Another two years had passed before Michael hired Randal. He had no intention of telling his new boss they were brothers; he was solely there to work. They had made great strides in the computer industry, propelling the company to the top of the heap. Randal watched with equal interest at what was happening to his other brother in Germany. There was nothing but disappointment, anger, and fear for where Tristan was directing the company.
Randal had developed a friendship with Dredger’s lead research scientist. They wrote many letters, so he knew where the company was headed. Tristan wanted to travel through time, but his attitude belied no concern about the effect on history. He had to be stopped. The letters ended in 1984, and Randal learned the scientist had been killed in an unfortunate car accident.
His fingers typed more commands to the probe, but his eyes didn’t move. He was seeing himself in the office back in California, three years ago, when he’d decided to beat his German half-brother to the prize of time travel. He’d succeeded, but only with Michael’s help and resources. The problem with having the machine was that using it would and could alter everything and everyone, but he needed to change the future so Tristan wouldn’t succeed.
Many days he tried to figure out a way to make Michael interested in time travel. The solution came one day when he saw Joe and Michael together in the lab. Joe was Director of Research. Randal could see they were best friends; the kind that would do anything for each other. He used his machine to snatch Joe out of the past.
Time and history didn’t change in a flash of light. He remembered everything, maybe because he’d been working the controls. There were subtle changes in the buildings and people, but mostly the projects and direction of the company stayed the same. He smiled, proud that he had succeeded in changing history without major harm. All he had to do was bring Joe back and everything would be all right, but then Michael signed a deal to give Tristan the final program to time travel. A monster like Dredger would destroy the world for fun. Traveling through time for him would be like a cat playing with a mouse.
He couldn’t let that happen, or at least if Tristan got the technology, Randal was going to make sure he’d never use it. A warning buzzer sounded. The probe needed to make a course correction in the next two minutes or else miss the Red Planet. He watched another technician send the necessary code before returning to his memories.
The kidnapping was the first indication that Dredger wanted time travel. He knew that the future of transportation would be through transporters, and Tristan wanted to monopolize the technology.
Being in Florida didn’t give him much access to the same level of technology he was used to back in California. Why did things have to happen at the wrong time? He’d planned every detail and was certain nobody would be hurt if history changed. Michael would be upset and concerned, but there wasn’t any real danger to Joe. He was living in Boston as Randal without any knowledge of his former life. Randal could shift him back easily once Tristan was destroyed. That had been the plan all along. Dredger Electronics was never meant to invent time travel. Now fate had intervened to change history, and he couldn’t change that. He felt like calling Michael to tell him the whole story.
Chapter 25
An idea dropped into his mind as he stepped out of the shower. Michael knew he’d be obliged to change the code so Dredger couldn’t succeed, but the better solution would be to use the information Dawn had stolen to eliminate Tristan. He wished Randal was available to help, but his chief technician couldn’t leave Florida right now. They were like brothers sometimes and sensed the older man felt the same way. There was something in the way he looked at Michael when he thought he wasn’t aware.
The worms or viruses that Dredger had inserted into their software certainly indicated their attitude and level of trust. Tristan was living up to his reputation, but Michael was beginning to grow a real desire to ruin the man. A bell sounded on the computer in the room across the hall. He pulled on a pair of pants and T-shirt.
“What’s the problem, Dawn?” he asked, feeling a bit inconvenienced without having coffee yet.
“I have some information for you that can’t wait.” Silence...
“Well?” Michael snarled impatiently.
“I put tracking software in one of the items we sent to Dredger. The worm, as you call them, searches for any mention of you or your company in communications from them to anyone in the world. They are attempting to implicate you in a murder in Monaco. They’ve sent bogus information to the Royal Police, which looks like you had a grudge against Detective Habbib. You and Walker were conspiring to cheat the Palace out of a deal to install computers there.”
“I’ll get Jon to make some calls. See if you can change the code to seem usable, but won’t work. He can’t ever get his hands on the real program.”
He left the room and headed to the kitchen. Heather was making breakfast, but unlike the last few days, she was smiling. His kiss on her neck received a hug. Paul had taken Wells outside and was throwing a ball for the dog to fetch.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked as he poured coffee into a mug.
“Much,” she answered.
Man and dog had just come in the patio door as she stretched to plant a kiss on Michael’s lips. Her face blushed at being caught and strangely, Michael felt a little guilt as well. He said good morning to Paul, and they all sat around the table to eat breakfast.
Jon walked through the front door just then without using the knock code. Paul was out of his chair, gun in hand, and crouched at the end of the wall separating the entrance from the kitchen in less than a second. The typically laid-back man seemed to possess speed and reflexes far beyond his appearance. Once he recognized who was entering, he stood and slid the gun into the back of his jeans. Jon waved at him and took a seat at the table.
“I have news,” he began. “Dredger is trying to implicate you and the MI-6 spy Walker in the murder of Habbib in Monaco.”
“Yeah, I heard already,” Michael said over the rim of his mug. Heather dropped her fork on her plate.
Jon’s mouth fell open in surprise. “How did you find out? I was only informed on my way here a few minutes ago.”
“That doesn’t matter, but I was going to tell you and see if you could call someone over there.”
“Already done. The man who called me is the lead detective on the case. Since I was involved in your kidnapping, he agreed to squash the information. What do you want to do now? Dredger is evil. I told you that before you went to see him.”
Michael frowned. The enemy was moving faster and being more underhanded than he’d expected. Tristan wasn’t going to be easy to get rid of and certainly not stupid.
“I think the time has come to play dirty,” he said, staring off into space.
“He’s untouchable. Every time someone launches a complaint against him, the case is dismissed. So how are you going to harm the bastard?”
“I have irrefutable information that implicates him in several crimes that should put him in prison for the rest of his life. Is there anyone you know who can leak this stuff to the appropriate authorities and keep us clean?” he smiled.
Jon grinned back. “I think we know a few sources we can use, right Paul? Give us what you have and we’ll put it in the right hands. This is going to be a real pleasure.” He winked and the grin turned into a broad smile.
Paul and Jon used the telephone for the next three hours calling their contacts around the world. Michael and Heather were kept busy sending fax copies of all the dirty secrets Dawn had found. The people receiving the files were told to eliminate any connection to Michael or Eldridge Computers. At the end of the telephone session, several of the contacts called back exclaiming their shock, excitement, and gratitude for a solid chance to put away Tristan Dredger.
Time, Michael thought, this all revolves around time. I wanted to find out what happened to Joe but put that aside to lock a monster away for good. I’m not sure anymore if I want to contin
ue. Everything was fine a couple of years ago. There wasn’t anybody trying to kill me or to hurt my friends. Maybe I’ll just have to live without knowing about Joe. What would Dad do in this situation? He spent many years with RCA traveling all over the world. There had to be situations when he encountered espionage, not on this level but some. I bet he smiled and shrugged away the problem. We’re not giving away military secrets, but this is something even deadlier. This is about being able to move through time and change history, being able to jump from point A to point B instantly. If Dredger develops the technology, armies could appear anywhere in an instant, and there wouldn’t be any way to stop them. He sighed, hoping the current effort was enough to halt a maniac.
A thought came to him then. Randal was needed here more than ever. The Mars probe would operate under the watch of a lesser technician just as well. He called the lab and ordered Randal’s top assistant to fly to Florida and take over. The next order of business was contacting the head of Mission Control. After a brief conversation, there were a few tense words used, but in the end, they agreed that Randal could come home. Michael crossed his fingers. The corporate jet would fly out at noon, returning with him by midnight.
He planned to meet with Randal after the technologist had a few hours’ sleep. Michael would bring him up to date and see if he could correct the problem. He felt stupid thinking he was able to do this without him. Even though he would probably disapprove of Michael’s actions, he’d be bound to come on board after an explanation.
Bells started clanging in the computer room down the hall. The noise sounded like a four-alarm call in a firehouse. He sprinted to the room, banging his elbow on the doorframe as he slid through the opening, cursing from the pain. Lights flashed, and noise crashed around the space, hurting his ears. He had to cover them to think.
“Dawn...Dawn,” he shouted. “What the hell’s going on?”
Silence…almost painfully deafening. He pulled his hands away from his ears and sat in the chair.
“Dredger buried a worm in the system. They said the program was for the electronics they’re working on for their government, so I didn’t look too close. The worm searches for specific information and definitely seemed to be part of the code. They didn’t get anything on this end because I put a door on the modem and shut off communications, but I’ll need you to remove it from your end. I’m only able to use enough resources to speak to you, but I can’t touch the worm without spreading it throughout the hard drive.”
“Can you show me where it is?”
A stream of words appeared on the monitor. The line of code did appear similar to a fetch sequence, but there was nothing in particular the code should look for. Only when he read the next line did their purpose become apparent. They were after the specifications for Dawn. His fingers beat the keyboard, deleting the lines and running a cleaning program he’d written for an anti-virus. Bastard is going to pay for this, he thought.
“You should be okay now,” he crooned as if talking to Heather. “Don’t open any ports to the outside until we’re positive everything is gone. Any new data come in from Dredger lately?”
“No, but before I had to shut down the modem, I confirmed the flight to Florida was on time. Randal will be here by midnight.”
Chapter 26
The news that he was being relieved was welcome to Randal. He wanted to get back to California and put an end to his evil half-brother. Waiting for the next few hours was going to be excruciating but worth the pain.
If only I could be there when they walk him away to prison, he thought. When I realized that sick bastard would have the ability to commit crimes without any punishment, I had to act.
Nothing had happened to the probe since the launch, so he wasn’t expecting anything to go wrong now. The alarms started as a flashing light on his monitor and then became a system-wide cascade fault. Everyone was shouting and wildly punching keyboards to correct the problem, but things kept getting worse. He wasn’t responsible for the flight of the probe, but he was watching the stream of errors flying across his screen.
Something about the error messages didn’t make sense. He wasn’t a flight engineer, but he did know that there wasn’t supposed to be any problems with the altitude of the ship carrying the probe unless a strike had occurred in space. Most of the error messages were about the ship losing power and wobbling out of control. There were no indications of a flight control malfunction or engine trouble, so why would the machine say there was a problem? Fuel levels were at nominal, thrusters were operating properly, but guidance control said there had been a failure.
Randal looked over at Mission Control Chief David Strathmore. The expression on his face was blank, but his body language spoke volumes. He was tense, and his eyes darted about the room pleading for someone to solve the problems with the probe.
Standing and moving slowly toward Strathmore, Randal meant to ease the man’s fears. He stood beside the Mission Chief and detailed his suspicions. Strathmore said nothing for a moment as he digested the possibility. If Randal was right, then they could fix the problem quickly, but if he was wrong, the mission might end at that moment.
“Reboot the computers here in Mission Control,” he shouted above the din in the room. All eyes turned toward him as he stood in the back. A few voices spoke up, insisting there wasn’t a computer problem. “We have the best computer engineer in the country in this room telling me there is a computer problem and all we need to do is reboot. Do it now,” he shouted. “If that doesn’t work we haven’t lost anything yet. We can still fix the problem and get back on course, as long as we don’t go over sixty minutes.”
The screens around the room went black as the computers were shut down. Thirty seconds went by before they came back to life and the system went through a start-up sequence. All alarm bells were silent when the control system came online. The error messages had been false all along. Randal nodded to Strathmore and returned to his seat. Someone had tried to ruin the mission by inserting a virus into the computer, but whoever that was, didn’t know much about space flight.
“Thanks, we owe you big time.” A hand rested on his shoulder. He turned to look up at the Mission Chief. “Is there any way of finding out who did that to us?”
Randal smiled. “I’ll get the answer for you in a couple of minutes, but I need access to the main computer.”
Strathmore leaned forward and punched a few keys on the keyboard. Moments later, a screen with the logo of NASA came up and a login box. He typed in a password, and the screen went black. A series of boot sequence lines appeared finally stopping at a blinking cursor.
“You’re in the mainframe. I’m putting my trust in you to keep my job, so don’t screw this up. Is that problem going to happen again?”
Randal shook his head and began typing. Over his shoulder he said, “The problem was meant to occur at a predetermined time. Since that time has passed, it can’t happen again unless they put in a backup. I’ll check everything while I’m in the system. Don’t worry about your job. I don’t care about anything but the virus.” He renewed his attention to the monitor.
Someone beside him cleared their throat, and he nearly jumped out of his clothes. A familiar face appeared next to him with a slight grin. His assistant was standing there trying not to laugh. They shook hands and Randal took another few minutes winding up the scanning of the mainframe for corruption. His bags had been brought down from his room so all he had to do was carry them out to the waiting jet. Saying goodbye to everyone, he waved and left the control room. His ride to the airstrip took five minutes. The company jet was running and waiting for him. Buckling in, he finally relaxed a little but knew the next few days would be terrifying.
Four hours later, he jerked awake as the plane touched down. He rubbed his eyes and cleared his mind for the next stage. Ten minutes after that, the steps were lowered from the side of the jet, and he walked down. The limo was waiting to whisk him home to the modest bungalow set among others c
omparable in size, shape, and color on a street filled with similarity. Randal carried his bags into the front entrance and dropped them. He reached for the light switch in the dark. Illumination came from a single lamp on a table beside the only other piece of furniture in the room, an overstuffed leather chair. He walked through to the kitchen and with the help of the moonlight streaming in the window over the sink, he flicked on the light to the basement. Sixteen steps. He’d counted them more than once.
A worktable stood against the wall opposite the stairs. Testing equipment, tools, wire, and other bits and pieces littered the top. To the right of the steps and the table stood a box the size of a fridge. Wires ran from it to the electrical panel fastened to the wall above the table. The furnace and hot water tank filled the far corner on the opposite side. Three bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling illuminated the space. There was a faint smell of damp in the basement.
Randal stepped toward the box he thought of as a vehicle. In the movie, H. G. Wells portrayed the time machine as a sleigh rigged with lights and levers, but to carry the correct power supply, the vehicle would need to be the size of a truck or small bus. This machine was only capable of operating by the aid of a computer in this time. It was much easier to keep the power and the control here.
He opened a locked toolbox and removed a laptop. The computer seemed to stare up at him; at least that’s how he felt at that moment. Go ahead, it said in his mind, start the machine. His hand trembled as he lifted the screen and pushed the on button. A beep was heard, and two minutes later, the computer was ready. He pressed two keys at once and waited. The screen went black and then a logo appeared. This was the login page of Eldridge Computers.
The calculating power actually came from the main computer at the lab, but Randal didn’t think anyone would mind even if they could detect the connection he was using to get into the server. Five seconds and he had access to his private files. A password later and the one named “Lazarus” was opened. He grinned at the title because the name meant rebirth in his mind.
An Altered Course Page 25