“Homeward bound,” I announce, opening the door of my time machine. The chromium steering lever on the control panel gleams invitingly.
“Blitzkrieg!” Cuthbert the parrot flaps onto my shoulder.
“You can stop shrieking that ridiculous code word now,” I grumble. “The mission is over.”
And what a mission it was. I’m not one
I’m going to enjoy shooting Hernandez.
I smile grimly as I run my feather duster along the balcony rail. My titanium blaster is a satisfying weight in my apron pocket. Too bad it’s set to “stun,” not “kill,” but I suppose one can’t have everything.
Twenty feet below me, the brightly-lit ballroom
If I told you I’d picked up a girl in the French Revolution and brought her to 1930’s Berlin to assassinate Hitler, you wouldn’t believe me… would you?
“It’s time.” Charlotte Corday’s soft whisper brushes my ear as she accepts a champagne flute from my tray. “Colonel Geissler promised to introduce me to
“Blitzkrieg!” the parrot screeches, hopping from perch to perch inside the brass cage. “Blitzkrieg! Blitzkrieg!”
“If that parrot continues its intolerable squawking,” I say through clenched teeth, “I shall not be responsible for my actions.”
“Cheer up, Miss O’Reilly.” My fellow time travel agent chuckles. “Hernandez must like you a lot to send
“I’m Luke Skywalker, and I’m here to rescue you!”
I stride through the doors of my time machine, my compact, titanium blaster swinging jauntily from my hand.
Beneath her white lace cap, the young woman’s eyes widen. She scrambles to her feet. The iron chains clamped to her wrists rattle loudly.
“For the last time, Mr. Hernandez,” I enunciate, poking savage holes in my lime-green blotter with my peacock pen, “you cannot land in Wittenberg, Germany on October 31, 1517.”
“Killjoy,” mutters the time traveler on the other end of the phone. “All I wanted to do was have a look around.”
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