Storm Unleashed (Quantum Touch Book 4)

by Michael R. Stern

  “Looks like you're getting organized. I'm going home, but I wanted you to know we'll be back later. The summit's not over yet. We have one more idea to use.”

  “Do you want me to come?”

  “Not necessary. Just wanted you to know.”

  “Well, I'll be here a while, so stop by if I'm still here. Oh, by the way, Mr. Chelton said the president asked him not to dismantle the classroom.” He went back to work, singing under his breath.

  No argument, no fuss. Fritz scratched behind his left ear. The portal at work?

  * * *

  “HI HONEY, I'm home,” he said, stepping into the kitchen.

  “Hi honey, I'm glad,” said Ashley.

  Linda said, “The president called. He wants you to get him at 6:15.”

  “Okay. Where's Jane?”

  “In here, Fritz,” she called from the dining room. “I'm finishing up the locations.”

  “We've been doing research all day,” Linda said. He draped his coat over his chair. “If this doesn't work, nothing will.”

  Jane joined them, a file folder in her right hand. “We have a bio and a map for each of them. I put them in order of most susceptible. Putin's first.”

  “Wow. You've really done a lot of work. The maps are really detailed. But I have to think about how to make the times match up.”

  Ashley said, “When you first saw General Lee, you paperclipped a section of the book. We think if you clip the bio and the map together, you'll get the same effect.”

  “That might work. These maps all look like floor plans.”

  Jane responded, “Each childhood home, with a GPS. We thought you should go to the outside so they can see where they are. But you'll have to play it by ear.”

  “It'd be useful to have a practice run.” Turning pages, Fritz rubbed his forehead. “But I don't imagine we'll have time.”

  “Fritz, we thought you should end with a big event, so they all could see it together,” said Linda.

  “What?”

  “We made a list of possibilities and then tried to find the supporting materials. Mary suggested Christ's crucifixion or Hiroshima,” said Linda.

  “Either of those would take the starch out of their shorts,” Ashley said.

  “Won't work. We'd be guessing about Jerusalem, and Hiroshima would be too dangerous.”

  “It'll be the middle of the night in Paris. We figured the Louvre will be empty and locked down,” said Linda. “Go see the Mona Lisa. It's not exactly time travel, but they'll all know it. You emphasize the ability to be precise, that way. And if you take the colonel and some soldiers, no guard will be a problem.”

  Fritz grinned. They had thought it through, step by step. “Did you tell all this to the president?” he asked.

  Jane said, “He's impressed, Fritz. He was almost giggling. He said he couldn't wait to see their faces.”

  At a quarter to six, Fritz grabbed his coat and the folder. Only Jane joined him. Linda saw his confusion and told him that she and Ashley were staying behind. “Too many extras, Fritz. And here's the picture the president gave you. He asked if you would bring it.” He kissed her, waved to Mary, and patted Ashley on the shoulder. Two SUVs were waiting when they arrived. Everyone was so used to the routine that conversation was unnecessary. The colonel and five members of his unit waited for them. The idling police car meant that Jim Shaw had been alerted. Fritz set up the White House brochure, fetched the president and Mel Zack, and crossed the hall to the meeting room.

  “They are all back and I had very little difficulty arranging tonight,” the president said. “They've had all day to discuss the plan with their advisors. Jane, you have an itinerary, you said?”

  “Yes, sir. First stop. Russia.”

  “Fritz, is there any way to gauge the time you walk out of the portal?”

  “I've been thinking about that all day. We've used current time up until now, but we tried to adjust the time when we experimented with General Lee. I think I can swivel the paperclip as if it were the hand on a clock, starting with our time now. Going clockwise, and calculating the time zones, I think we get to tomorrow morning in Russia. So, with the nine-hour time difference, right now it's three in the morning in St. Petersburg. If I move the clip ahead by what would be five hours,” Fritz twisted the paperclip in the air so they could all visualize it, “then it should be eight in the morning when I open the portal. But I'm just guessing.”

  “Maybe this isn't such a good idea.”

  “Mr. President, now that I've gone through this, I think our first stop should be Israel. If we screw up, it won't be so bad. And if we do, we might be able to adjust.”

  Jane said, “I think Fritz is right, Mr. President. This is too important.”

  Knowing that time was short, the president looked from Fritz to Jane and back. He asked if Fritz had brought his photograph. Fritz handed it to him. “Let's go here, Fritz. Four o'clock in the afternoon, Central Time.” Fritz twisted the clip counterclockwise. “Come with me. We won't be long.”

  * * *

  “LET'S JUST STAND here for a few minutes.” They saw a young woman on the other side of the street. The president pointed. “That's my grandmother. My mother's mother. Look how young she is. My mother hasn't been born yet. I'm guessing, but I think she's coming home from work. That it's World War Two.” They stood and watched as the woman walked up the front steps and look around the yard. When she saw them, she smiled, then opened the door and disappeared. His eyes filled up. “Your guess appears sound, Fritz. Thanks. Let's go.”

  * * *

  AS SOON AS they returned, the president checked the time. “They're going to be in the Old Executive Building again, so let's go get them. First stop, Russia.”

  The colonel lined up his men to block the hall to the trophy case. First through with the president was Putin, who again nodded to Fritz. Single file, they all returned to the room across the hall, looking both ways at what they thought was a new arrival point. When the door closed, Fritz set the paperclip to arrive in St. Petersburg around eight in the morning. He reminded himself that they were actually going to Leningrad in the Soviet Union. St. Petersburg wouldn't be its name again for another thirty years.

  Waiting for him in the hall were the two presidents.

  The Russian president said, “I have not spoken to you, but I remember you. Are you well?

  “I'm fine, thank you, sir. And you?”

  “Perhaps I will have a better answer momentarily.” The slight uptick of his lips was the closest Fritz had ever noticed him smiling. Fritz opened the portal to what appeared to be a school and a street of apartment buildings. The two presidents entered, and the door shut behind. Absolute silence filled the hall. Fritz crossed his fingers.

  They had been in the portal for more than ten minutes when the door opened, and a shaken man, quickly wiping his eyes, followed him to the present. Putin glanced briefly at Fritz and returned to the meeting.

  The president returned immediately with the President of the United Arab Emirates. Another prolonged stay in the portal turned Fritz's attention to Tony. Without words, Tony stuck his thumb in the air.

  One by one, the president escorted each of the leaders through the portal. None returned unmoved. Jane and Linda had done the research well. As the last trip ended, the president told Fritz to reset for the Old Executive Office Building and to get the vice president. We'll go to Paris in ten minutes, Fritz.”

  The vice president asked, “How's it going, Fritz?”

  “Almost done, sir. Next stop, the Mona Lisa room.”

  “Then we'll bring them back here and get them on board.”

  Fritz reset the portal to the Louvre. As the leaders gathered in the hall, they all stared at him with a variety of emotions. He opened the door and a large, dimly-lit gallery opened before them. Colonel Mitchell signaled his men and winked at Fritz as he passed. Only Jane, Tony, and Fritz remained behind.

  “Can you tell anything, Jane?”

  “On
ly that the room has grown quieter with each trip.”

  “Everything okay, Tony?”

  “Fine. Working perfectly, knock wood.”

  Then even they were silent, looking from one to the other, waiting. Ending the quiet, the door opened and feet scuffed across the hall again. Last back, the president flashed a quick smile. “Thank you all, and Fritz, thank Linda. Some saw their parents or childhood friends, and some even saw themselves. A real-life Christmas Carol. Right now, I'd like to go thank Charles Dickens. It worked.”

  * * *

  FRITZ TRIED TO REGROUP for his classes. “Today is Super Tuesday,” Fritz reminded his students. The reporting of primary results would mean many people in the United States would be watching TV when the president came on to speak. As the day progressed, students and teachers became more animated. Speculation about the outcome increased, with hope that the extra day of the summit led to a positive result. At lunch, teachers circulated, discussing the possibilities. Al Kennedy stopped Fritz and asked if he'd been part of it.

  When Fritz nodded, Al said, “Wow. Can I ask you about it sometime? This is sure turning out to be an interesting school year.”

  * * *

  LATE-AFTERNOON SUN bounced off the Pacific. His stocking feet on an ottoman, the man said, “We have disrupted. We have destroyed. Yet we have not delivered. We will see what he says tonight. When we meet, our next step must succeed.” Listening again, his face grew hot. “I am not the only one who needs to think.” He disconnected, flung his phone across the room, and knew he had a problem he hadn't had only moments before.

  * * *

  SCATTERED AROUND THE family room, they watched TV as the first polls closed. All pundits agreed that the night would pare down the candidate list, perhaps by as much as half in each party.

  The president had called earlier and told Fritz the idea of taking each leader back in time was brilliant. He said that he had merely mentioned “changing the future by altering the past” and the message had been received. “I have to finish up my speech for tonight, but do me a favor and take notes. I'd like your impression.”

  Jane said, “I was surprised when he told me that he was increasing the number of people who would be working on the investigation. With the summit complete, he had already moved on to his next priority. The speech only puts the exclamation point at the end of one story.”

  “You're awfully quiet, Ash,” said Fritz.

  “Partly tired. But I was reading about the attack Friday night. A comment from one of the hotel employees has me thinking. A party was scheduled on the roof. Two guests showed up. One was a tall white guy. The police reported only Asians were found dead.”

  “Maybe he escaped when he saw what was happening?” Fritz suggested.

  “Or maybe he's the killer,” Ashley said. “Remember Badenhof and the other guy in Chicago?”

  Picking up the thought, Fritz said, “And then maybe he's behind the attack. Another Caballero? And the white guy sticks out,” said Fritz.

  Jane said, “I've asked for copies of the hotel security footage. We'll have it this week. Ash, I think you guys are right.”

  ALL THE COMMERCIAL stations and every cable news channel covered the president's speech. No advance copies had been distributed. He wanted everyone listening to hear the details from him, not through a filter. He said, “We have a signed peace accord which will end the wars in the Middle East. Here is what 34 nations have agreed to.” With charts, maps, and diagrams, he took forty-five minutes to describe a developing and growing Middle East. When he discussed costs and the creation of jobs in the Middle East and at home, he said the ten-year program would ultimately pay for itself and showed how that would work. He smiled throughout. And just as he signed off, he said, “Thanks, Fritz.”

  Surprised, Fritz looked up from his yellow pad, glanced at Linda's frown, and returned to his last note. Leaning back, he read the details aloud. “He hit everything, except when it would start.”

  “He has to get Congressional approval first,” said Jane. “He has a discharge petition ready if the Speaker reneges. But it could get tied up in committee, so he may need your help again.”

  “I thought this was a done deal,” Ashley said.

  “The president plans to meet with every senator and representative who has any say. All committees, the leadership on both sides.” Jane said. “He said he expects little opposition, but they'll all have questions. I'll be there. So will General Beech. The president said he's planning a very nice lunch. And he's taking names.”

  Chapter 29

  JANE RETURNED TO deciphering Koppler's files. Or trying to. For someone so well-connected, he had left a barren trail. “Fritz, we have connections that don't connect. We have people who communicate and no records to follow. All the phone numbers we have are from disposable phones, and even the purchase records are for people who don't exist, credit cards that are used once, and accounts we can't trace, including Nakamura Industries. Every clue takes us nowhere. All we have is dead people.”

  “Whoever is behind this has a playbook. Just like Koppler did. What I don't get is why.”

  Ashley stood in the doorway, listening. “Money, maybe?”

  “Someone with money, lots of money, is certainly behind this,” said Jane.

  Fritz said, “Or more than one someone. But if they already have money, what do they really want?”

  “To get rid of the president? But that doesn't make sense either,” said Ashley.

  “He'll be out of office in ten months. All they have to do is wait,” said Fritz. “So what do they really want?”

  * * *

  THE TOURNAMENT'S NEXT round was announced, so Fritz was expecting a noisy Monday. When he arrived, a group of teachers was waiting.

  “Good morning, Fritz.”

  “Hi Liz.” He continued to his classroom as they trailed behind.

  “Sorry to jump you but the kids will be here soon. We all want to be pitchers. With the new schedule, you can take it easy.”

  “That's great. Do you have the questions?”

  “Susan gave them to me,” Liz said. “Do you want to pitch any games?”

  “I'll pitch one. I don't want the one with Ash's team though. And I'll be here if you need help.”

  WITH NO GAMES to worry about, Fritz focused on his classes. Normally by mid-March, he was so far behind that he started skipping sections and increasing homework. Now, he was able to spend more time on subjects he had always wanted to discuss in depth. In his World History classes, he would cover economics after World War I, the Nazi and Japanese militaries' rise to power, and how the world responded. With the seniors, he would be able to discuss the 1960s in more depth and add some fun readings. For his third and fourth period classes, he would cover the Civil War and Reconstruction in greater detail.

  At lunch, he talked about how far ahead he was. Ashley said, “You're lucky. You don't have after-school work to do. I, on the other hand, am an overworked machine.”

  “Do you want me to work with the kids on the play?”

  “Nope. They know what to do until the tournament's done. You can just go home.”

  “Fine with me. Or even better, I'll call Tony and go visit some places.” Ashley looked like a puppy begging to go for a walk. “I'll go visit some martyrs and bring you some tips.”

  “I have a suggestion for where you can go.”

  FRITZ WISHED HIS ninth graders good luck. He and Ashley walked together into the growing crowd. Taking a detour, they bumped into Natalie Johnston.

  “Hi, Ashley. You didn't really think you could avoid me forever, did you?” Fritz tried to slide past, but she said he was the one she wanted to interview.

  “Hi, Nat. Been reading your pieces,” Ashley replied.

  She chuckled. “You still blush. It's cute. Mr. Russell, I wanted to ask you if the tournament was meeting your expectations.” Ashley tried to slip away. “You can stay, Ash.”

  “Well, Ms. Johnston…”

 
“You can call me Nat.”

  “Well, Nat, your articles have done a lot to get the story out. But, mostly, my ninth graders have done all the work. I think they've done a great job.”

  “I understand you have guest pitchers for the final.”

  “That's what they told me. I'm looking forward to it.”

  “They told you? They really have done this on their own?”

  “For the most part. They put everything together and told me later. I'm really proud of them.”

  She turned to Ashley. “And what have you been up to?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual.”

  “I hear you're getting married.” She laughed at his surprise. “Ash, I'm a reporter. I ask questions. I got it from your fan club.”

  Fritz started to laugh. “Now he has a fan club.” Ashley scowled.

  “Rachel and Nicole.”

  They stood together in the back, behind the packed rows, just below the mezzanine seats. After the first game ended, the predictable visitors arrived.

  “Hi, Nat,” said Rachel and Nicole together, and then, “Hi, Mr. Gilbert.” With Ashley trapped between a former girlfriend and the Dough Twins, Fritz bailed out his friend.

  “Rachel, Nicole, how do you think the games are going?” he asked.

  “Everyone's excited, Mr. R,” said Rachel. “But we're going to win, so no biggie. Mr. Gilbert is a great coach.”

  “You're not going to win. We are,” Nicole said. “Mr. R, did you know that Johnny Clayton and I are Charleston partners?”

  “For what, Nicole?” asked Natalie.

  “The play. It's gonna be cool. You should come. Mr. Gilbert is directing.”

  “Thanks, Nicole. Maybe I will. Ashley, I'll need to talk to you more about your extracurricular activities.”

  “Maybe you'll meet Jane,” said Nicole. “See you, Mr. R.” And, together, “Bye, Mr. Gilbert.”

  In the second game, a stunning comeback tied it up. With two outs in the bottom of the fourth, Dylan Lake homered. The question was “What general directed Operation Overlord, in what year, and in what country?” Dylan hesitated for a moment, and said, “The overall commander was General Eisenhower, but he wasn't the only general. Operation Overload was the plan to invade Europe. The date was June 6, 1944, D-Day. The Allies landed in Normandy, France.” His team won, 12-11.