During Wells' visit to the antiques shop, he had been introduced to an amazed Abe, Jo, Mike, and Lucas. After having regained control of their speech and thought processes, they were able to devise a plan for Wells to take his assistant, Bartholomew "Bart" Williams, back to their own time, after which Wells had promised to dismantle it so no one else could ever use it.
"Not just dismantle," Henry urgently advised Wells, "destroy! Burn it in that huge fireplace of yours along with any plans or journals." At Wells' seeming hesitance, he grabbed him by his upper arms, forcing him to face him. "You must promise me that you'll do that, Wells."
"Old fart when you're in a playful mood," Wells wistfully observed regarding Henry's manner of addressing him. "Wells when you're dead serious about something." Wells clamped his lips together and huffed a sigh out through his nose. "I promise," he quietly replied. Then with a raised head, his chin jutted out, he added, "You have my word."
The others smiled at the familiar phrase that Henry had often used. A staid, British version of an American way of saying, "Trust me". But promise given and accepted, they had to move on to the next step in their plan.
Because of the head injury as a result of Mike having tackled him when he'd tried to escape, Bart was still at Bellevue's ER. His attending physician had assured them that his injuries looked worse than what they were and, yes, he could be released into their custody. Jo and Mike cuffed Bart and escorted him out of the hospital into their car parked at the hospital entrance. Once inside, they drove him to the antiques shop.
"What's this?" a confused Bart asked as they entered the shop. "You're going shopping before taking me to jail?" He glanced around at the items in the retail area and scoffingly remarked, "Seriously? You'd do better going to the mall."
"Quiet, knucklehead," Mike warned him as he propelled him by one arm through the store and indicated for him to climb the stairs.
A worried Bart stopped at the foot of the stairs when he saw Henry waiting at the top. He turned to Mike and Jo and said, "Look. I know how this works. You're gonna beat me up or kill me and hide my broken body up in the attic." He kept talking even though Mike grunted for him to cork it.
"We can still make that deal with the crazy sheik," he told them, trying to bargain his way out of being harmed. "$50 million is nothing to sneeze at. I'm, I'm willing to split it with you guys only please don't kill me!" he pleaded as they cleared the landing and Mike shoved him into the living room where the others were. At the sight of his former employer, Wells, Bart froze.
A glowering Wells rose from his seat and with his hands clasped behind his back, walked slowly over to face his scheming former assistant. "Another Benedict Arnold," he said. "A scheming, traitor in my midsts," he clarified. "But rest assured that no one is going to kill you, Bartholomew. Even though you fully deserve a good trouncing for what you did and for what you tried to do. Stealing your way here in my machine and trying to sell it to the highest bidder! Shame on you, Bartholomew. Shame on you!" Wells glowered at him and shook his head.
Bart hung his head but muttered that Wells was rich and famous. He had no problem moving around in society, meeting his financial obligations with ease. "You don't know what it's like to be poor. I couldn't survive on what you pay me. Practically all of it goes to keep a roof over my head. Turning over every stone for my next meal while hoping the grocer or the light company don't catch up to me and take what little money I got left!" He eyed Wells with a look of defeat. "That money would have set me up real good. But I wouldn't have had to try this if you'd only have listened to some of my story ideas. Good ideas, too."
"Bartholomew," Wells said, shaking his head. "An island where a mad doctor turns animals into people and vice versa?" He chortled and added, "Utterly disgusting!"
"Not ... well, yes, disgusting but that's what a lot of fantasy is," Bart contended. "Explorers finding monsters when they leave the earth to explore outer space or the bottom of the sea or even further, into the earth's core - "
"Stop, stop, Bart, just stop," Wells said, cutting him off. He looked around at the others and said, "You see? This is what I have to contend with day in and day out. How can one concentrate on their own more important projects when forced to hear such drivel over and over? I'm sure you'll all agree with me that my former assistant's ideas should remain right where they are now - in his confused little mind."
Lucas was the first to speak. "Well, uh, sounds ... great to me." Wells turned an astonished face to him. Lucas swallowed, gathering more courage. "A-as a self-taught expert on great fictional writings, I can honestly say that Bart, er, Bartholomew's story ideas sound ... " he paused, bracing himself for Well's reaction, " ... just as good as yours ... do."
Wells' eyes bulged and gave an owly jerk of the head to each of them as they agreed with Lucas. He placed his fists on his hips and turned his astonished face to Henry, who pursed his lips with raised eyebrows and shrugged.
"Speak up man," Wells impatiently told Henry. "I've never known you to allow others to be your voice."
"You can be a little ... closed-minded at times, Herbert," Henry unwillingly told him.
Wells harrumphed at Henry's words but realized his friend was right. "You mean stubborn; pigheaded; obstinate."
"No wonder you two were friends," Abe said. "Birds of a feather ... " He cleared his throat and averted his eyes from his father's stern gaze.
Wells chuckled and paced over to stand in front of Bart again. "Well," he began as he placed a hand on Bart's shoulder. " Seeing how it's so hard to get good help, I have decided to forgive you your lapse in judgment and retain you in my employ. And it would seem that you and I have much to discuss in the way of fictitious offerings once we return home." Bart smiled and thanked him.
Bart then turned to Henry and said, "Sorry about ... everything. Amazing what the lure of a lot of money can do to a guy." Henry nodded, pursing his lips.
"Now. To get to my - " Wells paused, looking at Bart again. " ... to our machine." He pulled out his pocket watch and smiled impishly at Henry. "My other machine, of sorts, linked to the large one."
"From a pocket watch?" an astonished Henry asked.
"Makes traveling so much easier than rattling around in that noisy sleigh contraption, don't you think?" Wells replied.
He instructed all of them to gather as close to him as possible, which they did. Standing shoulder to shoulder with linked arms, Wells opened the watch and a bright, yellow beam of light shone out from it while everything around them vanished under a cover of darkness. A sense of weightlessness overtook them and all of them except Wells looked down at their feet to make sure they were not dropping down or rising up into nothingness. The surrounding darkness began to swirl with colors of deep purple, violet, and pink. All the other colors of the spectrum were gradually added until the surrounding darkness now shone as brightly, if not brighter than the beam from Wells' timepiece. Just when they thought that they could no longer stand the brightness of the light, it vanished and they found themselves standing near the large time machine on the third floor of the warehouse. They released their holds on each other and welcomed once again the feel of something solid beneath their feet.
"Wow! What a way to travel!" a wondrously excited Lucas exclaimed. "But what's the machine doing out here in the middle of the floor?"
"Looks like they've been working on it some more," Henry stated, frowning. He looked at Wells and said, "I do hope their alterations won't interfere with your being able to transport it back with you."
"A viewing screen with auditory capabilities," Wells said, pleasantly surprised. "Now, why didn't I think of that?" he whispered to himself.
"Visual GPS," Lucas declared. "You not only tell it where you wanna go, you can see it while you're getting there." He looked closer at the newest controls and added, "Maybe before you get there, too. Maps!"
"What's that part?" Jo asked, pointing to what resembled a body cam. She gasped. "They plan to record their trips to the past?" It was more of a statement than a question because, obviously, the research team had installed what looked like a tiny video recording device onto the machine. And who wouldn't want to see a video of Abraham Lincoln delivering the Gettysburg Address? Or the day the Eiffel Tower was unveiled? Or the day the Statue of Liberty arrived in New York City?
"Look at this," Mike said, holding up another recording device attached to what looked like a headband. "I guess you put this on and ... " he said while attempting to place it on his head.
"Please don't touch anything," Henry warned him, his hands outstretched and fingers spread. "I learned my lesson when I held onto the key for this machine."
"A cautious Henry Morgan," Jo said, with a smirk. "I lived to see the day." Her remarks were met with contained laughter, though it would have been louder if they didn't all like Henry so much.
"The key is no longer necessary," Wells said. "Let us be on our way." He pulled his pocket watch out again. "Before we go, I want you to all know that despite this not being the Utopian existence I had once foolishly predicted it might be, it was a pleasure meeting all of you." He smiled and bowed waist deep.
"Before you leave," Henry began, "how did you know to find me at that crime scene?"
Wells replied, "I must confess that this thing you call the In-ter-net is a wonderful tool for finding information on almost anyone and anything! Gadzooks, it more than makes up for there being no Utopia."
Next, all the documentation and apparent prototypes of proposed additions related to the time machine were gathered up and placed inside it. Wells and Bart then climbed into it and sat in the seats. With that, he popped open the watch and he and Bart were completely obscured by the bright beam of yellow light. In the next instance, the two men, the machine and the bright light vanished, leaving no trace.
"We'd better get out of here, too," Abe said. They all nodded and left the room and headed for the elevator. Just before Lucas punched the call button, Jo stopped him.
"How will we explain how we got in here? We didn't come in through the front door," she pointed out. And why was that and the de-aging machine just left here like this with no one to guard them?" Jo asked, apparently annoyed and surprised at the lax security.
"Yes, the lack of security here concerned me, as well," Henry replied. "But to answer your question as to how we shall make our escape, we must depend on the same lethargic attitude of the security personnel and employees while we exit."
"Ask a simple question," Mike murmured, looking side-eyed at Henry as they boarded the elevator.
"Get a long-winded and complicated answer," Abe added. The others chuckled as the elevator doors closed and it began to descend.
"Don't think for one moment, Abraham, that I have not taken note of every impertinent remark you've made today," Henry warned him in a stern, paternal voice.
"Oh, here we go," Abe groaned while the others did their best to hide their amusement at the sight of the young-looking father chastising his elderly son.
vvvv
Two days later, Jo, Henry, and Mike entered Reece's office, temporarily occupied by Lt. Washington, in order to update him on the Maxine Westbury murder case.
"You mean after three days, you haven't zeroed in on a suspect yet?" Washington asked. "Maybe get a little more insanity and chaos going, Dr. Morgan, to jumpstart that big brain of yours into real action."
"An interesting way of putting things, Lieutenant," Henry replied. "Except that I'm quite sure that the size of my brain is just about the same size as any other living adult with the highly questionable exception of yours. There is always activity in the brain even while a person is sleeping. So the need to attach jumper cables to it is actually not necessary and could also be quite messy what with the resultant blood and brain matter exploding everywhere!"
Washington gaped at him, offended yet again by the ME's disrespectful remarks.
"He takes things literally. Sometimes," Jo said dryly.
Washington sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'll let that pass about the size of my brain, Doctor, seeing as how you might be somewhat stressed from being out of your element in real crime solving."
Turning to Jo and Mike, he asked, "When do you think the witness interviews will conclude?"
"We've, uh, just got a couple more to do," Mike replied uneasily, glancing over at Henry, then back at Washington. "And then, there's the surveillance camera footage. It was installed a few months ago when some expensive fitness equipment was stolen."
"But we've narrowed the suspect list down already to her swim coach and her personal trainer," Jo stated.
"Then concentrate on those two," Washington ordered. "Don't waste time with any more so-called witnesses."
"These, uh, other two people we need to interview were her competitors," Jo emphasized. "Fierce competitors, according to a lot of the others we interviewed. There might be something there. It's not a waste of time to - "
"Detective Martinez, I'm a fierce competitor, too, but you don't see me going around killing my competition," Washington told her. "Although I can see how a person might be tempted to resort to doing something like that," he added, glancing at Henry.
They left his office with an admonishment from him to hunker down and get the case solved or move on to their other cases.
"Grrrr, that man makes me so mad!" Jo growled. "I don't like the way he talks down to us and I especially don't like the way he talks to you, Henry."
"Yeah, Doc," Mike chimed in as he leaned over his desk, checking for any messages. "I know you can't punch him out like you did that guy who insulted your old girlfriend, Molly, but I was waitin' for ya to drop another word bomb on him."
"Detectives," Henry began, "if you're referring to his last innuendo about being tempted to kill competitors, including me ... we all know that he'd be in for a big surprise if he tried, don't we?"
They nodded in agreement and laughed softly as they left the bullpen together and headed out to interview the last two people on their list.
vvvv
Washington and Henry observed from the viewing room while Jo and Mike questioned a nervous Beryl Ferrini about her relationship with Maxine Westbury.
"Okay, according to you, you didn't know the victim that well," Jo stated as she eyed Beryl. "Yet, your fingerprints are all over that piece of industrial strength rope found in the trunk of your car. The same piece of that has the victim's DNA on it from when you tied her up like a roped calf and dumped her in the fountain's pool. "
"All right, all right," Beryl interrupted. "I knew her, okay? We played those kinds of games."
Jo frowned and asked, "What games?"
Beryl sighed and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling then back at Jo. "Houdini games. We'd ... tie each other up or handcuff each other and sometimes get dropped into the pool to see if, if ... " she sighed again and looked down at her hands. "Who could free themselves the quickest."
"Sure this wasn't some kind of hazing gone wrong?" Jo asked, skeptical and disgusted.
"No, we're not in college anymore," Beryl loudly replied. "Hazing's for dumb kids."
"Oh, and this kind of bs is for dumb adults?" Mike asked.
"It was an accident, that's all," Beryl explained defensively. "It was her turn and she ... she didn't come up that time." She looked up at Jo and Mike and added, "We jumped in and pulled her out but ... CPR didn't work. It just didn't work to revive her!" She was in tears now.
"So you dumped her in the fountain's pool in Central Park like so much unwanted garbage," Jo said.
"We didn't know what else to do," Beryl replied, crying and shaking her head.
"We?" Mike asked.
"Besides Max and me, a few others. But that night it was just Max and me and Sela." Her face crumpled and she sobbed, "It was just a game, a silly game."
"A game. Well, that should really comfort her parents on the loss of their only daughter," Jo told her. She pushed a yellow, legal pad and pencil over to her. "Write it all down." She and Mike left the interview room and joined up with Washington and Henry in the hallway.
"Just when you think you've seen and heard it all ... " Mike said, his voice trailing off in both disgust and amazement.
"Doesn't sound like murder one," Washington said, "but they're still looking at multiple charges and long sentences. Good work, all of you. See how much smoother things go when you all work together and nobody tries to best the other? Now, let's get crackin' on the next case." He nodded to each of them and hurried away to his office.
They watched him as he walked away down the hallway and shook their heads, frowning. After a few moments, they resumed walking down the hallway back to their respective posts.
"You're awfully quiet, Henry," Jo remarked.
"Was just wondering why someone would elect to duplicate any of Houdini's tricks especially since his final one had resulted in his death," Henry replied. "There were so many other experts in the sleight of hand."
"But Houdini was the most famous," Jo said. "Some people want nothing more than to one-up the master; to de-throne them."
"Yeah, Doc," Mike added, chuckling. "Better watch out for Lucas."
"You say that in a jesting manner, Detective," Henry began. "But I can assure you that Lucas has no need to duplicate any of my methods. Learn from them, yes, but he is an up-and-comer, as they say." He clasped his hands in front of him and smiled at all of them. "He's learned a lot in the past year or two. I'm quite proud of him." He left them to return to the morgue as they gaped suprisedly at him.
"Remember that," Jo said teasingly to Mike, tapping her notepad on his arm. "An up-and-comer."
Washington called the two detectives into his office once they'd come back to their desks and ordered them to find the rest of the so-called "Houdini Ring" and break it up. "At least get the word out that these jokers are risking their lives by participating in such a dangerous game. No sitting on our laurels, you two."
They left his office exchanging world-weary expressions and rolling their eyes.
vvvv
Dinner on the rooftop terrace would have been nice if it weren't for the occasional gusty winds from the north. For that reason, Abe had announced to his father and their guest, Jo Martinez, that dinner of veal scaloppini with curly pasta and broccolini in a creamy cheese and wine sauce would instead be served downstairs in the small kitchen.
"Oh! I know I say it all the time, Abe, but that was a delicious meal," Jo told him, smiling and patting her stomach when he offered her more. "No, gracias. I can't eat another spoonful."
Abe couldn't help noticing all through dinner that more often than not, Henry and Jo had spent most of the time gazing at each other. These two really needed their privacy, he thought.
"Uh, look, you two. I'm really bushed so I'm gonna turn in early," he told them. "Just leave the dishes in the sink and I'll take care of them in the morning."
"Oh, no, Abe, we'll wash them," Jo told him. When Abe protested, she told him again that she and Henry would wash them. "In appreciation of such a delicious meal and a gracious host." They smiled at each other and she rose from the table, gathered up the plates and took them over to the sink.
Abe's smile vanished and he shot a look to his frowning and confused father, flicking his head toward Jo. When Jo turned around and looked back and forth between them, he grew his smile again and said goodnight.
"What was that all about?" she asked Henry as they cleared the table.
"Just his way of saying that he likes you," Henry replied. "And that he wants to see more of you."
"And what about his father?" she asked, playfully.
"Oh, he likes you very much," he replied, pulling her closer by the waist. "And he wants to see even more of you."
"Does he?" she replied, smiling.
That smile and those sparkling eyes of hers always undid him. He swallowed, shedding all pretense and folly. "Yes, Jo," he replied, his voice quiet but serious. "I wanted this to be in a much more romantic setting when I asked you but ... I don't want to waste any more time."
"Henry - " He was so serious. She wondered ... She gasped while one of her hands clamped over her mouth and tears automatically sprung from her eyes when he lowered himself to one knee.
He pulled a small, red velvet-covered box out of his pocket and held it out to her as he looked up at her. "I love you, Jo. More than you'll ever know. And I want you in my life always. Will you marry me?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks and over her hand still clamped to her mouth. She removed her hand and finally found her voice. "Yes!" She wanted to be a little cooler and calmer than this but she couldn't help laughing and crying at the same time.
"Yes, Henry, I'll marry you!" He rose back up to a standing position and they kissed and embraced.
In the hallway, Abe peeked at them from around the corner of the doorway and smiled, brushing away a tear of his own. His Pops had found his soulmate again. He was going to be fine after he was gone. Seeing them together brought back memories of another time in another kitchen where his parents, so much in love, had danced before dinner. At the time, being a kid, he recalled that although he'd liked seeing them dance and gaze lovingly into each other's eyes, he couldn't wait to dig into Mom's delicious-smelling lasagne or pot roast. Now, he realized that they had created memories for him that were worth more than gold. And he'd live to see more be created with his dad's lovely new wife, Jo. And, hopefully, he'd finally be able to have some siblings. What more could the elderly kid of an Immortal ask for?
vvvv
They were married on the rooftop terrace in mid-April after the winter thaw and left immediately after the reception to honeymoon for three weeks in Paris. Henry had booked their stay at one of the top hotels, the Hotel Plaza Elysées on Boulevard Haussmann. Despite it being a much smaller hotel than Jo expected, the service and amenities were fantastic. And even though landmarks such as the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre Museum, and Notre Dame were all closeby, they had no set schedule as to how they were going to drink in the beauty of the City of Lights. They were just going to get lost, as Henry had described to her once.
"Wake up, start walking in any direction, really. Get lost. Wander the streets until you're so terribly weak that you've no choice but to stop into the nearest cafe and order something wonderful to eat along with a glass or two of wine and then ... set back out into the city and ... do it all over again. But know that this regimen works best only if done with someone you find ... very special."
It was the way that he had quietly but intriguingly described it and the way that he'd looked at her as if to emphasize his last words, "very special", that had warmed her from the inside. Made her wish for that to happen for her. Only later on that same evening while speeding to the airport had she realized that Isaac Monroe was not the "very special" person she had in mind after he'd told her that every minute of their visit had been scheduled. She knew then that she had to get back to Henry. She knew then that he was the "very special" person she wanted in her life.
But it had been a long road from there to here and there had been times when she thought that moments like these would never happen. Henry had been so closed off, so unwilling to share things with her or anyone about himself and his private life. However, when his son's wellbeing had been threatened several months ago, he'd had no choice but to reveal information about his condition to them in order to enlist their aid in helping his son, who had been de-aged to a ten-year-old child. She'd learned to incorporate the fantastical with the factual as a part of knowing Henry and Abe. And now, with their latest case involving another de-aged child that had led to the time travel machine and meeting the legendary H. G. Wells - she was certain these types of phenomena would occur from time to time and she was okay with that. As long as it was done with Henry. Someone she found ... very special.
Notes:
Before H. G. Wells wrote "The Invisible Man" in 1897, he'd already written "The Island of Dr. Moreau in 1896". But for the purposes of this story, I've moved it up so that Bartholomew Williams could contribute to 1898's "The War of the Worlds" and the Dr. Moreau tale in 1899. If Henry looked closely enough, he'd see the foreword where Wells thanked his assistant for "considerable content contributions". Bart may not have had his name added on the writing credits, but he did profit from sales of both books, making his day-to-day existence much more financially stable.
wiki/H._G._Wells
The "Get Lost in Paris" quote is a partial one from "Forever" TV show S01/E20 "Best Foot Forward"
Oh, and whatever did Lt. Reece do with the key to that large time machine? Let's just say that somewhere at the bottom of the North Atlantic Ocean near the island of Trinidad and Tobago (which includes the Town of Arima), lies a large, gold, ornate key.
