Malcolm Moore laid Sven Bailey flat in a sparring match.
Afterward, he took a cold shower that lasted forty solid minutes. The phone was ringing when he emerged.
He jerked it out of the wall and hurled it across the room. Then, very quietly, Malcolm got drunker than he’d ever been in his life.
* * *
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kit Carson was waiting in the crowd when the Porta Romae opened. Neither Malcolm nor Margo put in appearances. He started to grow seriously alarmed when the Time Tours guides who emerged wouldn’t look at him. The whole contingent of tourists, guides, and baggage handlers waiting in the Commons climbed the ramp and vanished through the portal and still there was no sign of his granddaughter or the man he’d trusted with her safety. Then, just as the portal began to shrink toward closure, Malcolm shot through. One look at his face sent Kit’s viscera into a tailspin.
The normally unflappable time guide burst past Kit like a damned soul pursued by gleeful demons. He didn’t even glance in Kit’s direction. Kit shut his eyes, convinced of the worst Then he risked another look just as the gate shrank closed. Margo had come through. He started breathing again. But she hung back on the platform, looking defiant and sullen and scared all at the same time. She, too, watched Malcolm’s stormy retreat down the Commons. Then she saw Kit standing in the crowd below.
She lifted her chin and descended the ramp
”Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, falling into step.
”No,” she said icily. “I don’t.”