The Trouble With Time by Lexi Revellian

1JQ
    But – she’d arrived at 9.30, and Ansel hadn’t been here then. Kayla jumped to her feet and searched the bedroom, then ran from room to room, flinging open cupboards, looking under beds, checking anywhere big enough to hold a man. Quinn was not in the apartment. She sat down again, this time in the living room, and stared at the small screen.
    0945: 51.523796, -0.087451 38 City Road EC1Y 1AU
    Oh my God . Suddenly she understood. There was only one possible explanation of this: Jace had Ansel’s chip and phone. She set the trace interval to ten seconds, and watched the location change, as the pod Jace and the girl were in steadily moved away from her into the heart of the City.

CHAPTER 16
Loot
    From the spacious lobby they exited into what Floss realized, with a shock of recognition, was City Road. Here Jace stopped. A chilly wind blew and her toes felt icy; it was not ideal weather for sandals.
    “What are we waiting for?”
    “Our pod.”
    As he said this, one of the strange-looking cars, a small one, pulled in to the kerb beside them and its door slid open. They got in.
    “Hey, a driverless car! That is so cool . . .”
    Jace held Quinn’s phone up to the screen and spoke to the car. “The nearest pawnshop.”
    A dulcet female voice said, “Thank you, Ansel Quinn. Do you mean pawn, P-A-W-N, or porn, P-O-R-N?”
    “P-A-W-N.”
    “The closest pawnshop is Hershman and Sons Jewellers and Pawnbrokers, Copthall Avenue, zero point seven miles distance. Estimated time of arrival, 9.42 am. Your saved preference is the advertisement-free option. If this journey is approved, touch Yes on the screen. If not, touch No for other options.”
    Jace tapped Yes, and the car swivelled on the spot and moved smoothly and silently into the traffic. The interior was different from any vehicle Floss had been in, with two comfortable seats and big curving windows. The screen now showed a satnav-type map with the car moving towards their destination. Above the screen, a notice told passengers not to leave the pod until the green light came on. Another said:
     
    NO SMOKING
    Automatic fixed penalty charge £1,000
    If smoke is detected the pod will park and the doors will open
     
    Jace got out Quinn’s phone, looked at the caller ID, and put it away again. Floss took off one sandal at a time and rubbed some life back into her toes, watching the other pods weave courteously about the road, giving way to one another, pedestrians and cyclists. This must be cycling heaven.
    “So no flying cars yet?” she said. Jace shook his head. “Bummer. Does anyone still use ordinary cars?”
    “Motor club enthusiasts. There’s not many places you’re allowed to drive them these days. Petrol’s pricey, too, so you have to be a fanatic or seriously rich. But the roads are much safer, almost no accidents at all. Difficult to believe in your day people accepted the carnage.”
    “Yes.” Floss went quiet, staring out of the window, reluctant to discuss this topic. Goodness, there was Bunhill Fields . . . “We’re passing your old home! Or future home, depending on the way you look at it . . .”
    “Old home,” said Jace, firmly.
    The pod stopped beside Hershman & Sons’ respectable blue and gold façade, and thanked them for travelling before letting them out and shimmering off. Inside the shop Jace headed for a cubicle and sat opposite the young assistant. He reached into his bag and one by one laid the contents on the counter, finally adding the bag itself.
    First, two watches. “One Tag Heuer, and this is a Lange & Söhne.” A bottle of brandy. “Domaine de Joÿ.” Dark glasses. “These are Quantum Shades.” A blue and white jar. “Ming. And the bag’s Saint Laurent.”
    The young man stared for a moment at the haul, then excused himself to fetch Mr Hershman.
    “You stole these from Quinn’s flat?” Floss muttered out of the side of her mouth, disapprovingly.
    “It’s not as if he’ll be needing them any more,”