubbed her tired eyes and continued as she looked down at her feet, “If possible direct your drone to not scan the ship as we’ve been there and done that at least once too often. Know what I mean?”

The young man nodded, “I understand and will do my best, Ms. Muldey.” He left and went down to the same room that Clara had used earlier that day.

I think the Albatross is best for this mission, he thought as he brought down the large bot and placed it on the workbench. He checked the status ticket tied around its neck. Flight status: Ready. Hologram camera: Inspected. Infrared camera: Installed 5-29-70. Fuel: nine C61-A pellets. Finished, he hefted the bot up to the Time Transfer Room.

Placing the bot on the desk, he asked the guard, “How’s it going, Randy?”

Looking at the large robot bird, Randy, who had relieved Freddy on the guard desk answered, “Great. And you?”

“All is good,” Ted answered.

The guard turned the computer to face him and Ted entered the needed information into the laptop. He depressed the activate button and the door behind the guard opened.

Randy asked, “Nose filters, Ted?”

“Naw. I’ll be right back.” He descended the stone stairs and opened the security door to the Club’s garden of 1912.

 

DATELINE: APRIL 14, 1912 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY

It was 12 noon and the garden was just starting to come to life with fresh buds popping out of branches and tree limbs and thin blades of bright green grass poking up through the rich black earth. There were puddles of rainwater on the red, blue and buff flagstone walkway that reflected the sun, giving them the appearance of diamonds ready to be picked up.

Ted double-checked that the small rocket tube hidden beneath the bot’s tail was clear before he activated the bird drone and tossed it up into the air. As expected, the bot circled inside of the walled garden as its internal navigation system locked onto the coordinates needed to cross the Atlantic Ocean to 41°46' N, 50°24' W. Ted watched as it locked onto the North Star and started its climb to a high altitude before activating its rocket engine.

He smiled proudly and said, “Bon voyage mon petit bebe!”

Once at 30,000 feet the drone drew back its wings into a rigid delta form, lowered its head and ignited its rocket engine. Almost instantly it was zipping along at 1,200 miles-per-hour.

 

DATELINE: MAY 5, 2070 PLACE: HISTORY TRACKING CENTER, NEW YORK CITY

All of the History Trackers had a room in the club for times like this, and Maryellen had decided to sleep in, rather than go home, as she wanted to be the first one in today. She shook her head and her damp hair flopped around as she tried to dry it before the group arrived. She opened her locker, selected a blue and white polka dot print dress with a white sash that she tied in the front. She patted her still slim waist and smiled as she selected a pair of low heel blue patent leather shoes, slipped them on and went to the conference room at 8:35.

As she walked down the corridor she saw a woman pushing a cart with coffee, tea, eggs, cereal, bagels and all of the fixings for breakfast, enter the conference room before her.

“Good morning, Ester,” she said to the woman.

“Good morning to you too, Ms. Muldey. Long night?”

“Yep! And that tea looks inviting.”

The woman smiled and with a wink said, “Honey dipped tea. Goes great with a bagel and cream cheese.”

“I’m sold,” came a voice from the doorway.

Maryellen turned, “Jerry, good morning, Guess I won’t have to eat all of this myself.”

Within five minutes the rest of the group arrived and all headed to the coffee and tea station set up in the corner of the conference room before sitting at the long table. They all noticed the single hologram cylinder standing on the mahogany conference table in front of Maryellen.

“Good morning, all,” she said as she removed the tea bag from her teacup, “Ready for the showing?” She pressed her thumb down on the indent at the end of the cylinder and immediately a form appeared. A long white foamy wake was all that could be seen, as the night was so dark. All at the table knew that it was a ship’s wake as it cut through the cold, dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean, and all knew that the wake emanated from the large propellers of the doomed ship, Titanic. Nobody at the conference table spoke as all had their own thoughts. They were more familiar with the disaster than any other person alive as they had more than one mission with the ship and had watched her sink many times.

They were grateful when the bot slid gently to the starboard side of the wake and, rather than be directly over the ship when it hit the iceberg, it scanned the area to the right-hand side of the first-class cabins. It slowed down to pace the liner, which started to turn to port of the suddenly visible iceberg. The iceberg seemed to take on the look of a mirror as it reflected the dark waters and sky and thus was invisible until the very last moment.

As instructed, the bot scanned the starboard side of the ship and had a clear view of it as it slid its side against the iceberg. Suddenly an object flew from a window and landed on the iceberg. The bot soared lower and using all of its sensors located the three-foot by one and one half foot package that landed in a crevice near the bottom of the iceberg. Its job completed, the bot flew up to 30,000 feet and once again transitioned into a rocket-propelled machine that zoomed away from the scene below.

All at the table were quiet and more than one pushed their half eaten bagel away.

“Well gang,” said Maryellen trying to change the subject as much as she could, “we now know that the real Mona Lisa is on that iceberg.” She shook her head and said, “Any ideas?”

“Maryellen,” said Alexis, “the only way to get it back is to send someone to get it.”

Maryellen sighed, “Yes. That’s what I think too. That’s going to be a tough one.”

“What about not going and getting it?” said Jerry as he looked at the iceberg getting smaller and smaller as the bot flew higher and higher.”

“Not going to get it?” mimicked Joseph, “Isn’t this what we do?”

“I only mean,” answered Jerry, “the world believes that the painting hanging in the Louver is the one and only. They’ll never know and we won’t have to endanger anyone with a trip back like that.”

John Hyder raised his hand and said, “Jerry, as much as I tend to agree with you, I think it’s our duty to bring her back. Even if nobody ever finds out, we’re going to feel guilty about not even trying.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” quipped Jerry.

Maryellen stood and said, “Why not let Bill Scott and the 1800 Club know what happened and see what he thinks?”

Alexis nodded, “He has pulled off some great feats and has a one hundred percent success rate with our missions.”

“I have a question,” said John, “I imagine we have to wait until all of the survivors are picked up before someone goes searching on the iceberg for a package. So, my question is, how do we identify that iceberg again?”

Jerry stood and looked down at his open laptop and said, “We have the currents and wind directions on that day so we can pinpoint where it is going to be when the club member gets there.”

“Don’t all icebergs look pretty much the same?” asked Joseph.

Maryellen shook her head and said softly, “Not this one, Joseph. It has a smear of red paint along the side that scraped the ship.”

“Oh, I see.”

Maryellen nodded, “All in favor of sending Bill a hologram on this, raise your hands.” All agreed and she opened the door and asked Clara to step in.

 

DATELINE: APRIL 18, 1870 PLACE: FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY

Bill Scott loved his job as president of the 1800 Club as, whenever he wished, he stepped back in time and explored the many world-shaping events that took place in New York City. Although he could travel anywhere he wanted, he tried to stay local in case there was an emergency mission. He stood, squinted his eyes as he gazed up at the sun in the clear blue sky and thought, Great day for a parade! Not too hot and not too cold, just perfect. He looked at his pocket watch and nodded as he thought to himself, 11:05, get set Bill. Its about to begin.

The time traveler stood in front of a store and used the reflection of its large windows as a mirror, something that most New Yorkers and visitors to the city did as they passed by the many large store windows. He tapped his high, black opera hat to a smarter angle. Bill had decided to go all out for this occasion and wore his long black coat with twin tails that stood out sharply against his starched white shirt with a stiff collar and black bow tie, gray vest, pants and spats. His military history showed as his spit-shined black shoes reflected the sunlight. He wore gray fitted gloves and walked with a silver-gripped walking stick. He liked the way the red carnation popped against his lapel and grinned as he thought, Boy, if my friends from the SEALs could see me now . . . what a laugh they’d have. Oh well, time to join the crowd that will become the first Easter Parade in New York City.

He walked across Fifth Avenue and stood at the bottom step of St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Fiftieth Street as the ten large doors all seemed to open at once and hundreds of churchgoers exited the beautiful building. As they left the church they intermingled with churchgoers from Trinity church and others from St. Thomas’ Episcopal church. All were dressed in their finest spring outfits and while the men were mostly dressed in a tux, it was the women who took first place in their sense of design . . . especially in the hats they wore. It seemed that they threw tradition to the wind as many hats allowed them to tower over the men who escorted them along Fifth Avenue. More than a few were topped with decorative birds in nests made of cut green silk ribbon. The birds had their wings spread more than three feet wide in a protective stance as they guarded real, multi-colored hard boiled eggs while others wore famous buildings such as the Eiffel Tower on theirs sitting in a circle of paper flowers. One woman wore a hat decorated with the incomplete Brooklyn Bridge on hers.

Bill smiled as he followed the crowd onto Fifth Avenue. Although Fifth Avenue sported wide sidewalks so visitors could stop and gaze into the various store windows and not impede others, the throng of people this Easter Sunday spilled over onto the street itself, forcing carriages to ride in a single file. It was one of the rare times that he couldn’t hear the carriage wheels and horses’ hooves on the street because of the laughter and conversations of the people. The festive atmosphere was contagious and all of the men had to continuously tip their hats and women nod back gently for fear of their top-heavy hat falling off as the crowd walked slowly down the wide street.

The first Easter Parade in New York City, thought Bill, and the funny thing is nobody here realizes it. To them it was nothing more than stepping out of Sunday services and mingling with others who, following old European tradition, also dressed up for Easter. But for me, it’s knowing that it will soon be recognized as New York City’s first Easter Parade and I’m now a part of it.

The impromptu parade broke up around Forty-first Street and seeing that it was a nice sunny day, Bill decided to walk home. However he found himself drifting off course and instead walked to 97 East 11th Street: Paddy Diamond’s Bar & Grill.

He looked at his pocket watch and seeing that it was 12:05, said to himself as he walked through the open double doors, “I bet Paddy has a nice lunch menu for today”.

The long bar was already half full with the regulars of this time period and when Bill happily saw that his favorite spot at the end of the 40 foot long mahogany bar was empty, he grabbed it. He removed his hat and gloves and placed them and his walking stick on the empty, backless, round stool next to him and as Paddy was busy at the other end of the bar, he took the time to check out his favorite drinking place.

Two of the three entrances of Diamond’s Bar & Grill

 

The long wooden bar had twenty plus stools, all backless with horsehair filled round cushions covered in red wool that will become red plastic over the years. Five large windows lined the street side of the bar and the three booths next to three of them gave a sitting customer a nice view of the carriages that rolled by as families took a leisurely ride on such a nice day. The sunlight that poured through the great windows was reflected and multiplied many times over by the large mirrors behind the bar. Those same mirrors reflected the light of the gas lamps attached to the wooden columns that held up the half dozen wooden shelves that displayed the wines and liquor available. A long, four-inch in diameter, brass foot rail ran down the length of the bar and the floor was decorated with hexagonal shaped black and white, one-inch tiles. At the rear of the bar was a smaller room abutting the street side window that held one booth. This was the room that the ladies sat in. Separating this room from the main bar was a wooden spindled arch and above that arch was the large moose head that gave Bill a smile whenever he visited Diamonds, in whichever time period, it was, as the head sported a few long cobwebs that flowed in the breeze whenever the front and the rear door in the ladies section was open.

On the floor behind the bar were sections of wooden duckboards running down the length of the bar. They were designed to keep the bar tender’s feet above any spilled drinks or water and the sound of heavy footsteps hitting those loose wooden boards alerted Bill that Paddy Diamond was heading towards him.

“Bill Scott!” the big man called out as he offered his hand, “How’ve ya been, lad?”

“Just great, Paddy, and you?” he answered as they shook hands.

“Just great! Why look at me, I’ve lost four pounds!”

Bill grinned as the six-foot plus, 260 pound man posed sideways. “Paddy, I do believe that you are hiding it beneath your apron.”

The big man laughed, which set his mop of white hair flopping around, “Ah, I can’t put anything past ya, Bill. What’ll ya have?”

“Did you cook up any eggs today?”

“That I did. How many an’ what do ya want ta wash them down with?”

“Two eggs and a cold glass of Schaefer beer.”

“On the way,” the big man said and the sound of his footsteps receded as he walked back down the bar.

He returned with a dish holding two shelled, hard-boiled eggs that slid around the round plate, and a large mug of beer. “Two chicken dinners and a cold beer,” he said as he wiped his hands on the front of his apron. He said, as a customer called him, “Back in a moment, Bill, I’ve got a thirsty customer down at the end of the stick.” He walked down the bar as Bill ate his eggs and sipped his beer. He grinned as he thought, One day I’m going to bring all the members of the 1800 Club here for a blowout party!

The time traveler decided to have a second beer along with a cigar and as he lit it, he felt a nibble at his pant’s leg and looked down to see his beagle, Samson, sniffing his shoe.

“Good afternoon, sir,” said Matt as he held the dog’s leash. “As Samson needed a walk I decided to visit Paddy Diamond for a sip of tea and as I knew you were in this time period I took a chance that I might bump into you.” Matt removed his tall black hat, dropped his gloves into it and placed it next to Bill’s. He wore his all black tux with a black bow tie, white shirt, collar and gray spats that reflected off his polished black shoes.

“Great, Matt,” Bill said as he leaned down and scratched his dog’s ears, “Can I get you something stronger?”

“No, thank you, sir, tea will be fine. I may be meeting with an old friend this evening.”

Once again Paddy’s arrival was announced by his footsteps on the loose duckboards.

“Paddy,” said Matt as he put out his hand, “Good to see you again, sir.”

“Same here, Matt. Like a brew?”

“Not today, Paddy. I’m hoping for an Irish green tea with a small cut of lemon and a drop of Tabasco.”

“Comin’ up, my friend.”

The two time travelers sat and chatted as Samson lay on the cool floor and napped. Matt had just finished his cup of tea when the beagle looked up sharply as someone tapped on one of the windows. Both men looked up as well and saw a pretty, slim, middle-aged woman smiling at them beneath her open parasol.

“I don’t know her,” said Bill as he turned to Matt.

Matt said as he nodded at the pretty woman, “Ahh, it’s a friend of mine, Miss Nicole Cappillo. I told her I might be here today and if she showed up we’d go for a stroll.”

Bill mentally raised his eyebrows as he said, “Well, go on then. Why not let me take Samson home and free you up so to speak?”

“That would be good, sir. I shan’t be late.”

“Matt, please take your time. I insist.” Our next dinner is tomorrow night. So enjoy yourself.”

Matt picked up his hat and gloves and said, “Thank you, sir. I shall.”

Bill and Samson both watched as he left the bar. Will Matt ever stop surprising me? he thought with a smile. He looked down at his dog and said with a grin, “Samson, I wonder how many other ‘friends’ Matt has when he takes you out for a walk in all of those various times?”

He paid the tab and after shaking hands with Paddy, left for home with his beagle. It seemed to take longer than usual to get home as the Sanitation Department was closed on Sundays so there was more horse waste on the streets to walk around. The smell of horse waste seemed worse than usual today, which led Bill to say as he looked down at Samson, “Pal, with that superior sense of smell that you have, I feel bad for you today. Let’s get you back home.”

Back in the club’s garden, Bill sat on his favorite stone bench and watched as the beagle sniffed a section of the area to try and find something that had dared to walk across his territory.

“Probably just a squirrel, Samson. And he’s long gone.”

Bill took out his TFM and punched in the date and time before he stood and retrieved the key from inside his starched shirt, opened the security door and stepped inside with his beagle.

 

DATELINE: MAY 5, 2014 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY

As usual Samson was up the stairs in a flash and scratching at the door as Bill arrived on the landing. He unleashed him, opened the door and Samson bounded in and quickly settled down on the leather couch. The time traveler didn’t even take off his jacket when there was a knock on the same door he had just used.

Matt? he thought as he went to it. Naw, too soon. Must be Edmund. He opened the door and sure enough, it was his future grandson, Edmund Scott.

“Ed, how the heck are you?” he asked as they hugged.

“Just fine, Bill. Just fine, what about you?”

“Good, very good. So, is this a family visit or a mission?” he asked with a grin.

“A bit of both, grandp, ah, I mean Bill.” He held out a hologram tube and said, “The business side is in this hologram and the family part is me joining you in a cup of hot chocolate.”

“Great!” said Bill as he pointed to one of the leather chairs, “Grab a seat and I’ll whip them up.” He went to the small combination bar and efficient kitchen and using his Keurig coffee maker, put in a cup of hot chocolate and soon had a mug of the hot drink. He made the second cup and sat opposite his grandson.

“Cheers,” Bill said as he held out his Donald Duck mug and clicked against Edmund’s plain mug.

“Cheers to you, Bill and how come I get this regular cup and you get that great Donald Duck one?”

Bill winked and answered, “You tell me your favorite Disney character and I’ll have one ready for you next time. Okay?”

“It’s okay and it’s Scrooge McDuck.”

They took a sip and Bill asked, “So, who’s Clara?”

Edmund’s face showed his surprise, “Clara? You mean Clara from my time?”

“Yep. Clara from your time.”

“How do you know her?”

Bill smiled as he answered, “Hey, just because a bunch of years separate us, that doesn’t mean that a grandfather can’t look out for his kin. Right?”

“You shock me at times,” his grandson answered with a warm smile.

“You know, she thinks that you’re cute.” He shrugged his shoulders and went on, “Then again, of course you are: you have my blood running in your veins.”

Edmund shook his head as he rolled his eyes. “Did she really say that she thought that I was cute?”

“Yep! We met in the garden as she was sending back a bot. Probably for this very same mission,” he said as he pointed to the hologram sitting on his desk. I understand that you two are having dinner tonight?”

Edmund grinned, “Wow! You are informed. Anyway, yes we are.” He looked at his watch and downed his drink before saying, “That was good, Bill, now I must run and get ready for tonight.”

“Hate to see you go, but I should take a look at this before it becomes reality.”

“I understand. Thanks again for the drink and maybe next time we can go back to the club for dinner. That was great.”

“You have a date, Ed.”

They both stood and at the open door hugged goodbye.

Bill took off his coat, kicked off his shoes and sat on the couch as he activated the hologram cylinder.

He watched it four times and opened a large book on the Titanic. He found two different photos of the iceberg, both wearing the telltale smear of red paint.

At ten o’clock Bill went down to the kitchen and made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and fixed Samson a bowl of food. They were both finished when Matt entered the room.

“Sir, shall I whip something up for you? A steak with onions, peas and potatoes?”

“No thanks, Matt. I just finished two PB&J sandwiches and am ready for bed. Did you and the lady enjoy yourselves?”

“We did, sir. We strolled through Central Park and fed the pigeons.”

Bill smiled as the grandmother clock in the kitchen chimed ten times.

“I noticed a hologram cylinder on your parlor table as I entered the den. Is there a mission being planned, sir?”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed and he asked, “Parlor table?”

“Yes, sir. The Victorian Parlor table that you refer to as your ‘coffee table’.”

“Ohhh, that Parlor table. Yes, my grandson Edmund was here and he passed me a mission cylinder.” He shook his head and said, “Sort of a tough one.’

“Anything that I can do to help, sir?”

“I’m not sure yet, Matt. Lets start off with tomorrow night’s dinner list. Will Rocko Perna be there? I think we need someone that’s handy with a sailing vessel of sorts.”

“I’ll go to my quarters and send the attendance list to you, sir. Have you started the newspaper yet?”

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “I’ll get on that before going to bed.” He looked at the clock and said, “In fact that’s what I’m going to do right away.”

“Fine, sir. Good evening then. Wake you at ten?”

“Naw. Better make that eight. I still have some reading to do.”

 

One hour later, Bill read the articles he had selected from the various newspapers of May 6, 1870.

 

Brooklyn Eagle

For Sale $3.00 Item Number 570

Off White, Hand Crocheted Baby Bedspread of a Little Boy Running Through High Grass Chasing A Butterfly With A Net.

This Off White Filet Crochet Baby Bedspread is absolutely adorable.  It shows a hand crocheted filet crochet center of a little boy running barefoot through tall grass as he tries to catch a butterfly with his net.

The figure crochet area has new blue satin ribbon threaded through it with an antique bodkin. The area outside of the crochet center design is all hand crocheting. It is edged in a shell crochet edging. The piece measures 43" x 37 1/2". It is in excellent condition and is ready to use.  It is soft as well as beautiful. Absolutely delightful for any new baby boy. What a great one of a kind baby gift

Brooklyn Eagle.

 

New York Times

February 25, 1870
The First African American Senator

On February 25, 1870, visitors in the Senate galleries burst into applause as senator-elect Hiram Revels, a Republican from Mississippi, entered the chamber to take his oath of office. Those present knew that they were witnessing an event of great historical significance. Revels was about to become the first African American to serve in the Senate and this newspaper fully endorses him. Born 42 years earlier to free black parents in Fayetteville, North Carolina, Revels became an educator and minister of the African Methodist Episcopal Church. During the Civil War, he helped form regiments of African American soldiers and established schools for freed slaves. After the war, Revels moved to Mississippi, where he won election to the state senate. In recognition of his hard work and leadership skills, his legislative colleagues elected him to one of Mississippi's vacant U.S. Senate seats as that state prepared to rejoin the Union.

New York Times

 

New York World

Children and Elders Alike Enjoy New York’s First Aquarium

The New York Aquarium at Battery's Castle Clinton in Lower Manhattan is the place to go to learn about aquatic life. The Aquarium's facility houses 150 specimens!

New York World

 

Bill grinned as he knew today's version of the Aquarium is home to over 350 species of aquatic wildlife and over 8,000 specimens. It lasted in the Battery until 1941 when it was relocated to Brooklyn’s Coney Island because of the construction of the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel.

Well, I have a newspaper for tomorrow’s meeting, he thought as he cut and pasted the three articles into the club’s newspaper, joining them with the news of the day, horse race results, puzzles and gossip pieces. Finished, he sent it to Matt to be printed.

Now, for a shower and bed.

He took a shower and, wrapped in his tattered terry cloth robe, went to the open laptop and saw that Matt had sent him the menu for tomorrow’s dinner. Bill sat and gave it a look over. Not that I’d ever change any menu that Matt put together, he thought as he perused it onscreen.

Appetizers

Caesar Salad

Poached Egg, Parmesan, White Anchovy

Iceberg Salad

Jasper Hill Blue Cheese, North Country Apple-Wood Bacon, Red Onion, Tomato

Club’s Salad

Candied Hazelnut, Lemon Yogurt

Maple Brook Farms ‘Burrata’

Roasted Peach, Arugula, La Quercia Prosciutto, Grilled Red Onion

Tuna Tartare

Yuzu, Horse Radish, Olive Oil

Grilled Seafood

East Coast Oysters, West Coast Oysters, Little Neck Clams, Shrimp Cocktail, Poached Lobster, Colossal Crab

Blue Crab Cake

Three Sister’s Salad, Charred Pineapple, Piquillo Pepper Coulis

Club Cured Bacon

Heirloom Tomatoes, Spring Onion Pesto, Ranhofer sauce

Acquerello Risotto

Ruby Red Shrimp, Charred Corn, Preserved Meyer Lemon, Pea Shoots

Roasted Oysters

Diamond Jim Brady Style

Cage-Free Foie Gras

Chef’s Special Sauce

After Dinner

Tea, Coffee

Deserts

Ice Cream, Vanilla Fudge Cake, Lemon Curd Pie with Brown Sugar Sauce

 

I really must start to exercise again, he thought as he signed off.

 

Eight a.m. the next morning came fast, but easy, as he was woken by the smell of bacon, eggs and coffee.

“Good morning, sir,” said Matt as he set the breakfast tray on the table next to Bill’s bed.

”Good morning, Matt,” he answered with a squint as the drapes were pulled apart allowing the morning sun to fill the room. “Sleep well?”

Matt looked perplexed that someone would even think that he didn’t always sleep well. “Yes, sir, of course. And you?”

“Like a baby.”

“Actually, sir, it has been proven that babies sleep fitfully more often than not.”

It was Bill’s turn to look up and roll his eyes.

 

As soon as breakfast was over, Bill went back to the book on the Titanic to fine-tune the timeline he would have to keep too so as not to be seen by any passing ships.

After lunch, Bill asked Matt to come up and watch the hologram. Both men were silent after it ended. Finally Bill said, “So, as you saw, the painting ended up on that iceberg and the mission is to retrieve it before the berg breaks up in the warmer waters that it’s in now.” He faced his right-hand-man and went on. “Tonight I’m going to brief Rocko Perna and John Brand and ask them to join me on this mission. Rocko, because he is a sailor and will be in charge of renting the best boat for the job, and John, because I might need another person to help. As usual, I’d like you to set us all up with clothes and supplies as well as transportation.”

Matt nodded and closed his eyes momentarily, then said as he looked up at the ceiling, “Because Misters Perna and Brand have stepped back before and I needed to supply them with outfits and such, I have their measurements and will exhibit them after tonight’s club meeting. Would that meet your requirements, sir?”

“Yep! That would do it, Matt. Thanks again.”

 

As the grandfather clock struck six forty-five, Bill stood in front of his full-length mirror. He straightened the dark gray ascot he wore rather than a tie or cravat. The ascot demanded that he wear his well-starched collar open as well as the top two buttons of his white shirt. “Very artsy, Mister Scott, very artsy indeed,” he said to himself. He wore a light gray, six-button vest and his gray pants sported thin black pinstripes. His black, three-button jacket had a white carnation in its lapel and his button-down black shoes finished his outfit. He decided to leave his tall black opera hat, gray opera gloves and silver-handled walking stick behind.

He knew that dinner would be served at eight sharp and he also knew that many of the club members would be in the great room already and, as he wanted to talk with Rocko and John, he decided to come down earlier than usual.

Bill left his quarters and walked down the deep brown, carpeted hallway to the mahogany curved staircase. He grinned as he got a flashback of Nellie sliding down the banister followed by himself. The chatter of people enjoying themselves emanated from the open doorway of the great room and drifted up the stairs. Once down the stairs, he took a newspaper from the stack on the small table that stood next to the open doorway. Inside, the gaslights flickered and joined the light from the fireplace in creating shadows on the light blue and white-flocked wallpapered walls while the light of the candles in the two large overhead chandeliers bounced softly off the highly polished wooden floors. As far as the members of The 1800 Club were concerned, they were truly back in 1870, as their newspapers said they were.

He stepped into the room and almost immediately the talking stopped as men nodded and smiled and women curtsied. Bill smiled back and gestured that they should carry on. He noticed that the fireplace was lit, but kept low as the night had just a hint of a chill in it and as usual, when it was lit, it attracted club members to stand by it as they sipped wine and talked amongst themselves.

“Sir, some wine?” said Matt as he seemed to appear out of nowhere carrying a silver tray with cigars, wine and wine glasses on it.

“Ah, yes, thank you, Matt,” Bill said as he took a glass of red wine and a Cuban which Matt lit for him.

“Sir, Misters Brand and Perna are in the far right corner.”

“Thanks, Matt,” said Bill as he headed that way.

Bill was halfway there when he spotted a new club member and he stopped, put out his hand and said, “Mister McDonough, allow me to welcome you into the 1800 Club. I’m President Scott.”

“Mister president,” he said as he shook hands with Bill, “this is an honor, indeed.” His dark eyes were gleaming as he turned the ends of his thick black mustache up and pushed back his, already slicked down, dark hair.

Bill noted that he was dressed as a typical businessman of the 1800s with a three-piece brown suit, brown shoes and a dark brown cravat at the neck of his white shirt.

“I do hope that you enjoy tonight’s dinner and perhaps you will sit next to me at the next dinner as I have already asked a few of our fellow club members to join me this evening.”

“I look forward to that, Mister President and perhaps I can tell you of my invention?”

Bill smiled and knowing that McDonough’s ancestor from the 1800s had made the invention said, “Do you mean the ‘Manur Pouch’.”

Seeing the look of surprise on the man’s face, Bill grinned as he went on, “I try to read everything I can about the ingenious members of the 1800 Club. I know of your invention to catch horse waste before it falls to the streets of this fine city and I do believe that every horse owner will be made to purchase one to strap on their horse.”

McDonough did a slight bow at the waist and said, “Sir, I look forward to the next dinner.”

Bill finished his walk across the large room and stepped up behind the two club members who had become his closest friends.

“Greetings, guys,” he said.

“Hey, Bill,” said John before he put his hand over his mouth and said, “Ah, I mean, Mister President.”

Seeing that nobody was close enough to hear them, Bill said, “How have you two guys been?”

“Good,” both answered together.

“Would you both like to join me on a mission?”

“Yes!” both men answered excitedly.

“When, where,” asked John.

“It’s a bit of a nasty one and I would understand if you said no.”

“No way!” said Rocko as he shook his head.

Bill tilted his head towards the tall, double glass doors that led to the balcony and said, “Come on, guys, lets step out on the balcony and have a cigar while I give you the outline.”

For thirty minutes any club member could see that their president and two fellow members were in a deep discussion as the light of their cigars could be seen waving around as they gestured with their hands while talking excitedly over something or other that they knew they were not privy to.

Finally the three time travelers opened the doors and reentered the great room looking a bit somber as they did.

“Dinner is served,” called Matt from the open doorway as he did a musical number on a small triangular chime.

The spacious dinning room was lit gaily by two overhead chandeliers that sported many candles. At Bill’s insistence they all sat before he did and John sat to his right while Rocko took the left hand seat. When all was settled, Bill stood and tapped his wine glass with a knife to get everyone’s attention.

“Good evening, fellow members of the 1800 Club. I’d like to take a moment to introduce our latest member, Thomas McDonough.” He looked at the new member and motioned for him to stand, which brought forth a round of applause.

Bill continued, “Thomas has a unique invention that will benefit all of us New Yorkers, but please let him tell you about it after dinner.”

Matt and his crew of waiters appeared in the door at the rear of the dining room.

 

As usual the dinner was outstanding, as was the after-dinner drinks by the fireplace. It was about ten o’clock when the group started to go to their dressing rooms to change into what they called, ‘Historically Challenged Persons’. The club was empty by eleven thirty and Bill, John and Rocko sat in Bill’s den at eleven forty-five.

Matt tapped on the door and entered with a bottle of brandy and glasses on a silver-serving tray. He looked at Bill and said, “Sir, the garments are ready whenever you are.”

“Thank you, Matt. You can bring them up whenever you wish.”

“Bill,” said Rocko as Matt closed the door behind him, “I know where the Titanic sank and can easily find out where the iceberg was two or three days after the collision. There are a few places that we can sail out of to intercept it, but I’d like to leave from New York as I’m familiar with the sailing around the Big Apple.”

“Bill raised his hands and said as he shrugged his shoulders, “Rocko, it’s your show on how to get us there and return. If you say New York, it’s New York.”

“Okay,” said Rocko with a nod. “Next, they had some nice steamboats in 1912. They were coal powered which means that the three of us will have to take chances shoveling coal or hiring a coal gang.”

Bill shook his head, “I’d rather keep this just between us.”

“Fine,” answered Rocko. “The trip will take us about four to five days to get there and the same to return.”

A tap at the door stopped them as Matt entered with two valises. He placed them near a hassock, turned and left the room only to return with a third one.

“I asked Matt to outfit us for the trip,” said Bill as he faced Matt. “Matt, Rocko would like us to leave from New York. Now, if you’re ready, proceed.”

“Very well, sir,” he said as he opened one of the valises. “What I’m going to show you, gentlemen, is the contents of one valise as all three contain the same items.” He picked up a pair of dark pants and said, “Typical sailing pants, but with a very different material as they are lightweight but warm and waterproof.” He took out a jacket and went on, “A windbreaker which is also lightweight but warm.” Next he took out a pair of canvas deck shoes, “Waterproof deck shoes that have great gripping power with much less slippage while on a wet deck or an iceberg.” Next he held up a black, thick turtleneck sweater and said, “As with the other items this is lightweight but warm and water repellant. Each of you has two sets of all that I just showed you plus socks, a knitted deck cap and work gloves.” He hefted a long brown fur coat with a hood and thick mittens attached to the cuffs. “Although the weather is on the warm side in the area of operations, I have included a lightweight, but very warm snow coat in case of unexpected bad weather. Finally, I have supplied you all with undergarments and toiletries.”

He started to close the valise when he added “What time are we leaving, sir?”

“After breakfast tomorrow . . . “ Bill’s eyebrows arched as he asked, “Matt, did you say, ‘what time are we leaving?”

“Yes sir. I would imagine that a fourth man would eliminate some of the load such as helping with the coal shoveling.”

Bill smiled and with a shrug said, “Matt, we would love it if you came along with us.”

“Fine, sir. I shall ask the chef if he would watch Samson while we are gone.”

Matt left the room and Bill looked at the clock and said, “Rocko, do you have a boat in mind for the trip?”

He nodded and answered, “I have all of my reference materials online at home and I’m sure we can rent something nice.”

The three men rose and Bill said as he slapped them on their backs, “Breakfast is at eight tomorrow morning. Any takers?”

Both men answered ‘yes’ in unison then went down to their changing rooms and Matt showed them out before locking up the club.

The next morning, breakfast consisted of eggs Benedict, home fries and rye and white toast. Matt poured coffee that raised the three men’s eyebrows.

“Wow! This is great coffee,” said John as Rocko nodded in agreement.”

“Thank you, sirs,” said Matt as he put the silver coffee pot down. “A small shop in Queens imports the best beans from a farm that has long since burned down.”

“What year?” asked Rocko.

“1894, sir. When we are low I take Samson for a stroll there and purchase a pound. I’d gladly pick up extra for you two gentlemen, if you wish.”

“We wish,” said Rocko shaking his head.

“Rocko,” asked Bill, “did you find a boat for our trip?”

“Pretty sure, Bill. Down at the Battery at the tip of Manhattan, there was a group of steam-powered yachts, some of which were for sale and some for rent. The going rate to rent was $150 a day and that includes coal enough for our needs.”

“Do you need any special papers to rent one?”

Rocko grinned as he presented some folded papers from his pocket. “Well, yes and no. I took the liberty of downloading some documents stating that I was the captain of the SS Princess Sophia, a yacht owned by the Canadian Pacific Railway. It’s not unusual for a captain of one yacht to rent another of the same type for a few days of fishing.”

“Fine,” said Bill as he finished his coffee. “I say we get dressed for 1912 and start this mission.”

The four men changed into their cruise wear and were ready to leave at 9:30 a.m.

At the open door, Bill took his Time Frequency Modulator and asked, “Hey Rocko, what date should I enter into the TFM?”

Rocko was quiet for a moment then said, “Uh, lets see. From New York City to the iceberg is approximately 1,100 miles and most of the steam powered yachts of that time operated at between ten and fourteen knots. As we need to do our own coal shoveling I say that we go no faster than ten knots so the trip will take four to five days and, as we want to stay away from any rescue vessels, we should get there on April 17, 1912, which means that we must leave New York on April 12, 1912.”

“Two days before the Titanic hits the iceberg,” said John.

Bill entered April 12, 1912, 9:45 a.m. into his TFM, pressed the activate button and opened the door. As they walked down the stairwell, it dawned on Bill that unlike most of the other time trips he had taken, this time there wasn’t that wonderful feeling of going back in time. This time there was no excitement because he knew that they were going into the area where one of the world’s worst disasters took place . . . and there was nothing they could do about it. Just concentrate on the mission, Bill, he thought as they entered the garden.

 

DATELINE: APRIL 12, 1912 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY

The four men stepped into the garden, and Bill noticed that although it was a beautiful day with plants and shrubs popping up as they woke up from their winter-long slumber, there was none of the usual banter from the time traveling club members.

Once on the sidewalk Bill locked the garden gate behind them and they stepped off in search of a taxicab.

Around the corner they saw three taxicabs lined up at the curb and the four men missed seeing horse-drawn cabs as the tall, boxy cabs sat idling and spewing out a steady stream of blue-white exhaust.

Progress, thought Bill dejectedly.

The taxi driver of the first cab saw the men with their valises and grinned hopefully as they approached.

“Taxi, sirs?”

“Yes,” answered Bill. “Four to go downtown to the Battery.”

“Yes sir. One of you will have to sit next to me as the back seat can only handle three.”

“I’ve got it,” said Rocko with a big grin. “Shotgun,” he whispered. They placed their valises on the floor in front of them and climbed aboard which seemed to be a signal to the driver, as he took off in a roar of exhaust smoke and noise.

Rocko asked the driver, “Is this a Maxwell?”

“Yep!” answered the driver, “1909 and she rides like she’s brand new.”

They headed downtown towards the Battery and the spring leaf of the cab’s poor suspension system lost every battle it encountered as, rather than absorbing the shock of going over a bump, it bounced off of it.”

“Best invention ever,” said John.

“The taxicab?” asked Bill.

“No, the hand grip!” he laughed as he tilted his head towards his handholding the leather handgrip attached to the inside of the cab.

Ten minutes later they were down at the beginning of Manhattan Island. They left the taxi and walked slowly along the wharfs and piers that had all types of boats tied to them.

Bill, John and Matt stood and watched as Rocko walked slowly along the dock looking over the tied up vessels and talking to the captains. Finally he came back to the three men.

“Anything good?” asked John.

“Yes,” Rocko answered. He turned to Bill and said, “The boat is the Aquilo, a steam yacht. She was built in 1901 and is 152 feet long by 20 feet wide, which makes her a nice ocean going ship. She’s equipped with an early style radio that has a hand crank should the ship’s power fail. She’s powered by a compound steam engine with coal-fired boilers that give her a speed of 12 to 14 knots, plus she has sails as a backup. The owner is William Phelps Eno, a sharp guy and if my memory is correct, he is the inventor of the stop sign, the pedestrian cross walk and some other traffic things. He’ll rent me the boat for $150 a day with the coal included.”

Bill nodded and turned to Matt and said, “Matt we need $1,500 for the boat.”

“Very well, sir,” he answered as he removed a leather billfold from his inside jacket pocket. He counted off fifteen, one hundred dollar bills and passed them to Rocko, who walked back to the boat. Ten minutes later he returned and said, “All aboard that’s going aboard.”

The four men went aboard and explored the boat. She had a steel hull but the deck and everything below deck was built using beautiful teak and mahogany wood. All of the brass work were gleaming, which told Rocko that the owner took pride in his vessel. Just as the owner had said, the coalbunkers were full and the fire was lit and ready to go.

There were two double and two single cabins for the crew or passengers and four more rooms situated at the rear for the owner and his family plus a large dining room.

They opened the door to a typical cabin and Rocko smiled as the beauty of the room shocked his non sea faring friends. The wooden bed that was built into the curved wall of the boat had a ten-inch lip built on the outside of the bunk to stop the sleeping person from rolling out of it during rough seas. Beneath the bed was a series of drawers with latches to keep them from sliding open. Built into the facing wall of the cabin was a table with beautifully turned wooden legs and the obligatory four-inch lip to prevent objects on the table from rolling off. Over the table was an oil lamp that was mounted on a swivel and a small bookcase. Under the table, where the wall meets the floor, ran a silver colored pipe that entered from the floor, ran around the cabin and ended in a small radiator. When the steam engines were running this piping system carried steam heat to warm the cabin. In the wall just below the ceiling was a round porthole that could be opened for fresh air and closed during high-running seas. All of the hooks for hanging clothes, binoculars and other items were made of highly shined brass.

At the end of the small walkway between the eight cabins was the bathroom. Once again Rocko smiled as the others were in awe of the craftsmanship put into a boat of this time period. Mounted on the left side of the bathroom was a sink with a vanity above it, and on either side of the vanity was a wall-mounted oil lamp. The letter ‘H’ and ‘C’ on the faucets told them that she sported hot and cold running water. The walls of the spacious room were made of mahogany, as was the ceiling while the floor was set in brown and white, one half-inch tiles that ended at the large shower. Instead of shower doors, it had off-white, shower curtains that were tied back when not in use. As usual, there was a three-inch high lip where the shower began in order to keep the water in the shower during rough seas. A silver colored pipe entered the room through the floor and turned into a vertical radiator with wide spaces between each rung to heat the towels hanging on each rung.

“Rocko,” asked John as he shook his head, “Does your boat have anything like this? I mean those cabins and now the washroom. Wow, is all I can say.”

Rocko grinned and said, “Not even close! These boats were built for the mega rich of the day. All of this opulence went away as they started to miniaturize everything. No, these days are gone for the average sailor.”

After going through the vessel the four men went to the galley and seeing enough food and drink for the entire trip, declared themselves ready to shove off.

It was 12 noon, when John slipped the long manila rope from the dock and Rocko gently backed out. He turned the ship towards the Narrows and then the Atlantic Ocean.

John had the first shift to shovel coal and it wasn’t too long before they realized that it was fairly easy to keep the pressure up simply by shoveling for fifteen minutes and resting forty-five.

Rocko showed the three other time travelers the compass heading they needed to stay on and all took turns at the wheel.

It was at 6:15 p.m. that they realized how grateful they were that Matt came along as he whipped up steaks and potatoes for them followed by black and white cookies and coffee.

“Matt,” asked Bill as he reached for a cookie, “did you bake them onboard?”

“No sir, when I knew that we needed to take an ocean voyage, I went back and purchased a dozen and sort of hid them in my valise.”

Rocko assigned sleeping time for them, making sure that there was always one to man the wheel and another to keep the steam up. They kept the radio on to hear if any other ship was deliberately heading towards the same area that they were. Nobody had any problem sleeping on the boat as the ocean was flat and they made a steady ten knots without tiring any of them out and Matt kept making great meals and the coffee flowing.

DATELINE: APRIL 17, 1912 PLACE: SOUTHEAST OF THE TITANIC’S DISASTER

It was nine a.m. and the four men stood in the enclosed cockpit, which was the highest part of the boat. Bill and Rocko had binoculars while Matt and John each looked through a long glass. Rocko had stopped the engine and they put out a sea anchor to keep the boat from drifting too fast.

“I suggest we search in quarters, guys,” Bill said. This way, if the iceberg passes on either side of us, we’ll catch sight of her.” All agreed and Rocko scanned the horizon at the front of the boat while John searched the rear, Bill the port side and Matt took the starboard side.

At eleven thirty Matt suggested that Rocko scan his side as well as his own while he makes some coffee and snacks. All agreed and he went below.

Fifteen minutes later he was coming up on deck with a tray of full coffee mugs and sandwiches when he heard John shout, “Iceberg off the rear.”

All quickly gathered at the rear of the boat.

“Yep! Rocko said, “About twelve miles away. Hardly moving at all and we’ll catch her easily.”

“I’ll turn her about and,” he added as he looked at the pressure gauge, “ I’ll need ten minutes of coal shoveling.”

“I’ll shovel,” said Bill, “But I think that we should all eat while we can.”

All agreed and ten minutes later, Bill had shoveled enough to give Rocko ten knots of speed.

Photo by: Wikimedia Commons

 

One hour and twenty-minutes later they were near the immense iceberg. Rocko expertly circled it and when they were on the opposite side, they knew it was the killer iceberg by the red smear of paint along its side.

“It’s the iceberg,” quipped Rocko.

“It’s 1:15,” said Bill checking his watch. I think we should hop aboard her and see if we can find the painting.”

As the temperature was on the warm side, they decided to skip the furs and board the berg in their more flexible clothing.

“Can we get close without us getting sunk?” he asked Rocko.

“Yes. At only 9.3 feet we have a fairly shallow draft and I’ll bring us in slowly.”

It took Rocko thirty minutes of gently approaching the berg and when all of his sailing experiences told him that they were close enough, he called out for John to toss the long rope with an anchor attached to it onto the iceberg. John tossed it and watched as it slid off and into the ocean. He pulled it up and tossed again. It took eight tries before the anchor gripped the slick iceberg. Although they floated together as one unit, there was still a three foot space between the iceberg and the tip of their boat..

“2:07,” said Bill, giving all a time check, “I’m going to go across first.”

The three men watched as he jumped across the dark water and landed lightly on a fairly flat section of the iceberg.

“Toss me the other anchor,” he called and John tossed it across. It slid down and off the berg and Bill almost followed it as he tried to grab the rope. “Try again, John.”

Three tries later the anchor grabbed the slick ice and Bill grabbed it. John released more line and Bill wrapped it around a six-foot high spike of ice. “Give it a pull, John.”

John pulled, but the rope and anchor never budged.

“Okay,” said Bill, “who’s next?”

Matt jumped and was followed by John.

Rocko looked across and called out, “Bill, better that I stay with the boat. If those lines give way, at least I can back away and land elsewhere.”

“Good thinking, Rocko. I hope we’ll be back shortly.”

Bill naturally took the lead and the three men walked gingerly across the iceberg. The climb was two steps forward and one back as it was slippery and had so many crags that if someone fell in one it would be a hard time getting them out in one piece. Once on the other side, they walked along the 200-foot long iceberg searching for the red smear that would tell them that they were on the side that the ship hit, which was the same side that faced the porthole that Adel Damien had tossed the painting from.

“Sir, look there,” called out Matt as he pointed at the beginning of the long line of red paint on the side of the berg.

Bill nodded and slowly started down the one hundred foot side. Matt and John followed when Matt suddenly said excitedly, “Sir! Where are you?”

“Is he alright, Matt?” called John as he followed him.

“Sir,” answered Matt, “I don’t know. He has disappeared.”

“We should have all been tied together,” said John. “Matt, I’m right behind you.” In less than thirty seconds he stood next to Matt on a small ledge and looked down. “Did he fall in the water, Matt?”

“I heard no report of an object hitting water, sir,” he answered.

“I guess that means no, right?”

“Yes sir, that means no, I don’t believe that he is in the water as I heard no splash.”

John shook his head, peered over the ledge and called out, “Bill! Bill Scott. Are you alright?”

Bill’s voice came up as an echo as he answered, “Wait until you guys see this.”

“Bill, are you okay?” asked John again.

“Yes. I’m fine. Come on down.”

The two men climbed down and suddenly found themselves on a ledge that opened behind them as a deep cave in the iceberg.

“Bill,” shouted John into the mouth of the cave. “Are you back there?”

“Yes. Come on in.”

The two men entered the dark cave and after twenty paces were amazed to see a wide crevice above them that allowed sunlight to pour into the rear of the ice cave. The light gave the ice a color of light blue, while the sun bounced off of the many nooks and crannies, which acted as mirrors reflecting all the colors of the rainbow. Against that light-show stood Bill, his hands on his hips as he stared at a section of the ice wall.

“Have you found the painting?” asked John as they approached him.

Bill just answered in a low tone of voice, “Look at this. Look at what I found.” He pointed at a section of flat ice and both John and Matt squinted to see what he was referring to.

Suddenly both men saw what Bill was staring at. Frozen in the ice was the dark figure of an animal, very wide at the shoulders and neck. It stood eight feet tall and its pose was one of attack as it was slightly hunched with its legs bent as though it was going to pounce on something. Its arms were outstretched with huge fingers or claws. It seemed to have a coat of shaggy black or dark hair while its head appeared to be bare.

“W-What is it?” asked John.

“Like no creature that I’ve ever seen, sir,” added an ashen-faced Matt.

“Or me,” said Bill as he ran his hand over the ice. “I wonder how it got trapped in there?”

Suddenly there was a slight tremor and a crack appeared in the ice on the opposite wall. All three men instinctively covered their heads with crossed arms.

“What was that?” asked John.

Bill answered in a low tone of voice, “I remember when I was in training with the Navy SEALs, an instructor once said that if for some reason we were ever doing a mission on an iceberg or glacier, keep talking to a minimum as the vibrations can be enough to crack the ice and even split it.”

John nodded, “I think we need to get the painting before this thing melts right under us. I’m a poor swimmer.”

The three men left the cave and climbed down the side of the slick iceberg.

“There’s the red paint line,” said Bill pointing. “I have to think that the painting must be above it as the paint came from the hull which is lower than the first class cabins that she threw it from.”

The three time travelers walked slowly along the area they suspected the painting would be in but found nothing.

Matt looked up at the darkening sky and said, “I checked the weather in this area on this date and it stated that it was clear. However, the weathermen of the day took their readings from ships that were at sea and as the conditions varied from place to place, they might have gotten it too late and just speculated.”

Bill looked around, “It is getting dark fast. I guess we should get back to the boat and resume in the morning.”

The trip back took over an hour and they were exhausted as they plopped down in the dining room. They had dinner and briefed Rocko on the day’s events.

“An animal in the ice? What, like a bear or something?”

“Like no bear that I’ve ever seen,” said Bill as he sipped a cold beer.

“Maybe it’s one of those prehistoric animals like a dinosaur or something?” offered Rocko.

“I’ve got my cell phone on me,” said Rocko, “Why don’t you guys take it along tomorrow and take some pictures?”

“Good idea,” said Bill as he stood. Right now I’m heading for my cabin. See you guys around eight tomorrow?”

All nodded their agreement and as Bill turned to leave there was a huge sound not unlike an underground explosion that rocked the boat.

“What the heck was that?” asked Rocko.

“The iceberg is splitting up,” said Matt calmly. “It most likely split from the main glacier thousands and thousands of years ago and has been slowly drifting south until it met the Titanic and just kept on drifting south into more temperate waters where it will eventually split again and again until it melts completely.”

As if to punctuate his statement another, even louder, explosion was heard that once again made their boat shudder.

“Gents,” said Rocko, I do hope that you find her tomorrow. In fact, I suggest that you bring along a few axes and large ice picks.”

“Not a bad idea,” said Bill as he left the dining room.

 

It was nine o’clock in the morning when the three men started out again, this time they were tied together with long lengths of rope. They easily crossed the opening between the boat and the berg and in thirty minutes were back at the cave.

As he removed his gloves and took out Rocko’s cell phone Bill said, “Hey guys, Hold up a minute, I’m going to take a couple of pictures of that animal in an ice cube.”

The three men entered the deep cave and came to the sun drenched section where the animal was frozen in ice.

“Hey,” Bill said in a whisper, “it’s gone!”

“What?” quipped John as he walked up behind Bill, “That’s impossible. Where can it have gone?”

“There,” said Matt as he pointed to the right side of the cave. “Those explosions last evening was nothing more than the iceberg breaking up. Between drifting into the warmer seas and our walking around on it plus the vibrations of our calling out to one another seems to have upset the delicate balance it had achieved thousands of years ago. It’s not unusual for an iceberg to turn completely upside down when a section of it falls away, thus upsetting its balance.”

The broken-off slab of ice that contained the body lay on the floor of the cave and when it fell some of the ice broke off giving the three time travelers a closer look at it.

“It-It almost looks human,” said John as he wiped some chipped ice away from its face.

Bill took an ice pick and chipped away more from the face area and it became even more human looking.

“Cro-Magnon,” said Matt as he knelt down next to it. “This truly is a find.”

“What should we do with it?” John asked.

Bill shrugged his shoulders and said, “I’m not sure. I mean is this more important that finding the Mona Lisa?”

“Why not do both, sir?” asked Matt.

“We do have room on the boat for it,” said John. “But how do we get it aboard? We can’t drag it back across the iceberg to our boat.”

“We float it back,” said Bill.

“Float it back. How?” asked John.

“We bring the boat around to this side and slide the iceman down and into the water. It’ll float and we hook it with the anchor and the four of us pull it aboard and leave it on the rear open deck.”

“Sounds good to me,” said John and Matt nodded in agreement.

“First,” said Bill, “we need to chip off most of the ice or we’ll never be able to lift it up out of the water.” He stood and after a moment said, “If you two go and look for the painting I’ll chip away at the iceman. Okay?”

“Okay,” answered John as he and Matt walked to the front of the cave. As they walked away, they could hear the chipping begin.

 

It was four o’clock when Matt called out to John, “I’ve found it, John. I can see it from here.”

John came from his section and looked as Matt pointed at the brown wrapped item eight feet down from where they stood.

“Nice work, Matt,” said John as he started down. Ten minutes later they started their walk back to the cave with the Mona Lisa.

 

“Bill,” John called out as they reached the cave, “Matt found the painting.” Both men entered the cave and seeing Bill still chipping away, went to him. “Bill, look . . .“ John stopped talking when he saw that Bill had chipped off so much of the ice that the iceman’s face was just inches away from the surface. “Bill,” he said in a whisper, “I think you should stop chipping away at the ice.”

Bill seemed to be mesmerized as he looked up at John and said, “Wha-? It’s-it’s so close to the surface, John. And look! His eyes are open and he has steel gray eyes. It’s as though he was begging me to chip away more from his face.”

“Bill, if the air gets to it it’ll start decomposing. I don’t think that we would like that. Right?”

Bill sat back on his haunches and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Yeah, you’re right. But look at his face. No hair! I thought these guys were hairy all over.”

“Sirs,” said Matt as he stood at the bottom of the iceman, “Not only is his face hairless but he wears shoes as well.”

Bill jumped up and joined Matt and John at the man’s feet and sure enough, he was wearing shoes . . . very large ones.

“This is scary,” said John.

Suddenly there was another large boom and the iceberg tilted slightly before resuming its usual attitude.

“Whatever it is that we are going to do,” said John, “we have to do it soon or this thing is going to break up beneath us.”

Matt walked slowly around the slab of ice and said, “I do believe, sirs, that we have chipped enough of the ice off and now must start to move it towards the front of the cave. Then we must alert Rocko of our plan.”

The three men squatted down near its feet and with a heave pushed the ice slab towards the cave’s opening. After a few feet it was easy as it was ice sliding on ice and soon they stood at the cave’s opening.

“Guys,” said Bill as he looked at his pocket watch, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to spend another night aboard the boat. By the time we’re ready to slide it down it’ll be close to dark and we don’t want to be climbing around in the dark, so best we wait until tomorrow morning.”

They both agreed and the three time travelers sat near the iceman as they talked about the best way to get it down the side of the iceberg.

Bill said, “It’s a thirty foot slide so we’ll have Rocko bring the boat in as close as he can and give it a push and hope it doesn’t float past him. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a good plan and I don’t think that we need to worry about it floating past Rocko. He’s too good with a boat.”

Suddenly they heard the throb of an engine and watched as a small cutter came around the iceberg. Three men stood in the wheelhouse and all waved at up them.

“Boy, what a time for visitors,” said John.

“They probably believe that we are survivors of the Titanic and they’re going to rescue us.”

“Guess they didn’t see the boat on the other side of the berg,” quipped John as they waved back.

The cutter had a shallower draft, which allowed it to get in close to the iceberg. The three men stepped easily from the boat to the iceberg and soon all three joined Bill, John and Matt in the cave.

“Jim Layghton,” said a slim young handsome man with blond hair and mustache, “and this is Elliot Trouse and Captain Jones of the steam cutter “Echo One.”

Bill and the other two time travelers shook their hands and introduced themselves as latecomers to the scene in search of survivors.

Elliot Trouse, who was on the portly side, seemed to be fidgety and said, “By any chance did you guys find anything that came from the Titanic?”

Before any of the shocked time travelers could answer, Elliot pulled a gun and said to his friends, “Let’s drop the charade, gents.” He turned and pointed to the package that Matt held, “ I’ll just take that package you have.”

Matt started to say something when Bill cut in, “Matt, pass it to him. No sense in anyone getting hurt over a painting.” He turned to the three men and asked, “But tell me, how did you know where it was?”

Elliot slapped Jim on his shoulder and said, “I was working as a Private Investigator looking for the painting and Jim here was in the cabin with his girlfriend and the painting. When the ship hit the iceberg I was about to go into their cabin and they came running out. She looked at me with a big grin and said, ‘Ha, go find it now.’ I went in and when I saw the porthole open, I knew that she had tossed it overboard. I went on deck and when they started to leave the ship I got on a line, but they said no men allowed so I went into a few empty cabins until I found a woman’s coat and hat, rolled up my pants and just by chance I found myself in the same boat as another lady but she happened to have a blonde mustache. It was Jim and he begged me not to tell anyone what he did. He even said that he’d tell me where the painting was. So after a day or two we hired Captain Jones to take us here and well, here we are.”

“Was the girl in on this too?” Bill asked.

“Heck no, she thinks I’m dead,” bragged Jim.

As they talked the captain walked over to the slab of ice at the mouth of the cave and casually looked at it. He bent down closer and suddenly recoiled and shouted, “W-What the heck is this?”

The other two men looked and Elliot asked, “What is it, captain, anything from the Titanic? It could be valuable.”

“No! It’s some kind of a caveman or something. It’s gross. Let’s go back to my boat.”

“Move away and stand by the wall,” ordered Elliot to Bill, John and Matt who followed his gun movements to where he indicated. He then went and bent down and stood quickly and said, “This is a find! This is one of those cavemen that you read about. He probably been stuck in there for hundreds of years.”

“Thousands, of years,” corrected Matt.

“Well, wise guy,” said Elliot, “if you know so much what do you think it’s worth?”

“Perhaps millions. I do believe that he is the oldest specimen ever found.”

Bill, seeing what Matt was doing, added, “That’s why we haven’t left this berg yet. We were going to take it back with us and be rich.”

“Well,” said Jim, “you better change your plans because your captain is onboard our boat and he is well guarded so don’t try anything funny.”

Captain Jones looked once again at the caveman and asked, “What are we waiting for? You got the thing that you came for. Let them go and we’ll head home.”

“What are you crazy?” Jim asked with an evil grin, “Didn’t you hear these guys? That ice guy is worth millions. We’ll all be rich.”

“There’s no room for him aboard my boat.”

Elliot cut in, “Then we’ll take their boat too.”

“Taking another man’s boat is a capital offense and besides, it’s too big and I need my crew for my boat. No, I say we leave that thing here.”

“I’m sure that these guys will gladly sail us home in their boat,” said Elliot as he tried to find a way to have both of the treasures.

Even Jim saw the folly of this and said, “And who’s going to guard them around the clock? No sleeping at all, and would you trust the food they cook? No, the captain’s right. Leave it here.”

Elliot’s face took on a nasty smile as he said with a shrug, “Okay, we leave it here. But I’m going to take a part of it with us and I bet some of them stuck-up scientists pay me darn good for it.”

“W-What do you mean?” asked Jim, “Part of it. Which part?”

“The head of course. I’ll keep it in a bucket of ice water.”

Every one of them turned their head at his plan.

Elliot looked close and shivered before standing up. “Captain, can we get a bucket of coal up here? I need enough to make a fire in the bucket to melt the ice and then to carry it back to your boat.”

The captain nodded his head. “Yeah. I’ll go back to the boat and send a crewman back with it.” He stopped before leaving and said, “I get a cut of that money too, right?”

“Right,” said a smiling Elliot.

 

Twenty-five minutes later a crewman climbed up the side of the iceberg with a bucket of coal and passed it to Jim who asked Elliot, “What now?”

“Now we light it and melt the ice from the head,” answered Elliot as he tossed him a cigarette lighter.

Jim lit the coal easily and placed it near the head of the iceman.

Elliot snarled and said as he came over to the bucket, “If you leave it there it’ll take forever to melt that ice. Here,” he said as he shoved it against the ice.

The burning coal worked quickly and Elliot grinned as rivulets of water started to run down the slab of ice giving the appearance that the caveman was crying. The face was pasty white with flat matted hair and now Bill could see that it had many scars on the forehead, cheeks and temple as though he had a fight with a bear or something.

Bill, John and Rocko kept looking for an opening to jump him, but Elliot was a professional, as he always made sure that none of the three men was ever close enough to do so.

“Time for the faint of heart to look away,” Elliot said as he pulled out a large pocketknife that he flicked open. He approached the now exposed head of the caveman and as he placed the knife under the chin, he recoiled as he looked at the foggy area on the blade of his knife.

“It-It’s alive!” he screamed, “He’s breathing!”

His screams sent another tremor through the cave and suddenly a section above the caveman collapsed in a crescendo of chunks and shards of ice that shattered the prison of ice that held him for years. Terrified, they all wanted to run, but because the slab of ice was now at the front of the cave between the men and the exit, all could only watch in fear as the iceman slowly started to move his arms and flex his fingers then, kick off the ice that encased his long legs. He used his wide, thick knuckles as leverage by placing them on the floor of the cave and pushing up as he got to his knees. He groaned and staggered and almost fell on the three time travelers before stretching out his arm and steadying himself by placing his huge hand against the wall. He turned slowly and seeing Elliot with the knife, screamed so hideously that more of the ceiling fell and crushed Elliot with huge chunks of ice. Not aware of what had happened, Jim ran in and was grabbed by the iceman around his neck. Not a sound came from his lips as the iceman held him six feet off the ground.

“Stop!” shouted Bill disgusted by all of the carnage.

The creature turned slowly and looked at Bill who stood there looking back.

Not knowing what to do, Bill, with a tremble in his voice, said, “I-I ask you to stop and leave him alone.”

As they all watched in shock, the iceman opened his huge hand and Jim fell to the floor of the ice cave, crying. The creature stood swaying quietly as they watched.

Hoping that the guys took his shaking as a result of the cold cave, John whispered, “Bill, I think he listened to you.”

“I doubt it. I think it’s just the tone of my voice.”

“Sir,” said Matt as he slowly stood, “the fur that we took as body hair is a simple bearskin coat. But, what intrigues me is: are there black bears in the northern regions?”

Not knowing what to do, Bill did what they always do in the movies: he took a step closer to the iceman and said gently as he patted his chest, “Friend.”

The gray eyes seemed to have softened a bit and his arms just hung at his side. His breath seemed labored and smelled terrible. Now Bill could make out long black pants and high-buttoned shoes on him. Beneath the bearskin coat was a black knitted sweater.

Matt whispered, “His clothes tell me that he came from the 1800s.”

“Matt,” said Bill, “I have an idea. You go down to the boat and tell the captain that Elliot needs food for the night as he decided to stay for the evening. Also tell him that Elliot said there were diamonds buried with him and the captain’s in on the loot. It’ll keep him calm for a bit.”

Matt nodded and slowly left the cave.

All the time the creature’s eyes never left Bill. “Let me try this,” the time traveler said as he slowly sat on the floor. “Sit,” he said gently as he patted the ground.

They all watched in awe as the great hulk of a man sat with his legs splayed out. They all noticed that his shoes were at least twenty-inches long.

Twenty minutes later Matt returned with three cooked chickens, a large piece of pork and three canteens of water in a backpack. He handed the vittles to Bill, who opened the backpack and unwrapped the food, allowing the aroma to fill the cave.

“Eat,” Bill said as he pushed the food towards him and watched as after a few moments he slowly picked up a chicken, sniffed it and momentarily closed his eyes before devouring the cooked bird. He finished it and looked at Bill who gently pushed the rest of the food forward. He picked up the pork and ate it, then the second chicken followed by the third. Bill unscrewed the cap of one of the canteens and poured out a bit to show him what it contained before passing it to him. The iceman drained it and when he looked at the second canteen, Bill unscrewed it and passed it to him. He drank the third one as well.

Bill looked up at him and said once again as he patted his chest, “Friend.”

The four men were shocked as the man said as he touched his chest, “Freund.”

“I think he’s imitating me.”

Just then a moan came from under the ice that held Elliot.

”He’s alive,” said Bill and the three men started to pull away the ice. When he was free it was obvious that he had broken bones and was crying like a baby as he saw the creature stare at him with hate in his eyes.

“Look,” he panted, “I’ll make you guys a deal. I’ll take the painting and you can keep the monster.”

At that, the iceman reached for his neck as he growled.

“No,” said Bill. “He’s just a stupid man.

The creature’s growl trailed off and Elliot almost fainted as a wet spot appeared beneath him.

Trying to salvage something for himself, the private investigator said, “L-Look, like I said, give me the painting and keep the-the, well, him. Deal?”

Bill laughed and said, “How about this: We get to keep both and you get to live.”

“That’s not fair.”

Bill shook his head, “Stop being stupid. You lost and know it. Now be quiet.”

“What about me?” asked Jim.

John looked at him and said, “You and him deserve nothing. You both dressed as women to get off that ship and in doing that, took the place of two women. You are the scum of the earth.”

“Then we’ll go back to the boat.” Jim said as he started to rise.

“No,“ said Bill. “You both stay here for the night and tomorrow we leave you here until we are far away.”

“B-But it gets cold at night. Can’t we build a fire?”

“Sure, and watch as this whole place melts around us. Sit and be quiet.”

Bill turned to see the iceman trying to stand. Using his arms as leverage he stood wobbly. Bill instinctively slid beneath his arm and helped him to steady himself.

“Fro,” the man said softly.

They all recoiled at hearing what they believed to be a caveman not only speak, but speak in what sounded like English!

“Fro?” asked Bill.

“Unh,” he grunted back as he walked to the back of the cave. Bill helped him and he kept going further back until they were out of the sunlit part of the cave. The creature stopped and spread his arms wide as he stared at a section of the cave and a long sorrowful moan escaped his lips.

Not knowing what to do, Bill asked, “Fro?”

With a grunt the iceman hugged the wall of ice and it looked as though he was sobbing as his huge body seemed to shake.

“I shouldn’t do this”, Bill told himself as he fished out a small slim flashlight and switched it on.

The man screamed and stepped back as he put his hands up to his eyes.

“No,” said Bill as he realized that he thought it was a fire. “Look,” he said as he touched the cool lens.

The iceman slowly puts his hands down and touched the lens as Bill had done. Satisfied, he turned and hugged the wall once more.

Bill played the light along the wall and thought he saw something. He stepped in closer and now the light showed another iceman encased the same way the first one was. Bill looked even closer and now saw what the man was moaning about: The figure in the ice was a woman.

Suddenly the iceman started to pound on the ice as he growled furiously at the sight of the woman. His massive hands sent cracks through the thick ice.

“Wait!” said Bill and he was surprised that the man stopped and looked at him. “Do you understand?” he asked.

The man just looked at him.

Matt stepped up behind them both and said, “Suchen mein Freund, Sie Ihre Frau?”

The iceman turned and stepped as quickly as he could to Matt and with pleading hands said, "Ja, mein Freund. Sie ist da drin gefangen. Hilfst du mir?"

A shocked Bill watched as both Matt and the iceman talked in a language he didn’t understand. “Matt, he speaks and you understand him?”

“Yes, sir. He told me that his wife is in that block of ice and wishes us to help him get her out.”

“Oh my gosh,” said Bill as he shook his head. “How did you know?”

Matt explained as the big man watched them talk, “When he said what we believed was ’Fro,’ it was really Frau’, German for wife.”

Bill shrugged his wide shoulders and quipped, “And, of course you can speak German too?”

“Something I picked up, sir. It does come in handy at times.”

Bill called out to John, “John, grab the axes’ and come back here. But be prepared for a surprise.”

John came back and saw that Matt and the man they freed from the ice were talking in a language he didn’t understand. “Here are the axes’. What’s up?”

“This,” answered Bill as he again played the beam of his flashlight on the woman.

John said nothing, but he didn’t have to: his wide eyes said it all.

Bill picked up an axe and started to swing at the ice. Matt joined in and as John went for the last axe, the iceman took it and attacked the ice with a vengeance. His massive frame and arms gave him the power of four men and soon they were inches away from her face.

Bill saw that she seemed to look back at them, as, just as the iceman’s eyes were, her eyes were open. Her skin was also pasty white and had the same type scars that the man had on her head and face. Her hands were also raised in front of her and they could see scars on her wrists as well. Bill looked and saw the same type scars on the iceman’s wrists every time he swung his axe.

John stood there with his mouth open, “Bill, what the hell are we doing? How can this guy be alive after so many years in a block of ice? What are we going to do: Take them aboard?”

Bill shrugged and answered, “John, I really don’t know. But, what choice do we have? We can’t just abandon them knowing that this iceberg is melting. I mean, I don’t know how he survived in that ice cage, but he did, and he’s alive. We can’t let him die. He needs us and as human beings it’s our duty to help him.”

“Him and her,” John said.

“Yes, him and her,” Bill answered and then went on, “John, didn’t Walt Disney have himself refrigerated or something?”

“That’s what they say. I know that they have found frozen mammoth carcasses in Siberia and they figure that they were caught in some sort of a quick-freeze, so maybe that’s what happened to our friend here. He was caught in a cold snap.”

“But,” said Bill, “according to his language and clothes our friend came from Germany in the 1800s. I never heard of a cold snap in the 1800s, have you?”

“No, but then again the weathermen of that time were probably not in the Arctic.”

“Well,” answered Bill, “For whatever the reason, he is here and he is very much alive.”

Both men turned in time to see the iceman strike a blow that split the ice away from the ice wall and after a second or two of it just balancing itself, the slab of ice with the woman in it fell to the cave’s floor, sending shards of ice all over the cave.

The iceman ran and kneeled down next to her as Matt went to John and Bill. He looked both in the eyes and said in a whisper, “Sirs, this is unbelievable.”

“Which part?” asked Bill: Finding him and her or his coming back to life after, who knows how many years?”

“Since 1819,” answered Matt.

“What? Did he tell you that?” asked John.

“Sirs, he never died. Let’s say that he lived in a natural cave in a section of Arctic ice. They probably lived on seals and fish and perhaps they stayed inside their cave as a blizzard raged and when they decided to leave, it was sealed. I believe that they went into a state of frozen hibernation.’

John shook his head, “B-But, he speaks German! What caveman spoke any language at all? None that we know of.”

Matt smiled and said, “Sir, you are correct about us not knowing if cavemen spoke any language that we know, however this is no caveman.”

“What? If it’s not a caveman,” asked Bill, “what is it?”

“Sir, as I said, he never died as he was never born. He was put together as an inhumane experiment by Doctor Frankenstein.”

“Frankenstein,” both men shouted at the same time causing the iceman to swirl around and growl.

In a whisper, Bill asked, “Matt, how can you be so sure?”

“My first clue was when I asked him his name and he answered: ‘I am called the Creature’.” He shook his head and went on, “It all adds up to the story of Frankenstein’s monster: he speaks German, wears clothes from the time period that the story was written in and look at those hideous scars.”

“But,” said John with a shiver, “I always thought that it was just a story. Right?”

“Perhaps a story that was written by Mary Shelly as she heard it repeated in the medical circles that she was involved with.”

“This can’t be,” said John as he looked at the kneeling hulk of a man.

“Never the less,” added Matt, “he is alive and dare we leave him here when we leave as we know the fate of this iceberg and all on it?”

Bill rubbed his forehead, “Matt, I believe that you are proposing that we take him back with us. Correct?”

“And his wife as well,sir,” answered Matt.

“Hello,” came a voice behind them and Rocko stepped up behind them. “The guy with a gun on me took a nap and here I am.” He stopped in his tracks as he spotted the creature. “Wh-What’s that?”

“John,” asked Bill, “will you brief him, please?”

“Sure, c’mon Rocko we’ll talk at the front of the cave.”

In a few minutes John and Rocko joined Matt and Bill with the creature that just sat by the slab of ice looking at his wife.

“Rocko,” asked Bill, “can they take our boat and strand us here?”

“Not without these,” he said as he showed them two small iron devices and said, “These are the igniters to both boats. I took them as I left. And I pulled down the ropes of our sails so they can’t sail away on us.”

“Next question, how do you feel about us bringing those two along with us?”

Rocko shrugged his wide shoulders and said, “As long as our food holds out it’s fine with me.”

Bill next asked Matt, “Matt will you ask the man to come along with us?”

“And his wife as well, sir?” asked Matt.

“Yes, of course. We can keep her on the open deck at the rear of the boat.”

Matt walked over to the still kneeling man and gently asked, "Kommen mein Freund, dir und deiner Frau zusammen mit uns an Bord unseres Bootes? Dieser Eisberg wird bald schmelzen."

("My friend, will you and your wife come along with us aboard our boat? This iceberg will melt soon.")

The creature looked up and nodded his head slowly.

Matt nodded back, “Gut. Dann warten wir auf das Sonnenlicht.”

(“Good. Then we wait for the sunlight.”)

 

The four time travelers allowed the creature to be alone as they sat closer to the cave’s entrance. Jim and the private investigator sat shivering as close to the edge of the cave as possible.

John said to nobody in particular, “Man, this is too much. I mean, I thought Frankenstein was just a book and then a movie. This is unreal. I mean, how can some doctor put together a bunch of people parts and bring it to life?”

“Sir,” said Matt, “Today they are creating parts for the human body in their stem cell research. Who is to say that a few hundred years ago a doctor didn’t do the same thing? I mean, we are witnesses to his end product. Are we not?”

John nodded in agreement, “I guess so. But what do we do with him? This is 1912 and it’ll be hard for us to explain what we are doing here, never mind what he’s doing here too.”

Bill cut in, “Guys, it’s our duty to the club to bring him back. It’s what we do: check out the real history of the world.”

“Okay,” offered Rocko, “But can someone tell what he’s doing here? I mean, why did he even come to the Arctic? I thought he died in a fire that the people of some village started while he was in a castle or something. And what’s with the wife thing?”

“Sirs,” Matt said as he raised his hand for silence. “The fire was something the motion picture industry created for his ending. In fact, Ms. Shelly wrote that the so-called creature decided to end his days living in the Arctic away from humans. However, Dr. Frankenstein wished to kill him and, using his wife’s dead body as bait, followed him north. But it was Dr. Frankenstein, who died aboard the ship. The creature found out by listening to the crew while their ship was stuck in the ice and he decided to end his life. The crew just watched in fear as he walked away from the boat carrying his wife deeper into the Arctic. At least that was the ending that Ms. Shelly gave it.”

Bill asked, “But why did the doctor decide to kill the creature’s wife?”

Matt continued, “While they were in Europe the creature begged the doctor to create a companion for him. The creature said that if he did that, he would take the female and disappear into the jungles of South America. The doctor created the woman, but thinking that they would multiply, decided to kill her and that was the reason the creature wanted to kill him. Some say that the doctor carried the creature’s female companion aboard the ship and was going to use her as bait to make the creature come to him so that he could end its life.”

Bill added, “But the doctor died first and the frightened crew just watched as the creature carried her off.”

Rocko just shuddered as he said, “I always thought the book and movie was fiction.”

“That was the way she wrote it,” said Matt, “It would never had been published if she stated that it was fact.”

 

The men stayed awake all night and when the sun started to rise, Rocko said, “I’ll go bring the boat around and we’ll tie the ice with the woman in it and slide her down to it.”

 

One hour later, Rocko was tied up to the other boat and John went down and brought the rope back up to the cave. The private investigator, along with the rest of the crew, sat in their cabin, as they didn’t know where Rocko had hidden their boat’s igniter and had to accept the situation as it was. They had a grandstand seat as the four time travelers tied the slab of ice that contained the woman and slid it down the side of the iceberg, into the water where John and Rocko pulled it alongside their boat. Bill and Matt then climbed down the side of the berg with the creature between them. The shouts of terror were heard from the cabin of the smaller boat as the creature stepped aboard their boat before going aboard the time travelers’ boat. Before they cut the line between the two boats, Rocko called out to the captain, “Captain, your igniter is on the floor of the ice cave. Safe journey.”

 

The trip back to New York was much easier as, unlike the trip out, they knew exactly where they were going. Day and night the creature declined the warmth of the cabin and preferred to kneel alongside his mate who by now lay on the deck with a blanket covering her as the ice had all melted away.

As the group of time travelers sat in the cabin eating lunch, Matt took a piece of yellowed notebook paper out of his pocket and said, “Gentlemen, as I have done every meal time, I invited our guest to dine with us in the cabin and as he has done every time, he refused. As I was about to return here I noticed the tip of this notebook paper sticking out of the pocket of her coat and carried it here.” He carefully opened it and laid it flat on the table. It was written in German and Matt took a few seconds before translating it.

November 4, 1816

My health has taken a turn for the worse and as I fear that I may not make the return trip home, these are my thoughts on my creating not one, but two creatures. Stating that he wished to be away from all humans, the male has left Europe and traveled north to escape justice and I feel it my duty to terminate his existence. He has claimed that he is innocent of any harm that may have come to anyone that had the poor luck of crossing his path, but I say, nay! Justice must be served and it is my duty as his creator to end his existence! I have brought along the female creature that I gave life to, before taking it from her, simply as bait to bring the male to me that I might end his existence. As electricity was the main step needed for them both to come to life, it is perfect that she joins him here in the Arctic regions as thunderstorms are hardly ever encountered here as the air is too rarefied, thus her chances of ever getting the electric dose that she needs to live is close to nil!

Dr. Victor Frankenstein.

Matt folded the note and finished telling them all he knew about the Frankenstein story and at one point Rocko said, “Matt you said that the doctor brought him to life by using lightning, right?”

“So the story goes, sir,” answered Matt. “He attached an apparatus to the two terminals in her neck and somehow attracted lightning to strike his machine, sending the electricity into her body.”

“So if she gets struck by a bolt of lightning she’ll come back to life?” He suddenly stood and said, “I’ve got it! Matt, do you think he’ll allow me to try something with no guarantee of success?”

They watched as Matt conversed with the creature. After ten minutes the big man stood to the side as Bill and Rocko brought out the hand-cranked radio. They all watched as Rocko took two long wires and attached one end to the outlets on the radio and nervously tied the other ends around the posts in her neck. He then placed his hand on the hand-crank and said, “Matt, I hope he understands that I have no idea if this will do anything at all.”

He slowly turned the crank and with each turn the round dial on the face showed an arrow indicating how much power was being produced. They all held their breath as the current flowed through the female creature’s body.

After five minutes, Bill relieved the tired Rocko and five minutes later John took over. Five minutes later the creature, who had been watching from a distance stepped forward and gently removed John’s hand and started to turn the crank, slowly at first, then faster and faster until the men thought it would break off when suddenly her open eyes snapped shut only to reopen and look up at her mate.

She moved her dry, cracked lips and slowly said, “Lebe ich wieder?”

(“I live again?”)

The creature was openly crying as he answered his mate, “Ja! Sie Leben wieder, meine Liebe!"

(“Yes! You live again, my love!")

He grabbed her hands and held them in his as the men watched from a distance.

“Rocko,” whispered Bill, “That was pure genius!

“It just kind of made sense, Bill.”

 

The trip back couldn’t have ended any sooner as both of the passengers had a huge appetite. Matt sat for hours talking with them and it looked like they got some color on their pasty white skin as they sat all day on the open deck at the rear of the boat holding hands.

 

The four cooked up a plan for their docking in New York and when they did, Matt left the dock as the others waited for him to return.

Two hours later, a large coach pulled up with Matt driving the 1912 Autocar Type XXI coach. He hopped down and boarded the boat.

“Matt,” asked Bill with a smile, “Where did you get this baby?

“I rented it from a friend who delivers parcels for a few stores in our neighborhood.” He took out a list and said as he looked at it, “I purchased blankets, food, water, sleeping bags and a tent should we need it.”

“Did you get a place in the Canaan, New York area?”

“Yes, sir. It has a large log cabin with a stone fireplace, a well, barn and borders a lake that is stocked with fish.”

The 1912 Autocar Type XXI coach that Matt rented was perfect for the group.

 

“Great! Let’s get the guys and be off.”

The dock was fairly empty and if anyone saw the two very tall people with long draping shawls that covered their head and face, they said nothing as New Yorkers, even then, minded their own business.

All climbed up and into the large truck and were happy to find plush seats. Matt took the driver’s seat and opened the ignition switch as Bill turned the starter crank at the front of the engine. It started with a roar and a cloud of blue-white exhaust and left the dock with a jerk as the clutch grabbed the gear.

The 1912 roads were nothing to speak of and as the driver sat in the open, Matt was glad that it hadn’t rained in a few weeks as there was no mud, however, the lack of rain created lots of dust and if you happened to be following another truck, you were covered in dust. That was the reason that all the drivers along the dirt roads raced to be in front. Besides the odor of horse waste, another negative was the bumps, ruts and holes in the roads and the inability of the truck’s suspension system to handle them. But, as any club member would say, ‘It’s still great being back in time’.

The trip took four hours with the last two driving through the thick woods of upstate New York. Suddenly they came out in a clearing that sported a lake and small dock that had a flat bottom rowboat tied to it. The log cabin seemed to be part of the woods as it not only blended in with the environment, but the last owner had allowed the young trees and bushes to creep right up to, and in places, over the cabin. Matt looked at the pen and ink drawing the broker in New York City had provided him with when he purchased it. He said the owner tried many times to rent it out, but it was just too far into the woods for them. A plus, Matt thought for their plan of settling the two from the iceberg up in it.

“Matt,” asked Bill as he drove slowly to the cabin, “Will you tell them that if they don’t like it, we can try something else?”

“I will, sir.” He parked the rig and set the brake and they all got out. The woman held the man’s hand and they walked to the lake. They laughed a deep rough laugh, but a laugh non-the-less, as they splashed water at each other. Perhaps they were different, but when two rabbits came out of hiding and hopped close by them, Bill felt that they were one with nature.

The time travelers allowed them ten minutes of walking around before Matt went to them and, sitting under a tree, explained that should they want to live here, it is all paid for and it is now private land, their private land. He passed them the pen and ink drawing that had a map of their area. He told them of the food supplies, blankets and water they were supplied with. If they didn’t like it, they would be provided transportation to South America.”

Fifteen minutes later Matt came back to the group by the truck. “Fellows, we may transfer the supplies into the cabin; they love it!”

Fifteen minutes later the truck was empty of the supplies and it was evident to all that it was time to go. Both of the ice people stood by the truck’s door and not sure what to do, Bill did a slight bow as he said, “Good luck.”

“Erick,” the man said, then pointed to the woman and said, “Gretta.”

Bill grinned and offered his hand as he said, “Good luck, Gretta and Erick.”

Erick’s hand cupped his up to his wrist in his first attempted at a handshake.

Each of the time travelers got the same until Matt said, “Eb wohl, meine Freunde. Es war eine wunderbare Reise.”

(“Good bye, my friends. It has been a wonderful voyage”.)

Erick did his best smile which would scare the average person and he said as he placed his hands on both of Matt’s shoulders, "Wenn nicht für dich, Freund Matt, hätten wir noch gesehen als Wesen. Danke, dass Sie geben uns Leben und einen Grund zu leben. Glück, mein Freund."

("If not for you, friend Matt, we would still be seen as creatures. Thank you for giving us life and a reason to live it. Good fortune to you and the others, my friend.")

It was like a poorly written movie as the sun broke through a small opening in the trees and drenched the two big people who stood waving at the truck as it drove back into the woods.

 

The drive back to the city was relaxing, as it usually was after a successful mission. They knew that the Time Watchers would be ecstatic over getting the real Mona Lisa back, but they also knew that the Frankenstein affair would really intrigue them.

The four tired time travelers returned the truck to its owner and took a taxicab to the club. Once in the garden Bill said, as he took out his TFM, “Guys, I’m going to punch in May 16, 2014 unless you need to be back at an earlier date.”

Knowing that Bill always tried to avoid going back at an earlier date to ‘Keep it real,’ as he calls it, both John and Rocko shook their heads no.

Bill entered in May 16, 2014 and after all were in the stairwell, pressed the activate button.

 

DATELINE: MAY 16, 2014 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY

Once in Bill’s den they flopped down onto the easy chairs and couch to unwind. Matt left the room and returned ten minutes later with coffee, tea, sandwiches and Samson who bounded up onto Bill’s lap.

“Hey, little guy, did you miss us?” he asked as he scratched the beagle’s ears.

Over coffee Rocko kidded as he held the Mona Lisa up against a wall, “Hey, look, this is where the Mona Lisa should be displayed.”

John looked and nodded his approval before turning to Bill, “So, what are you going to do, Bill, bring it up to the group yourself or maybe leave it on the landing so they can just come down and get it?”

Bill shrugged, “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll just text them and like you said, leave it on the landing outside of the door.”

“Let us know what they say about Frankenstein, okay?”

Bill grinned, “You mean, Gretta and Erick.”

Rocko added, “Boy, I have to admit, I was scared at first.”

“Me too,” said Bill, “but when I think about it, I bet it was because we all remember Boris Karloff in the movie as he portrayed the monster.”

John agreed and with a shiver said, “Boy am I glad that Matt was along for that one. I didn’t know that he knew German.”

“Me too,” said Rocko.

“Believe me, guys,” said Bill, “neither did I.” He looked pensive and was quiet for a moment, then said in a low voice, “You know what, guys? There are times that I believe that Matt is the real head of the 1800 Club and I’m just a figurehead. I mean, let’s face it, he knows where everything is and when there’s a mission, he sort of plans the way it’s run: he gets the tickets, the clothing, the transportation, everything!”

The three of them laughed but it gave them something to think about.

The Grandmother clock struck 2:00 p.m. and John stood, stretched and said, “Guys, I’m going downstairs and change, then go home, shower and hit the sack.”

Rocko added, “Ditto for me.”

Bill walked them to the door and said, “Hey, guys. I just want to thank you both for going on this mission with me. It was a bit crazy and I could never have done it alone.”

Both John and Rocko nodded their agreement. “Thanks for the trip back, Bill. It was fun,” said John as they shook hands.

“Same here,” added Rocko, “it’s not too often that I get to pilot a classic boat such as the one we did on this mission. Any time you need me, Bill, just call.”

Bill slapped both men on their back and said, “Thanks again, boys, Matt and I could never have made it on our own.”

After the two men left, Bill opened his communicator and wrote, MARYELLEN MULDEY: HISTORY TRACKING GROUP.

GOOD AFTERNOON MS. MULDEY. WE JUST RETURNED FROM THE MONA LISA MISSION AND WISH TO TELL YOU THAT IT WENT ACCORDING TO PLAN WITH THE END RESULT OF US RETRIEVING THE ORIGINAL MONA LISA. WILL YOU PICK IT UP OR SHALL I BRING IT UPLINE? ON ANOTHER NOTE WE STUMBLED ACROSS A COUPLE OF PEOPLE THAT WE CONSIDERED FICTIONAL CHARACTERS BUT TURNED OUT TO BE FOR REAL! WE BELIEVE THAT YOU AND YOUR GROUP WILL BE PLEASED AS WELL AS SURPRISED AT HOW IT TURNED OUT. MY FULL REPORT WILL BE IN YOUR HANDS BY THIS TIME TOMORROW.

REGARDS, BILL SCOTT, PRESIDENT 1800 CLUB, 2014.

Within two minutes he received her reply.

THAT’S GREAT NEWS, BILL, WOULD YOU MIND IF I VISITED YOU IN A FEW MINUTES?

Bill typed back, THE DOOR IS ALWAYS OPEN FOR YOU AND YOUR GROUP. BILL.

He went and opened the door for her and then sat back on his couch and waited. Within five minutes she tapped on the open door.

“Maryellen, please come in.”

They shook hands and she said with a smile, “After that message I just had to come and visit. May I see her?”

“Certainly,” he answered as he placed it on the coffee table.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” she turned to Bill and went on, “I can’t wait until I read your after-mission report.”

“Believe me, it’s one of the weirdest ever.”

She pursed her lips together and said, “Bill, I have a problem. I don’t know anyone at the Louvre and I’m afraid that if I offer to replace their Mona with theirs with this one, they’ll kick me out.”

“Mmm,” answered Bill as he pondered the problem. “Actually, if we went back and prevented it from being stolen, that would stop the public from hearing about her and it was the robbery itself that made her world famous and worth the millions of dollars. In fact, the best way to return it and guarantee that it will get the publicity it needs is to switch the fake one that Vincenzo Peruggia had in his room with this one, the real painting.”

“I agree,” said Maryellen, “I don’t think that I have to send you a hologram for a new mission. Do you?”

“No,” said Bill, can you get Peruggia’s address in Italy and text it to me?”

The lady from the future stood and nodded as she smiled and offered her hand. “Bill, you and I see things in the same light. It’s a pleasure working with you. I’ll see what else I can dig up on him for you.”

“That’s great, Maryellen,” Bill said as they shook hands, “I’ll get back to you after the switch.”

“And,” she added as she opened the door to her own time, “I can’t wait to hear about the fictional characters you met.”

 

THREE DAYS LATER

Bill, Matt, John, Rocko and the painting were aboard the French liner, La Douce France. It was scheduled to dock at the Port of Livorno, Italy before ending its voyage in France. As usual Matt had put together their ensembles, purchased the travel tickets and set the reservations. Although they had separate first-class cabins, together, they enjoyed everything the ship offered such as swimming, gymnastics, shuffleboard and more. They usually ended the evening with a walk around the deck while smoking cigars. Ten days later they docked in Livorno, Italy at five p.m.

DATELINE: DECEMBER 9, 1913 PLACE: LIVORNO, ITALY

The four time travelers hopped aboard a train that was headed to Florence, forty-five miles away.

The car was small and dark compared to the trains in the states, but the red cloth-covered seats were thick and soft. The inside of the car smelled like a cross between tobacco and cheese, and all of the male passengers seemed to be smoking thin, black self-rolled cigars that gave off a distinctive order and the women all carried shopping bags of provolone and other cheeses.

“Gentlemen,” said Rocko as he inhaled deeply, “this is the real Italy. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and we are in my grandmother’s kitchen as she prepares a dinner of meatballs, macaroni, red sauce and provolone cheese. Ahhh, it’s the best.”

The four time travelers looked out of the windows as they passed small groups of houses, all gaily painted. There seemed to be white sheets hanging from every window and children playing in the streets as an older woman who wasn’t needed in the kitchen watched over them. Although the small gardens were empty this time of the year, the men were busy repairing the wooden structures that held their grape vines while others looked over their fig and olive trees. It was two hours before they entered the Hotel Palma Blanc.

The four time travelers were happily surprised to find the hotel’s lavish interior sported beautiful dark brown leather easy chairs and couches. As the name suggested there were large planters with long, off-white palm fronds in them strategically placed around the lobby. A thick light blue rug went from one wall to the other and brass spittoons were placed near the chairs. Three steps down was a short bar with six stools and the mirror behind the bar made the lobby look larger than it actually was.

They went over the menu and decided that they should all have a different dish to make sure that at least three of the four will not be incapacitated if the food was off. Rocko volunteered to have the Saltimbocca while the novices ordered what he considered ‘everyday Italian dishes’.

After the waiter left John asked, “Rocko, what the heck is Saltimbocca?”

“Ahhh, Johnny, it’s a fantastic dish of veal, prosciutto and sage, rolled up and cooked in dry white wine and butter and topped with capers. It’s delicious! That’s why they call it Saltimbocca.”

“Why? What does that mean?”

“Saltimbocca means ‘Jumps in the mouth’. In other words its aroma is as good as its taste.”

After dinner they enjoyed brandy and another cigar and at ten o’clock they stepped out of the hotel for the fifteen-block walk to Peruggia’s rooming house.

“Remember, guys,” said Bill, “this is just a reconnaissance run. Tomorrow night we make the switch.”

“Guys,” asked Rocko, “are we sure that tomorrow night he’ll be eating at a restaurant?”

“Yep!” answered Bill, “He left his apartment at 8:00 p.m. and ate at the Hotel Baglioni Santa Croce which is right around the corner from his apartment. He left the restaurant and returned to his place at 10:00 p.m. At least that’s what he told the police when they took him in. But to be sure that he doesn’t interfere with us as we make the switch, Rocko and Matt will be on guard in front of his apartment building.”

The four time travelers looked natural as they chatted while they walked along across the street towards Vincenzo Peruggia’s apartment building. When they were exactly opposite it, Bill stopped and lit up a cigar, as they surreptitiously looked it over. They could see the flicker of an oil lamp from one of the two windows on the second floor.

“That’s our guy,” said Bill as he blew his match out. They resumed their walk. “As I said, according to Maryellen Muldey he goes out every night at eight p.m. for dinner in the restaurant around the corner.”

“Mmm,” said Rocko as he rubbed his stomach, “Maybe I’ll eat in the same place he does tomorrow night and keep an eye on him while you guys make the switch.”

Bill nodded, “Good idea.”

“As for tonight,” said Bill holding up a bottle, “Champagne and cigars in the hotel lobby.”

“Lead the way!” said Rocko.

 

As it was a fifteen-block walk back, the four hopped a tall, square taxicab that belched smoke that almost matched the cigarettes the driver smoked. As usual, they each sought a window to watch pre-war Italy go by. It seemed that the later it got, the more lights the stores and cabarets lit, which added to the gay atmosphere. Although it was close to eleven o’clock, children tagged along behind their parents as they strolled along the streets.

The four time travelers enjoyed the wine and another cigar in the hotel’s lobby and were in their rooms and asleep by midnight.

 

They had breakfast at eight and followed the same routine as the many tourists that filled the beautiful city by taking in the sights. They stopped in a small restaurant for lunch and Rocko ordered for them in his native tongue with the result that the owner kept the food coming as well as the wine.

“Guys,” said Bill as he pushed his chair back, “I can’t take another bite of anything.”

“Pretty good, huh?” asked Rocko with a big grin.

“Yes,” said John, “But tell me, do you know the owner or something?”

“Ha! No, he’s just happy when he hears Italian spoken with a New York accent.”

“Well,” said Bill, “I’m going back to the hotel and take a nap.”

They all agreed and it was close to three in the afternoon when they returned to the hotel.

“Matt,” Bill asked as they entered the lobby, “are you going to eat here with John and me or with Rocko at the Italian restaurant?”

“I thought that I would dine with you and John, sir. This way I shall be on guard at the entrance to Peruggia’s apartment house as you and John make the switch.”

“Okay,” said Bill. Then we have a plan.” He looked at his watch and went on, “I suggest that we eat at six so that we will be near Peruggia’s apartment around eight o’clock.”

“And I’ll follow him to the restaurant,” added Rocko.

 

Rocko had just a small dish of macaroni while the other three time travelers ate their full meals. It was seven-fifteen when the four men left the hotel and walked over to their target’s apartment house.

“I’m starving,” muttered Rocko as they passed many small restaurants along the way. The other three men just grinned.

“But,” said Bill, “You had a dish of pasta with us, Rocko.”

Rocko looked shocked as he replied, “One dish of macaroni does not make a meal, my friend.”

It was seven fifty-five when they reached the corner of Via Giovanni Verrazzano, Peruggia’s block, and they stopped, stood and chatted casually as they puffed on their cigars while at least one of them watched the apartment building’s door at all times.

“Eight o’clock sharp and our man has just opened the door,” said John.

”Is he alone?” asked Bill.

“Yes, and he just went down the steps and is heading towards the corner.”

Bill nodded, “Time for you to go and eat, Rocko.”

With a slight wave, Rocko stepped off in the same direction that their target did. The other three men stood and watched the building for a few minutes to give Rocko a chance to get to the Hotel Baglioni Santa Croce to watch Peruggia.

Bill and John entered the apartment building the same time that Rocko entered the hotel.

He walked through the hotel’s lavish lobby and spotted a man standing by a set of swinging mahogany doors. He was dressed in a dark blue, double-breasted suit with a red silk shirt and matching pocket-handkerchief. His highly shined black shoes matched his slicked back, jet-black hair and waxed mustache.

Rocko went to him and asked, “Mi scusi, sir, è presente il ristorante?”

(“Excuse me, sir, is this the restaurant?”)

He smiled and answered, “Sì, signore, è. Avete una prenotazione?"

("Yes, sir, it is. Do you have a reservation?")

Rocko shook his head as he answered, "No. Sono appena tornato in città e ho sentito dire così tante cose buone che io ho pensato di provare a cena qui."

("No. I just got into town and I've heard so many good things about it that I thought I would try to have dinner here.")

The man’s face lit up with a big smile and he said as he opened the door for him, "Il mio amico, per favore si faccia in questo modo. Dimmi da dove vieni? Il tuo Italiano è buono, ma l'accento mi dice che si usa. Ho ragione?"

("My friend, please step this way. Tell me, where do you come from? Your Italian is good, but your accent tells me that you are from America. Am I right?")

Now it was Rocko’s turn to smile, “Sì, sì, in America. New York. IO sono qui per pochi giorni e ho dovuto provare il ristorante."

(“Yes, yes, America. New York. I'm here for a few days and had to try your restaurant.")

The man guided Rocko to a corner table and said, "La nostra migliore, il mio amico. È possibile vedere chi entra prima di vedere." He shrugged and went on in a lower tone of voice, "a volte alcuni dei nostri clientele lasciare a metà il loro pasto quando la porta si apre, non so se mi spiego."

("Our best table, my friend. You can see anyone who enters before they see you." He shrugged and went on in a lower tone of voice, ("Sometimes some of our clientele leave in the middle of their meal when the door opens, if you know what I mean.")

Rocko grinned and sat as the man clapped his hands and a short elderly man seemed to appear from out of nowhere. He wore a black suit with a red silk shirt and a red handkerchief in his breast pocket and he too wore his black and gray hair slicked back.

The first man said to the waiter, "Domenico, portare il mio amico una bottiglia del nostro vino migliore.”

("Dominic, bring my friend a bottle of our best wine.”) He then turned to Rocko and added, "Venite a provare il nostro ristorante, il mio amico. LASCIO ora."

(“Please enjoy our restaurant, my friend. I shall leave you now.”)

Rocko grinned and said, "Grazie, amico mio, so CHE."

("Thank you, my friend, I know I will.")

 

The restaurant was not very large, as it had no more than fifteen tables that were all taken. There was a row of square columns that had electric lamps secured to them and they all resembled torches that were used years ago. Attached to the columns and beneath the lamps were long mirrors that amplified the light given off by the lamps. The tables and chairs were white with gold edging and faux marble tops while the floor was a red and white mosaic tile that resembled the well-to-do homes of the ancient Romans.

The wine was fantastic and Rocko ordered the one dish that he grew up on, the one dish that his mother made better than any restaurant he had ever eaten in: spaghetti and meatballs.

The guy was right, thought Rocko as he used the mirrors on the columns to spot the small, thin man sitting alone around the corner from him. It was Vincenzo Peruggia and using the same mirrors, the man constantly looked around as he ate. Rocko grinned as he noticed that the man had a large white napkin with splatters of red sauce on it tucked into his collar.

Seeing that it was only nine-thirty, Rocko asked for the check and then sat back and enjoyed the wine knowing that Peruggia couldn’t leave without him seeing him go.

From behind him came a tall, slim man in his thirties. He was dressed in the same double-breasted suit with red shirt and handkerchief as the man at the door. He also slicked back his salt and pepper colored hair and he had his hands clasped humbly in front of him. "Mi scusi, amico mio, possiamo parlare un momento?"

("Excuse me, my friend, may we talk a moment?")

"Naturalmente, sir. Posso aiutarti?" asked Rocko.

("Off course, sir. May I help you?")

The man answered with a smile, “IO sono l'orgoglioso proprietario di questo ristorante e l'udito, lei ci ha parlato in Inglese ho pensato che forse avrei potuto chiacchierare un momento perché sto in America e mi piacerebbe sapere se avete sentito il mio inglese era buono."

(“I am the proud owner of this restaurant and hearing that you spoke English, I thought that perhaps I could chat a moment as I am going to Australia then America and would love to know if you felt my English was good.")

“Well,” said Rocko as he put out his hand, “Let me introduce myself. I’m Rocko Perna from New York.”

“Ahh,” said the man as he shook Rocko’s hand, “My name is Ceasar Cardini, and I have been taking American lessons so when I move there they will understand me.”

“You mean to say that you have taken English lessons,” corrected Rocko with a smile. “I think you’re English is great and nobody will have a problem understanding you.”

“Ahh, that truly is good news. They say that everyone in America can become rich if they try hard.”

“Well, it’s not that easy, Caesar. It’s good if you have a special something, you know, like making the best spaghetti and meatballs in New York so that your restaurant becomes famous for that.”

“I do have a salad that I make for my family. Nothing special, but it’s made with romaine lettuce and olive oil.”

“Sounds like you have the beginning of a Ce, ah, a . . . “ Rocko stopped as he suddenly remembered something he read a few years back. He looked at the man and said, “I’m not a chef, but what if besides romaine and olive oil, you added croutons, Parmesan cheese, lemon juice, hard boiled eggs, Worcestershire sauce, garlic and black pepper and to make it more special, mix it up at the customer’s table.”

“My friend,” Caesar, asked, “that sounds fantastic . . . is it something that the New York people like?”

“Actually, no. All I did was add to your recipe. But as a person from New York, believe me they will love it and to go further, if I were you I’d call it ‘Caesars Salad.’”

“Caesar salad? I could not name it after myself. That would be too self flattering.”

“Believe me, Caesar, New Yorkers love people who flaunt what they have. Use your name and you’ll go far, don’t use it and someone else will use theirs.”

From out of the corner of his eye, Rocko spotted Peruggia getting up. “Gotta leave, Caesar. I promise you that if you follow through on this recipe, your name will be remembered forever.”

The two men shook hands and Rocko placed the money and a tip on the silver plate that the check had come on and walked casually towards the exit. He allowed Peruggia to leave the hotel before him and once outside Rocko stopped and lit a cigar, giving his target more space between them. Finally he followed one half block behind him. The time traveler checked his watch and thought, Looks like he’s following his routine. He watched as Bill, John and Matt walked past Peruggia as they headed towards Rocko.

“How did it go?” Rocko asked.

“No problem,” answered Bill, “The lock was a snap to open and he had it in an old valise under his bed. The valise wasn’t even locked. We were in and out one, two, three.”

“Then you guys should have joined me in the restaurant. Quite interesting.”

“Well,” said Bill, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat and this has been one of the most interesting missions I’ve ever been on.”

 

The four time travelers went back to their hotel. By ten a.m. the next morning they were aboard their ship, La Stella d'Italia and eight days later they stood in front of the 1800 Club’s garden.

Bill turned to the three men and said as he took out his Time Frequency Modulator, “Guys, usually I like to keep the time in time travel, real. You know what I mean, if I leave 2014 for two weeks, when I return, the date I enter in the TFM is two weeks later than when I left. It just makes me feel that I lived the two weeks that I was away. It’s easy for me to come back and enter the same date that I left, but somehow I feel like I’m cheating. However, this time I’ve been gone so long that I am going to enter May 21, which is two days after we left. Is that okay with you guys?”

“Fine with me,” answered Rocko as John and Matt nodded in agreement.”

“Good,” Bill said as he entered the date in his Time Frequency Modulator and opened the gate to the club’s garden. They went to the security door and once inside the stairwell, Bill pressed the activate button.

 

DATELINE: MAY 21, 2014 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY

It was noon and Matt automatically asked, “Sir, shall I make some lunch?”

“No, Matt, go and relax. We just had breakfast a few hours ago.”

“Well,” said Rocko, “I’m going down and change and head home.”

“Me too,” added John and in ten minutes Bill was alone with his thoughts, that is until Matt tapped on the door and opened it enough for Samson to enter.

The beagle bounded across the floor and leaped up onto the couch with Bill. “Hey, fella! How have you been? I know what you need, a good ear scratching.” Bill knew that a beagle had long hanging floppy ears to keep dust and dirt out as they chased down fox and other game and that meant that the inside of their ears were super sensitive. He gently scratched the inner ears, which made Samson lay back and enjoy the fact that his boss knew of his weakness.

After ten minutes of ear scratching, Bill went to his laptop and entered, ‘Latest Big Foot sightings in the Canaan, New York area’. There were over thirty reports and Bill read on:

Big Foot spotted! Two hunters swore they saw what they described as a hairy bear with a human looking face. Both men said they’d never hunt there again.

While camping in the hilly area of Canaan, NY, Jane Crumbly and her husband said that their eight-year old daughter saw a strange looking, very tall woman walking through the thick woods carrying what she said was a baby. They packed up and left immediately.

Professor T.N. Schmidt said there is no such thing as Big Foot. What these sightings are is nothing more than local bears and the area should be avoided.

Bill grinned as he closed the laptop. Good luck, my friends, he thought as he went back to scratching his beagle’s ears. He went to put the television on when the sunlight coming through the window caught his eye as it bounced off of the silver picture frame on his desk. The time traveler picked it up and smiled as he looked at the picture of his fiancé, Shirley Holmes standing in her full length dress, wide hat and holding an open parasol on a sunny day. “Soon” he said as he put it back down, “Soon.”

End

 

Dear reader, once again Bill Scott and Shirley Holmes reunite and, as it is their private story with nothing to do with a club mission, I’ve placed it on line at no cost to you. It may be read at

http://timetraveler-bob.blogspot.com/

I hope you enjoy it and feel free to let me know. P.S. Book 12 is being created as you read this. RPM

 

The 1800 Club

 

The end is usually very apparent in a story, be it a book or movie. However in this case, though it is the end page-wise, it continues on in the 1800 Club. You see, The 1800 Club does exist in New York City, though, under a different name and address. I, Bill Scott, also exist as President and owner of the club, and the people I wrote of all exist. Some of their names have been changed, as they do have a life outside of the club and they and the club must be protected.

By now you are thinking, “This is a put-on, there is no club that can travel in time.” But, I ask you to look around. Isn’t history the same as you read it in your history books? Believe me, the club is working to keep it so. You the reader may ask, “Why is he admitting this?” To that I answer, “Why not?” Sometimes the best place to hide something is right out in plain sight. So, while admitting the club exists, the secret is as safe as saying it doesn’t exist.

I intended to continue this narrative and tell you about some of the other missions the club has worked on, however, I have to interrupt this book at this point because I’ve just been alerted that there is a problem going on right now. I do intend to document it, and others as they occur, in the next book, ‘The 1800 Club. Book XII.’

B.S.

Other books by Robert P. McAuley

SkyShip

Romance in a Ghost Town

Aviation Facts & Rumors: Book 1

Aviation Facts & Rumors: Book 2

The Dripping Sands Of Time

A New Jersey Yankee In King Arthur’s Court

Vampire’s Bloodline

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club Book I

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club Book II

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club Book III

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club Book IV

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club: Book V

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club: Book VI

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club: Book VII

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club: Book VIII

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club: Book IX

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club: Book X

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club: Book XI

Time Travel Adventures of The 1800 Club: Book XII

Books by John McAuley

Pray To Win

Trinity’s Lesson

Romance on The 7:15 Out of Penn Station

Double-Take: A Texas Cowgirl Ropes a Brooklyn Boy

The Adjustment Of Fanny Hall