Timing, page 35
Well, he'd almost had his way.
He ran to catch up to her and grabbed her by the elbow.
She wrenched it free from him.
"Leave me alone, Alexander," she shrieked. "And go to hell."
He caught both of her wrists this time and forced her to stop and look at him.
"No, Hannah," he said just as forcefully. "I'm not going to leave you alone."
"Who are you? Tell me. I deserve to know."
"My operative name is Sicarius."
"Sicarius?"
"It's Latin."
"What does it mean?"
He looked directly into her eyes. "Assassin."
"You're an assassin?" She took a few steps away from him.
"I was—that's who I used to be, Hannah. And I was good, one of the best in the world."
"But you still are—you tried to eliminate me, Alexander. You tried to murder me. And nearly succeeded. Why don't you just kill me now and get it over with," she shouted. "I just don't understand." Her head was in her hands. No longer could she hold back the tears. "Why are you telling me all of this?"
"I'm telling you that I've changed. I don't want that life anymore. It's not worth it to me. Ever since the first day I saw you, I've loved you."
She broke down sobbing, completely overwhelmed with trying to process everything he was telling her.
He approached her slowly and put a hand on her back. And then he held her.
Hannah cried in his arms for a few minutes. When her crying subsided, she looked up at Alexander.
"How did you know you loved me? You irritated the heck out of me that day in the parking lot. I thought you were a jerk… and a weirdo."
He wiped away the moisture from her face. "By then, I'd already fallen for you," he said softly. "By then, I'd already noticed you, Hannah. I was there—at the lake—right before your father went missing."
She looked up at him in complete disbelief.
He went on. "I was watching you with your friends. And then again at your father's funeral. Ever since that day at the funeral, Hannah, there was something about you. Something which drew me to you. Watching you stand behind your father's coffin, it was as though I was seeing my soul mate for the first time. You can't even begin to imagine the angst that it caused, the mixed feelings I had deep inside of me, knowing the obligation I was sent here to fulfill. My orders were to get to know you, get close to you, and, yes, eventually eliminate you.
"But meeting you… getting to know you changed all of that. You changed me, caused me to see things differently. And gradually everything became more difficult in relation to my assignment. Things were no longer simply black and white, good or evil. I really began to understand that we are all a mixture of good and bad… love and hate… sorrow and joy."
"But why did you still try and kill me?"
"Obligation. Loyalty. And now, they will hunt me down like no other because I have betrayed them."
"Who will hunt you down?"
"The Sperari."
"Are they the ones I should be careful of?"
He shrugged and wiped his hands on his cape. "Yes… well, no, not exactly. It's not that simple. To tell you the truth, I'm not really certain anymore."
"Are you really from Russia then? A Russian?"
He nodded. "I'm former KGB—that's Russian Secret Service—born in 1920. I lived in Kiev, in the Ukraine, and when the Germans came through my homeland during the Second World War, destroying everything in their path, they murdered most of my family. I saw what pure evil can do, Hannah. I saw the trains full of people heading west. Most of them never returned. I vowed to avenge Germany and Hitler in any way I could. So, I went undercover." He shrugged. "The Russian officials used me for a variety of missions. I was quite effective because of my Timing abilities, which I managed to keep hidden. But when I finally came to realize Communism was little better than Fascism—that I was simply trading one evil for another—I broke out on my own. I Timed forward to present-day. Came to the United States. And eventually, through mutual connections, that's when I met Hans and Sophie Scholl. They run the Sperari, based out of Switzerland."
"Who are they?" Hannah asked.
"Former Germans who hated Adolf Hitler as much as I did. Plus they are Timers, like you and I."
"Mmm. Still though, I don't understand what all of this has to do with me."
He put a hand up in front of him. "Hold on, I'm getting there. With their help, I discovered a secret so inconceivable and so mind-blowing it would shock the world if anyone ever exposed it. Even today, nothing would be the same if this secret were revealed."
"What is the big secret?"
"Hannah, you are the secret."
"Me?" She seemed unimpressed.
"Yes, you."
"Alexander, now you've really lost me."
"You don't understand because I haven't revealed the most important piece of the puzzle."
He took both of her hands and, for a split second, she thought he was going do something really outrageous—like propose to her.
Instinctively, she stepped back, half-afraid of what he might say. Then, she peered up at him from behind the crease of contorted brows. "Well, what is it?"
"Hannah, your birth—your entire existence—has been kept a secret for almost a hundred years."
Her face became a myriad of mixed sentiments.
This time, he'd gotten her attention.
And then all of a sudden, she could tell that whatever it was she was about to hear would irrevocably alter the course of her entire life.
Everything in her said resist.
Stop it from happening.
Stop him from telling you.
You'll wish you'd never known.
She pleaded with him. "Alexander, please don't. Please don't do this to me—I… I don't think I can take it. Everything is already such a mess. My mom is in outer space, and she's going to marry again and sell the ranch. My dad is gone, and who knows if and when I'll ever see him again… Boone is dead, and I know you hated him, but it was awful for me to have him die. Please, if all you're going to do is hurt me… please, I beg you, Alexander… please, just walk away."
"No, that's just not possible. I'm involved now, Hannah. You must know everything. For your own good. Even though it pains me terribly to tell you, I have no choice. Please try and understand."
"But I don't want to know."
"You have to know. You must know."
Alexander placed his hands on top of her shoulders. His mouth was parched, and his heart beat wildly.
And as each second brought him closer to telling her the truth, the hangman's noose tightened mercilessly around his neck. His eyes widened. The planks beneath him rattled and began to loosen. Only seconds remained before their complete withdrawal from underneath his feet and then… crack… his neck would break, and his body would squirm like a mouse in a trap, dangling and wrangling until every last trace of life was depleted.
Alexander shook his head and forced the image from his mind. Still, he knew what was coming.
He knew his fate.
Just as soon as I tell her, he thought, I will be dead to her.
In spite of everything, he forged ahead.
He'd abandoned his mission to kill her. Soon though, they would send someone to replace him.
She had to be told.
The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them.
"Hannah, you're the daughter of Adolf Hitler."
The words hit her like a thousand knives all over her body. Color drained from her face. She sank to her knees. From somewhere, she found her voice.
"You—you can't be serious… you have to be wrong… misguided. There's no way. That's not even possible."
Alexander lifted her up from the ground. "It's the truth, Hannah. I swear it."
She began to step backwards, away from him, turning to look over her shoulder every so often so as not to back into a tree.
"Leave me… alone," she mouthed to him.
Alexander stood motionless for a time and then slowly began to follow her. "Please, Hannah, I just—"
She made it to the edge of the aspen grove and from there she screamed, "Stop! Don't come any closer. I mean it." She was too numb for tears. "It was you I loved most, Alexander. You I wanted. Ever since the day we went rock climbing. You—do you hear me? And now you've ruined all of that. You've wrecked my life. Left me with nothing. I hope you're satisfied."
"Hannah, you don't understand," he said. "I did this because I love you… can't you see that?"
She stopped behind a tree.
She had no chance of escaping if she ran, she knew that. She was fully prepared to Time away… but where would she go? Who would she Time to? Now she couldn't possibly go to her father. Especially if he wasn't really her father…
She didn't belong anywhere.
And now… she didn't belong to anyone.
Her hand hovered near her locket. Her leg was throbbing. She needed to do something and do it fast.
She couldn't stay here with him any longer. She couldn't stand the pain, the hurt, the turmoil he'd wreaked upon her.
Then, it suddenly hit her: Olga. The red-haired lady.
She would go to her. And find out what she knew.
It was the only place left for her to go.
She'd said to summon her.
All along, Olga must have known about her past… her secrets.
Hannah stepped out from behind the tree and faced Alexander.
They were ten, possibly twelve feet apart, but Hannah's heart was now in another galaxy.
"If you truly love me Alexander, you'll stop. Right there. And promise to never follow me again. Promise to never try and find me. I can never again trust you to be in my life." She screeched at the top of her lungs, "Promise me!"
But he couldn't. He was speechless. Deadened. His body felt like a shell occupied by some foreign being.
It was even worse than he'd feared. She'd been through so much already. And now this… this had sent her into the abyss.
Possibly even to hell and beyond.
Maybe he should have just followed his orders and eliminated her… but that would only have killed him in a different way.
He loved her… more than he'd ever loved anyone.
And just as Alexander went to tell her this, Hannah ducked behind a tree and clutched tightly onto her locket, swirling away from him for one final time.
CHAPTER 49—AWAY
"I've been expecting you."
Olga von Bach sat in a chair fit for royalty. It was situated at one end of a grand, rectangular ballroom, its velvet cushions offset by intricate woodwork which culminated, along the highest arch of its back, into the head of a lion.
Hannah stood before her, absorbing her new surroundings with the air of a tourist.
Every wall in the room was traced with elaborate panels and moldings. Script-like medallions circled the base of the light fixtures. Several mirrors and paintings gave the space a lively pulse which played the elements of natural and grandiose off one another in complementing fashion.
Eventually, her gaze returned to Olga.
The woman sat with her back poised gracefully, the vision all at once reminding Hannah of a cat. But this wasn't just any scraggly mouser or mangy alley cat. This cat was regal, majestic, self-absorbed—exactly the type of cat that perched arrogantly on a windowsill, tail dangling below him in the perfect shape of a comma, fully satisfied with the knowledge of his mastery over owners and kingdom.
Hannah moved across the room in the direction of her hostess, her every footstep leaving echoes behind her.
When she was finally close enough, she stopped and met Olga's stare with a look of wonder.
"It's you," Hannah whispered.
Olga nodded.
"You knew I was coming?" Hannah asked in flawless French.
"Of course."
"How did you know?"
"Such things come to me naturally."
"How is it that I—"
Olga finished her sentence. "Can speak fluently?" Her lips curved, and she purred a low chortle. "Timing is just that way, my dear. It allows us to adjust seamlessly into our surroundings."
"Where are we?"
"See for yourself." Olga pointed to some nearby windows with her gaze.
Hannah made her way over to the glass. When she saw it, she couldn't help but gasp.
"Is that really the Eiffel Tower?"
"Yes, it is.
"I cannot believe this," Hannah mumbled.
"Yes, well believe it. You are in Paris."
"I've always wondered what it would look like in person."
"Now you know."
Hannah stared out the window for some time. When she at last turned around to face Olga, she moved back toward the woman as if walking in a funeral procession, her face withdrawn and pale, stopping when she was within an arm's length of where the red-haired beauty was seated.
When Hannah finally spoke, her voice was worn and wrought with angst. "I have to know, Olga. Is it true?"
"Is what true, dear?"
"Am I—" she hesitated, "—am I his daughter?"
"Yes. You are," Olga didn't even flinch. "You are Hannah Hitler."
Hannah shuttered her eyes. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It all felt like a bad dream, like something she would soon wake up from and walk downstairs into the arms of her father, the rancher. But it wasn't to be. Everything had changed.
She was no longer Hannah Bailey.
That person was gone. Vanished. Forever altered.
She now knew something of her past, but she'd never been farther from knowing the likely path of her future.
Nothing was certain or real anymore. In the span of less than a year, her life had taken a course that had left her shipwrecked. And her heart was the Titanic, wrecking, splitting, sinking into the bottom of her soul.
So Alexander hadn't been lying. Everything he'd said was true.
She was the daughter of a monster.
God, what was she going to do? What would her friends think? Her mom? How in the world would she even begin to pick up the pieces of her life after this?
It was all too much.
Too much for her to handle, too scary for her mind to come to grips with, too enormous for her broken heart to bear.
She'd turned her back to Olga. There was nothing left to say.
Hannah stood at the precipice of unimaginable sadness, at Hell's Canyon of despair.
Maybe—she thought for a fleeting second—maybe she should just jump in.
From behind her, a hand came to rest on her shoulder.
"I know what you're thinking, Hannah," Olga said softly. "Why you? Why would you be given this burden? What have you done wrong to deserve all of this heartache that has come your way? I know, dear… I can tell. Come, sweet child, turn and look at me."
Hannah rotated slowly around. Her head drooped, and her eyes were unable to focus on anything.
Olga went on. "In life, Hannah, it is seldom worthwhile to ask 'why this' or 'why that' because so frequently we do not know why, nor do we entirely understand. You see, my precious child, the answers to so many of the 'Why's' are reserved exclusively for God. They are, in fact, His way of showing us we are not Him. His way of demonstrating He is in charge. And not us, as we so often like to believe." She touched Hannah's face, just like she'd done in the dream, only this time her hand was soft and warm. "For some reason, Hannah, this is your destiny. This is who you were meant to be."
"But I don't want this."
"My dear, you don't have a choice. You cannot run from who you truly are."
Olga could sense Hannah's next thought even before the words formed on her lips, and she intercepted it.
"No. Don't allow yourself to go there. You are not a quitter."
"I need to sit down—"
"Of course," Olga soothed. She directed Hannah with a hand on her elbow. "Come… over here."
Hannah sat down on a sofa with Olga right beside her, and for a while they said nothing, both of them embroiled in their own thoughts.
Olga felt for the girl, she really did. But, unfortunately, all of this had been inevitable. Ever since the day Hannah was born, she'd known that this day would eventually come. And she'd also fully anticipated how difficult it would be for her… especially when the girl had just recently lost the man she believed to be her father.
There was still so much Hannah didn't know about, so many things that Olga wasn't even sure she would ever want her knowing. She cringed just thinking about it.
Hannah interrupted her thoughts.
She'd unhooked her locket from around her neck, and it was sitting open like a book in her hand.
"So is this my real mother?"
"Yes, it is."
"What is her name?"
"Eva Braun."
Hannah shook her head. "Eva?"
"She was your father's mistress—"
She nodded almost imperceptibly and quietly fastened the chain back around her neck.
All at once, Hannah stood up. "I have to go."
Concern spread across Olga's face as she got up from the sofa. "I think you should stay here with me, Hannah. For a while, at least."
"No," she said firmly. "I have to go."
"Go where?"
"Back to Germany," she looked straight into Olga's green eyes. "To meet them."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I have to. I have to lay eyes on them. I need to be there to deal this…" Hannah paused, a look of uncertainty clouding her face. "I just wonder…"
"What is it?"
"Will I be safe?"
"There are never any guarantees, Hannah." Olga folded her arms. "But if you choose to go, I can promise you one thing: I will be with you every step of the way, even if only in your dreams."
"My dreams?"
"Don't you remember? One of my talents," Olga pointed her nose in the air, "one of my many talents," she grinned, "is to be able to Time into people's dreams. Just like I did into yours. Through experience, I've found that it is sometimes less messy than Timing into people's real-time worlds."
"How did you know you could do it?"
"I experimented with it. You're also likely to find that you have hidden assets which will assist you in your endeavors."
