His Clockwork Canary

whilst she’d drifted to sleep in his arms. At this point he was sailing on a wing and a prayer that she would come clean of her own accord. “Go on, then. Astonish me.”

Willie blew out a breath. “Let me preface this by saying most of what I learned resulted from a live interaction prompted by minimal time-tracing.”

Simon glanced over his shoulder. “In other words, your interviewing skills are as honed and beneficial as your supernatural gift. Noted and acknowledged.”

She smiled a little and his heart skipped. Christ.

“Bear with me,” she said, “whilst I try to report my findings in a succinct manner. There was much to absorb, and dare I say, I believe you will be as shocked as I was by this revelation.”

Simon couldn’t think of anything more shocking than learning his brother was some sort of bionic man, but he held his tongue and set out plates and flatware.

“I’ll start with the most surprising discovery,” Willie said. “Thimblethumper is in fact Ollie Rollins.”

Simon nearly fumbled a fork. “The missing Houdinian?”

“Indeed. If you recall, I had mentioned that I had seen Ollie Rollins in Filmore’s memories and that he looked familiar. That is because I’d met his much older self in person only a couple of weeks prior. He’s been living under the alias of Thimblethumper for the last several years.”

Simon frowned. “Why didn’t Jules tell me this straight out?”

“He did not know. Thimblethumper shared a plethora of information with the Mechanics, including names and descriptions of prominent Peace Rebels—such as Professor Maximus Merriweather—in exchange for being set up with a false Vic identity and business. He also spilled the beans regarding the existence of the Houdinians, but he never admitted to being a Houdinian. Like Filmore, he’d been utilizing aliases for years. Hence, he dangled a carrot in front of the Mechanics whilst leading them on a bit of a merry chase.”

So, Simon thought, she finally knew for certain the agency Jules worked for. If she was vexed with Simon for withholding that detail, she did not show it. Indeed, Willie seemed fully focused on her unfolding tale. He raided the icebox—chicken, cheese. “If Thimblethumper, that is, Rollins, set the Mechanics on the trails of his own people, then he must be the traitor your mother referred to in your father’s memory.”

“A logical assumption,” Willie said as she worried the edges of a linen napkin. “Except Rollins didn’t seek the protection of the Mechanics until after my mother’s death. It was then that he felt most vulnerable. Then that he saw the world as he knew it crumbling around him. Her death is what drove him into informing on other Mods—although he swore he never put another PR in harm’s way. He cooperated with the Mechanics because he was desperate to live out his remaining days in peace. The same reason he resigned his post with the Houdinians in the first place.”

“He resigned?” Simon asked. “Whilst your mother was still alive?”

“Aye.”

“Perhaps that was enough for her to label him a traitor. After all those years, to suddenly break their sworn pact. To leave the protection of the engine to her and Filmore alone. Surely she felt pressured and betrayed.”

“Probably.” Brow furrowed, Willie reached for a slice of fresh bed and slathered it with butter.

Simon didn’t comment when her right hand fumbled a bit, but damn, he worried that her injury still caused her difficulty.

“So much information and still so many holes,” she said. “My mind is awash with summations and theories. And Rollins was only helpful in certain aspects. He seems to be teetering on the edge of a breakdown.”

“All the more reason not to be alone with the man again,” Simon said earnestly. “If he snaps—”

“Warning noted,” Willie said, his eyes narrowed.

“Easy.”

“Sorry.” She shook off her irritation whilst Simon poured them each a glass of red wine.

“Perhaps we can fill in some of the gaps together.” He took his seat and together they sampled bits of Fletcher’s delicious fare. “We have our three Houdinians. Your mother, a security specialist. Filmore, a peace activist—”

“A radical peace activist,” Willie said, whilst picking at her cold chicken. “A professor who specialized in political science, most specifically sociology. Quite brilliant, according to Rollins. Definitely paranoid and, at this point, dangerously unstable. Driven to compulsive, obsessive behavior due to the extraordinary failure of the Peace Rebels and his solitary focus upon protecting the clockwork propulsion engine. Believing he is a vital force in nurturing mankind, he has now taken the role of protector to the extreme—the sole guardian with the aid of an occasional mercenary.”

“Sounds like a bloody lunatic. Although that’s often the case with fanatics.” Simon staved off thoughts of pulverizing the man who’d been responsible for Willie’s near-fatal injuries. Instead he focused on everything Willie had learned. Impressive that she’d convinced Thimblethumper/Rollins, the tight-lipped curmudgeon, to be so damned forthcoming. “How does Ollie Rollins fit into this?”

“He was one of the several Americans who’d united with the Brit faction of the Peace Rebels. A mechanical engineer and a fierce and loyal supporter of Professor Jefferson Filmore and his high-profile lectures regarding the end of the world. Filmore was a most passionate and persuasive man. Again, according to Rollins.

“On the day the Peace Rebels voted to destroy the Briscoe Bus,” she went on, “Filmore convinced my mother and Rollins that it was in the best interest of mankind to preserve the engine that had catapulted them through time. As you had pondered, Filmore foresaw the need for a backup plan. An escape pod, should things not work according to plan. A way to travel even further back in time—in the name of global peace. Filmore, who had indeed had an intimate liaison with my mother,” Willie said, cheeks flushing, “and who continued to command her devotion and allegiance even after they were no longer intimate, knew he could trust Mickey to devise a security plan to keep the engine safe. At the time Rollins had also been under Filmore’s charismatic and idealistic spell and had fallen hook, line, and sinker for the professor’s backup plan. When and if the time came that the trio felt compelled to activate their emergency exit, Rollins would build the vehicle and install the engine.”

“Yes, well, things did go wrong,” Simon said. “Abominably wrong. Instead of changing the world for the better, the Peace Rebels instigated a global political divide as well as a transcontinental war.” He sipped his wine, marveling as always at the mayhem. “Why didn’t the Houdinians jump dimensions in an effort to right that wrong? That was the motivation behind their pact, yes?”

“Aye.” Willie nibbled on bread and cheese, then lingered over a long drink of wine.

Simon could tell she was fighting to mask her emotions, to remain objective. Her journalistic training at play, no doubt. Or perhaps her pride. However, he sensed a hint of melancholy, as if all this knowledge weighed heavily upon her heart. “Perhaps we should leave the rest of this story until morning.”

“No. Let us press on. I’m fine. Truly. Just sorting through my memories. Thimblethumper— Rollins—rambled most vigorously as though confessing a lifetime of sins to a priest.”

Simon topped off her wine, noting that in the midst of the upset and intrigue, he had never felt more settled. Yes, he was worried about Jules. He worried about the financial fate of his mother and sister. He worried about Willie and her father, and his own future as a professional engineer. On a grander scale, he harbored anxiety regarding the intolerance of Freaks as well the fate of the world should the clockwork propulsion engine fall into unscrupulous hands. So much unrest, and yet this moment, in this small, warm kitchen partaking in a cold meal with his intelligent, beautiful wife, Simon felt very much at peace.

“Rollins said the Houdinians were essentially paralyzed by the Peace War,” Willie went on as if garnering a second wind. “They wanted to stay and help their fellow Mods. Those who had not been corrupted and remained true to the cause. Those who still thought they could make a positive difference. Those who refused to abandon this time even if they had the chance.

“But then when the dust settled,” she plowed on, “and it became apparent that the Peace Rebels had perpetuated everything they stood against—civil intolerance, political corruption—and had perhaps set the future on an even more abysmal course . . . when Mods and their Freak offspring became the focus of derision instead of curiosity, those that had survived the war went into hiding. Some continued on a corrupt course, selling advance knowledge and expertise. Some merely tried to integrate into society, living under false identities. Others, like Professor Merriweather, went on the run and continue to run. Filmore deemed it time to utilize the Houdinian backup plan. To escape and start over in another time, but Rollins declared himself too old and too weary and my mother . . .” Willie licked her lips. “Rollins said she refused to abandon her children, nor would she risk hopping