Page 15 of A Matter of Time
Malcolm Granger satin darkness behind the large mahogany desk in his office, which was perched at the very top of a skyscraper he not only owned, but occasionally called home. The floor to ceiling windows offered sweeping views of the city and the Bay and on a night like this, it was breathtakingly beautiful. The lights twinkled and reflected in the rain as it came down, pitter-pattering on the windows with every gust of wind. The east side of the bay was bathed in a soft light and the moon peeked out from behind dark clouds. Soon enough, it too would be experiencing this deluge, but for now it was being spared. Lightning flashed across the sky in streaks, sending brilliant light into the darkness around him. Malcolm felt its power coursing through his body with every display of its majesty.
A knock at the door drew his attention, “Yes, come in.”
“Mr. Granger,” Ellie Foster, Malcolm’s administrative assistant, entered the room, apparently not the least put off by the darkness. “I’m going home, unless you need me for something else.”
“Good night,” Malcolm said. He was feeling magnanimous. “I won’t need you tomorrow, so enjoy a day off.”
“Thank you, Mr. Granger. I’ll see you on Monday then,” Ellie said.
“Leave the door open, I’m expecting someone.” He didn’t explain and Ellie knew him well enough to leave it be. “Yes, sir.”
Malcolm stretched back into his chair. He was expecting Joel Prewitt, the head of acquisitions for his collection of medieval artifacts. He hoped Joel had the news he’d been waiting for. His search for the sword had been fruitless to this point, but Joel had been searching the length and breadth of Scotland to locate it, or at the very least to find any evidence of its existence. Malcolm stood and went to his liquor cabinet. He opened it and light flooded the room as he reached for the crystal decanter filled with his favorite scotch. He poured himself a generous portion and walked to the window where the lightning display continued to light up the night like Fourth of July fireworks. His doorbell chimed and Malcolm returned to his desk, pressing the button that would unlock the door allowing Joel to enter. Moments later, he heard the distinct sound of footsteps making their way down the hall to his office door.
“Malcolm,” Joel called as he tapped lightly on the door.
“I’m here,” Malcolm answered. “Come in and hit the light switch on your way through.”
Joel obliged him and turned on the overhead lights. He carried a briefcase, which Malcolm hoped contained information about the artifact he sought. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” Joel stated, shucking off his raincoat.
“I’m not interested in the weather,” Malcolm said. “What have you got for me?”
Joel seemed nervous as he placed the briefcase on a nearby table and opened it. He pulled out a folder and walked to Malcolm’s desk. “May I?” he asked pointing to a chair.
“Of course.” Malcolm was losing patience, Joel seemed to be stalling for time and he didn’t like it. “Spit it out. I’m not paying you to waste my time.”
“Sorry,” Joel sputtered. “I didn’t find anything helpful I’m afraid. As I told you, I traveled throughout the highlands and visited many of my contacts. Not a one of them had anything for me. Usually they have at least some small thing, but this time they came up empty.”
Malcolm’s jaw flexed as he struggled to control his anger. “Damn it!” He pounded his fist on the desk, making Joel jump. “Joel, you’re going to have to do better than that!” He stood and paced towards the windows. “Did you retrieve the information I requested?”
At this question, Joel seemed to relax. “Yes, sir. I went to see the present day Mackall clan and inquired about one Sir Nicholas Mackall.” He opened the folder and placed its contents on the desk. “These are some genealogical records dating back to the early sixteenth century. According to the family members I met with, Sir Nicholas Mackall disappeared while out on a hunting expedition. There is a gap in the records at the point of his disappearance, and family records show nothing more about him. It’s unclear whether he was ever located again, or whether the records were somehow lost or destroyed.”
Another curse erupted from Malcolm’s mouth. “Was there any record of a Nicholas Mackall in recent times?”
“There is a Nicholas Mackall living in Edinburgh at this time. He is a descendant of Rory Mackall, who would have been one of Sir Nicholas Mackall’s brothers.” Joel waited while Malcolm digested this information. “They are quite an interesting family, my research shows that there were several brothers and two sisters.”
“I don’t care about that,” Malcolm interrupted, pacing back and forth across the room. “Is this Nicholas Mackall still in Edinburgh?”
“He is. They gave him a call while I was there and we spoke briefly. I can say with certainty that he is there.”
“All right. I have another name I’d like you to research for me.” Malcolm paused, waiting as Joel took out a pen and his notebook. “Sir Richard Jefford.”
Joel scrawled the name into his notebook. “Am I looking in present day records, or genealogical records?”
“Both. You’ll be looking in English records and go as far back as you went for Mackall. This is a priority, do you understand?”
“I do. I’ll get on it right away.” Joel gathered his things, leaving the folder for Sir Malcolm. “I’m sorry about the artifact, sir. I’ve got some colleagues doing research for me and I hope to have more information soon.” He backed towards the door as he spoke, seeming for all the world as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“Let’s hope you do,” was Malcolm’s curt reply.
“Good night, sir.” Joel left the room and Malcolm growled as he listened to the sound of his employee’s feet beating their way swiftly towards the door.
So, he hadn’t received the news he’d been hoping for. He had absolutely no concrete evidence that Sir Nicholas Mackall, from sixteenth century Scotland, was the same Nick Mackall he knew today. Perhaps it had merely been the ramblings of a drunkard, but Nick had been very forthcoming with the information that he was a time traveller from medieval Scotland when they’d first met. Malcolm had been skeptical at first, but the more he thought about it, the more he believed it to be a real possibility. And, if it were true, he needed Nick to help him get back to that time period, so he could retrieve his artifactbeforeit became an artifact. That part might be tricky and was exactly why he had his man following Angelina Lawson. Nick would likely not want to go back to his medieval life. After all, who in their right mind would want to leave present day San Francisco with all its wonders, for a backwards existence in medieval times? However, from Malcolm’s investigations, he’d discovered Nick had a soft spot for Angelina and if Nick wasn’t willing to help Malcolm, then Angelina was fair game to be used as a pawn in his bargaining. For now, Malcolm would wait for more information from Joel, but the thought of being able to travel back in time to retrieve a priceless treasure was intoxicating and a prospect he simply wouldn’t let go easily. He had Gabe Adamson following Angelina, so that he could track her activities. If the time came when he needed to use her as an end to his means, then he’d know exactly when it was best to strike.
“Come on, you two,” Angelina called from the doorway of the warehouse. “I’ll give you a ride home.”
Richard groaned inwardly. He didn’t think he would survive another ride in that hellish vehicle, but being close to the woman who was causing him such turmoil might just make it worth a short time with his knees wrapped around his ears.
“Don’t look so excited, Richard.” Angelina had a teasing lilt to her voice. “My car isn’t quite big enough for the two of you, so I stopped by the house earlier and collected Dylan’s truck. It’s much roomier.”
