Fortune

by Craig W. Turner

Erica took a few steps forward, the cape continuing to blow around her. She stopped as dramatically as possible and put her left hand on the closest horse, looking down so as not to make eye contact with them. It was over the top, but the show was not meant for them.

  “This is a dangerous forest,” she said, pointing with her right hand down Wilton Pass. “You must protect your gold.”

  “What gold?” Wilton asked.

  “Mr. Wilton, this is not the time to play coy. You’re being watched.”

  “Who are you?” There was trepidation in his voice.

  “A friend,” she said, immediately feeling like she sounded too much like Superman. “I am only here to help you.”

  Wilton was silent for a moment, so she looked up at the two men. He was thinking. Fitzsimmons was simply looking straight ahead, awaiting instructions. Finally, Wilton asked, “What are you, an angel or something?”

  “You might say that,” she said. “A guardian angel.” She almost laughed out loud, thinking to herself that it should send a chill right down Dexter’s spine.

  Wilton gave an exaggerated nod. “Well, what do I do?” he asked.

  “Two miles ahead there’s an alcove in the trees,” she said. According to Jeff’s telling of the original Wilton story, he would have found it anyway. “You’ll be safe there.” Of course, he wouldn’t actually be safe there, but history would.

  Wilton looked up at Fitzsimmons. “You heard the little lady,” he said, then leaned inside. “We’re pushing on a little further and then we’ll call it a night.”

  While he was distracted, Erica slowly slipped away toward the back of the wagon, quietly patting Fitzsimmons on the knee as she passed. She could hear muffled conversation coming from inside the wagon, and looked back to see her ancestor peering back at her from his perch as she walked away, the hotel bed sheet flowing behind her.

  A moment later, the sheet fell softly to the ground.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  September 16, 2015

  Jeff bounded down the front stairs of Dexter’s house, leaving his friend standing in his doorway, then turned and looked at his watch. “C’mon. I’ve got to be in Queens in an hour. We don’t know what the traffic will be like.”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t do this,” Dexter said. “I fall for it every time. This has absolutely nothing to do with me.”

  “I don’t know – I feel like I do a better job when you’re there. You don’t want me to screw this up, do you?”

  His friend stood staring at him, most likely waiting for Jeff to tell him he was going to let him off the hook. Which, of course, wasn’t going to happen. They were so close on the time travel front, and it was important to him to clear his head before the meeting. While the government folks were by no means scientists who could deduce exactly what they were on the precipice of accomplishing, they were paying attention, and would certainly pounce on any slip-ups he might make. Dexter being there helped him get the slip-ups out before the meeting started.

  Of course, Jeff could have been more up-front with his friend instead of enticing him with the promise of a nice dinner and a relaxing night out. With the nature of their project, and with Jeff having to accept sometimes that Dexter actually had another job, time to just hang out was a luxury they didn’t have. So it was an attractive offer. On the drive over, Jeff had remembered the first time they’d had a meal together – the day he’d invited Dexter to lunch to try to recruit him to his team. Some sidewalk café in Manhattan. Dexter had walked away in the middle of the conversation and Jeff had to chase him down. Here they were now, Dexter once again trying to get Jeff to leave him alone.

  These sessions were annoying, certainly. But he could understand their purpose. As a taxpayer, he was pleased that the government wasn’t just spending his hard-earned tax dollars frivolously. But things would be a lot easier if he didn’t have to deal with the extreme oversight they put on the grant funding surrounding his research.

  “You coming?”

  Dexter sighed deeply, frustrated. “Let me get my coat.”

  He retreated inside then a moment later emerged putting his arm into a windbreaker. It was chilly – unseasonably for September, a cold front moving through North Jersey. “It’s a lot warmer in the Sierra Nevadas,” Jeff said, poking at him.

  “Only at the right time of year,” Dexter said, walking down the stairs. “Ask the Donners.”

  “I will if you let me.”

  They hopped into Jeff’s waiting car parked in the street. A minute later, they were on Route 4 following signs to the George Washington Bridge.

  Jeff waited several minutes before he got into the conversation. “So what are you thinking today?”

  “About what?”

  “About Joe Wilton?”

  “Did you bring me because you need me for the meeting, or to harass me about that?”

  “Well, it’s hardly harassing,” Jeff said. “I just want to know if you’ve had a change of heart at all.”

  “We’ve talked about this,” Dexter said, instinctively rolling down his window to get some air. Too cool of a breeze filled the car almost immediately. “I don’t like the circumstances. Looking at the way people pass down history, you never know when someone’s really genuinely crazy. When this guy writes in his diary that an angel comes out of nowhere and tells him where to camp, I chalk it up as him having a screw loose. I’m not hurling myself into a situation like that.”

  “But maybe it actually happened. Joseph Smith saw an angel and started a whole religion from it.” Jeff veered around a black SUV that was going 55 in the fast lane. Death wish.

  “Well, then this was the worst angel of all time because she told him to camp right where the ambush happened. She got half of Wilton’s team killed, but this idiot writes in his journal that she was his guardian angel. The reality is that it was probably someone working for Dan Carmichael who pulled the wool over old Joe Wilton’s eyes. Believe me, Jeff, a Wild West gunfight is not what I want to drop into.”

  “But we know the exact time and place-”

  Dexter held up his hand, interrupting him. “We know the exact time and place that a crazy person said an angel came down from heaven to tell him where to camp for the night. A crazy person. If you want my opinion – which clearly you don’t – your first experiment should be Howard Miles.”

  “Sixty-two bricks of gold, man. Over two and a half million dollars.”

  “Yeah, and let’s get somebody killed trying to get it. I don’t support the idea. Don’t do this to me.” He sighed. “I should never have even mentioned Wilton to you.”

  Jeff grinned at him. “Probably. But something made you do it.” Dexter ended the conversation with a dismissive wave.

  They drove in silence for a short while. Midday traffic actually wasn’t all that bad, and they were to the George Washington Bridge fairly quickly. They crossed and entered Manhattan.

  “I don’t understand why they don’t meet at your lab,” Dexter said, breaking the silence. “You would think they’d get a better picture of what’s going on.”

  “Well, I’m not going to bring it up if they don’t.” Jeff had often considered how silly it was that they insisted on meeting at the Queens office of Congresswoman Rosa Rivera. He figured they just had everyone who’d received grants show up on one day quarterly to make a report, and that satisfied their requirements for oversight. It was a lot of work putting the report together, but compared to them dropping by his shop for a look-see, it was preferable.

  “Ultimately they’re going to want to see what you’re up to. You have to imagine at some point they’ll want to see your work in action.”

  Jeff nodded. “Yeah, I was thinking that. This might be the last one I can skate by. I have to show some progress, so I’m going to throw them a bone.”

  “The hydrogen molecule?”

  “Yep. It’s small, but it’s a big breakthrough.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Jeff laughed. “Imagine w
hat I could accomplish if I wasn’t spending most of my time on my side project.”

  “Imagine,” Dexter said.

  They were through Manhattan, through the Bronx, and crossing into Queens now on the RFK Bridge. Jeff pulled off of the highway and into the neighborhood where the Congresswoman’s district office was.

  “What do you do to protect yourself if they do decide to just drop by unannounced?”

  “Who? The government guys? Oh, everything’s locked up tight. The time travel device is stowed away under lock-and-key, completely separate of all of the other experiments. Even if they stumbled on the device, there would be nothing that would lead them to believe anything was awry. The data’s all locked up in another place.”

  “Hard to believe the government couldn’t find something it wanted to.”

  “Yeah, well, it has to want to.”

  Normally there were no parking spots and he ended up blocks away, but today Jeff pulled into the small parking lot near the renovated storefront. A brass sign hung on a brick wall reading Congresswoman Rosa Rivera District Office. He parked next to two black sedans with tinted windows. “Interesting,” he said, then got out and retrieved two large binders from the trunk.

  “What do you suppose those are here for?” Dexter said.

  The other half of the building opposite the Congresswoman’s office was a Jamba Juice. Jeff peered around the corner and into the window, but didn’t see anyone inside, so he walked into the office.

  They were greeted by two men in dark suits – stereotypical federal agents, who without a word led them to the conference room where Jeff had given a half-dozen presentations. Typically, two or three administration reps were present, but this time there were only agents.

  “Is something wrong?” Jeff asked, genuinely confused. He laid his binders on the table and sat in one of the soft conference room chairs.

  One of the men sitting across the table from him leaned forward. It was hard for Jeff to distinguish between them – they all looked exactly the same, with trim close cut dark brown hair, no facial hair and piercing eyes. Except for the one in the corner, who was shorter with big ears. “Dr. Jacobs,” the man said, “I’m Agent Fisher. This is Agent Witkowski. Behind you is Agent Figueroa and behind me is Agent Trent. Do you know why we’re here?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t,” Jeff said, his mind calculating what misstep he could’ve made somewhere along the line. “I’m here to give my quarterly report on the federal stimulus grant. Are the GSA folks not here?”

  “No, they’re not,” Fisher said. “We’ll make sure they get your binder there.”

  Jeff looked at Dexter, who’d taken a seat to the side against the wall. “In that case, is there something I can do for you?” He patted the binder. “Everything you need is in here.”

  “We’re more interested in your other project. Can you tell us a little bit about that?”

  “My other project?” There really was no way-

  Fisher nodded.

  “Again, I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Jeff said. He opened the top binder. “Really, if you take a look at my research here-”

  Fisher closed the binder on his fingers. “We don’t need to see your research. I’m sure it’s very well done.” While maintaining eye contact, he reached beneath the conference table, leaning to his right. Jeff heard the rustling of something – maybe he was digging in a bag – and then Fisher’s arm reappeared.

  He placed Jeff’s time travel device on the table in front of him.

  Jeff stared at it wide-eyed, wanting to look at Dexter, but not wanting to give anything away by doing so. Though they probably already had everything they needed. While a multitude of different excuses were going through his mind, he had no idea what to say.

  The important thing, he reminded himself, was that he hadn’t really done anything with it. A couple of experiments. He’d watched a ballgame. He took Abby to Woodstock. Their beef with him could really only be that he spent the government’s money on something other than what he’d told them – but in the end he believed his breakthrough was earth-shattering enough that he could win the day.

  Still, there was something strange about the device they had. It looked old, the casing tarnished to a graying rust color. He’d held the device in his hand just that morning - there was no way it could look worn the way it did unless they’d really abused it since finding it. Maybe they’d already run tests?

  Finally, he had to say something, so he figured he’d just come out with it. “You were in my lab,” he said.

  Fisher shook his head. “We were not.”

  Now he did take a split second to look at Dexter, and immediately wished he hadn’t, as his friend looked like he was going to vomit right there in the Congresswoman’s conference room. “You had to have been. Where else would you get that?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I am telling you – it was in a safe in my office. How you got in to the safe I have no idea.”

  Now Fisher stood up, playing with the device in his hands. “No, Dr. Jacobs. We found this device in the middle of the Sierra Nevada mountains.”

  Another quick glance at Dexter, who was ghostly pale.

  “That doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never been to the Sierra Nevadas, and that device has never been out of my reach.”

  “We think you have,” said Agent Figueroa, walking around the table so Jeff could see him. Figueroa’s voice was exceptionally intimidating – half highway patrolman who just pulled you over for doing 75 in a 60, half mob boss. “You’re confirming this is your device?”

  Jeff nodded. A part of him wanted to look down at the table guiltily, but the rest of him couldn’t take his eyes off of the device in Agent Fisher’s hand.

  “Well, you’re not wrong. Your device is sitting back in your lab where you left it this morning,” Figueroa said.

  “Then how did-”

  “If we had to guess, it looks like you’ve discovered how to travel through time,” Fisher said. “Then, someone used the device you invented to go back in time – we have no idea how far – in California,” said Fisher. “But they never took the return trip. They left your device there. The fact that you have no recollection of it would lead us to believe this hasn’t happened yet. If, of course, you really do have one at your lab.”

  “I can assure you I do,” Jeff said. “I had it in my hands this morning. Wait a minute – then there are two of these devices? Well then this is all wrong. I only made one. They’re expensive.”

  “Well, this one doesn’t really work anymore,” Fisher said, placing it again on the table in front of him. “It’s been sitting in the mountains for what appears to be a very long time.”

  “May I?” Jeff asked, motioning to the device. Fisher nodded, so he picked it up and inspected it. “How’d you find it?”

  “We have satellites circling the planet at all times looking for traces of radiation,” Fisher said. “Obviously we’re looking for WMDs. But what we didn’t expect to see was a faint electromagnetic pulse coming from the middle of the forest in no man’s land. That was about three months ago.”

  He set the device down on the table. “But how did you-”

  “How did we trace it back to you? It was pretty easy – not too many people are using synthetic Neptunium for anything, which is what’s in your battery pack there. And so you know, there is radiation coming from this device, so you don’t want to keep it in your pants pocket if you know what I mean.” Fisher bent down and rummaged through the bag again. “You’re going to love this, too.”

  When his hand emerged above the table again, he held a badly destroyed smart phone. “This was found about four feet from your time device.”

  Jeff took it from him and examined it. It was rusted, cracked, and beaten up. “I can’t imagine you can pull anything from this, can you?”

  “No,” Fisher said. “Winter in the Sierra Nevadas is tough. The data card is useless. What we might be ab
le to find out is how long it’s been there.”

  “Well, I’ll be curious to know,” he said, sliding it back across the table. He shook his head. “I am absolutely dumbfounded. And I’ll come totally clean with you if it’ll help. Yes, I have created a device that will allow time travel. I’ve used it for a handful of experiments, but never anything as ambitious as going across the country. We were just getting started in exploring the possibilities.” Of course he knew what the reference to the Sierra Nevadas was, the Wilton scenario sitting secretly in Dexter’s journal of possible missions, but he wasn’t going to bring it up. Not unless he had a connection, which he couldn’t see. He looked up at Fisher. “So what happens now? Am I in trouble?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “If you’re willing to help us.” Fisher leaned forward on the table again, only less intimidatingly and more strategically.

  Suddenly, Jeff realized he was no longer quivering in his seat. The tide had turned – they needed him. He found the confidence to look Fisher square in the eyes, then glanced past him at Dexter, who was now cautiously looking at him with one eyebrow raised. Jeff slowly scanned the room before turning his attention back to the agent across the table from him.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Craig W. Turner has worked in government, politics, PR, media and economic development in Western New York for over 15 years. He is a graduate of the University of Buffalo, and is a two-time winner of the Buffalo News Short Story Contest. Craig lives in Wheatfield, New York (near Niagara Falls) with his wife, Nadine, and their four children. While it is an admitted fantasy of his, he has never, personally, traveled through time.