My job

Aaron loaded up his shotgun and took aim at the most popular woman in the world.

Mrs. Roosevelt stood in Grosvenor Square with Churchill, King George VI, and Queen Elizabeth. Those buck teeth smiled to the press after the unveiling of F.D.R.’s statue. Aaron sighed. From the fourth floor of the old library he squinted and centered the bullseye on Mrs. Roosvelt’s head. He paused – the former First Lady raised her arm to wave to the crowds. He needed to get a clear shot at her skull.

Two sentries held guard over Aaron. He knew they’d be grinning over this blackmail. Even after Aaron did this, they’d take him back to Istanbul in ’96. There’d probably be no escaping to another era where he could hide – Aaron wanted to visit Utopia 1498, but he doubted he’d ever make it.

Mrs. Roosevelt lowered her arm. Aaron reached for the trigger. Just as he was about to pull, the door burst open. It was Varnum, Barclay, and Jasper. They shot his sentries in the head.

“You’re in the clear, Aardvark. You don’t have to shoot now.”