his outrage at the actions of the mob. Needless to say, the money would not replace the mansion or its precious contents. and Hutchinson was reported to be heartbroken over the loss of his priceless History of Massachusetts Bay, thirty years of work undone in just one night. The morning following the riot, he had appeared in court among his fellow red-robed justices, wearing only what he’d escaped in the previous night. He had borrowed an ill-fitting coat from the neighbors he was staying with and he was a pathetic sight, indeed.
Sam Adams. unlike Macintosh. was fully able to appreciate how the sympathies of Boston would lie with a proud. distinguished citizen so humbled and he had sought to prove that the Sons of Liberty. while opposed to men like Hutchinson in principle, were not a ruthless bunch of thugs-which was precisely what many of them were. And despite the fact that he had organized the demonstration. something he prudently did not admit in public. Adams sincerely sought to make amends. Much like Col. George Washington of Virginia. whose family crest bore the Latin motto, “ Exitus Acta Probat “ (The End Justifies the Means). Adams was not above utilizing any means he felt were necessary to achieve the end he had in mind. but he fully understood the subtleties of propaganda.
Macintosh did not appreciate such tactics. “We taught that royalist bootlicker a proper lesson!” he shouted, slapping his palm down on the table and upsetting his glass of wine. “I say he had it comin’!” And now Sam Adams goes to him with hat in hand and humbly begs his pardon. sayin. ‘Please, Yer Worship, forgive us all the trespass and kindly accept these monies by way of reparation.’ Apologizin’ to the likes o’ him!”
“It’s not like that at all Mac,” Edes reassured him. “Sam Adams knows what he’s about. What’s the point of all we’re doing if public opinion turns against us? This way. Sam, stands by his principles and the Sons of Liberty have demonstrated that while our zeal is undiminished, we still have a concern for justice. And the lesson on Tom Hutchinson isn’t lost, believe
“Well, maybe so,” Macintosh admitted grudgingly, “but I still say we shouldn’t give the bastard one damn shilling! Tom Hutchinson is Massachusetts born an’ bred an’ I say he’s a traitor to his own! An’ I dare any man who thinks I’m wrong to stand up an’ say so to my face!”
At that precise instant. something came crashing through the window of the tavern. struck Macintosh full in the chest, and knocked him and his chair backward to the floor. Stunned. Macintosh sat up and stared at the object that had felled him. It was a pumpkin carved into a jack-o-lantern. Its smashed and pulpy pieces lay splattered all around him. Chairs fell to the floor as the Sons of Liberty leapt to their feet and a bellowing Macintosh led the charge outside.
For a moment, they saw nothing, but then they heard the rapid beat of iron-shod hooves on cobblestones. A black-clad rider with a long, billowing cloak came hurtling at them from the shadows, scattering the group. He turned, reining in sharply, and the handsome, jet-black stallion reared up. its forelegs pawing at the sky as the rider’s screeching laughter filled the air.
He had no head.
His keening laughter echoed through the night as he came thundering at them once again. His horse struck a gaping Jebediah Stiles and sent him sprawling as the rider plowed through them like a juggernaut, wheeled around, pulled in his reins, and reared up once again. Ransome Howard swore. pulled out his sheath knife, and hurled it at the horseman.
It went right though him.
With a maniacal screech, the rider bore down upon them once again and as the others scattered. Hunter stood and stared. astonished, as both the horse and rider vanished right before their eyes. leaving behind nothing but the echo of the horseman’s wild laughter.
“Holy Mary Mother o’ God!” breathed Macintosh, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Is it the drink. or did I really see that?
“I saw it. too!” said Dudley Brenton. “He had no head’ The rider had no head! “
“Your knife went right through him!” Eli Cruger said to Howard.
“No, he missed,” said someone.
“I didn’t miss.” insisted Howard. “I never miss.” He swallowed hard and crossed himself. “It was a ghost, sure as I live and breathe! A demon straight from hell!”
“ You saw it. Reese!” said Macintosh. his eyes bulging. “You saw! He vanished straightaway, before our very eyes! That was no man, Reese! Men don’t just disappear! It was a ghost! You saw!”
“Yes. Mac, I saw,” said Hunter. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
“A haunting!” Macintosh said hoarsely. “A haunting. that’s what it was! You all saw it same as I did, every man jack of you!”
Hunter bit his lower hp. His fingers felt the warp disc on its bracelet, concealed under his left sleeve. He turned and started walking quickly down the street.
Macintosh ran after him. “Reese! Wait! Where are you going’?”
“Go back, Mac,” Hunter said. “I have to go and see someone.”
“I’ll go with you!”
“No, Mac, I must go alone.”
“You’re going to tell Sam?”
“No, you go and tell him if you wish.” said Hunter. “But you’d best take some of the others with you, for I’m afraid he’s going to need a good deal of convincing. I have to go see someone else.” He paused. “They’ll take some convincing. too, but somehow I must make them believe me.”
He turned and walked away from the bewildered, frightened Macintosh and entered a dark and narrow alleyway. He looked around, pushed back his sleeve, and quickly programmed a sequence of transition coordinates into the warp disc. He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily.
“I sure hope I know what the hell I’m doing,” he said.
A moment later. Macintosh came running after him into the alley. “Reese, wait!” he cried. He stopped suddenly and looked around. “What the devil…”
The alley ended in a cul de sac. hut Hunter was nowhere in sight.
1
Lucas Priest was tired of being poked and prodded. For the past two weeks, he had been subjected to just about every type of medical examination known to man. He had been psychiatrically evaluated, biochemically analyzed, and holographically scanned until he couldn’t stand it any longer. Tall, slim, handsome, and muscular, with a bionic eye replacement as a result of being wounded on a temporal adjustment mission, he was in excellent physical condition, but the tests had worn him out. It seemed to him as if his mind and body had generated enough medical and psychiatric data to keep an entire team of doctors busy for a month. But then, he thought, that’s what you get for dying.
“Hey. Doc. are we going to be finished anytime this year’?” he asked, wearily running his hand through his thick brown hair as he sat up on the lab couch.
“Well unless someone upstairs thinks up anything else that we can put you through, that was it.” said Capt. Hazen, entering some data into her hand-held terminal “You’re all finished.”
“You’re kidding. Really?”
“Really. You can put your clothes back on.”
“You know, I never thought I’d be so glad to hear an attractive woman telling me to put my clothes back on,” said Lucas. with a grin.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “You never know. I just might ask you to take them off again sometime.” She grinned. “On the other hand, maybe not. I wouldn’t want to be accused of necrophilia.”
“Very funny.”
“Sorry. It’s just that I’ve never flirted with a dead man before.”
He gave her a wry look.
She chuckled. “Okay, I’ll stop, but you might as well get used to it. After all, you’re the only soldier in the history of the Temporal Corps who ever came back from the dead. Something like that is bound to cause a little comment. Anyway. that’s it for now You’re free to go. We should have all the test results in about another week or so.”
