“That was impressive. Kids’ toys!”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta make do.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you won’t have to `make do’ with toy handcuffs any longer. You’re definitely hired. I was watching close, following your gaze, and I didn’t see a thing.”
Skeeter’s face went hot, but it was a proud flush. He’d done a good job and Kit knew it. High overhead, the returning tour started pouring through the open gate. A Time Tours guide rushed down the stairs, well in advance of the tourists, clutching a heavy pouch. Waiting newsies mobbed him.
“Who is it—?”
“—that a videotape?”
“Has the Ripper Watch Team solved—?”
The grim-faced guide vanished into the Time Tours ticket office and slammed the door, leaving the newsies screaming at sound-proofed glass.
“You know,” Skeeter mused, “that guy didn’t act like an excited courier carrying the news of the decade, did he?”
“No,” Kit agreed, expression thoughtful.
A moment later, the rest of the tour reached Commons floor and word spread like racing wildfire: Two killers!
“James Maybrick, after all—”
“Complete unknown! Some doctor, nobody has the faintest idea who—”
“Working together—!”
And hard on the heels of that shock, yet another, potentially fatal to the entire station: Missing tourist!
“—shot two up-time baggage handlers to death—”
“—said he vanished over in SoHo—”
“Oh, my God,” Skeeter groaned. “Another missing person!” And another shocking murder spree for TT-86 to explain to the press and the government agencies and Senator Caddrick.
“Who was he?” a woman dressed as a Roman matriarch demanded at Skeeter’s elbow.