Her eyes moved again to the name Jack Baldwin. Now she was irritated. She just couldn’t place it, but she knew Kate had mentioned him a long time ago. “Now what?”
Laura contemplated, Could I be overreacting? Her instincts said no. But where was Kate and what was that mess in the living room all about? She looked at the computer, wishing she knew how to work them. She had the feeling the answer was there. But unfortunately for Laura, she was still in kindergarten when it came to computers. So who could she call? Sheri, her assistant? She looked at her watch: 9:45 on a Friday evening. Most likely she was out on a date with her latest boyfriend. No, she needed someone who . . . she paused. There was only one guy she knew who really loved computers as much as his photography—Hawk. It was a gamble. Friday night, he could be anywhere. Impulsively, she reached for her phone, dialed his beeper and sat down to wait.
* * *
For the second time in ten minutes, Hawk’s beeper sounded. Irritated, he glared at it and then frowned. He didn’t recognize the phone number. Reasoning maybe Tango was at a random location, he scribbled the phone number and reached for his cellphone. Dialing, the phone was answered after the first ring. Before he could speak he heard Laura Kane’s familiar, but agitated voice.
“Hawk? Hawk, is that you?”
“Hey Laura, you’re back.” He paused. “Where are you? This isn’t your . . .”
“No, I’m at a friend’s and I think she’s in trouble. You’re the only one I could . . .”
“Hey, relax. What kind of trouble?” Hawk was completely surprised Laura would think to ask him for help.
“I think, well, it’s kind of complicated. Uh, she’s missing and there’s these strange notes. I, uh, can’t work the computer and . . .”
“Laura, it’s okay. Slow down.” Hawk had never in the three years he’d known Laura ever seen her lose her cool. Something bad was going down. “Now, tell me what happened.”
Laura rambled on about her friend, Kate, the phone call, her not showing up. She was beside herself about her friend’s disappearance.
“The strangest thing is there’s this list of names by her computer. I think the answer is in there. I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry if . . .”
“Laura,” Hawk cut in. “Calm down. Listen, I’m over here off Wilshire Beverly Hills. Give me directions and I’ll swing by. I can be there in 20 minutes.”
Laura gave Hawk the directions and hung up.
He quickly turned on the engine, shaking his head. This was definitely a strange turn of events. But then it had been that kind of day. He glanced once more at the now all too familiar houses behind the Regent Beverly Wilshire. “Later, guys,” he muttered to himself as he turned the Jeep around heading toward Olympic Avenue, then turning right on his way to Santa Monica.
* * *
Laura had nearly worn a hole in the floor waiting for Hawk. Reasoning with herself, he was the only one she could think the call. There had been a little relief to tell someone, but the possibilities of what Hawk might reveal had her even more scared and worried about Kate. She was barely able to
gather some of her composure as she reached to open the front door.
“Come in, Hawk. It’s all in here,” Kate said, motioning to Hawk to follow her into Kate’s office. She explained as they went about Kate’s work as a website designer. She gave him a brief background on the subject of Kate’s mysterious father, the one-year anniversary of her mother’s death, as she pointed to the notepad next to her computer.
“I’m so confused,” Laura said, “. . . and really scared. I . . .” It was the odd expression on Hawk’s face that stopped Laura cold. Unsettled, she asked, “Hawk, what is it? Do you recognize those names?”
Hawk decided it was best to do something like sit down. The coincidence of the names in front of him was startling. Very slowly, Hawk put the notepad down and turned to Laura. With incredible self-control, he managed to look into her anxious brown eyes and say, “Laura, do you know if Kate has any special hobbies?”
Perplexed, Laura said, “Hobbies? I don’t understand.”
“Well, does she like UFOs, time travel, perhaps?”
“Oh,” Laura sighed and laughed nervously. “Well, yes. She has always loved sci-fi, but what does that have to do . . . ?”
Hawk held up his hand, “Another question,” he but in. “How well does she know Sherman Avery?”
“The CEO of Tyme Studios?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Oh, gosh. Her mother worked for him for years. He’s like family. Uncle Sherman, she calls him.”
“I see . . .” As carefully as he could, not to arouse too much suspicion, Hawk asked as she pointed to the notepad, “Do you know this name The Array?”
Laura shook her head, “No, never heard of it. I was hoping you might know.”
Hawk didn’t answer, turning his gaze back to the list.
“What about Errol Flynn? Was she a fan?”
“No, not especially, though she always like the 1940s good-looking leading man.”
Hawk nodded as Laura continued. “The other was a name of a movie, the Philadelphia Experiment. Some government fantasy about time travel?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Hawk couldn’t believe it. They weren’t kidding when they said life was stranger than fiction.
“So what do you make of it?” Laura asked anxiously.
“I think it’s all very interesting.” As Hawk thought to himself, what the hell was he going to tell her? Instead, he added, “You know, she could just be out there somewhere.”
“No,” Laura said emphatically, “No! I know she’s not a flake.”
“All right, all right. I mean, I have a few ideas. Besides, you can’t report her missing to the police yet.”
“I know, 24-hours.”
“Yeah, in the meantime, let me do some digging around.”
“Hawk, really,” Laura persisted. “What do you think? Am I nuts here?”
Hawk didn’t have the heart to tell Laura even remotely what he was really thinking. He had exhausted his supply of reasonable explanations. “Listen, don’t worry. I have some connections. Let me get home. I’ll call you in an hour or two. By the way, what does she look like?”
“Oh, God. Of course,” Laura said, reaching above Hawk who hadn’t noticed the high placed shelf of mementos and framed pictures.
“In case I run into her, you know,” Hawk said. “You never know.” Hoping to buoy Laura’s spirits.
“Yeah. Here. This is a picture of Laura and her mom, another of us just taken over Christmas.” As Hawk stood to take a closer look at the photos that Laura handed him, he rather quickly sat down again. It was not possible. Stunned, he stared into the unforgettable beautiful face of the woman he had seen earlier that day at the Regent Beverly Wilshire. The face and the ideas forming behind it made him nervous. He was at a complete loss for words. He tried to rally beyond his shock, but Laura had already seen it.
“What is it? Do you know her?” Laura asked. Completely amazed, she had never mentioned Hawk to Kate.
“No, not exactly. I just saw her for the first time today.”
“Where?” Laura quickly asked.
“Driving to the Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel. She, well, she was in a hurry. As usual, there was a lot of traffic on Wilshire. She just isn’t someone you would overlook.” Hawk finished, trying not to sound like a mesmerized 18-year-old.
“Yes, that’s true,” Laura agreed. “But the only reason she would be there was to see Sherman Avery.”
“I gathered,” Hawk remarked, thinking to himself it was time to leave. He had work to do. “Listen, go home, Laura. I promise I’ll get back to you around midnight one way or another. Besides, I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot in case I don’t get more tonight.”
Laura sighed, resigned, “Okay. I real
ly appreciate this.” Laura added.
Laura found it most odd as she looked at this man with the strange sherry colored eyes. Someone she considered strictly a business acquaintance suddenly someone she had to rely on for help.
Hawk stood up. “Hey, no problem. Later, Laura.”
“Yeah,” she replied as she grabbed her purse and keys to follow him out to their parked cars, accompanied by the permanent knot in her stomach.
CHAPTER VIII
The phone call came at 2:00 A.M. The incessant ringing made Sherman Avery groan as he reached for the phone but missed. The ringing continued. Frustrated, he made a second attempt. Managing to secure the phone he croaked, “It better be good.”
“Sherman, Sherman, it’s Jack.”
“If this isn’t an international incident, I . . .”
“Sherman, wake up. It’s an emergency.”
“I’m listening,” Sherman said as he attempted to focus, squinting at the florescent hands on the bedside clock that read 2:02 A.M.
“There’s been an accountable transfer,” Jack said.
“From what account?” Sherman asked, baffled.
“No, damn it. This has nothing to do with banking. I’m talking about the Silver Screen. Someone has gone through it.” A deadly silence was followed by . . .
“Son of a bitch! Who the hell?”
“We don’t know. Only the 1:00 A.M. report showed a transfer. We know it’s female. That’s all at the moment.”
Sherman was now fully awake, feeling a budding headache. “Do the others . . . ?”
“Yes, Carl phoned me. I told him I would contact you. We need to . . .”
“Yes, I know. An emergency meeting. I’ll be there in 30 minutes.” Sherman hung up, collapsing instantly on the pile of goose-down pillows. He was feeling momentarily ill, only too aware that now it had really hit the fan. Pulling in his energies, he threw back the covers. His last thought as he hurriedly dressed was he was getting entirely too damn old for this kind of insanity.
* * *
They were waiting. An uneasy quiet filled the meeting room when Sherman entered, going to his empty chair at the head of the old mahogany table. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and the smell of cigarette smoke scented the air. Sherman sat and reached for the mug, sipping the hot coffee, and then put it down slowly. His tired brown eyes surveyed the varying degrees of agitation and concern stamped on the faces of the group. Clearly this was their worst moment.
“So, who would like to make the report?”
“They’re reviewing the videotape from 5:00 P.M. to now. Whoever it was will show up. We should have it shortly,” Jack said.
Sherman nodded. “I don’t have to remind each of you, the success of this project is due in large part to the bond of discretion and dedication that has been responsible for our safety and cover all these years. Now we have another human being, a lose cannon, in a time where they don’t belong. Despite our medical team in 1939, I believe that is where the program was set.”
Carl nodded, “Yes, we were running that program for the next transfer.” He removed his glasses, inspecting them for a nonexistent spec of dust and slowly replacing them added, “However, it is a time we have already visited. We have managed in our travels not to rearrange history and not to run into ourselves by not returning to the same time sequence. This even has changed that concept.”
Jack had been watching Sherman with barely veiled anxiety that he had expressed to him on numerous occasions recently. He was above the “I told you so’s.” However, their present vulnerability concerned him greatly. This added to the fact that he was the one who would have to go back and fix it. A simple enough task originally, that was now growing in danger and problems as the moments ticked by. Sherman sighed, weary from the thought of what has just occurred.
“I can’t imagine who it could be. A female you said?”
“Yes, the DNA physical structure printed it out.”
“Perhaps one of our team,” Sherman mumbled more to himself than to the others. “I suppose I’d have to admit the temptation could . . .”
There was a sharp knock at the door that interrupted Sherman.
“Come in,” he called out as a tall, lanky lab technician entered, a tense expression on his face as he carried the video to the head of the table and handed the tape to Sherman.
“What did you find, Leonard?” Sherman asked.
“Oh, we found the person, sir, early this evening.” He paused, his pale blue eyes looking intently through his glasses.
“And?” Sherman asked.
“The good news, sir, is that it is definitely not a member of staff. I naturally cross referenced with . . .”
“Yes, yes.” Sherman said impatiently. “But who was it, Leonard?”
He hesitated before answering. “I think perhaps, sir, you should see for yourself.”
The four men who had each started to speak simultaneously were silenced by the unsettling tone of Leonard’s remark.
Sherman reached for the video and slipped it into the VCR. “Roll tape,” Sherman said as the lights were switched off. It was all over in three minutes, clearly revealing Kate’s presence in the underground tunnels and the moment of her transfer. The silence that filled the room seemed to go on forever as Leonard diplomatically turned on the lights and busied himself with rewinding the tape.
Jack looked at Sherman with an expression of irony and compassion. The others sat in stunned silence and concern, waiting for Sherman to speak.
Eventually he cleared his throat, buying time he knew he didn’t have. “I am as shocked as any of you are and I know I have to carry the weight of this catastrophe myself.”
He looked at Jack then, knowing he had sidestepped Jack’s vocal cautions and concerns. Grateful for their friendship at that moment that rose admirably to this difficult situation.
“Perhaps I knew one day something like this could happen, but we have been so careful, and now at such a crucial time.” Sherman shook his head in disappointment. “It was Lilli’s tape that started it all and Kate’s anger and sense of betrayal. I should have realized that she wouldn’t let go. However, we have to face this situation square on.”
“But what about the timing?” Carl cut in. “We simply cannot return to a time period we have already occupied on any previous transfer.”
“Yes, I understand,” Sherman agreed. “But in this case, this one time . . .”
“Wait,” John interrupted. “How much of an overlay do we really have? Just because we would have to leave earlier.” He looked at Carl for answers.
“Well, two weeks of the three we have already visited,” Carl said. “Our only option is to pull the records of that transfer. And you,” he nodded at Jack, “. . . will have to memorize your past activities. No exceptions, no mistakes. And of course, there’s the matter of Margaret Mitchell’s sequel to “Gone With the Wind.” You will have one week instead of three to secure the manuscript in any way that you can.”
“I understand,” Jack said.
“Which means,” Sherman cut in, “. . . you will leave tomorrow morning at 9:00 A.M. Kate undoubtedly will still be out cold. You must be there when she wakes up.”
“And . . .” Sherman took a deep breath, “. . . she will undoubtedly be a handful.” A small chuckle escaped him as a trace of a smile flickered over Jack’s face.
“Somehow that comes as no surprise.” Edmond, John and Hank managed a grin as Carl looked on not particularly amused.
“I’m afraid,” Sherman added in an intentionally serious tone, “. . . there is still another serious problem that we have to deal with and it has to do with the identity of Kate’s father.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked perplexed.
“Her father?” Carl questioned. “That shouldn’t have anything to do with this.”
�
�Well, I’m afraid it does. You see, we don’t know who her real father is. You know her pregnancy happened after her return to 1960. I’m afraid I led you all to believe it was someone who was killed in a car accident at that time. We agreed not to discuss this with Lilli or Kate.” The group nodded, each recalling their own memories of the incident. “I have always had strong suspicions that the pregnancy occurred in 1939. I never voiced these thoughts because there didn’t seem to be any point. Besides, I could never prove it. Now that Lilli’s tape has surfaced, coupled with Kate’s reaction, I believe it to be the truth. When I asked Kate about her father, she refused to tell me who he was.”
Carl released a frustrated sigh. “This is not good. She can’t . . .”
“I know,” Sherman interjected. “She must not, under any circumstances, get entangled in her real father’s life.”
“Yes,” Carl agreed. “But how can we prevent this from happening?”
Sherman looked at Jack. “I’m afraid this leaves you with the daunting task of getting this information out of Kate.”
Jack rubbed his now pounding temples. “Only Kate,” he said half to himself.
“Yes, well, as I said,” Sherman continued, “. . . it will be one of your more challenging trips.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Now,” Sherman said, “. . . we have work to do, gentlemen.” He rose, as did the others. “We will meet at 8:45 A.M. in the transfer chamber. No delays.”
Each nodded, already preoccupied with the accelerated demands of their individual responsibilities ahead.
* * *
Hawk had dialed Tango’s cellphone twice. Both times the line had been busy. He was so agitated when he finally got
through, he yelled into the phone. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Hey, man, back off. What’s up? What’s going on, Hawk?”
Hawk took a deep breath. “Sorry, man. It’s not you. It’s the most incredible news.”
“What are you talking about?”
Hawk launched into his rendition of the call and visit with Laura Kane. Arriving at his house, phone to his ear, he continued his story as he shrugged off his denim jacket, put down his camera gear and headed for the computer. “This is it. Not question. I see all the pieces coming together this time,” Hawk concluded.
The Silver Screen Page 6