Book VII Read online

  “Do you think you can avoid me Mr. Scott? I don’t think so.”

  This time it was Bill who grabbed a shelf and tipped it over. He knew that the chances of hitting Griffin were small, but he had another idea and as the shelf crashed to the floor, he leaped on it and reached the gas lamp, turned the spigot and extinguished the light putting the lab into darkness.

  “What?” shouted a stunned Griffin and Bill lunged at the spot he heard the voice come from. He grabbed the man around the waist and both fell to the floor rolling in the broken glass and split wood. As a U.S. Navy SEAL, Bill was unequaled in hand-to-hand combat and, although out of the service for a few years, he quickly subdued the older man.

  He wrestled the man across to the gas lamp and, with an arm tightly around Griffin’s neck, took a wooden match from its container and lit the lamp.

  Looking down, he was shocked to see that his arm was wrapped around emptiness. He was looking right through Griffin and seeing the floor.

  “My God, Griffin, what have you done?”

  The answer came as a gurgle and Bill realized his arm was too tight for the man and slacked off. “Where’s the key to the door?”

  “Here,” said a feeble voice and the emptiness led Bill to the wooden table. He picked up the key and led Griffin to the door and opened it. Bill sat the man in an easy chair, ripped a curtain from a window and wrapped it tightly around him.

  “Don’t move Griffin. Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “I’m too weary to fight.” He sneezed and Bill could see the man wrapped in the curtain, shiver.

  He asked in a soft tone, “Are you all right, Thomas?”

  “I believe I’ve caught a cold.”

  “Why did you do it? Why did you make as though you jumped overboard?”

  Griffin answered in a low voice, “I knew that studying light-refraction could lead me to be able to deflect light waves if the skin were translucent enough and that was my goal: to make someone invisible. The night I disappeared, I added a drop of an alkaline I developed using the serum part of blood cells and needed to see if it worked. I really never thought it would as I’ve tried hundreds of solutions before and never succeeded. But, this time it was different! I felt it course hotly through my veins and in a few minutes I saw the cabin’s floor through my hand! I was so excited I ran out on deck and gazed at the stars while looking at my hand. It was fantastic! I saw the moon rising at the rear of the ship and ran towards it to see it through my hand and forgot that although I was invisible, my clothes were not. Suddenly I heard footsteps and knew that if someone saw me they’d panic and bring more people to see the invisible man. I quickly undressed and shoved my clothes to the side as a ship’s officer walked by. I was thrilled! I stood right in front of him and he never saw me. It was proof of my years of work.”

  Bill could see the form beneath the curtain, shift as he told of his discovery.

  “I walked the decks that night and relished in my discovery by strolling through the captain’s control room. I could have turned the ship around and nobody would have seen me. It was a powerful feeling. But then came the realization: I was nude and it became quite chilly in the evenings and I was locked out of my cabin and had no food! In my haste, I left my keys in my pant’s pocket and other items such as my notebook inside the cabin and automatically locked the door behind me. I couldn’t simply ask a cleaning woman to fetch a new key in the state I was in. It became quite clear to me—I had not planned it very well and when the serum worked I was truly caught off guard.”

  Bill asked in a soft voice, “So when I went to get Samson’s food you opened the door to enter the cabin and hit me in the head with the door?”

  “Yes, but inadvertently. I wanted to get in and try to reverse my invisibility, but you were in the way and took the notebook I needed before locking the door.”

  “And that was you trying to enter my cabin after dark?”

  “Yes, but Samson growled before I could even try to open the door.”

  Bill shrugged, “I would think that Samson would have been happy to see you… I mean to know that you were there.”

  “Many times I followed you and Samson trying to lift my notebook out of your pocket only to have him growl at me. Even though I know he couldn’t see me, I knew he could sense me. He knew my smell, but I think being invisible scared him and he feared me in this state.”

  “And,” Bill asked, “that was you running through the crowded streets pushing people out of your way?”

  “I’m sorry to say, yes. As I said there are times another person seems to take over and make me do dangerous things.”

  Bill reached into his jacket pocket and took out the leather notebook and passed it to the emptiness beneath the curtain. “Here’s your notebook. All you had to do was ask for it, not threaten to kill me.”

  Bill could sense the look of surprise that must have appeared on the man’s face as he muttered, “You, . . . you are giving me the notebook? But, but, why?

  “Because it’s yours, not mine and I don’t understand anything in it anyway.”

  “But . . . but, I tried to kill you! I, . . . “

  “That’s what I don’t understand. Why did you try to kill me?”

  The notebook seemed to float in space and its pages flipped open as if by a wind as Griffin answered in a low, sorrowful voice, “It’s not me who tried to kill you, my friend. I have noticed that ever since I took the invisible serum, I’ve become very short-tempered and filled with rage and malice. The slightest thing makes me quite mad and I have to fight to control my other self. I imagine you are going to call the authorities?”

  Bill’s eyebrows arched in surprise as he answered, “What? Why would I do that? I don’t think you broke any laws. I’m really just passing through and the ship’s captain asked me to give a letter to your relatives explaining what happened to you. I have no argument with you, but I must ask: what are you going to do with Samson?”

  “I could not help but notice that Samson has become attached to you and I hope you will see your way to taking him home with you.”

  Bill was dumbstruck and it showed on his face as he said, “But, I can’t take him, . . . I mean, he’s your dog and where I’m going is really no place for a dog.”

  “If he stays with me and I become the other person he’ll hate me and run away. Can’t you help him?”

  Bill shook his head as he mulled over the situation and finally said, “All right, I’ll take him and see how it goes. Meanwhile, have you any bandages or gauze?”

  Griffin sounded perplexed as he said, “Yes, in the medicine cabinet of my washroom. Have I hurt you?”

  “Wait here and I’ll be right back.” Bill rushed into the washroom, then into the bedroom and threw open Griffin’s closet before going back to the living room.

  “Here,” he said unrolling the gauze. “Wrap this around your head.” He watched as the perplexed invisible man did as he was told. Finally, Bill tossed him a suit of clothes, a hat and a pair of glove he removed from the man’s closet.

  “Put these on.” He stood and watched, as the clothes seemed to float in the air, finally settling in place as Griffin dressed. He put the hat and gloves on and Bill pointed to a mirror. “Take a look.”

  The mirror showed a man fully clothed with gloves and hat on. The only difference was his face was bandaged and he peeked through a space in the bandage.

  “Do you have dark glasses?

  The man’s head nodded as he walked over to a desk. He opened the drawer, removed a pair of dark glasses and put them on, completing his outfit.

  “Tell me, Thomas, what do you see? An invisible man helpless and nude or a man who had an unfortunate accident, perhaps a burn on his face and hands?”

  The man seemed mesmerized at the figure looking back at him in the mirror and finally replied in a whisper, “This is the answer.” He turned to Bill and went on, louder this time, “This is the answer. Thank you so very much, Bill. Using this outfit I’ll be able
to pursue my quest of developing a serum that allows me to become visible whenever I wish. How may I thank you?”

  “Show me where you keep Samson’s food. I believe I’ll be needing some.”

  The man thrust out his hand and his grip was warm and meaningful. Ten minutes later Bill entered the pub with his Beagle, Samson.

  After briefing his companions about the turn of events leading to Samson returning with them to their times, the conversation turned to the invisible man and all three wondered at what point Thomas Griffin would meet H.G. Wells, the author who would write the book, The Invisible Man.

  As usual, the trip back home after a successful mission was relaxing, and, once again, the three men and the Beagle were seen three times a day strolling the decks of the steamship as they enjoyed the relaxing sea voyage.

  DATELINE: AUGUST 22, 2012 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB, NEW YORK CITY

  Three days after the time travelers returned to their time, Bill watched a History Channel film depicting British fighters rising to do battle with their German foes. He relaxed on the large leather couch as he sipped hot chocolate from his favorite Donald Duck mug, munched on a peanut butter and pineapple jelly sandwich and smiled as he saw a squadron of Hurricane fighters take off. History was back on course once again.

  A tap at the time portal door at the rear of his den was followed by scratching on the door and Bill responded, “Come on in, Matt.”

  Matt opened the door and Samson bounded across the floor and leaped into his lap. This show of affection was quickly followed by wet licks to his face.

  “Whoa! Samson, you’re wet. Where were you?

  Matt answered the question as he removed a scarf; “Sir, Samson and I were in Central Park right after a snowstorm in 1860. And I must say he had the time of his little life! He chased little boys and girls going down the large hill on their sleighs. I myself made a few snowballs and tossed them in the air and watched as he caught them all. He is quite a find, sir. Quite a find, indeed.”

  “Yep!” Bill said in agreement as he scratched the Beagle’s ears.

  Matt placed Samson’s leash on the coffee table and said, “Sir, I have a ticket to Carnegie Hall this evening to see John Mac play the piano. Will you be in need of my services?”

  “No, Matt. Go and have a good time.” He had a perplexed look on his face as he went on, “Can’t say I’m familiar with a pianist named John Mac. What year are you going back to?”

  “1967, sir, and John Mac is the real name of a certain pool hustler in Biff’s Pool Parlor.”

  Bill’s eyebrows arched and he said with a smile, “You mean, Jacky? The young man we shot pool against?”

  Matt nodded, “Yes, sir. At my suggestion, he and Maestro Arturo DelConte got together and the maestro saw that Jacky had something and he took him under his wing. As they say, ‘The rest is history.’”

  The Beagle shifted and curled up next to Bill and rested his chin on his master’s lap. A low buzz sounded as the communicator vibrated on the coffee table. Bill flipped it open and saw a text message on the small screen.

  It’s got to be from my future Grandson, Edmund, he thought as he focused on it.

  GREETINGS GRANDPA. THE CAMM MISSION MAKES GREAT READING AND HISTORY IS FLOWING SMOOTHLY ONCE AGAIN. THAT SAID, WE ARE INVESTIGATING A POSSIBLE PROBLEM WITH THE TIMELINE OF, NO OTHER THAN, JESSE JAMES! I”LL KEEP YOU INFORMED AND ONCE AGAIN THE TIME WATCHERS SAY, “JOB WELL DONE!” YOUR FUTURE GRANDSON EDMUND SCOTT.

  Samson stretched out and took the entire seat as Bill got up and went to the club’s extensive library. Looking at the floor to ceiling bookcase he stopped and pulled a black, leather bound book titled, “Jesse James: Outlaw or Robin Hood of the West?”

  “Well, I haven’t read a western for awhile.”

  CHAPTER II

  THE JESSE JAMES MISSION

  DATELINE: MAY 3, 1863 PLACE: POPLAR BLUFF, MISSOURI

  William Quantrill peered through his field glasses at the column of Union Cavalry as they approached the small valley where he and his men were positioned on the high ground. Although the morning May sun was hot, he removed his hat to lower his chance of being spotted, and placed it on the grass next to his rifle. Ten feet away squatted Sergeant Grimes waiting for his orders. Satisfied with what he saw, Quantrill motioned Grimes over.

  “I count thirty-six troopers on horseback an’ four ridin’ on a wagon with the payroll. Remind the men not ta shoot, ‘til I do, an’ then shoot their horses.’

  “The horses? Why the horses, Cap’n’?”

  The six-foot tall man shook his head, pushed back his short-cropped black hair from his eyes and answered, “’Cause we got a bad-enough reputation as is. All ah hear is, ‘Quantrill’s Raiders been killin’ folk an’ takin’ their possessions.’ First off, don’t they know there’s a war goin’ on an’ them people we been killin’ are shootin’ back at us?” He turned his attention back to the oncoming column and went on.

  “The more o’ them troopers we leave alive will testify that we jus’ don’t kill fer the thrill o’ killin’. But, if’n they fight back, then it’s every man fer himself an’ I intend ta keep that payroll from getting’ through no matter what.”

  Grimes scampered away to talk to the men hiding in the thickets that covered the top of the rise. He returned in less than five minutes to see his leader, Captain Quantrill, pick up his rifle and set it on the peak of the hill.

  The sergeant thought as he set up ten feet away, Sure hope the shock of us appearin’ ten miles behind their lines will give us an advantage as them troopers have us outnumbered.

  He saw the captain nod to him and pull back the hammer of his rifle and he did the same as did the man next to him and so on down the line.

  Quantrill watched as the troopers casually walked their steeds along the hot, dusty road going no faster than the wagon they were guarding. He knew they all knew of Quantrill’s raiders and was upset that they were so relaxed when he and his raiders were known to attack well behind their lines.

  Well, he thought with a smirk on his thin face, I’ll teach ‘em a lesson.

  He aimed down the long barrel and placed his sight on the horse of the first rider, a young, cocky looking Lieutenant.

  C’mon, c’mon. Jus’ a little bit more Yankee boy. Jus’ a little bit more, . . . that’s it, now! He squeezed the trigger and was rewarded with a kick in the shoulder as the rifle fired and the horse dropped sending the Union officer flying. At the same time, eleven other troopers were sent sprawling as their mounts were dropped by his men’s fire. Before the Union troopers could respond, Quantrill and his Raiders were amongst them, pistols out and shooting any horse whose rider didn’t have their hands in the air.

  “Pull that wagon off the road,” Sergeant Grimes ordered the driver as he hopped up next to him. There were thirty-one troopers standing with their hands in the air as Quantrill’s men disarmed them and the wounded on the dirt road.

  “Tend to yer wounded,” said Quantrill as he waved his long navy Colt at the stunned, Union Officer.

  “This is Federal property, sir,” the officer said as he dusted himself off.

  “Well,” answered a smiling Quantrill, “it now belongs to the Confederate Government of the south.”

  The lieutenant squinted in the sun, “Are you that Quantrill and his raiders?”

  “If that’s what you prefer to call us, then yes, you have jus’ been relieved of your payroll shipment by the Quantrill’s Raiders. Of course, I’d rather be known as what General P. G. T. Beauregard called me when he agreed to my plan of raiding behind the enemy lines: A Captain of the Army of the Confederacy.” He bowed deep at the waist and went on.

  “However, lieutenant, no matter what you call me and my men, we struck a blow for the South and as you can see, we are honorable fightin’ men and are goin’ ta set ya free as we have no need ta kill or capture ya.”

  “But, you’re takin’ the payroll?”

  Quantrill laughed, “Ha, yes sir I am! But fer now
I need you an’ yer men ta remove yer boots. See I need ta have as much time as possible ta leave this area an’ if’n I can slow ya down by keepin’ yer boots, well then, that’s what I’ll do.”

  Twenty minutes later the Union troops were walking gingerly back the way they came as Quantrill and his men rode off on their own horses with the Union wagon.

  Five hours later Sergeant Grimes supervised the camp selected for the night as a rider rode in. It was trooper Kent and he stopped and dismounted in front of Grimes and Quantrill.

  “Sir, trooper Kent reporting.’”

  “Go ahead trooper, what’s the situation?”

  “Sergeant, I was riding the flank as ya ordered an’ I spotted a mighty big cloud o’ dust risen’ this way. Got ta be a lot o’ troopers riding hard.”

  Quantrill shook his head. “Damn! How long till they get here?”

  “Maybe twenty minutes, maybe more or less.”

  “Okay, we ride out now,” he turned to Grimes. “Sergeant, grab a few o’ the men, find a nice spot an’ bury the payroll. Ya got ‘bout ten minutes then we gotta ride out.”

  Grimes gave a quick salute and ran towards the men who were bedding down.

  “All right men, we got company comin’ in ‘bout fifteen minutes, so saddle up pronto.” He turned to the two men closest to him and said, “Edwards and James bring a couple o’ shovels an’ follow me.”

  The two soldiers followed as Grimes stood drawing a small map on a piece of paper. He pointed to a tall tree. “Get the strongbox outta the wagon and bury it ‘neath that tree. An’ do it sharply we’re runnin’ outta time real fast.”

  The two dug a deep hole and struggled with the heavy box and, following their sudden turn of bad luck, dropped it on the ground. The box opened and out came: Union paper money, coins and papers. Noting that Sergeant Grimes wasn’t looking they quickly stuffed the money and coins back into the box and dropped it into the hole. As they started to shovel dirt in the hole they saw that they missed an envelope and Edwards slipped it into his shirt. Putting the shovels on the wagon, he opened the envelope and shrugged his shoulders as he looked at the writing.