10

Future Reporter

Jeffery Nezsmith grabbed Claire’s hand and immediately began shaking it vigorously. Then, seeing the uncertain expression on her face, he dropped it with a quick apology.

“I’m sorry, but I’m just so flustered to meet you. As a history major of course I’d know you on sight. I remember the first story of yours I read was about your trip back to the Revolutionary War. You really made it come alive for me. That’s what made me decide on history. And your story from the eighteen nineties when you nearly met your mother before you were born? Informative and comedic!”

“Uh,” Claire began uncertainly, “you’re welcome?”

“And this must be the rest of the team,” the young man continued, going over first to Ben. “You must be Mister Hill—uh, Professor Ben Stein.”

He reached out to take Ben’s hand in a quick shake, during which Ben cast a quizzical glance at Agent Hessman. Lou replied with a shrug that might have said, “Go with it.”

“How’s it feel to be married to such a famed reporter, Professor Stein? Oh, and that looks like Captain Beck before he finally retired,” the young man continued, breaking off from Ben to move on to the next one on the team. “I don’t recognize the guy in the suit and sunglasses, but the big one must be the bodyguard of the day. Is this your first trip with Miss Hill?”

Chief Duke simply growled, to which the lad backed quickly away and continued his search of the team.

“I don’t see Dr. Weiss with you, but he was never on all of them. But where’s Agent Harris? Why isn’t she with you? She was maid of honor at your wedding, after all.”

“She’s, uh, recovering,” Claire replied.

“Oh, that’s right,” the young man said with a slap to his own forehead. “The 1919 incident where they first picked you up. Say, does this mean that this is your first trip out? Oh, I’m so thrilled!”

“Lou,” Ben said, stepping up next to the government agent, “I think I’m starting to get the gist of things here.”

“And I have an uncomfortable feeling that we’re both getting the same gist. Uh, Mr. Nezsmith was it?”

“Just call me Jeffery.”

“If you could give us the thumbnail of what you’ve heard of Miss Hill.”

“Still calling her ‘Miss Hill’—that should have been my first clue.”

Claire broke in with a pleasant smile, taking the lead. “What he means is, this being my first trip to this particular time period, if you could just give me a little background of what you know about me so I can get an idea of where in my own timeline I happen to find myself.”

“Of course!” Jeffery beamed. “As much traveling about as you do you always need to see when you are, make sure you’re not getting ahead of yourself. Okay then.”

Glancing around, he led them away from the corner, a few yards in the direction of the river. That’s when they noticed a few details about the man with the sandy blond hair. Like the fact that he didn’t look much older than Claire, and under one arm he was holding tight to what looked like some sort of laptop computer. Claire, meanwhile, came up next to Agent Hessman for a quick word.

“We can take advantage of this, Lou. We need a local, just like you guys needed me back in 1919. And it’s not like we’d be messing up the past or anything, and he really does seem eager.”

“Very well, Miss Hill, but only him. We don’t need anyone else knowing about us; we’re not supposed to be here, remember.”

“Got it. You’re a doll.”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then spun around to confront her new fan as they came to a stop under the eaves of the corner building. It looked like some sort of drugstore, its holographic sign billing it as the most reliable source of pill-form liver cancer cures.

“Okay, first,” she began, “how exactly do you know of me?”

“Simple,” Jeffery said. “You’re just about the most famous cross-temporal reporter of all time. In certain circles, at least.”

“Like history majors?”

“Yeah,” he shyly admitted, “and temporal physics students, of course. I think I’ve read all the reports you ever wrote of your trips. Civil War, Watts Riot, a couple of back-to-back trips to the early eighteen hundreds, that trip to old China where Dr. Weiss’s knowledge of physics got you guys a visit to the Imperial Court because they thought he was a traveling wizard‍—all of them.”

“Uh, Miss Hill, if I may interject,” Agent Hessman began, “but that report that you wrote of your experiences when we found you?”

“All filed away the way you told me to. No one outside the base has seen it.”

“Oh, all her papers were under tight security for a while,” Jeffery filled in, “but eventually a couple got to circulating, and after about fifty years the government finally released them. Now they’re required reading for history and journalism majors.”

To this Claire beamed a very broad smile to Ben, who rolled his eyes in response, followed by Claire giving a pleading shrug, then Ben pantomiming his defeat.

Agent Stevens finally spoke up. “This Mr. Nezsmith knows too much of our mission. We should do something to silence him.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t say a thing,” Jeffery assured him. “I know all the rules of cross-temporal interaction.” He then gave the man a closer look followed by a frown. “Poor replacement for Agent Harris. I was really hoping to meet her as well. Oh well.”

“Uh, Jeffery,” Claire began, “we could really use your help right now. You see, we’re new to this time and could really use—”

“Oh my God, you want me to be your local! I wonder if that means I’m in one of your papers that I haven’t read yet. No, of course not. Any reports on future travel would have been a lot more strictly quarantined. But sure, I’ll do anything to help you out. What do you need?”

“To be blunt,” Agent Hessman began, “we’re looking for some Russian time travelers who kidnapped a friend of ours.”

“Oh, the Time Bubble. It’s down there at the university.” He pointed down the street straight in the direction of the University of London, specifically at the large domed structure that Ben had said was new. “It’s part of the History Department and usage is strictly overseen. Historical observations only allowed.”

“And any Russians?” Claire pleasantly prompted.

“Well . . . I did hear that some Russian group has some time on it right now.”

Hearing this, Agent Hessman pulled out his portable tracker and aimed it in the direction of the university. “Nothing,” he announced. “We should be well within range, but no chip signal. They’ve moved her.”

“No way you could have gotten in anyway,” Jeffery told them. “Security is really tight over there.”

Agent Hessman put his detector away, setting his mouth into a thin line. “That means our trail is cold. We have no way of knowing where they may have taken her, even if this was our own time. Mr. Nezsmith,” he said, turning to the young man, “we’re really going to need your help, but I should warn you: it’s going to be dangerous.”

The eager grin on the young man’s face only got wider.