Doyle. The significance of these two meeting and discussing the murders could not be overlooked. Neilson felt that Steiger had to know at once. Only Steiger was not at the command post. No one was.
Neilson stood inside the empty suite in the Metropole Hotel, puzzled, uncertain what to do. The team had not checked out of the hotel, but the suite was abandoned. He could make no sense of it. Something must have happened, but what'? The arms locker had been opened and it was empty. There were no signs of violence, nothing had been disturbed, there simply wasn't anybody there. Neilson started to feel apprehensive. Something told him he should get out of there, fast. Just as he turned to leave, there came a knock at the door.
Neilson quickly reached inside his jacket and removed the Colt Model 1873 from its specially made leather shoulder rig. It was similar to the gun carried by the other members of the mission support team, a single action. 45 with a 7 1/2 inch barrel. a primitive weapon by the standards of the 27th century, but Neilson was deadly with it. Trick shooting with antique firearms was his hobby, something he had l
earned from his father during his childhood in Arizona. and he felt far more comfortable with the heavy Colt than he would have with a laser His "fast draw" had been clocked at over a hundred miles per hour and, in one smooth motion, he could cock and tire a single-action revolver like the Colt faster than most people could fire a more modern double-action handgun. For safety's sake, the revolver's cylinder held only five rounds, so that the hammer could rest over an empty chamber. Otherwise, a dropped gun could easily go off. Having only five shots did not worry Neilson. If he could not get the job done with live rounds, he had no business carrying a gun.
He stood just to one side of the closed door, just in case anyone fired at him through it. The knock was repeated. "Who is it?" Neilson said cautiously.
"H. G. Wells."
Wells! It could be a trap.
"Just a moment," Neilson said, and at the same time, he yanked open the door, grabbed Wells with his free hand and pulled him hard into the room, ready to fire at anyone who stood behind him. But there was no one there and Neilson immediately shifted his aim to Wells, who had fallen sprawling on the carpet.
"Don't shoot.'" said Wells. Remaining motionless upon the floor, he raised his hands up in the air, his posture comical and awkward.
Neilson checked the hallway quickly, then closed and locked the door. He glanced at Wells and put away his gun.
"Really, you Americans!" said Wells, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. "I see you've brought some of your Wild West with you to London. Loaded for bear, I see. Or perhaps for werewolf? I have come seeking your three compatriots or whichever of you is in charge."
"Mr. Wells, my name is Scott Neilson. You obviously know a great deal already, but 1 have a feeling that we may be in danger here. Everyone else seems to be missing and it's not like Colonel Steiger to leave the command post unmanned. It is imperative that we go somewhere where we can speak safely."
"Have you a place in mind?" said Wells.
"For the moment," Neilson said, "the best solution seems to be to keep in motion, at least until I can figure out what's happening."
They left the hotel and hailed a coach. Neilson held the door for Wells as he got in, looked around quickly, then got in after Wells and told the coachman to drive them to Trafalgar Square.
The coach headed down Northumberland Avenue towards the intersection of Strand and Charing Cross Road, the central point of London, at the southeast corner of Trafalgar Square, where the monument to Lord Nelson stood. The coachman drove slowly, sitting atop his scat and smoking a bent Dublin pipe. Inside the coach, Neilson leaned back against the scat and drew a deep breath.
"I hardly expected to see you, of all people," he said to Wells. "How did you escape from Moreau?"
"Escape?" said Wells. "There was no need of escaping. I was never a prisoner of Phillipe Moreau. He is my friend."
"I wonder how much you know about your new friend," said Neilson wryly.
"I know that he is from another time," said Wells. "More specifically, from another time line, as I believe you people put it, a universe which exists alongside this one. I know that he had developed the techniques to create the creatures that you seek as part of a wartime laboratory effort known as Project Infiltrator and I know that he abandoned that project to work with Nikolai Drakov, whom you people from the future are pursuing. I have met three of you before, you are the fourth, but I do not know for certain how many of you there are. In any event, I have come to offer you my help and that of Phillipc Moreau."
"Jesus “ Neilson said, "he told you everything!"
"And I am satisfied that he was telling me the truth," said Wells. He had decided not to mention his trip into the future. "Your reaction merely confirms it."
"Only you don't realize that Moreau is the one behind all this."
"Apparently. Mr. Neilson," said Wells, "it is you and your compatriots who do not realize that Phillipe Moreau had nothing to do with these killings. He blames himself for having taught Nikolai Drakov the art of creating these creatures, but they were solely Drakov's work and not Moreau's. Moreau had tried to stop him when he realized what Drakov had done, how he had used him, and they fought. Drakov left him for dead, but Moreau survived and has been on his trail ever since. We met utterly by accident, when he came to the offices of the Pall Mall Gazette, in search of more detailed information about one of the murders. He had tracked Drakov to London and he was convinced that a hominoid had been responsible for the murder! He had no idea that he would find me there and, in fact, he did not know who I was at first. When I became suspicious, he tried to leave, but I would not let him. Then he found out who I was and decided to take me into his confidence. When I mentioned to him that I had heard the name of Nikolai Drakov before, and the circumstances in which I had heard it, he immediately realized who my three visitors had been and he told me that they were law enforcement agents from the future and that there might be more of you than just the three I met. He also told me that he was enormously relieved to hear that you were on the scene, because it meant that the chances of stopping Nikolai Drakov and his creatures were increased."
"And you believed all this?"
"Implicitly," said Wells. "Moreau warned me that you would be incredulous and I see it as my responsibility to convince you that what he told me was the truth."
Neilson exhaled heavily. "If all that's true, then why didn't Moreau come to us himself?"
"Would you have listened to him?" Wells said.
Neilson recalled Steiger's order to shoot Moreau on sight and shook his head. "No, probably not. We would have killed him. And chances are it would probably have been the right thing to do."
"Chances?" Wells said. "You would take a man's life merely on the chance that it was the right thing to do? I see Moreau was right in not coining to you himself. What sort of people are you?”