Shadows Out of Time

“Buried treasure?”

“Something like that. Do we have a deal?”

“I should get a cut.”

“No. You really shouldn’t.”

Capone shrugged, held out a hand. Suydam smiled thinly.

Crowley was not about to put away his handgun, although the middle-aged man standing before him was obviously terrified.

“Bear with me as I go over what you’ve just told me, for the sake of clarity. Your name is Wolfgang Bauer. You are not a bomb-building saboteur working for the Kaiser, but a Professor of Archeology at the Boston Museum. The last thing you remember is being on a steam train bound for that city.”

“Ja, I mean, yes, yes, yes! I boarded at the South Ferry station, pier 7, City of Brooklyn. I was transporting a very valuable artifact to the museum.” Bauer indicated the object tucked under Crowley’s arm. “That one. In that stone box. It must be awkward for you, juggling it with that gun? I’ll happily take it off your hands.”

“The weight is a bit clumsy, but I’ll manage. I want to believe your story, Mr. Bauer, but there are some problems.”

“Such as?”

“The museum that you claim to work for went out of business over a decade ago. Brooklyn has been part of New York City for almost twenty years. And the only South Ferry station I’m aware of is a loop subway stop at the southern tip of Manhattan.”

“Was ist…what is a subway?”

Crowley ignored the question. “Either you are a madman…”—Crowley paused for dramatic effect, because he was Aleister Crowley—“…or you’ve come through some kind of time portal. In the latter case, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Mr. Crowley!” came a shout from down the tunnel. “Aleister Crowley! It’s really you! I thought as much.”

Crowley turned his head, keeping the gun pointed at Bauer but swinging the beam of his electric torch toward the teenager who was rushing at him. “For an abandoned rail line, there’s an awful lot of traffic down here,” he muttered.

“I recognized you from the papers!” the lad continued, stopping a yard away. “I’m a big follower! I just had to find out why you’re in my neighborhood. I have so many questions!”

The newcomer was a handsome young man, fairly well-muscled, with smooth, almost pretty features. Crowley recognized him as the boy from the stoop. He found him attractive then, and was even more drawn to him under these unlikely circumstances. “Indeed. This is a discussion we should have in a more intimate, ah, private environment.”

Crowley’s tone made Capone balk. “I ain’t no gunsel.”

“Of course not,” the magician replied. Not yet.

“You look like the young man who tried to steal my package at the pier!” Bauer accused. “Who are you?”

“A fair question,” Crowley agreed. “Furthermore, young man, how did you get past the government men?”

“That was my doing, I’m afraid.” Robert Suydam stepped out of the shadows behind Capone. “I had cast a distraction spell to get down here myself, unseen.”

Crowley sighed. “At this rate, half the population of Brooklyn will wander through this tunnel by sunset.”

“You said I was to talk to him!” Capone snapped. All three of these characters were obviously out of their minds. Papa Johnny definitely had nothing to worry about.

“That was before I saw what he’s holding. Mr. Crowley? My name is Robert Suydam. I believe, no, I know, that box you’ve got there belongs to me.” He extended his free hand.

“Nein!” Bauer inched toward Crowley. “It is my property,” he blustered. “Well, the Boston Museum’s.” He glanced at Crowley. “But since that institution no longer exists, yes, it belongs to me. I found it. In Egypt.”

Crowley waved his revolver. “I trust everyone here has noticed that I’m holding a gun?”

Suydam smirked. “Have you any idea, Mr. Crowley, how old the roof above us is, a roof that has not been maintained since the tunnel was sealed fifty-five years ago? A single shot from that revolver could well cause an avalanche.”

“You must take us for real goops,” Capone chimed in. “If all that jack-hammering didn’t cause those bricks to collapse, why would a pistol shot?”

“I don’t think avalanche is even the right word,” added Bauer. “You’re thinking of a cave-in.”

“Clever child,” Suydam mumbled, through clenched teeth. “Hand over the object, Crowley. You would not be the first to meet their doom, toying with things they do not understand.”

“Very dramatic speech,” Crowley observed. “The answer is no. Finders, keepers.”

Suydam slammed his cane against the floor. “You’re an ignorant clown, Crowley, constantly blathering about your insipid rites and sickening, perverted ceremonies.”

“On the contrary. Unlike you, apparently, I do not fear sharing my knowledge with the world. I also seriously adhere to my golden rule: do no harm. I agree, however, that this particular object is far too dangerous for anyone to possess.”

“Save myself.”

“Including you. Especially you.”

As the men argued, Capone edged to position himself equidistant from all three. Torrio had asked him to gather information. The only weapons he’d brought were his switchblade and a knuckleduster.