Tempest

by Julie Cross

  “They view it as a weakness, or you do?” I asked.

  “Both,” he said immediately. “Doctors fight the same internal battle. There are times when you have to set aside your compassion for a patient and use only medically driven facts to make a diagnosis or treatment. Other times, connecting emotionally with a patient has amazing benefits, but often it’s hard to turn one part off at the right time.”

  I didn’t miss the sadness that washed over his face. “Like with Courtney? You tried to keep her alive longer than you should have?”

  “She was in a lot of pain. I knew that and still I didn’t want to give up.” His eyes were misty, but no tears fell. “I don’t know if it was right or not. For her, I think the change was starting earlier than you. One month, everything was clear, and the next, her brain was covered with inoperable tumors. There’s no way I could have ever predicted that happening.” He sighed and focused his eyes over my shoulder. “We had the best brain surgeons and oncologists in the entire world studying her case. But no modern medicine could change what happened to her.”

  “So it’s possible she could have been like me … if she hadn’t gotten sick?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’m just not sure telling you all of this will do anything but make you more miserable.”

  “I wanted to know.” I shook my head and stared down at my hands. “But now it’s a little difficult to feel connected to anything … to my father, when I’m just some experiment.”

  The words were out before I could stop them. At least it was just Melvin in the room. My dad told me in 2007 that Courtney and I were his assignment, his job. But I wanted to be his son.

  “I don’t know how to convince you otherwise, but I can tell you for sure, your dad’s side is the right one.”

  I remembered something Marshall had said in 2007, when we were standing over Harold’s body. He’s one of Dr. Ludwig’s spawns.

  “Who’s Dr. Ludwig?” I asked.

  Melvin’s eyebrows lifted. “A scientist, like myself. Someone with a similar fascination with the time travelers’ minds. Only his products are pure-breeds, but not originals. Copies.”

  “Are you talking about cloning?” I asked.

  “Something along those lines. Genetic mutation as well.”

  My mind painted an image of rows of Harolds, Cassidys, and the shoe-print guys all lined up in giant incubators. Creepy.

  “Wait … I’m not a clone … am I?”

  Melvin shook his head vigorously. “Absolutely not. You and your sister were developed in the same way many children are brought into this world. No different from a woman who has difficulty getting pregnant.”

  I sighed with relief. Science experiment was bad enough, but actually being made by some machine or however it worked was far beyond what I could grasp and still maintain sanity. “So where is this Ludwig guy? Is Tempest going to take him out or stop him or something?… I mean, he shouldn’t be doing this making-people shit … Wait … he’s not on the CIA’s side like you, is he?”

  “No, he’s not on Tempest’s side,” Melvin answered firmly. “And Dr. Ludwig is not alive.”

  “Someone got to him already?” I asked.

  “Something like that.”

  He had given me the information I wanted. It filled in the missing pieces perfectly and yet I still couldn’t trust my father or the EOTs. Maybe they were pissed off because Melvin stole some lady’s eggs. It kinda made sense.

  I believed Dr. Melvin cared about me and Courtney. I had gotten good enough at reading faces to know that, but he wasn’t calling the shots. Chief Marshall was, which meant I couldn’t rely on Dr. Melvin.

  I stopped thinking it over because Dr. Melvin stared at me so intensely I was worried he could read my mind. Adam had given me the answer I needed earlier today. I could choose a side without selling my soul. “Okay, tell me the truth. Is Chief Marshall lurking around here somewhere? I’d like to speak with him, alone.”

  Dr. Melvin’s face tightened, but he nodded and pulled out his phone.

  “I’m going to check on my friends. He can find me when he’s ready,” I said as I headed out the door.

  As I was walking out toward the pool again, Adam sent me a text that said, You can thank me later.

  I had no idea what that meant, but the second I spotted them, sitting in lounge chairs scooted close together, Holly jumped up and threw her arms around my neck. She had thrown her dress from earlier over her swimsuit, not that I expected them to be swimming and having fun while I had my little life-altering chat with Dr. Melvin.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Adam told me everything.”

  My arms went around her and I looked at Adam over her shoulder, trying to converse silently. He lifted his eyebrows as if to say, Just go with it.

  I racked my brain for theories about what he might have told her and then settled on a few; Dad not being my dad would be the most likely, given the reason for me escaping on this weekend trip. He could have said the information was on the hard drive. A little far-fetched, but it’s possible she believed him.

  “How come you’re taking this government stuff so well?” I asked Holly.

  She laughed a little and we both sat, facing each other on one lounge chair. “Promise you won’t get mad at me if I tell you something?”

  I smiled at her. “I doubt I could ever be mad at you.”

  “I have an entire diary of theories about you and most of them were a lot crazier than son of CIA agent.”

  “Like what?” Adam and I said together.

  This was total news to me.

  “Um … well … I considered money-embezzling. I thought maybe Adam was helping you hack into computers of foreign banks. Then there’s you being a mobster, of course.”

  “Of course,” I said. “And how exactly would Adam be involved?”

  She leaned closer to me and I was honestly intimidated by the excitement on her face. Apparently her little-girl fascinations with espionage hadn’t faded as she got older.

  “Adam could have been your source for false identification, like if you wanted to hire illegal immigrants for your construction business and you needed documentation. He makes some kick-ass fake IDs.”

  And fake FBI badges.

  “Holly, why is it you’re dating Jackson again?” Adam asked.

  She shook her head and smiled. “God, you have no idea how many times I’ve asked myself that same question.”

  I leaned forward and touched my lips to hers. “I don’t blame you.”

  “The mobster thing is a really good idea,” Adam said. “We could totally pull that off.”

  Holly cracked up. “Adam being in the CIA surprises me a lot less than you being a secret agent. There’s not a single member of our senior class that doesn’t think Adam will either become some super hotshot software programmer or some kind of government code breaker. Personally, I thought he was probably already working for someone, playing the average high school student by day, and by night…”

  Adam let out this evil cackle to punctuate Holly’s story. “I just wish I could kick some ass like Jackson. That was totally sweet.”

  “I’ll teach you sometime.”

  “And you’ll teach me, or I’ll tell everyone your secrets.” Holly stood up and snatched her purse from the ground. “I’m going to get snacks for all of us.”

  I waited until she had reached the bar, where Dad and Freeman sat watching us, before saying anything to Adam. “What did you tell her?”

  “Aside from our CIA recruitment? Just the he’s-not-Jackson’s-father story. I figured she’d go for that, especially if I made your dad seem like an asshole.”

  “So … did you get to look at the Axelle stuff?” I asked. He dropped his eyes and nodded. “Pretty freaky, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Adam said with a sigh.

  “I’m sorry you had to get involved … What did they do to get you to talk?” I asked.

  The color drained from his face. “A combination o
f threats against most of my family, you, Holly, and then eventually your dad took over the interrogation and said he’d bring me along, to make sure nothing happened to you guys. He wasn’t exactly nice about it, but at least he didn’t threaten me, like the other dudes.”

  Holly returned with food for all of us, but I saw Chief Marshall walking toward Dad. “Save some nachos for me, okay? I’ve got another … meeting.”

  Holly nodded and I could feel her eyes following me as I walked toward the man who, last time I saw him, had nearly strangled me to death. This should be interesting.

  I stopped right in front of him and made sure to have my game face on. I had to crane my neck a little to make eye contact with him. “Mind if we chat for a few minutes?”

  His face stayed cold and distant, like always. “Of course.”

  Dad started to follow us, but I turned around and held my arm out. “This is just between me and Chief Marshall.”

  Dad looked like he might object but gave in quickly, which only increased my suspicions. I turned to Marshall. “No earpieces or communication devices.”

  He hesitated but removed the small piece of plastic from his ear and dropped it on the ground before smashing it with his shoe. Then he took off his watch and handed it to Dad.

  I led him all the way to the very back of the building. My room was probably already bugged by Dad or that Freeman guy. I took a breath and focused on sounding as assertive as possible. “I want you to make me an agent.”

  As expected, he had no facial reaction. “Why? To convince your girlfriend? I think Adam Silverman could produce authentic enough identification to convince her. You don’t need my help with that.”

  “I’m talking about actual agent training.” I ground my teeth together, trying to control my anger. Chief Marshall wasn’t exactly my favorite person. “I know about Jenni Stewart. You let her in when she was nineteen.”

  “I don’t think your father would be very happy with me.”

  “He’s not my father, and why do you think I left him out of this conversation?” I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to come up with something more convincing. “I know Agent Stewart has a couple months left of training. You can throw me in with that group.”

  “As a time traveler, right? That’s your contribution?” He had that same greedy look he’d had in 1996. “You could add some more assets to the list, since you’ve been to October of this year. You must know something about the next few months.”

  He must have gotten debriefed quickly because he sure seemed to know every detail.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not gonna let you use me for that. I don’t want anyone to know. I’m sure my family connection will be convincing enough.”

  He crossed his arms and I could see the ideas and theories whirling around in his head. “I won’t agree unless I know your motivation.”

  I snorted back a laugh. “Wanting to kill some EOTs isn’t enough for you?”

  “Not if it’s a lie.”

  I let out an exasperated breath. “Fine, the reason is simple, I have to choose a side. That’s my only motivation right now.”

  He nodded and stuck out his hand, and I took it, tentatively. “Exactly what I wanted to hear. I’ll talk to your father, but you do realize everything about your life is about to change, right?”

  “Hasn’t it already?” I said with a shrug.

  I left him and returned to Holly and Adam. I intentionally avoided eye contact with Dad.

  “I’m totally beat. I was up all night,” Adam said a little while later, when the sun had started to set. “Your dad got me a room already, so I’m gonna crash.”

  “See ya later, Adam,” I said.

  Holly nodded toward the poolside bar where Freeman and Dad were still sitting. “So, you’re still mad at him?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “Explain, then … he is still the man who raised you, right? That has to count for something.”

  She waited patiently and I had a feeling this was the kind of information she wanted most from me. More than the CIA secrets. “Yeah, it counts for something … but I’m still not sure I can trust him.”

  “Maybe you will … eventually. You won’t have as many secrets now.”

  “I hope so.” I moved my hands to her face, looking into her eyes. I wanted so many things at that moment. Things I’d never wanted before. But mostly I didn’t want to lose this memory. Or for her to lose it. “You ready to go inside?”

  She smiled. “Definitely.”

  We left the bar and walked quickly back to our room. The second I turned the lock on the door, Holly was right in front of me, unbuttoning my shirt.

  “Look who’s lacking patience today,” I teased.

  Even in the dim light, I could see her cheeks turn pink. I loved that I could still make her blush.

  My fingers found the zipper on the back of her dress and I slowly brought it down and nudged the shoulder straps farther down her arms until the dress fell to the floor next to my shirt.

  “Just so you know … I haven’t done this in a while.” I picked her up off the ground and her legs wrapped around me.

  She laughed loudly as I dropped her onto the bed. “Seriously? What crazy world are you living in? It’s only been—”

  I touched my fingers to her lips. “Let’s pretend it’s been a long time … weeks.”

  “Like you were lost at sea?”

  “Exactly.”

  * * *

  Around midnight, the sound of my phone buzzing jolted me awake. Holly was curled up against my side but barely stirred when I reached under the pillow to pull out my phone.

  “Dad?”

  “Sorry if I woke you. Think you could meet me downstairs at the bar?”

  No hiding out now. If I didn’t go, they would just come in here and put a rag over my face or something.

  “Give me five minutes.”

  “Take as long as you need,” he said.

  I shook Holly a little and rolled on my side to face her. “Hol? Holly?”

  Her eyes peeled open. “Huh?”

  “My dad wants me to meet him at the bar, okay? He wants to talk or something.”

  She flipped over on her other side and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Sure.”

  “I won’t be long.” I moved her hair from her face and touched my lips to her cheek. “I love you.”

  Her fingertips rested on my face and she smiled. “Me, too.”

  I got dressed quickly, making sure to grab Freeman’s gun.

  When I walked into the bar, it was completely empty except for Dad and the bartender, who was laughing at something Dad had just told him.

  “Are you alone?” I asked him.

  He turned to the bartender. “We’ll take our drinks over to the booth, if that’s all right?”

  “Sure thing.”

  I followed him across the deserted room to a booth. He slid a beer in front of me and I could tell by looking at his face that he’d already had quite a few. Not typical for an agent on duty.

  “I’m alone,” he said. “Freeman and Melvin are … detained.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly.

  “Melvin told me everything you talked about. Look, Jackson, I’ve been going over this for hours and you shouldn’t be forced into this life just because you think there’s no other way.”

  “You wanted to teach me stuff in 2007,” I pointed out.

  He chugged the rest of his beer, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I thought you would be safer under our watch or that you needed training.”

  “And now?”

  “I’m not sure you have a good grasp on the sacrifices it takes to devote your life to something you can’t tell anyone about. Not even your own children.”

  For a few seconds, he had me. The intensity in his eyes. I wanted to believe every word, to tell him I loved him, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure he wasn’t still playing games. “I can’t help peopl
e I don’t trust. I don’t want to be tricked or fooled into things.”

  He leaned back in his seat and drew in a deep breath. “We were just trying to protect you. It’s a lot to accept all at once.”

  “I get that. But now I’m at the point where I’d rather you just tell me. No matter how bad it is. Killing people or whatever.” The horrible memory of Chief Marshall giving Dad orders to shoot that Harold dude came flooding back. “How do you even do this … kill people and go on living, not feeling any guilt? Is everything an act to you? Even being a father? It was your assignment, right?”

  I expected him to get angry, like I was. But he just nodded and looked down at his hands before meeting my eyes again. “There’s something I want you to see. Something in the past. But you only have to watch, no tricks. It will answer a lot of your questions. Just do the half-jump. The one that won’t affect history.”

  “I guess Adam told you about half-jumps?” I asked, and he nodded. “When am I jumping to? What’s the date?”

  “October second, 1992,” he said. “About three in the afternoon.”

  “That’s further than I’ve ever gone back. It’s going to make me sick. Really sick. And I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay.”

  “I know. It’s up to you if you want to try or not.”

  All I could see in his expression was pure grief and exhaustion. This wasn’t the excited energy that 007 Marshall, Melvin, and Dad had when I had given accounts of the past or the future. He pulled a pen from his pocket and drew a little map of Central Park and circled an old playground. Then he handed me what looked like an MP3 player, but I knew it magnified sound from a distance. Jenni Stewart had shown me hers that day I wrote a Spanish paper for her as a bribe for secrets.

  I closed my eyes and let the warmth of the room dissolve.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  OCTOBER 2, 1992, 3:00 P.M.

  I stood in the middle of the baseball field, not far from the tree I would fall out of and break my arm in four years. From a distance, I could make out one of the playgrounds I remembered spending a lot of time at as a kid. Either with Dad or whatever nanny we had at the time.