Time Travelers Never Die Part 43

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dryden. She's with a patient at the moment."

"Tell her I called, please? It's important. I'd appreciate it if she could get back to me as soon as possible."

"Mr. Dryden, is this a medical emergency?"

"No, ma'am."

"Okay. I'll see that she gets the message."

HE was back in his living room when Helen called. was back in his living room when Helen called. "What's wrong, Dave?" "What's wrong, Dave?"

"Are you sitting down?"

"Dave, I'm awfully busy."

"Shel's dead."

"What?"

"Lightning hit the house last night. It burned down."

"No. That's not-"

"He was in bed. They don't have a positive ID yet. But-"

"Where are you now, Dave?"

"At home. I've been over there. There's nothing left of the place."

"My G.o.d."

"I'm sorry."

No response.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm all right." Her voice was tight. Her voice was tight.

"Helen, if there's anything I can do-"

"I know, Dave. Thanks."

HE put on the TV and let it play. A game show. He never watched game shows, never really watched much of anything except news. And of course the Phillies and Eagles. put on the TV and let it play. A game show. He never watched game shows, never really watched much of anything except news. And of course the Phillies and Eagles.

But at the moment he needed voices in the house.

What were the odds against a lightning strike?

He closed his eyes and tried to wish it away. Tried to make it a day like every other day, in which Shel might call at any moment, in which the only real concern was where they would go this week.

Where they would go.

So much for Voltaire.

He wondered whether he should go back to Italy and inform Professor Shelborne. Maybe that would be an unnecessarily cruel act. But if he didn't, he would go on from day to day, waiting for his son to show up again.

The converter was in his bedroom. It was on a side table, where he'd left it when he hurried out of the house an hour earlier. The last unit.

And a sudden possibility froze him. If you can travel in time, there are no limits to what you can do. He still tended to think of yesterday as a place that existed only in memory.

But Shel was alive back there. As surely as his father. As surely as Nero was still, somehow, somewhen, falling out of his chariot.

Everything is forever.

He could go back and warn him.

The local news came on. More bad weather coming. A woman had been a.s.saulted by two masked kids in Brandywine. A bus driver had suffered a heart attack and plowed into an outdoor food market. There was confirmation about the victim killed last night in the lightning strike. Dental records showed it was was Adrian Shelborne, thirty-two, the son of the eminent Philadelphia physicist who'd disappeared mysteriously almost a year ago. Adrian Shelborne, thirty-two, the son of the eminent Philadelphia physicist who'd disappeared mysteriously almost a year ago.

HE drove back to the town house and parked down the street. The tape was still up, but the investigators and police had gone. He picked up the converter and attached it to his belt. A couple of people were standing near the tape, but they weren't paying any attention to him. drove back to the town house and parked down the street. The tape was still up, but the investigators and police had gone. He picked up the converter and attached it to his belt. A couple of people were standing near the tape, but they weren't paying any attention to him.

He set the instrument for 11:00 P.M. the previous night. He took a deep breath, and, with more reluctance than he'd ever felt before, pushed the b.u.t.ton.

Torrential rain poured down on him. The sky was full of lightning. But lights were on in the town house. Downstairs.

He moved beneath the overhang of a storefront, which provided some shelter from the storm.

A van cruised past and turned right at the intersection.

The curtains were drawn in the town house. The garage was open, as it had been when he'd arrived to see the results of the fire.

He stood watching, trying to make up his mind. He could save Shel, but he knew that hadn't happened. Knew he hadn't gone in and told him what was coming. But did that really mean he couldn't do it?

If he brought Shel back, how would they explain it? He was officially dead now. Hopelessly, definitely dead. Identified by his dental records.

The experiments had scared him. Plan on taking the book out of the briefcase, and bad things happen.

The overhang wasn't providing much protection. Another car rolled past. At one of the houses across the street, a door opened, and he heard voices.

"Good-bye, Babe."

"See you tomorrow, Lenny."

It took another minute or two before a guy with an umbrella appeared. He came in Dave's direction, stopped, and got into a car. The headlights came on, he backed into the street, turned the wheel, and splashed away.

Dave stared at the downstairs lights. There was no hurry. He didn't need to make up his mind at that moment. There was no reason he couldn't wait and think things out. He could come back whenever he chose.

HE bought a couple of books on the subject of time, Edgar Mathews's bought a couple of books on the subject of time, Edgar Mathews's Time in a Bottle Time in a Bottle, and Rice Bakar's All the Time in the World All the Time in the World. He couldn't make much sense out of either. What he needed was Time Travel for Dummies Time Travel for Dummies. But both books seemed to be saying that whenever multiple possibilities exist, the universe splits, and all possibilities occur. So there really cannot be a paradox. Cannot be a loop. If he were to rescue Shel, it would simply create a new universe in which Shel had survived the fire, and that was all there'd be to it.

So you plan to rescue a friend, and it causes a heart attack. Who could believe that?

What he really wanted to do was to go back and put the question to Michael Shelborne again. But he couldn't without letting him know what had happened. And there was no way he could bring himself to do that that. At least not yet. Maybe later, when his own emotions had subsided.

In the end, he did nothing.

CHAPTER 34.

"I took no pleasure in his death, Trainor." "I know that, Achilles, but it could not have mattered to Troilus." "Yet his blood-" "-Is on your hands." "So much death to preserve the pride of Menelaus." "Indeed. But take heart. He died defending those he loved. You could have given no greater gift." "Nonsense. I could have brought a cask of wine." "Yes. But let us pretend it is not so."

-SOPHOCLES, ACHILLES ACHILLES

DAVE was outside raking leaves when a black car pulled up. was outside raking leaves when a black car pulled up.

Two people, a man and a woman, were sitting inside. They opened the doors, got out, and started up the walkway.

The woman was taller, and more substantial, somehow, than the man. She held out a set of credentials. "Dr. Dryden?" she said. "I'm Lieutenant Lake." She smiled, a neutral gesture that purveyed no warmth. "This is Sergeant Howard. Could we have a few minutes of your time?"

"Sure," Dave said, wondering what it was about.

Sergeant Howard was a wiry, angular man who came up to Dave's shoulders. He had dark skin and features screwed up into a permanent frown. His expression implied he was being nice even though Dave was probably guilty of something.

He opened the front door, and they all went inside. Lake sat down on the sofa while Howard shoved his hands into his pockets and took to wandering around the room, inspecting books, prints, computer, whatever. "Can I get you some coffee?" Dave asked.

"No, thanks," said Lake. Howard managed a smile but shook his head no. The lieutenant crossed her legs and leaned forward. "I wanted first to offer my condolences on the death of Dr. Shelborne. I understand he was a close friend of yours?"

"That's correct," Dave said. "We've known each other a long time."

She nodded, produced a leather-bound notebook, opened it, and wrote something down. "Did you have a professional relationship?"

"No. We were just friends."

She seemed to expect him to elaborate.

Dave lowered himself into an armchair. "May I ask what this is about? Has something happened?"

Her eyes locked on him. "Dr. Dryden," she said, "Dr. Shelborne was murdered."

Dave's first reaction was to laugh. But she was dead serious. "You can't believe that," he said.

"I never joke, Doctor. Someone attacked the victim in bed, battered him seriously enough to fracture his skull and break both arms. Then he set fire to the house."

Behind Dave, the floor creaked. Howard was still moving around. "That can't be right," he said. "It was a lightning bolt, wasn't it?"

"There was was a lot of lightning, and we can't tell whether the place actually got hit. But it's irrelevant. Somebody dumped gasoline on the ground floor and set it ablaze." a lot of lightning, and we can't tell whether the place actually got hit. But it's irrelevant. Somebody dumped gasoline on the ground floor and set it ablaze."

"Gasoline? I just don't believe it." I just don't believe it."

Her eyes never left him. "Who'd want him dead?"

"n.o.body had any reason to kill Shel. He had no enemies. At least, none that I I know of. It would probably have been a burglar, wouldn't it? A break-in?" know of. It would probably have been a burglar, wouldn't it? A break-in?"

"Burglars don't usually attack occupants in bed. Or burn the house down." She pressed her index finger against her lips. "The killer broke into his desk, as well. Pried open one of the drawers."

"The bottom drawer?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

Think fast, Dave. "It was where he kept his spare cash."

"Who else would have known that?"

"I don't know."

It was of course where Shel kept the other converters. Someone else was in on the secret! Someone else was in on the secret!

"How much cash did he keep on hand?"

Dave shrugged. "Just small bills. Walking-around money. It wouldn't have been worth a break-in. Certainly not killing someone."

"You'd be surprised how little a life can be worth, Doctor. Would there have been anything else in that drawer?"

"I don't know."

"Well, whatever the killer was looking for, he found it."

"Why do you say that?"

"The other drawers were untouched."

My G.o.d. A maniac loose with a converter.

"Are you okay, Dr. Dryden?"