Book VII Read online

  “Another game?” the young man said as he chalked up.

  John nodded yes as he removed the rack, gathered the balls and placed them in it. “Okay with me.” He looked at Bill and Rocky and both nodded in agreement as he placed the rack of balls on the green table.

  “As usual, Jacky,” he said as he stepped back, “you go first.”

  Jacky smiled as he chalked his cue tip.

  Bill grinned and said, “Guys, we’re not encouraging Jacky to get a steady job by always giving him our money. I suggest we get better at this game.”

  Rocky and John laughed as John retorted, “Well, Bill, at least we’re keeping Biff in business.”

  The door at the front of the long dark room opened and a man entered carrying a pool cue in a soft, leather case. As he came into the light of the hanging bulb, Bill, Rocky and John saw that the man dressed in black slacks, black pointy shoes and turtleneck sweater was Matt, Bill’s butler and right-hand-man of the 1800 Club.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said as he unzipped his leather case, “may I join you?”

  Jacky glanced at Matt then at the other three men. “Friend of yours?” he asked.

  Bill grinned, “Yes, and I think he wants to try you, Jacky.”

  The young man smiled as he saw the long cue stick Matt held. It was black ivory and came in two pieces, which Matt was screwing together. Jacky’s answer showed he was up for the challenge, “Sure, his money is as good as anyone else’s.”

  Bill lit a cigar and Rocky and John joined him at the side of the table as Jacky leaned over to make his shot. His first shot sank the two-ball but he missed the next shot and stepped aside as he motioned for the newcomer to go.

  Matt looked at the group of balls and proceeded to clean the table. Bill, Rocky, John and Jacky started in amazement.

  “Well,” said Matt as he put his cue stick away, “it seems as though I ‘still have it’ as you gentlemen say.”

  Jacky started to pay up when Matt said, “No, thank you anyway, sir. I don’t gamble. I just need to play now and then.” He took Jacky’s hand and spread his fingers out as he continued, “Why sir, you have the long fingers of a good pool shooter or a concert pianist. Have you ever thought of playing the piano?”

  A startled Jacky answered, “Uh, well, when I was a kid my mom made me take lessons.”

  “Why, sir,” said Matt as he relinquished his hand, “with long fingers such as you have, I’ll wager that you excelled at it.”

  “I was good at it,” the blushing youth said as he looked at his fingers, “That was a long time ago, though.”

  “Never the less, one never forgets how to ride a bicycle, and I do believe the wages of a concert pianist are much more substantial than a pool shooter.”

  “Are you a concert pianist?” asked the suddenly interested young man.

  “No, sir, I had a different calling. But you should dwell on this for awhile, at least.”

  The four time-travelers could see the light appear in Jacky’s eyes.

  Matt turned to Bill and said, “Sir, I wonder if I may treat you and Misters Brand and Perna to a Chocolate Egg Cream?”

  John Brand’s eyebrows went into a furrow as he asked, “Chocolate Egg Cream? What’s a Chocolate Egg Cream?”

  Bill and Rocky looked at John as Bill answered his question, “Just the best soda ever invented, John. If you never had one, you don’t know what you’re missing!” He turned to Matt and went on. “Yes, Matt, we’re up for that. You know a place?”

  “Yes, sir, I do. Stephen’s Ice Cream Parlor a few blocks from here. And they simply make the best Chocolate Egg Cream in Brooklyn, . . . or even New York. I’m sure it will be a treat for Mister Brand.” They started to walk to the door as Matt said, “Sirs,’ I’ll be right with you. I must address young Jacky for a moment.” They left as Matt turned to Jacky.

  Five minutes later, as they walked up the two long blocks from Biffs Pool Hall to Stevens Ice cream Parlor, Bill asked Matt, “Matt, it’s great when you suddenly take time out to do a hop and join us. But let me ask, are you here to tell me of a mission?”

  “No, sir. I saw your memo stating that you had a pool parlor date and, as I have not had many opportunities to play on the club’s table, I thought it might be time to do so.”

  “And,” added Bill “if I may ask, do you think you put Jacky on the road to becoming a pianist?”

  Matt smiled. “Perhaps I have sir. Perhaps I have. You see I know Mister Antouro DelConte, who lives in Brooklyn at this particular time period and as he owes me a favor. He is a pianist with the Brooklyn Academy Of Music and I gave young Jacky his telephone number and a message from me. Later, I’ll hop back and see how he progressed.”

  Bill slapped his right-hand-man on his back approvingly as they reached Stevens Ice Cream Parlor on seventh-avenue and ninth-street. Rocky held the door as Matt entered and led the way to a booth in the rear. The parlor had seven booths all filled with teenagers. Bill spotted the Wurlitzer jukebox and put a quarter in. He selected five songs: Tutti-Frutti by Little Richard, Maybellene by Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley by Bo Diddley, Why Do Fools Fall In Love by the Teenagers and The Great Pretender by Platters. By the time he sat the teens’ were up and dancing a fast Lindy-Hop to the first song.

  Making his way through the throng of dancers was a tall, dark haired man who greeted Matt as he rolled his eyes at the teens, “Hello Matt. What brings you back to this den of crazy kids? My home-made Greek salad?”

  “Hello Mike,” answered Matt over the blaring music, “No, not your Greek salad this time,” he looked at his fellow time-travelers and said, “Although if you enjoy Greek salad, Mike prepares the best I’ve had in centuries,” he winked at them then turned back to the owner and continued. “Today I’d like to treat my friends to a glass of your Chocolate Egg Cream.”

  “Ahhh, fine, Matt, fine.” He turned and side stepped the group of dancers as he retreated behind the long counter to make the drinks.

  Five minutes later Mike returned with a tray of dark brown drinks with a foamy white head and deposited them on the Formica table of their booth. Once again he retreated to the safety of his counter.

  “Gentlemen,” said Matt, “drink up fast, as, when the drink settles the taste loses its flavor.”

  A few sips and John’s eyes went wide. “Wow! This is fantastic! What’s in it?”

  Matt answered, “Mister Brand, it’s not what’s in it, but rather, how it’s made.”

  “And how is made, Matt?”

  “Folklore states that the drink can only be made correctly in Brooklyn. First one must get a tall, chilled, Coca-cola glass. Then they spoon in one inch of ‘U-bet’ chocolate syrup and add one inch of whole milk over the syrup. Next you place a long spoon just over the syrup and pour cold seltzer onto the spoon so as to make no direct contact with the seltzer and syrup. This creates a nice foamy head on top of the drink. Finally, stir and mix the syrup and milk into the seltzer foam. You are encouraged to drink fast, as its’ flavor changes slightly when it completely blends.”

  Bill shook his head and said admiringly, “Matt, you are a font of information.”

  Bill suddenly jumped as a gentle vibration came from the communicator in his back pocket. “Hey guys, I have a message coming in, keep an eye peeled while I read it.” He took his communicator out and covered it from prying eyes as he read the message from the future.

  GREETING GRANDPA BILL. EDMUND HERE, HOPE ALL’S WELL. WE SEE A PROBLEM COMING UP WITH MISTER SYDNEY CAMM, THE BRITISH AIRCRAFT DESIGNER. HE DESIGNED THE HAWKER HURRICANE OF WW2 AND IN THIS SCENERIO, HE DIES IN AN ACCIDENT WHEN HE’S JUST FOUR YEARS OLD. I’M PLACING A HOLOGRAM AT YOUR DOORWAY SO YOU CAN SEE FIRSTHAND WHAT THE GROUP SAW. CONTACT US AFTER YOU CHECK IT OUT. LOVE YOU, YOUR FUTURE GRANDSON, EDMUND SCOTT.

  Bill closed the communicator and put it away as he turned to the group of time-travelers and said, “Just got a message from my future grandson, Edmund. Seems a Sydney Camm who was the designer of the Hawker Hurr
icane of World War Two died before he could design the aircraft. Don’t know what this entails but I have to read up on it.”

  Matt closed his eyes and said as though he was reading it, “Mister Sydney Camm was a British aircraft designer who designed the first British fighter to have retractable landing gear and an enclosed cockpit. His timely design of the Hurricane while working for the Hawker Aircraft Company allowed the British to field enough fighters to thwart the German plan of knocking the Royal Air Force out of the war and opening the way for an invasion,” he opened his eyes as he continued, “An invasion, I might add, that would most probably have succeeded at that time. Should his Hurricane not have been present, the brunt of the air war would have fallen on the Spitfire, which were few in numbers. One has to imagine that the RAF would throw in other, less capable fighters, to supplement the Spit, but, the result would have been the same: the RAF would have been bled dry.”

  Bill, John and Rocky just sat staring at the man as he rattled off the end result of what would happen if the mission were not successful.

  Bill shook his head, “Matt, you are an encyclopedia of info today.”

  “It rubs off from being around the club members, sir. That’s all.”

  “Naw,” said Bill as he shook his head, “it’s more than that. You are deep!” He addressed the other two and asked, “Right guys?”

  Both shook their heads in verification and said, almost in unification, “Right!”

  Matt laughed and said as he stood and took out a few dollar bills, “Rubbish. Now, gentlemen, I must return to the club.”

  Bill nodded his head. “I guess we should all go back. I need to check out the hologram and see if there’s a mission brewing.”

  They left the Ice Cream Parlor and were lucky enough to catch a taxi outside.

  “Where to, gents?” asked the driver as he engaged the clutch.

  “520 East Ninth Street, Manhattan,” answered Bill.

  The ride back to New York was quiet as all of the time travelers stared out the windows to see all they could of Brooklyn, 1957. They went over the Brooklyn Bridge then drove uptown until they reached their destination. Bill paid the metered fare of six dollars and gave the driver a two-dollar tip as they exited the taxi. He opened the tall, ornate, iron garden gate with the key he wore on a chain around his neck and once in the garden, which was surrounded by a six foot high stone wall, the sounds of the city was replaced by the singing of birds, the chirping of crickets and the trickle of the small waterfalls that fed the goldfish pond in a corner of the lush garden. He took out his Time Modulator and typed in: JULY 23, 2012 2:55 P.M. With the same key that opened the gate, Bill opened the heavy, steel door to the building and they entered the cool stairwell. Gas lamps illuminated the stone steps and when the four men arrived at the landing, a six-inch, silver cylinder stood there in front of the door. Bill scooped it up and, using the same key, opened the heavy mahogany door to his apartment.

  DATELINE: JULY 23, 2012 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY

  The grandfather clock struck three times and the three men sat in Bill’s den as he readied the silver cylinder. Matt brought in a tray with a bottle of brandy and three snifters on it.

  “Matt,” asked Bill as he noted the three glasses, “aren’t you going to join us?”

  “No, thank you sir. I’ve already spent too much time dawdling about.”

  “Dawdling about?” said Bill as Rocky and John laughed at his raised eyebrows.

  “Yes, sir. However I’ll be on call as I do an inventory on the club’s food supplies, then see to dinner. Will misters John Brand and Rocky Perna be joining you this evening, sir?”

  Bill answered, yes, for them and smiled as Matt left the den. “Boy, is he something else.” He pressed his thumb against the hollowed end of the cylinder and, as it recognized his print, it activated. The three men sat close to the coffee table as the six-inch figure of Alexis Shuntly appeared. She smiled up at Bill and said, “Good day, from the History Tracking Group, Bill. We hope you are well and want to once again congratulate you on the Titanic mission. It was a tough one but, as usual, your team handled it better than we could ever have hoped for. Now, please watch this hologram we received from 1897. It’s hard to watch what unfolds, but as it didn’t happen in our history, we hope you can stop it from becoming a reality. Not only will you save a four-year old boy from being crushed, you will save the world from possibly being overrun by Hitler’s Germany. The scene that follows is gruesome, but the possible future could be even more gruesome if it’s allowed to become reality. As always, Bill, the group will help in any way it can, all you need to do is ask. Goodbye and good luck.”

  The figure froze then another scene unfolded showing the packed streets of Iping, England.

  Five minutes later the men downed their respective drinks as they pondered the scene they just saw.

  “My God, that poor boy,” said Bill breaking the silence.

  “Phew!” exhaled Rocky as he poured another drink for all, “Somebody has to grab that kid.” He looked at Bill as he passed him his drink and went on, “Who are you going to send back, Bill or are you going to do this one?”

  Bill took another pull of his brandy as much for the drink as evading the question while he thought, Oh boy, this is gonna be tough. He stood and did a slow walk around the room before returning and sitting back down. He looked at his two friends and said, “You know what guys? There are no rules stating that only one club member may go back at a time. Why, when Teddy Roosevelt needed a nudge, I went back with another member and it turned out I that needed that member there. So, what if the three of us went back? Something different, right?”

  Rocky and John looked at each other and smiled as John answered for both of them, “Man, Bill, that would be great! Something different is right! We’ll complete the mission and have a drink in Merry ‘ol England.”

  “Bill,” asked John, “Can you please replay the hologram again? Something’s bothering me and I’m not sure what.”

  “No problem,” answered Bill as he pressed the indent again and it replayed.

  John sat forward and asked, “Did you guys catch that? Just before the lady loses her balance?

  Bill nodded and said, “yeah, there seemed to be a disturbance in the people after she slipped.”

  “And,” interjected Rocky, “just before she slipped there seemed to be a movement behind her. Can we go frame by frame?”

  Bill slowed the hologram down and the three men noticed that a few frames before the heavy woman lost her balance, there was a slight commotion from the people behind her, and, after she lost her balance, there was another commotion in the group in front of her.

  “Wow,” said bill as he stopped the hologram just as the woman slipped, “that’s weird. Wonder what made the people walking on the sidewalk before and after her move so abruptly?”

  “Yes,” agreed Rocky, “seems like every one of them lost their balance for some reason.”

  “But,” said John, “it was her who slipped and knocked the little boy into the street and under the horses.”

  “Bill rewound the hologram and started it in slow motion once again. “Let’s concentrate on the frame just after she slips and I’ll zoom in on the people in front of her.”

  All three looked as Bill stopped at the frame he spoke of and zoomed in. “See anything that could make them jump aside?” he asked.

  Both Rocky and John shook their heads no.

  “A dog maybe?” asked John.

  “No, said Rocky as he snapped his fingers, “When I did the Ronald Reagan mission for you, Bill, I noticed that there were lots of rats in England. I bet it was a rat running down the street that scared the people and made them jump.”

  Bill scratched his chin and said, “Not sure about that, Rocky. I agree that there were lots of rats down by the docks, but this is about fifteen miles inland. Not saying, no, but maybe it was a dog chasing a cat?”

  “You know, Bill,” said John, “Le
t’s check it out again. This time, watch the heavy woman’s shoulder. It almost looks as though she was suddenly pushed or bumped into.”

  John replayed it again and all three nodded as he said, “Yeah, John. This time I noticed it too.”

  “And,” added Rocky, “it looked like the man in front had his shoulder pushed too. You can see how the material of his suit suddenly goes flat against his shoulder.”

  “And,” agreed John, “it looked like the woman and man behind the heavy woman were shoved aside too. At least, that’s how it appears. Maybe when we’re there, it’ll turn out to be nothing more than a dog chasing a cat through the crowded sidewalk upsetting the unaware strollers. I’m going to get Matt to set up the trip and get us some outfits. Good with you guys?”

  Both men agreed and John pressed the intercom and Matt answered, “Yes, sir?”

  “Matt, we need you to help us go out on a mission.”

  “Are the three of you going, sir?”

  “Yes,” answered Bill with a smile matched by John and Rocky, “it’s going to be like the Three Musketeers.”

  Unseen by them Matt rolled his eyes as he answered, “Very well, sir. Dinner will be ready at seven this evening. Is this agreeable to you gentlemen?”

  “That’s perfect, thanks, Matt.”

  Matt went to gather the clothes the three men would need.

  Two hours later the three sat back and sipped brandy as they enjoyed an after-dinner cigar. There was a tap at the door and Matt entered.

  “Sir, I’ve set out clothing and valises for your trip in the wardrobe. Perhaps you and Misters Brand and Perna would accompany me there?”

  “Great idea, Matt,” said Bill standing. “Come on guys, let’s check out our travel gear.” All three men followed Matt down to the club’s lower floor where the guest’s dressing rooms were located. He opened the door to a large, cedar-lined room. The room was full of clothing from different periods that the club operated in. Rocky and John just stopped and looked in awe as they took the room in.

  “Boy, Bill,” said John, “does the club have every type of clothing ever made?”