The 13th Hour

CHAPTER 13

JULY 28

10 P.M.

JULIA SAT IN THE uncomfortable metal chair, her eyes bloodshot, and cried out. It was after 10:00, and a moonless night sky blanketed the world.

She had arrived in Boston on schedule and taken a cab to Dr. Colverhome’s office. Seeing the remarkable vision of life on the screen filled her with a new emotion. She was a mother, her and Nick’s child was alive and growing within her, and in seven and a half months would emerge to find parents who would love it unconditionally.

But then, as she was leaving the doctor’s office, her cell phone had rung.

Marcus’s voice was unnaturally calm.

He told her that Shamus’s jet was awaiting her at Logan International to take her immediately back to Westchester Airport where Marcus would be waiting to take her to the hospital.

The entire flight, her mind couldn’t focus. How could one life be entering her world as another was being taken away?

Julia rose from her chair and stood over Nick. Seeing him wired and tubed, the steady beep of the heart monitor ringing constantly in her ear reminded her how close death really was. Nick had yet to awaken and she feared, despite everything the doctors said, he never would.

NICK WAS ENCASED in darkness, lost in an abyss of despair. He kept seeing Julia dead on the floor, Marcus killed right in front of him, bodies tethered to the bottom of the Kensico Reservoir. He saw planes falling from the sky, fireballs, and black, acrid smoke rising up and filling the air. He saw the bodies of the dead, hundreds of them; he was stuck among them, aimlessly wandering, as their voices whispered in his ear.

And then Julia was there, filling his vision, her face whole and perfect, calling to him, coaxing him up, drawing him toward heaven.

And he opened his eyes to find her staring down at him, her eyes tear-filled and bloodshot.

“Hi,” he whispered.

And she hugged him, all of her anguish at almost losing him pouring forth.

Julia finally stepped back and Paul Dreyfus stepped in, looking at his eyes, checking his vitals. “Glad to see you made it.”

Nick smiled as his awareness slowly returned.

“This guy saved your life,” Shannon said, emerging from the corner.

“I haven’t pulled someone back from the brink since Vietnam,” Dreyfus said. “The AED did most of the work.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Shannon said. “He worked on you a long time to bring you back.”

“I don’t know how long.” Dreyfus smiled as he palmed something from his pocket. He took Nick’s hand and slid it to him surreptitiously. “But you do lose track of time when you’re trying to save someone.”

Nick knew instantly what Dreyfus had given him; once again in his hand, the familiar feel of the watch was somehow comforting, like a blanket to a child.

“Hey,” Marcus said. He was leaning against the wall, towering over the moment.

“Hey.” Nick could hardly get the word out, glad to see his friend alive and in one piece.

As he stared at everyone around him, Julia and Marcus, Dreyfus and Shannon, he felt as if he had just returned from Oz, his head filled with an impossible story that no one would understand.

But then he saw it, sitting on the table next to him: the dark mahogany box.

“Listen,” Shannon said as he patted Nick’s leg. “Brave thing you did today.”

“Thanks,” Nick said.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Shannon walked to and opened the door. “I need to be getting home though, I’ve got to take on a new partner tomorrow, this punk named Brinehart, probably have to knock some sense into him. Listen, Nick, your friend Dreyfus filled me in a bit, but you still owe me some explanations. In the meantime, though, take care, get some rest.”

And Shannon walked out the door.

“Thanks for coming down,” Nick said to Marcus.

“Come on,” Marcus said as he leaned over his friend, a devious grin on his face. “I’d take a bullet for you. And I don’t say that to just anyone.”

“Look, I know you’re glad to see me,” Nick said. “But your eyes are dancing with something else. Did you fall in love again?”

“You won’t believe this,” Marcus said, glad he could let out the building head of steam within him. “This young guy, Jason Cereta-”

“Cereta?” Julia asked, dumbstruck at hearing the name. “Blond guy, twenties?”

“You know him?”

“We flew to Boston together this morning.”

“Really? Small world,” Marcus said, trying to continue his story. “At any rate, he called a few minutes ago. Sharp as a tack, crafty as the devil, charming as all hell, kind of like a younger version of myself with hair.” Marcus ran his hand over his bald head. “Just not as handsome.

“He ran off on his own to Boston today,” Marcus continued, “and put my dream deal of owning Halifax Skis together. I’ll have to hire a whole new team to deal with this coup but it will be worth it.”

“Marcus, you need to do me a favor,” Nick said, sitting up in the bed. “I know a guy. Just got his MBA, he’s in the National Guard.”

“Military guy, I like that.”

“He’s already had enough death in his life. You need to hire him.”

“Without an interview?” Marcus said in surprise. “What’s his name?”

“McManus. Private McManus.”

“What a perfect military name his mother gave him. Does private have any other first name?”

“Smartass. It’s Neil.”

Marcus rubbed the back of his head. “It gives me such a headache taking chances on new guys, but if you say so, he’s as good as hired.”

The heavy pine door to the room swung open, and an incredibly old man entered. He walked with a long dark mahogany cane, the head of which was a carved elephant’s head, the walking stick supporting his slow, shuffling gate. His hair was white, his pale skin wrinkled, seeming two sizes too large for his skeleton. But the eyes… The eyes were sharp and focused.

He was accompanied by Zachariah Nash, who wore his crisp doubled-breasted blazer and white, pleated linen pants. Nick recognized Nash full well as the man who had given him the watch, who had set him on his journey.

“Nick,” Julia said, pointing at the older man, “this is Shamus Hennicot.”

“Nicholas,” Hennicot said with a bow of the head. “I’m so glad to see you alive. And I would like you to formally meet my attaché, Zachariah Nash.”

Nash tilted his head to Nick, as if he were meeting him for the first time. Shamus turned briefly to Paul Dreyfus and gave a subtle nod of recognition.

“Julia?” Nick took a deep breath and licked his lips. “Do you think maybe you could get me a Coke or something?”

“Of course.” Julia smiled. She turned to Shamus and Zachariah with eyebrows raised in question.

“Nothing for us, dear.” Shamus said.

“I can’t believe you came down for this,” Julia said. “It means so much to me.”

“I understand you flew with my wife, today,” Shamus said with a warm smile. “Pleasant flight, I hope.”

Julia appeared confused.

“Petite, gray-haired, talks a lot…” Shamus prodded her.

“Katherine? That was your wife?” Julia asked in surprise.

“She spoke so highly of you,” Shamus said warmly.

“I had no idea…” Julia replied with confusion.

“Which makes your charm all the more special.”

“I’m a bit hungry myself,” Marcus said to Julia as he walked across the room and opened the door. “I’ll go with you.”

Alone with Dreyfus, Nash, and Nick, Shamus pulled a chair over and took a seat right next to Nick’s bed.

“You have an amazing wife, Nicholas, you’re very lucky.”

“I know,” Nick said.

“And she is even more lucky to have someone like you,” Shamus continued. “Only a man whose heart is filled with such love would not abuse the power that you hold in your hand.”

Nick finally opened his fist to reveal the watch that Dreyfus had placed there.

“Julia’s death, my wife’s death, were all my fault,” Shamus said with regret. “Sadly, time has robbed me of my youth. If I were a younger man, I would never have tasked you, burdened you with such an impossible journey.

“I’m too frail, too weak, to endure the leaps and machinations of time. My mind no longer has the clarity of thought to step backward and place the world back on its proper axis.”

“But wait,” Nick said in confusion. “Did the plane crash occur?”

“No,” Shamus said.

“The burglary?”

“No. Ethan Dance disappeared into the limo of a man named Rukaj, and he hasn’t been heard from since. Detective Shannon arrested Horace Randall and John Arilio on a multitude of charges after they held him and Nash hostage at the airport this morning.”

“What about Sam?” Nick asked as he looked at Paul Dreyfus.

“Sam has gone away for a bit,” Shamus explained, “to think things through. Paul wanted him arrested, but I wasn’t about to see his brother go to jail. The two other cops already have Internal Affairs issues, their karma is catching up to them. But I thought Sam deserved another try at this thing called life.”

“If nothing occurred,” Nick paused, “then how come you remember everything?”

“I don’t,” Shamus said matter-of-factly.

“How do you know then?” Nick asked.

Shamus held up the letter that Zachariah had given Nick back in the interrogation room and pointed at the small strange lettering along the bottom. The lettering he never could fathom.

“It’s an ancient offshoot of Gaelic, I wrote that part myself-to myself, actually, the way you had your friend Marcus do it. We think alike, you and I,” Shamus said with a smile. “I explained to myself about Julia’s death, about my wife’s death, the plane crash, the robbery, and how they were all intertwined around this box.” Shamus patted the mahogany box on the table.

“I specifically noted why I had sent Zachariah to you and my intentions, knowing your love for your wife.”

Shamus pulled out the printout from the Wall Street Journal, the crash of Flight 502 in the center photo. “But seeing this, seeing the wreckage of the jet my wife and your wife were on, hearing what you said to Paul about Julia’s murder, about the robbery, filled in the rest of the details.”

Nick turned to Zachariah. “What do you remember?”

Zachariah simply smiled. “Just your bravery at the airport.”

Nick turned to Dreyfus. “What about you?”

Dreyfus took the printout of the Wall Street Journal from Shamus. “Once I saw you had this page eight hours early, I knew what was in your possession. And I knew that if you had it, if you were riding time backward, then it was given to you by Shamus.”

“With the thought of power,” Shamus said, “men’s hearts darken, with the vision of wealth, morals and values crumble, but that all becomes secondary to love.”

Hennicot pulled out a key. It was octagonal, created by Paul Dreyfus for his exclusive use. Dreyfus pulled out an identical one, as did Nash. Each inserted his respective key into the locks on the three sides of the wooden case that sat on the table next to the bed and turned.

Hennicot lifted the lid to reveal a velvet core that filled the interior almost to the rim. Within its center was a single three-inch circular recess, the exact size of the gold watch.

And it all became clear.

“It was found by my grandfather,” Shamus said. “Stolen, I believe, from a man in Venice, Italy, who had stolen it himself from the Martinots in France. It was how grandfather made all of his money, slipping back and forth through time, manipulating fate. His empire was built upon it. An empire whose growth continued with my father. Both were men of greed who lusted for power without grasping the consequences of their actions.

“When it was passed down to me on my father’s deathbed, I promised myself that I would never fall prey to the lust that had consumed them. I made it my goal to use it only to do good in the world. But I soon learned that good intentions could lead to disastrous consequences, so I tucked it away, refusing to make use of its abilities. Instead, I made it my purpose to distribute the billions acquired by my forefathers, acquired without regard to the end results of their actions, or the effect their travels had on the world.

“Who knows how our fateful interactions affect one another? If a butterfly flaps his wings in China, does it beget a war in Europe? The what-ifs of fate are endless: If Queen Isabella had not financed Columbus, if Hitler had won the war, if Einstein hadn’t written to Roosevelt urging him to develop the atomic bomb. Who are we to know, who are we to decide, who are we to be playing God?”

“But if you knew how dangerous the watch was, why didn’t you destroy it?” Nick asked.

“We are all fallible, Nicholas. No matter how noble we imagine ourselves to be, we each think of ourselves as righteous in our actions and beliefs, strong and of steadfast character. I thought I could resist its temptation, only making use of its ability in the most dire of circumstances.”

“And your wife’s death was such an instance,” Nick said in understanding.

“Actually, Nicholas, it was your wife’s death that was such an instance.”

Nick tilted his head in query.

“You leaped through time to save Julia. You would walk through the fires of hell and back if it meant she would live. Well, I know that level of love. I knew through your travels, seeing the death around you, you wouldn’t just stop your wife’s death but my Katherine’s and everyone else’s on that fateful flight.”

Shamus held up the letter Nash had given him and pointed to the Gaelic writing. “Hearing of Julia’s death, I sent Nash to you with the watch and this letter. It is one thing for my wife to die in the plane crash; it’s another for your wife to die innocently as the result of my failure to properly dispose of this thing. I love your wife like a daughter, Nicholas, and when I die, when my wife dies, my estate will fall to Julia, but let’s keep that between us.” Shamus smiled, patting Nick’s hand.

“If you would be so kind,” Hennicot said as he tilted the mahogany box toward Nick.

Nick looked at the gold watch in his hand, flipping open the cover, reading the engraving one last time: Fugit inreparabile tempus. He closed it and placed the watch in the circular velvet recess of the heavy mahogany box.

Dreyfus took the box from the table and closed the lid, turning each key and removing them, handing one to Nash, one to Hennicot, and tucking the last into his pocket.

Hennicot took hold of his elephant’s-head cane and stood. “Thank you, Nicholas, for being who you are.”

Hennicot shuffled toward the door to leave, Dreyfus and Nash right behind him.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“No worries. Paul and Zachariah are taking a little sailing trip in the western Pacific over the Marianas Trench. It’s almost seven miles deep there.”

Dreyfus and Nash nodded to Nick as they followed Shamus out the door.

JULIA WALKED IN, Coke in hand, along with a pack of Oreos. “Breakfast of champions.” She popped the Coke and handed it to him while she opened the blue wrapper on the Oreos.

“I sent Marcus home, he was making a play for the nurses; you know how he gets after making some money, the whole world is beautiful in his eyes.” Julia laughed. “I saw Shamus in the elevator. Did I ever tell you what a great guy he is? I love him like a second father.”

“He feels the same way about you,” Nick said as he stuck a cookie into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of soda.

“If I left my job,” Julia said slowly, “we’d be okay, right?”

“We might have to cut things back a bit but that’s fine with me.”

“I don’t care if we live in a shack as long as we’re together. I’m just thinking it’s time to focus on things besides money.”

“Funny you should say that,” Nick said. “I don’t think we’ll have any money troubles going forward.”

“How do you know that?” Julia asked.

“I got a little glimpse of the future.” Nick smiled. “Now, about starting that family,” Nick pulled Julia into his arms, kissing her deeply.

“Funny you should say that.” Julia sat on the bed and laid the two gift-wrapped packages in Nick’s lap, the teddy bears smiling up at him.

“Presents?” Nick picked up the first gift. “Mmm, feels like a book.”

Julia smiled, barely able to contain herself. “Do me a favor, open the other one first?”

Nick felt like a kid. “What is this, Christmas in July?”

“Better,” Julia said as she took hold of Nick’s hand squeezing it the way her mother used to squeeze hers when she was a child.

Nick tore open the wrapping paper on the other gift,

pulled out the frame,

and…