CENOTAPH

IT'S AN ORDER, CASBAH

QUINN

Byron24 Saint, one of Clepsydra Project's Linchpin Analysts, entered the conference room, ready to explain their mission. Ramsey had warned them the guy was new and might seem a little odd, advising them to go easy on him. Quinn was glad his parents hadn't jumped on the bandwagon of adding numbers to names.

People were getting stupider by the minute with those. An actress had named her child Emma348756 because that was her great-grandmother's high school locker combination. Saint wasn't the bespectacled skinny geek Quinn expected. He only got one thing right and that was the skinny part. Black spiked boots, black ripped T-shirt advertising the SlutgrAnDma Band, and manliner for days, all topped with a shock of dark blue hair strategically covering one eye. He had a cute little bubble butt, though. Unfortunately, Quinn was too busy trying to keep his hands from Veer's neck and his mind off that "damn it all" sweet Punjabi body.

"Good morning gentlemen." Saint moved the hair covering the one eye with a quick shake of his head. The sepia photograph of a handsome man in his mid-forties, dressed in the manner of nineteenth-century explorers (khaki all over, including his quasi-helmet hat) appeared on the half-wall screen across from their long desk. "Jean-Luc Bilodeau was one of the greatest promoters of a civilized Algeria, but he was murdered by a male dancer-slash-prostitute in an Algiers gentlemen's club in 1938." Now the image changed to a recently taken photo of the same man, dressed in nice Victorian clothing, most likely taken by Russo and Hollander a few days ago. "We have determined that preventing his death would stop the German takeover of Algeria and thus give The Allies a strategic advantage during World War II to shorten it."

They were used to this seemingly random linking of events that unleashed others, but Quinn couldn't understand why they kept changing things about WWII instead of avoiding it altogether. He got the point of saving perhaps millions of lives by shortening the war, but wouldn't it be better if the war hadn't happened at all?

Russo voiced Quinn's thoughts. "We go through this every time Upstairs sends us to change something to impact WWII, why not just kill fucking Hitler?"

Saint chuckled and gave Russo an angelic smile, belying his darkling outfit. The kind of smile one would give a cute little boy asking a silly question. "The key to using time travel effectively is to change something that seems random, almost unimportant. You don't go and kill Hitler, or the Christ- you kill their grandparents. However, every major event in history happens for a reason. If we delete them, we might wake up in a completely different world. I'm pretty sure you've all seen the Back to the Future trilogy as it's a must-watch for everyone involved with Project Clepsydra."

They all murmured in agreement.

"All right. Your mission is to save Bilodeau." Another picture popped on the screen. The man looked a lot like Veer, but the eyes were wrong. Well, that was something Quinn would notice, he doubted the others did. "The killer," Saint informed them.

"Wow, Singh. That could be your great-great-granddaddy!" Hollander guffawed.

"Precisely." Ramsey rose to his feet. "Veer would take the place of the assassin. He and Quinn will be dancers at the club, it wasn't called a 'club' at the time anyway, but you get the idea."

"Aren't we too old and big to be dancers of that era?" Quinn was confused. Men of that time, especially these type of European business men, preferred boy-looking whores. Although, there was nothing boyish about the killer.

"This club catered to men with a taste for something a lot less delicate." Ramsey grimaced. "Singh will fit right in because he looks like the killer," he pursed his lips, "and you, sweet gypsy prince, due to your long, blond tresses and sexy ass. Plus you already speak French."

"Well, I'm glad I have impersonated a stripper before." Quinn put a hand over his heart. "If not, this would be devastating. Ten years of military training for nothing," he declared, swinging head and torso like a crazy person.

All catcalled and wolf whistled, including Saint. Veer kept his mouth shut, averting his gaze from Quinn.

Good.

"Okay, now that we've all let our inner children breathe for a moment, let's continue." Ramsey did a calm-down movement with his hands.

"May I ask why this man was killed?" Jagger interjected.

"The details are sketchy. Some accounts mark it as a crime of passion. Nevertheless, we have to consider all possibilities, including business rivalry or an impatient heir. The Procurers will figure that one out if needed."

Russo and Hollander were the Procurers of their team. They scouted the terrain before every mission, securing locations and making contacts. Ramsey and Jagger were the muscle and logistic coordinators. Quinn and his partner were usually the ones in contact with the target, unless the physical needs of the mission called for something closer to the other members of Aegis, in which case the team would switch roles.

"Hollander and Russo have secured a location in the Casbah as operation base. They will contact the assassin and convince him to take his manliness somewhere else. If he doesn't cooperate, well..." Ramsey shrugged.

They tried their best to avoid killing people while in the past. As Saint had mentioned, killing grandparents might erase the life of someone important and unintentionally mess up history in immeasurable ways.

"Jagger and I," Ramsey continued, "will follow Singh and Fondant to be their backup at the club and assure that everything with Monsieur Bilodeau goes smoothly."

"Hold on a sec. What you mean with 'smoothly'? We're just impersonating dancers. No assassin, no murder." Quinn didn't like where the conversation headed to.

The answer came from Saint. He coughed first to call their attention to him. "As of yesterday, there is a new directive enforcing the minimal change in events. In this case, for example, since we know Bilodeau was killed while being intimate with the dancer, mister Singh most probably would have to at least give a handjob." Saint's shrug attempted to be an apology, but it felt like he didn't give a rat's ass if Veer had to let the man go all the way.

All eyes landed on Veer.

Come on say something. You're not supposed to have sex before marriage.

"If it's an order..." Veer offered noncommittally.

"That's all you have to say, Singh!?"

All eyes landed on Quinn this time. His outburst had been accompanied by him springing to his feet and slamming the table.

"Fondant! If Singh doesn't have a problem with the new regulation, why are you screaming like a damn lunatic?" Ramsey shouted at him.

Quinn had locked eyes with Veer, but now his gaze moved around the room. The others were staring at him open-mouthed. He growled, "I don't know." He really didn't know and didn't want to analyze the reasons for his sudden explosion.

"Then sit the fuck down and shut the heck up!"

"Yes, sir."

"Now." Ramsey closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "We have a week to learn everything we need to know about time and place. We have trackers following our players' movements to learn their routines." He sighed, clearly exasperated. "Since this day appears to be heading the wrong way, go home and rest. Come back tomorrow, acting like adults and ready to work like mules."

All arched eyebrows were aimed at Quinn, except one. Veer's face was effectively blank.

Shit.

****