Edward Graves: Temporal Detective

“Ah, Jessica, come in my dear! Here, let me take your jacket, you won’t need it in here. Allow me to take your bag too. Some of the others have already arrived, but don’t worry; you’re not the last to show up.”

Jessica could barely get a word out as she was ushered in to the golden light of the Chrono-Logic. She tried to protest as Archie removed her satchel and coat, but her words were lost on him as he ordered a brunette woman to place them in the coat check room.

The club, which had yet to open for the night, was mostly empty, bar for one large, middle-aged man who seemed to have passed out at his table. The only other people visible were the bartenders and wait staff, preparing for the evening ahead, as well as the coat check girl who was now busy vacuuming.

Archie led her to the back room, a VIP lounge of some sort, but on the way he poured a glass of water over the unconscious man’s head and told him to go home, much to the large man’s annoyance.

“That’s Nigel,” said Archie, “old patron; old friend. Used to be an invaluable ally; an excellent History Enforcer over in the Twenty-Third Century chapter. Doesn’t do too much but drink and sleep these days.”

Jessica cast a glance back towards the drunkard, who was babbling on about one thing or another as a tall, slick-haired gentleman escorted him to the door. “These guys that are going to help us rescue Edward...are they as experienced as Nigel over there?”

“Don’t worry,” said Archie as he opened the doors to the lounge, “these chaps are a little more reliable and sober. Well most of them.”

As they stepped through the double doors a dark skinned, bearded man flung his arms out, scotch swishing precariously in its glass. “Archie, my habib, you’re back, you’re back and you brought a girl, a pretty girl indeed. I’ve been...” Jessica didn’t hear the rest of the sentence because his voice became muffled by the carpet.

She looked down at the unconscious dark-haired man in the grey suit and his now empty glass, then she looked at Archie. “Sober, huh?”

“I did say, ‘most of them,’” he said. “Jessica, meet Ahmed Hussein, thirty-four years old, Lebanese and native to the thirty-third century. He’s an expert at espionage and weapons of all kinds.” Armin made an odd snorting sound into the carpet. “Yes, well, moving on!” said Archie.

It was only now that Jessica became aware of the other people in the room; there were three to be a precise which was a lot less than she’d been expecting. A friendly looking blonde man in a battered canvas duster and a red neckerchief was seated on a barstool chewing on a toothpick. Over by the piano, a serious looking man and woman in their early-twenties, dressed in matching outfits were seated opposite each other in silence. If she wasn’t mistaken, she had a sword and he had a bow, each resting their weapons upon their laps. She’d never seen a real sword, or a real bow before. Neat!

It wasn’t exactly the kind of turnout that Jessica had been expecting, but Archie did say that smaller numbers would work in their favour. Besides, he said that she wasn’t the last to arrive.

The room itself was a classy wood grain affair with a pool table, potted ferns, s few leather couches, an upright piano and a private mini-bar with three stools. The walls were adorned with framed black and white photos and a glass cabinet at the back contained various trophies and awards.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” called Archie, “may I have your attention?”

The man at the bar gave a toothy grin, griping his toothpick between pearly white teeth, “you got it slick.”

The serious couple stood silently and moved towards the bar with her sword holstered to her hip and his bow hung on his back. They were wearing purple waistcoats and ties, white button up shirts and arm bands on opposite arms. She wore a grey skirt and stockings while he wore matching trousers. They both wore black leather boots.

“Aren’t we still waiting on someone?” asked the woman. She had a bit of an accent but Jessica couldn’t quite place it.

“Not to mention the fact that Armin isn’t exactly with us,” said the man with the same unfamiliar accent.

“Ah yes, quite,” said Archie. “Solomon would you mind waking Ahmed up so that we can begin.” The man with the toothpick, Solomon, slid from his barstool and hauled Ahmed Hussein to his feet and dragged him over to a leather sofa. “As for Miss Rain...”

“Miss Rain is present and accounted for,” said a low, grumbling voice from the doorway.

They all turned to see a young girl standing at the door with her arms folded. She was barely more than five foot two with green and black hair, wearing a black shirt and skirt, fishnet stockings and black boots with matching lipstick and nail polish.

“Melanie,” said Archie, “glad you could make it.”

Suddenly there was a loud gasping sound as Ahmed sprung to his feet, gagging. “Ah where am I? What...Oh, sorry.” He rubbed a hand through his scruffy hair and yawned, “What did I miss?”

“Sorry,” said Solomon, “I helped myself to some of these; found ’em behind the bar.” He was holding up a bottle of pills marked Detoxis. “I figured it’d sober him up quick smart.”

“Yes well,” said Archie, “now that everyone is present and accounted for, I’d like to get the proceedings started.”

The green haired girl, Melanie, joined their little circle, pulling up a chair by the bar. Jessica smiled at her, but she just glowered back.

“OK,” said Archie, clearing his throat, “first thing’s first, though not necessarily in that order, everybody this is Jessica Lazarus, Edward’s new partner. Why don’t you introduce yourselves?” he asked.

The cowboy in the neckerchief was the first to stand up. “Solomon Cain at your service ma’am,” he said as he gave her a gentle handshake, “hailin’ from 19th century Wyoming, barefist fighter extraordinaire an’ a damn find handler of the six-shooter if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

“Ah...Ok,” said Jessica, “so...you’re a cowboy then?”

He laughed earnestly, “Why yes ma’am, I s’pose you could say that.”

Next she was introduced to Ahmed for the second time, though this time he was actually conscious.

“Ahmed Hussein, pleasure to meet you. Thirty-third century Chicago is where I call home, though as you can probably tell, my lineage reaches back to Lebanon.”

“So what are your skills then?”

“That depends, how old are you exactly?”

Archie smacked him over the back of his head, causing him to yelp. “Please excuse him, despite evidence to the contrary, Armin is actually a vital member of this team. He’s what you might call a super spy. Although he tends to get distracted by rather easily.”

Ahmed rubbed his head and took a swig of Scotch, “Just being friendly.”

“Next up are the twins,” said Archie.

The boy and girl in the matching clothes stood up and bowed.

“Justin Thyme, 22 years old” said the boy.

“Annie Moment also 22,” said the girl.

“We’re twins from the fifty-first century,” they said in unison.

“Born on the human colony of Lanceron Prime in the Argon Nexus,” said Annie.

“But raised in Japan, Earth,” continued Justin.

“We each dedicated our lives to studying a weapon of the ancient masters,” they said again in unison.

“I, the blade,” said Annie.

“And I, the bow,” said Justin.

“Nice to meet you,” said Jessica. “Excuse me for asking though, if you’re twins then how come you have different last names?”

They smiled at exactly the same time and in exactly the same way. It was kind of creepy.

“Our master gave us new names when we abandoned our old lives to train with him,” said Annie.

“Unfortunately, he was rather fond of puns,” said Justin. “But we have grown used to them.”

Jessica smiled and nodded, “Right.”

Last was the gothic looking girl who had just arrived, Melanie Rain. She just sat with her arms folded, scowling at Jessica.

Archie tried to prompt her, “Melanie?”

Reluctantly and without a whole lot of enthusiasm, she stood up and said, “Melanie Rain, twenty four years old, from the twenty second century; reporting for duty, sir.” She finished off with a mock salute and then sat back down again.

“Hi,” said Jessica, then she gave her an uneasy smile and then took a seat. She didn’t know why, but Melanie definitely didn’t seem to like her. She had been around girls all her life and she could see all of those subtle indicators of distaste, not that Melanie’s were particularly subtle. She got the impression that she was actually trying to shoot daggers from her eyes.

“OK, down to business then,” said Archie.

He pulled out a small metal orb from his pocket. He fiddled with its settings before tossing it into the air. Jessica cringed instinctively, expecting it to crash to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. However after reaching its crest and beginning to fall back down, it simply seemed to stop, as if gravity had simply become bored with it and let it go.

It began to spin, with beams of green light radiating from its centre. At first the lights seemed to be scanning the room, but gradually they pulled together and tightened, forming a three dimensional image. It was a large country estate, surrounded by a girded fence; it was Hayden Crawfield’s mansion; Edward’s prison.

“OK,” said Archie, “we know that Edward is being held here, inside Hayden Crawlfield’s country manor in the American mid-west, 1928.”

Melanie’s voice piqued up, “Well we’re all screwed then.”

“How about you listen to my brilliant plan before drawing conclusions? Thank you. Now as I was saying, we haven’t a hope of breaching the mansions temporal defences, which extend out over a twenty kilometre radius. That’s why we’re going to have to Flux outside of them and then move in.

We’ll go in at night, under the cover of darkness. Firstly the twins will approach from the west, with the dense tree foliage providing even more cover, then take up a position in the trees by the fence,” Archie illustrated this by pointing to spots on the holographic map. “Observe the patrols and their patterns; let us know via Timespace when you’re ready for us.”

The twins both smiled in perfect synchronicity and offered a gentle nod of approval.

“Then, Solomon and myself will create a distraction at the front gate,” Archie pointed to the gate on the map. “We’ll keep the two guards distracted, while the twins will jump the fence and take out the perimeter and door guards, quickly and silently as possible; no lethal force unless absolutely necessary. We’ll also need you to cut the power so that we can keep under the cover of darkness. Signal us when it’s done and we’ll overpower the guards on the gate and join you.”

“Melanie and Jessica will then follow us into the mansion, where we’ll all meet up in the entrance hall. Then we’ll spread out, find Edward, subdue his captors and get the hell out of there. Any questions?”

Jessica took a look around; the expressions in the room were varied and hard to distinguish.

“I can’t help but think that it all gets a bit vague at the end there,” said Justin.

“Do we even know how many rooms are in that house, or where Edward could be?” asked Annie.

“Our source has said that Crawlfield tends to keep prisoners in one of six rooms: Two in the west wing, two in the east and two in the central structure, all on different floors.”

“One question springs to mind for me,” said Ahmed, “what exactly will I be doing during all of this?” He sounded a little hurt, as if he’d been forgotten.

“Don’t worry Ahmed, I didn’t forget about you. You’ll go in with Jessica and Melanie, but then you’ll remain outside and guard the gate, understood?”

He smiled, causing his black beard to stretch out, as if it were trying to cover his entire face. “You will all be perfectly safe in these hands,” he realised that he had a drink in his hand and quickly put it down. “Don’t worry, I do my best work when I’ve been drinking.”

Jessica gave Archie a worried look, to which he just shrugged happily. “Any other questions?” He asked.

“I have a lot of questions,” mumbled Melanie, “but none that you’ll want to hear about.”

“OK, anyone else? Good.”

The twins needed time to get through the forest, so Archie gave them a head start. Meanwhile, everyone else started doing their own thing to fill in time. Solomon and Ahmed were engaged in conversation at the bar, and Melanie was lying on a couch at the back of the room, listening to music.

Jessica started meandering around the room, killing time. She took a closer look at one of the photos on the wall, a landscape group shot; she instantly recognised two of the faces.

There were five people in the shot, three men and two women. One of the men was crouching down in front and directly in the middle of the rest of the group and although he was clean shaven an a bit younger, it was definitely Archie. He was wearing a Flat Cap and waistcoat, with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. He had that same cheeky smile that Jessica had come to know well over the last few days.

Behind him, to the left, stood two woman in casual Victorian era dresses. The one on the outside had her hair tied up, save for a few strands that hung down to her bare shoulders. The other had hair that dropped down about her face in thick ringlets, with an air of elegance and strength that was both subtle and commanding.

The other two men stood to Archie’s right and both wore light, Victorian style three piece suits. The one on the outside wore a necktie with a standing collar and a fedora, while the one on the inside, standing next to the elegant woman, wore a bow-tie and no hat. He had striking features and a commanding smile, with piercing eyes, presumably blue. There was no doubting the visage of Edward Graves.

The inscription at the bottom of the frame read: The Second Hand- 12th July, 1863.

“Who or what is The Second Hand?” she wondered aloud.

“Just a silly little group that Edward and I were a part of in school.” Jessica hadn’t even noticed Archie standing next to her, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Five of us, all from the same year in history, and all from England, going through the Academy at the same time. We stuck together and even after we graduated, we worked together as a unit in the Nineteenth Century History Enforcers.”

“So why did you call yourselves that?”

“A bully once tried to get a reaction from Edward, calling him a second hand urchin that nobody wanted. You see, Edward’s parents were killed when he was eight and he was taken in by an English nobleman who also happened to be on the Temporal Council.”

“Oh my god, I had no idea, that’s horrible.”

“Anyway, so this brat of a kid keeps taunting Edward, calling him second-hand over and over again. And it looked like Edward was going to break down, his fists were clenched, his mouth was trembling, he was only thirteen at the time. But then he just relaxed, smiled, unclenched his fists and he went straight up to the bully and said, ‘Why thank-you sir, the second hand is the most important hand on the clock. Its movements are small but they’re the most noticeable. Why, if it weren’t for it, then the minute and hour hands wouldn’t function. You could say that without second hands like me, then time wouldn’t exist.’”

“Wow, he had even had that trademark wit at thirteen?”

“That was the beginning of that trademark wit. From that point on he always seemed to be able to turn an attack to his advantage, verbal or physical.”

“So who are the other three in the photo?”

“Well that would be Margret Jones,” he pointed to the woman on the outside, with the tied up hair, “but we all called her Maggie or Maggie Grace - she hated her middle name.” Archie’s voice went shallow, “alas she’s no longer with us.” He pointed to the other woman, “That is Sara Buchannan, a deeply beautiful woman in every sense and truly one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met.”

“She looks close to Edward.”

Archie smiled, “Let’s just say that less than six months after this photo was taken, she became Sara Graves.”

“You mean, that’s Edward’s wife? She’s beautiful and they look so happy together.”

“They were,” he said. Jessica could feel the weight in his voice, filled with sorrow and regret. “She was too young to die, we all were.”

Jessica took a moment of silence, out of respect for the late Mrs. Graves.

“So, what about the other man, the one next to Edward?”

Archie’s expression changed, it was harder to read now, like he himself were unsure to how feel.

“Alexander Tombs – he like to be called Xander. He was Edward’s brother, well sort of. Like Edward, he was orphaned and taken in by the same member of the Temporal Council.”

“Graves and Tombs,” said Jessica, “sounds like a fictional detective agency.” She frowned, she didn’t want to ask the question that was on her mind, but she did anyway. “So what happened to him?”

If Archie had seemed upset and unsure before, he was downright conflicted now. “It’s complicated,” he said, finally. “Anyway, I think that we should head out, the twins have had enough of a head start.”

Jessica wasn’t stupid; whatever happened to Xander was obviously a touchy subject, somehow more so than the deaths of Maggie and Sara.

“Alright, I guess that we’ve gone a long walk ahead of us.”

Archie fixed her with a sly smile. “Whoever said that we’re walking?”

Jessica had never been much of a car lover, but that didn’t stop her jaw from dropping as she gazed out on the collection of beautiful, pristine conditioned, automobiles before her.

“Not a bad collection, Hoss.”

“Thank you Solomon,” said Archie modestly.

“So we’re going to drive to Crawlfield’s place?” asked Jessica. “I didn’t think...”

“You didn’t think that you could drive through Timespace? Of course you can, it just takes a bit of concentration to keep the car in Flux. It shouldn’t be a problem with all of us though.”

Archie led them through the aisles of shining metal, most of them classic models, others, modern or even futuristic. They stopped at a beautiful old black model with white-wall tyres and one of those curvy boots. Jessica had to admit that it looked nice and very classy.

“1948, Jaguar Mark V,” said Archie admiringly as he ran a finger along the gleaming wheel arch. “They don’t make ’em like this anymore. Well actually they don’t make ’em like this yet either. In any case, this pristine example of British automotive excellence is Edward’s pride and joy.”

Jessica stopped admiring the tan upholstery through the window and looked back over her shoulder. “This is Edward’s car?”

“Oh yes,” sighed Archie, “I’ve tried to buy it off of him several times but alas, he won’t have any of it. As a consolation he does allow me to allow him to store it here, where it is lovingly maintained by my mechanic Rhys. If we have to rescue Edward Graves then this is the car that we have to do it in.”

Jessica walked around the vehicle, inspecting it further. She nearly laughed when she saw the number plate: EGTD 48- Edward Graves Temporal Detective, no doubt. Somehow it didn’t surprise her that Edward had vanity plates.

“I’m kind of surprised that Edward actually let’s you drive his car,” said Ahmed.

“‘Let’s’ might be a bit of an overstatement,” said Archie. “There are only two people who Edward trusts to drive his car: Edward Graves and himself. But he doesn’t really have a lot to say on the matter right now.”

Solomon yelled, “Shotgun!” and dove into the passenger seat, leaving Jessica, Ahmed and Melanie to cram into the back. Jessica sincerely hoped that it wouldn’t be a long trip; being crammed in a confined space with the ever effervescent Melanie didn’t exactly seem like her idea of fun.

“All passengers, please keep your feet on the mats at all times. God only knows what horrors Edward’s had to endure, if there’s so much as a speck of dirt in here when we rescue him, it may be enough to finish him off.”

Luckily for Jessica, she didn’t have to sit in the middle, the vertically challenged Melanie had that honour. Instead, she got to sit on the right side, behind the driver’s seat.

“OK everyone,” said Archie as he turned the ignition and the old beast purred to life with a satisfying grunt. “We’re going to need to work together and focus, understood?”

They all gave a collective affirmation.

“Good,” he put the car into gear, “let’s save Edward.”