Class of '59 (American Journey Book 4) (26 page)

Mary Beth took the plate off the shelf, studied it for a moment, and then looked at the man who had driven her to Ling's Antiques. She didn't care much for his silly grin, but she appealed to him anyway. She didn't have a choice.

"Are you sure your mother will like this?" Mary Beth asked.

"I am," Mark said. "She's collected that stuff for years."

Mary Beth glanced again at the Flow Blue Chinese porcelain plate, considered the pros and cons of getting something else, and finally decided to stick with the dish. She liked the floral patterns on the earthenware plate and ultimately decided that Donna Ryan would too.

Mary Beth brought the plate to the front counter, handed it to a clerk, and waited patiently as he placed the dish in a box. Then she gave the man a twenty, collected her change, and led Mark out the door and onto the sidewalk near the corner of Broadway and Second Street.

"I hope you're right about the plate," Mary Beth said. She put the gift in her handbag and looked at Mark. "I don't want to disappoint your mother after all she has done for us."

"You won't," Mark said. "Trust me on this. She would be happy if you gave her a box of Cuban cigars. She's that kind of person."

"I hope so."

"What do you want to do now?"

"I don't know," Mary Beth said. "Suggest something."

Mark smiled.

"How about the opera?"

Mary Beth laughed.

"We're not
dressed
for the opera."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

Mary Beth was too. She knew that no opera house in the world would admit a man in a fraternity sweatshirt or a woman in a plain cotton dress.

"Then I guess we're out of options," Mark said.

"I'm never out of options with you," Mary Beth said with a bit of sass. She smiled at her playful companion. "Do we have time to explore?"

Mark nodded.

"We have an hour. Tom said the car would be ready at three."

The couple had left the Edsel with Tom Schmidt, a Ryan family friend and an auto mechanic who specialized in brake repairs. He operated a shop several blocks away.

"Let's walk then," Mary Beth said. "You can give me a tour of the neighborhood."

Mark chuckled.

"What makes you think I know the slums?"

"Call it intuition."

"Your intuition is right."

"Then let's go," Mary Beth said.

"OK."

Mark took Mary Beth's hand and led her up Second Street and into Bunker Hill, a historic district that divided downtown Los Angeles and the west side of town. He stopped when she stopped, released his hand, and pointed to something that looked like an escalator.

"What is
that
?" Mary Beth asked.

Mark laughed.

"It's Angels Flight. It's a railway that takes people up the hill."

"It's a
railway
?"

Mark smiled.

"That's what city officials and business leaders call it. They call Angels Flight the shortest funicular railway in the world. I call it the lazy man's way to Olive Street."

"Where are the cars?" Mary Beth asked.

Mark pointed to the top of the hill.

"There's one right there. The other must be out of service."

"Have you ever ridden it?"

Mark nodded.

"Dad used to take Ben and me down here two or three times a year. He wanted us to see Bunker Hill before the bulldozers got to it. You won't recognize this place in ten years."

"What's going on?" Mary Beth asked.

"The city is moving forward."

"Please tell me it will save the houses."

Mark laughed.

"Are you kidding? The houses will be the first things to go. That's why Dad snapped up the place in West Adams. He knew that Victorian mansions in Los Angeles would soon be as rare as California condors. He was a strident opponent of this kind of progress."

"I can see why," Mary Beth said. "I don't like it either."

"It is sad. I'll give you that."

"Is anyone trying to stop it?"

Mark nodded.

"A few neighborhood groups have filed lawsuits and started petitions, but they haven't had much success. They won't either. When 'progress' goes up against sentiment, progress wins every time. It's just the way of the world – or at least the world I live in."

Mary Beth glanced at her guide.

"I live in this world too."

"I guess you do," Mark said. He smiled and reclaimed her hand. "Let's go."

"OK."

The two headed southwest, down Hill Street, and commenced a circuitous tour of one of the oldest parts of Los Angeles. For the next thirty minutes, they strolled past dilapidated mansions, warehouses, and shops and soaked up a neighborhood that was changing before their eyes. As they did, they talked about progress, conservation, and the City of Angels' glorious past. They conspicuously avoided time travel, dilemmas, and their own uncertain future.

Mark seemed particularly eager to avoid the elephant in the room. He spoke to Mary Beth as if she were a permanent part of his life and not a time tourist lingering in a state of limbo.

"We should come back on a Saturday," Mark said as they turned off First Street and started down Grand Avenue. "Most of the stores hold sales on weekends. I'll bet you could buy plates like the one you bought for half price."

"Then let's do it," Mary Beth said. She waited for him to meet her gaze. "Let's come back every weekend for the next month. We have the time."

Mark chuckled.

"I guess we do. Shall we keep walking?"

Mary Beth nodded.

"I want to see the rest of this street."

Mark acknowledged the request with a nod and then led Mary Beth into the heart of the historic district. He did not stop until they reached a busy block that was filled with honking cars, hurried pedestrians, and a wide range of commercial activity.

"Do you see anything you like?" Mark asked.

"I see a
lot
I like," Mary Beth said. She released Mark's hand and gave her surroundings a 360-degree inspection. "I just love the architecture. It's so much different than what I'm used do. It's a shame that so many of these buildings will go."

"It is."

"I have a question though."

Mark turned his head.

"What's that?"

"Why are there so many thrift stores? I've seen at least a dozen in the last twenty minutes," Mary Beth said. "There's even one across the street. It seems out of place."

"You're right. There are a lot. Why? I'm not sure," Mark said. "I do know that at least some of the stores have doubled as betting shops over the years."

Mary Beth cocked her head.

"Betting is illegal in California."

Mark laughed.

"Tell that to the people across the street. The FBI raided their shop last year. They said it was a front operation for organized crime."

Mary Beth glanced again at the store and saw three frowning men in suits and fedoras walk out the front door. Each looked like an extra from a gangster movie.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"I think it still is," Mary Beth said.

"What?"

"I think the shop is still a front."

Mark looked across the street.

"It's him!"

Mary Beth's heart raced when she saw that one of the men had a deformed ear. It nearly exploded when she saw him look her way.

"He sees us!" Mary Beth said. She saw the man reach inside his jacket and touch something strapped to his chest. "He has a gun, Mark. He has a gun!"

OK. This is real.

Mark didn't wait for another hint. He grabbed Mary Beth's hand, pulled her back from the curb, and led her away from the chaotic scene.

Mary Beth wanted to sprint but could barely even walk. She bumped into people right and left as she followed Mark down the crowded sidewalk.

"Move faster!" Mark said. "We have to get out of here."

Mary Beth clutched her handbag, picked up the pace, and followed Mark closely as they weaved between people blocking their way. She looked for a policeman but found nothing but shoppers, businessmen, and others who had no idea a lethal pursuit was under way.

Then she looked over her shoulder and saw that things had gone from bad to worse. Ear Man had crossed the street behind them and was moving their way at a rapid clip.

"He's right behind us, Mark."

Mark did not look back. Apparently convinced that the situation had, in fact, deteriorated, he tightened his hold on Mary Beth's hand and plowed through pedestrians like a running back.

As she pushed her way forward, Mary Beth thought about Piper, their parents, and all the people she knew in 2017. She feared for the first time that she would never see them again. She feared she would not see the end of the
day
.

Mark and Mary Beth said nothing as they raced toward Fourth Street, a busy intersection, and a difficult decision. They could stay on Grand Avenue, where they were more likely to run into a policeman, or take their chances on a side street and perhaps lose their pursuer.

Mark appeared to consider these choices when they reached Fourth Street and heavy traffic that impeded their progress. He picked the first option when the traffic cleared.

"Let's go," Mark said.

The two crossed Fourth Street just as Ear Man reached the intersection and encountered a new stream of cars that blocked his way. For a few seconds, it appeared as though the time travelers had gained an edge and perhaps a measure of hope. Then everything changed again.

Mary Beth peered across Grand Avenue and saw a new threat. Ear Man's two acquaintances had joined the hunt. The hunters eyed their prey as they stepped forward.

"I see the others," Mary Beth said. "We're not going to make it!"

Mark scanned the vicinity like a fugitive on the business end of a manhunt. When he saw something of interest to the northwest, he looked at Mary Beth with determined eyes.

"Yes, we are. We just have to hurry."

The couple turned their backs on the bad men and sprinted from Fourth and Grand toward Fourth and Hope. As they approached the second intersection, Mary Beth saw what Mark had seen. She saw a cab driver, sitting in a yellow Checker taxi, waiting for a light to change.

Mark reached the vehicle a few seconds later, opened the right rear door, and pushed Mary Beth inside. Then he joined her in back, slammed the door shut, and barked at the driver.

"Go!"

The cabbie looked over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, folks. I'm done for the day."

Mary Beth peered out a window and saw her pursuers. The hired hands approached from thirty yards out. Ear Man waited on the other side of the light. Each reached inside his jacket.

"I have a hundred dollars that says you're not," Mary Beth said. "Now gun it!"

CHAPTER 43: MARK

South Pasadena, California – Wednesday, April 29, 1959

Sitting at a table in the lounge of the Chaparral Motel, Mark Ryan scanned three faces and saw sadness, shock, and despair. He had seen all three emotions in the past four weeks but never together and never like this. The situation that faced the two couples was, in a word, hopeless.

"I can't accept this," Ben said.

"You don't have a choice," Mark said. "None of us do."

Mark wanted to sugarcoat things. He wanted to tell his brother and two women he adored that there was a way out, but couldn't do it. After barely escaping with his life in Bunker Hill Tuesday afternoon, he realized that time had run out for all of them. If they did not end this experiment and end it now, someone would get hurt or even killed.

"Do you think the men know where we live?" Piper asked.

Mark shook his head.

"That was our one lucky break. They were never able to tie us to a car. I went back for the Edsel this morning. Tom Schmidt, the guy who replaced my brakes, kept the car in his shop overnight at my request. He didn't ask any questions. He just did it."

"That's something," Piper said.

"It is. It buys us some time, but it doesn't change the big picture. Some very bad people want to get their hands on the sports book. They will kill to get it. I'm sure of that."

"Can't we just send it to them?" Ben asked. "Can't we send it to them anonymously and ask them to leave us alone?"

Mark looked across the table at Ben.

"Who would we send it to? If we mailed the book to the wrong person, we might create even more problems. The guy with the bad ear might kill us out of spite."

"Then what should we do?" Ben asked.

"I've already told you," Mark said. "We need to hold the book as a possible bargaining chip and send Mary Beth and Piper home. It's the only thing we
can
do now."

"Can't we explore this more?" Piper asked.

Mark turned to his questioner.

"What's to explore?"

Piper looked to her left, at Ben, and gazed at him for several seconds. Then she took a breath, gave her sister a sad smile, and returned to the man calling the shots.

"There is one thing."

"What?" Mark asked.

"You could come with us," Piper said. "You and Ben could go back to 2017 and stay this time. You could bring your mom and build a new life. We would help you."

Mark looked at Piper like the little sister he never had and always wanted. He could not believe so much wisdom could be packed into such a small frame.

"I've considered that option. I've considered it over and over for the past five weeks, but I keep coming back to the same place."

"What's that?" Piper asked.

"My mother would never go for it," Mark said. "She has a brother in Fresno and a sister in San Diego. She has friends here and a life. So do Ben and I. If we did what you propose, if we followed you to the future and stayed, we would risk a lot. What if things didn't work out between Mary Beth and me or you and Ben? You two could go on with your lives as if nothing important had happened. Ben and I could not do the same. Neither could Mom. We would be stuck in a world we barely understand. We would have to survive without identification and credentials and a
past
. We might end up worse off than we are now."