Jerry Ahern - Written in Time

A PICTURE WORTH A HUNDRED YEARS

Ellen opened the envelope. There was a copy of a photograph, just a Xerox, but remarkably clear. It was a photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Jack Naile and their two (unnamed) children.

This has to be an elaborate practical joke, Jack.

Lemme see, princess.

She handed it to him. Despite the age of the photograph and the fact that it was a Xerox, the resemblance between the Naile family of nine decades ago and the Naile family of today was enough to make her want to throw up.

Shed been looking out the Suburbans open window but now focused on the other items in the envelope. There was a summary of its contents, typed on an old-seeming machine, Arthur Beachs name scrawled at the bottom.

The Naile family arrived in town in 1896. They were apparently on their way to California for some new business when their wagon suffered an accident and was destroyed. Reduced to only a few personal belongings, the Nailes seemingly had considerable financial resources. There is no material yet available to me mentioning the fate of their descendants, nor concerning how or when Mr. and Mrs. Naile eventually died. The county medical examiners office burned to the ground in the 1940s, all death certificates archived there destroyed. Ill keep looking.

Holy

Tell him to stop looking, Jack!

Startling resemblance, that photograph. Ill say that.

Jack, its you and me and David and Elizabeth, and the picture was taken almost a hundred years ago!

WRITTEN IN TIME This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons and/or business/corporate entities is purely coincidental and unintentional. Copyright 2010 by Jerry Ahern and Sharon Ahern A Baen Books Original Baen Publishing Enterprises

P.O. Box 1403 Riverdale, NY 10471 www.baen.com

ISBN 13: 978-1-4391-3399-6 First printing, November 2010 Distributed by Simon & Schuster

1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For our children and our childrens children and our nephew; in family, there is strength.

PROLOGUE

John Naile turned the Cadillac off the county highway and onto the black pavement of a pine-flanked single lane road. Not yet that familiar with his latest vehicular acquisition, he took his eyes off the road and glanced at the wood-accented dashboard in order to find the cigar lighter. He found the lighter and pushed it in. There was a half-filled package of Luckies in the cigarette pocket of his single-breasted gray suit. He started to reach for a cigarette.

You should try being pregnant sometime, John.

I dont think Im going to be able to do that, sweetheart, Naile replied, looking over at his wife in the front seat beside him. Audrey was nearing the end of what she called her first trimester, but hardly looked pregnant at all. The A-line skirt of her maroon suit barely showed a bulge, even when she was sitting.

No, what I mean is these seats. I dont know what it was about the 63. I mean, John, I really didnt notice it until I got pregnant. But there was no back support!

I think its more your back than it was the seats, babe. The New Yorker was a comfortable car. Hed gone through two Chryslers, one Lincoln, a Mercedes and a Ford Country Squire in search of the perfect car for his wife, all because his father wouldnt buy anything but a Cadillac. When the 64 model year was announced, John Naile surrendered to fate and ordered one.

But John Naile had no intention, however, of abandoning his longtime personal car, the red Thunderbird. He was vice-president of Horizon Industries, the family business. He was married to the girl of his dreams and the arrival of their first child was only six months away. Behind the wheel of the T-Bird, its top off, the sound of its exhaust when he changed gears as throaty as Peggy Lees singingsometimes that sporty little roadster was the only way of reminding himself that he wasnt yet thirty.

Adulthood had gotten him used to driving vehicles the size of a sport boat on wheels, but he didnt have to like them.

You want me to try the radio, John, and see how it picks up out here?

Sure, honey.

Audrey apparently found WLS at 89 on the AM band from Chicago, or at least it sounded like she had; it was an Elvis Presley song playing. Do you think Elvis will last, John? Like Sinatra?

I dont know, Audrey. Hes got a good set of pipes, though.

Okay. What was the first movie you ever took me to, John Naile?

We saw Elvis in King Creole five years ago, one of the theaters in the Loop, and afterward we went to that deli next to the Chicago Theater and we both had hot pastrami. Hows that for being romantic and remembering stuff? Huh?

And you ate most of my pickle. Audrey laughed softly, sliding over a little closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. John Naile still had the lovers knob mounted on the wheel of the Thunderbird, but didnt need one to drive the Cadillac one-handed. Maybe cars like this did have their merits. He folded his right arm around his wife. Despite her Jackie Kennedy-esque pillbox hat, he could still kiss his wifes hair. He touched his lips to her forehead. The scent of her hair, her perfume and the new-car smell of the Cadillacs leather seats all mingled very pleasantly. Hed forgotten to light his cigarette and didnt want to at the moment; the smoke would dispel the ambience.

Glad you married me? Naile asked.

Well, Ive had to put up with a lot, John, you being rich and all, with Horizon Industries being one of the leading defense contractors and everything, and that White House dinner when we met President Eisenhower and Dick Nixon. Stuff like that. And then theres your mom and dadtheyre so nice to me its almost spooky! The first time I met them, it was as if they expected you to bring me home and they knew we were going to get married.

Get Mom to show you her crystal ball sometime, Naile laughed. I never told you about her Gypsy blood, did I? And was that a yes? About being happy you married me?

Audrey turned her face up toward him and kissed his cheek. She whispered, Yes, silly. Her right hand drifted under his jacket, one smooth finger finding an opening between two shirt buttons.

Quit that! He wedged his knee against the steering wheel for a split second and feigned a slap at her hand.

Whyd they make such a big deal about us coming up on a weekday? Audrey did that sort of thing, picking up a conversation almost randomly. This one dated from when theyd first gotten into the car almost two hours earlier. I mean, its always good to see them; I really love your folks. But you said you had a lot of stuff to do at the office with that new rocket-shooter thing and

Beats me, babe, he told Audrey honestly. All Dad said was that nothing could interfere with us being here this afternoonnot even prototyping the launcher.

Although John Naile handled the day-to-day running of Horizon Industries with a relatively free hand, his father was still president, chairman of the board and chief executive officer. Why Horizon was developing an inexpensively produced, disposable rocket launcher without any indication that the Pentagon was looking for one was something John Naile had never fully understood. With the apparent rush on the research and development so they could move into prototyping, wiping out a full day to come up to the estate was even more enigmatic. I really dont know, he added lamely, but Dadll tell us.

The weather WLS was reporting for Chicago didnt match at all what John Naile saw through the Cadillacs windshield. Usually, central Wisconsin would have worse weather this time of year, but on this day at this moment, it was a classically beautiful November landscape through which they drove. Theyd been on the grounds of the estate since twenty feet or so after leaving the county highway. And suddenly, he was reminded of the musical Camelot, the song that Richard Burton sang about the sheer perfection of that mythical kingdoms climate. This was such a place this day, and John Naile wouldnt have been too much surprised to learn that James Naile had decreed it thus.