Chapter Nineteen
Nineteen
Henry hauled Rose over to the bed, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her down on it with him.
She gasped, but gave him a quick nod. He stretched his body over hers, propping himself up on his elbows, as the sound of the footsteps advanced.
Beneath him, Rose arched her back, wrenched herself out of the top of the stretchy dress, and shoved it down to her waist.
An undergarment of burgundy satin and lace covered only half of her lush breasts. He caught a fleeting glimpse before she rose up and crushed her mouth to his.
Yes. As he kissed her, he blindly cupped one of her breasts and stroked his thumb across the soft flesh. He released her mouth to kiss the side of her neck, focusing on the sensitive place just behind the hinge of her jaw. She made a soft, delicious sound, writhing beneath him.
He was forgetting himself, his body roused and ready for duty. This was for show and nothing more. He lifted his head and both he and Rose listened.
“I think they’re gone,” he whispered to her. Her skin felt hot to the touch and her face was flushed.
“Did anyone see us?” she whispered back, a bit breathlessly.
“I do not know.”
He stood and walked to the door, which stood ajar. He listened, but heard nothing.
It is time to abandon this mad quest, he thought as he walked over to her. “I am afraid there is no way to know where my astrolabe is.”
“Oh! I was about to tell you. I think my moonstone is trying to tell me.” She pulled the luminous blue stone out of her purse and held it up in her palm. Its star-shaped sheen on the surface appeared clearer and sharper than ever.
She asked, “Where is the astrolabe?”
Nothing happened, but her eyes fluttered shut.
This is nonsense, Henry thought. But he thought of Rose teasing him with the Shakespeare quote earlier: There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio…
Charlotte had teased him in the exact same way, more than once, because his middle name was Horatio.
Henry hadn’t told Rose his middle name, and he knew perfectly well it had not appeared on the church record.
Nor had it been in the title of his portrait, he’d noticed.
She opened her eyes again. “The pinball machines,” she breathed.
“What?”
She peered out the door, looking left and right, and then gestured with her hand. “Follow me.”
Having no better plan, he did. She hurried back to the room filled with peculiar booths and tables, all with flashing lights and garish illustrations. The various cabinets had mysterious names: Pac-Man. Donkey Kong. Galaga. Henry supposed there was no time to explain their use.
She held the stone up in her hand, as though it were a lamp in the dark, and then strode directly over to one of the tables as though drawn by a magnet. He followed her.
“Ha!” she said. “It’s in this pinball machine.”
The letters at the top of the thing read: Beat the Clock. If his astrolabe truly could be used as a time travel device, hiding it in this machine suggested a droll sense of humor.
Rose looked wildly around, then picked up a stool next to a nearby table and raised it over her head, clearly meaning to smash the machine open.
“Wait!” He held up a hand.
She set the stool down again. Henry crouched down and ran his fingers along one side of the machine, then the other. As Rose bent down next to him, he said, “Here. A secret door.”
“He must’ve gutted this machine,” she murmured.
He swung it open. A round gold edge gleamed in the shadowy compartment.
Yes!
Henry grasped the astrolabe—
A blaring noise. They both nearly jumped out of their skin.
“Shit!” she hissed. “It’s alarmed!”
Henry couldn’t let go of the astrolabe. He just couldn’t.
He said to Rose, “It’s a good thing we practiced climbing out windows.”
She gave him a little nod and a knowing smirk. And his skeptical soul sent up a wordless, fleeting prayer that he hadn’t led her into disaster.
He shoved the astrolabe into the messenger bag as they both rushed to the window. He flung it open and kicked at the screen in front of it. A whole panel fell away. They would surely be seen by someone outside, and they might be caught, but what other choice did they have?
Rose straddled the window. At least they were only on the second floor. Heavy footsteps thundered up the main staircase.
“I’ll land in the shrubs,” she said, and before he could consider whether there were a better strategy, she maneuvered so that she was dangling from the sill by both hands, then let herself drop to the ground with a yelp and a crunch.
With the messenger bag tucked under his arm, and two large men entering the room, Henry climbed through the window and, in a split second, made sure he spotted her scrambling away before he flung himself down.
It felt like two dozen men poking him with sticks at once, but he didn’t feel as though he’d broken anything. Rose grabbed his hand to help him stumble to his feet.
Several loud pops—gunfire!
No, fireworks. Peach and gold sparkling lights blossomed over the back terrace.
“Fuck,” Rose said and sprinted in the other direction, along the side of the mansion, in the shadows.
Henry took off after her, securing the now-heavy bag against his side and dearly hoping she had an idea of where to go.
They reached the evergreens and the fence at the border of the property and she veered left.
She was heading toward Halsted, the busy street behind the mansion they’d walked along before. That was wise. She looked back at him and he made a shooing motion to urge her to keep going.
Then a barrage of deep throaty barks made Henry look back. A sleek, muscled dog rushed toward them, its white teeth flashing in the dark, and two guards were not far behind. Henry would have to knock the dog in the head with the astrolabe so it wouldn’t bite Rose—
“Who wants a treat?” she squealed in a high-pitched voice and threw something at the dog, hitting his nose. The dog paused to look down.
The half-raw fish in the napkin. As the dog gulped it down, Rose threw herself at the chain link fence at the back of the property and climbed over it, Henry right behind her, as the approaching guards foolishly yelled for them to stop.
They reached the busy street. “This way!” Rose gasped, pointing to a restaurant with a sign that read The Wiener Stand.
Perhaps a dozen people milled about outside, and others sat at a few outdoor tables, eating. The smell of fried food filled Henry’s nostrils. They darted into the small building.
At least fifty people stood shoulder to shoulder, carrying out shouted conversations and laughing, and a woman behind the counter seemed to be berating a customer.
Rose grabbed Henry’s hand and pulled him through the crowd, crouching down as she did so, and he followed suit. Once they reached the far wall, Henry did not have to be told to squat down where they couldn’t be seen from the door.
“Take off your jacket and shirt,” she hissed at him, grabbing the fake eyeglasses off his face and then whipping off her own. Somehow, Henry hadn’t expected to actually use the quick-change techniques. They were for desperate circumstances…but these were very desperate circumstances.
The couple closest to Henry and Rose had their backs to them.
They were holding up their phones, an action Henry understood now, recording the server who was yelling at yet another customer.
Rose tugged at the wig. She winced, and Henry recalled her saying the glue was only supposed to come off with water.
But she was glistening with sweat, and she had it off in a moment.
She stuffed the items they’d removed into the messenger bag, then gave Henry the stretchy hat she’d purchased for him and pulled on her chunky gray cardigan.
“Let’s stand up now,” Henry murmured as she fastened the clasps on the messenger bag. She handed it to him as they rose to their feet.
“Oh, fuck,” Rose whispered, turning her face back to the wall. Henry spotted the guards pushing through the crowd.
“Hey, assholes, wait your turn,” a big guy told them. At the same time, Henry thought he heard the cook demand of a person in front, “Cheddar or American?”
Rose tapped the arm of a woman next to her and said, “Oh my God, why are those workers being so mean?” She was still out of breath.
The woman and her husband turned to Rose and Henry, smiles on their faces. The woman said, “That’s what this place is famous for.”
“Famous for being rude to their customers?” Henry couldn’t help but ask.
The man laughed good-naturedly. “First time in Chicago?”
“Yes!” Rose said, as they moved closer to the front. “We’re from Des Moines, and he’s originally from London.”
Belatedly, Henry realized what she was doing: making the four of them look like a group of friends. It was brilliant. Would this and the quick change be enough? How well had the men seen their faces? His heart hadn’t stopped pounding in his chest.
“Hey! Little dicks in the suits!” A shrill voice from the counter made them all look up. The woman was shouting at the guards. “You don’t come in here and push people! Get the fuck out of my store!”
The taller guy said, “Um, we’re looking for—”
“Um, um, we’re looking for,” the woman mocked him, imitating his deep voice. “We don’t tolerate rudeness!” That generated a wave of laughter in the crowd, several of whom were holding up phones now.
The woman turned to the next man in line, who had shoulder-length hair and thick brows. “What the fuck do you want, Caveman?”
The customer beamed as though he’d been paid a compliment. “Char Polish and large cheese fries.” The guards had stepped back. Henry felt a chill as the taller one met his gaze, but didn’t pause there as he scanned the room.
A man behind the counter banged something, metal against metal. He yelled at the guards, “We said get the fuck out of here!” He jabbed his finger at the door. “Have a good night, sirs!”