The Rewind Files

by Claire Willett

  I dug through the pile of supplies Calliope was unpacking and handed a small metal canister to Carter. “You’ll have to sweep both the apartments,” I said. “Yours and mine. Pack up my suitcases – take all the clothes and everything in the vanity case in the bathroom – everything that came through the Slipstream.”

  “I have to touch your underwear?” he said dubiously.

  “No, you get to touch my underwear,” I said. “You’re welcome. Take all my stuff over to your apartment. Grab whatever you want to take with you – any tech or personal effects you want to keep – then torch the rest. Make sure you detonate this inside the cargo transport so it shorts out and severs the Slipstream connection. We have to get rid of any evidence that might connect you to the Bureau.”

  “Got it,” he said.

  “What about me?” said Leo.

  “You’re on reconnaissance,” I said. “We need to know if John Dean has any links to United Enterprises. You have to go to his apartment while he’s at work and see what you can find. We need hard evidence linking U.E. to Gemstone that Grove can take to Congress.”

  “You want me to break into the White House Counsel’s apartment?” he said, horrified.

  “You don’t have to break in,” I said. “You just have to scan it. Bureau scanner data is admissible as court evidence. We have proof that the Watergate wiretaps traveled through the Slipstream. What we need to prove next is that John Dean did too.”

  “Meanwhile, I’m going to go annoy those crime scene photos out of Detective Barlow. Calliope, you set up shop here and stay on Comm with all of us. It’s 3 p.m. local time now. We’ll meet back here absolutely no later than 11:30 so we’re packed and ready for Grove to pull us out at midnight. Got it?”

  Everyone nodded. Calliope handed each of us a small, bulging knapsack from her huge pile of supplies accumulating on the floor of the train car.

  “I’ve got a bag of tricks for each of you,” she said. “Full of fun things from Carstairs’ Magical Closet of Wonders. We’ve got everything from scanners to stun pistols, there’s some protein bars in there if you get hungry, a portable shield to mask your Slipstream radiation, all kinds of good stuff.

  “Look through it on the train, make sure you’re clear on how it all works; the controls aren’t in the same places and the settings are different from what you’re used to. Do an inventory on the train. Leo, your bag has instruction manuals in it, call me if you have questions. All of you better get this stuff back to me in one piece.”

  “What happens if—” Carter began.

  “Don’t finish that sentence, Carter,” I said warningly.

  “I have to, Reggie,” he said gently. “What happens if one of us doesn’t make it back?”

  We all looked at each other uncomfortably for a long moment after that, shuffling our feet. Nobody knew what to say. It was the question we were all avoiding.

  Splitting up was the only way to get everything done in time, but it was risky. None of us were combat-trained. Leo was a stranger in a strange land, Carter was a research aide, Calliope had no field experience, and I was only an apprentice who had kicked and screamed to avoid getting sent on this mission in the first place.

  This is a really bad idea, a voice whispered in my head. You’re going to get one of them killed.

  “We’re not leaving anyone behind,” I said firmly, breaking the uncomfortable silence with more confidence than I felt. “We’re all making it out of this alive. We’re all going back. Is that clear? We are leaving together or not at all.”

  I paused, then added, “Don’t go anywhere without telling Calliope exactly where you are, keep your wrist Comm switched on with the tracker live at all times, and come right back here the second you’re done. Our first priority is getting each other home safely. That’s more important than the photos or the apartment or anything else. We came in together, and we’re going home together. Got it?”

  Everyone nodded. I took a deep breath.

  “Okay,” I said. “Game time. Let’s go.”

  We each took turns hugging Calliope, then left her in the train car, closing the door behind us. Instantly we were plunged into darkness again and had to feel our way through the maze of train cars until we could see the daylight shining through the open warehouse doors. We followed the train tracks to Ivy City Yard, where a number of trains lay waiting. I pulled out my handheld.

  “Okay,” I said, “we’re looking for a passenger train with one engine and six cars. The engine is 4017. It’s leaving in six minutes for Union Station to pick up passengers on its way to Baltimore.”

  “We should split up here,” said Carter. “We should each take different train cars. Just in case. If one of us is spotted, hit your Comm and we’ll come running.”

  He shook hands with Leo, then hugged me. I hugged Leo too.

  “So this is what you do all day,” he said.

  “No, these are recent developments,” I said. “I used to stare at a computer screen and drink coffee all day. Nobody was ever trying to kill me. It was great.”

  “It will be over soon,” he said, with unconvincing optimism, and kissed me on the cheek.

  “Go read your instruction manuals,” I said. “Try not to electrocute yourself.”

  “See you at midnight,” he said, and we went our separate ways.

  * * *

  I kept an eagle eye opened for the blond man with the newspaper all along the whole trip from Ivy City Yard to Union Station, and from there to the police station where Detective Barlow worked. But either I had successfully shaken him off, or he was better at concealing himself, because to my relief, I saw no trace of him the entire time.

  Barlow was visibly displeased to see me, but made an effort at a polite greeting which I waved off.

  “The photos, Barlow,” I said coldly, following him back to his office, where he pulled an envelope out from his desk drawer and handed it to me.

  “Here you are,” he said. “Just as promised. Nobody needs to know about the, you know—”

  “The part where you handed over evidence requested by the FBI to a total stranger and let him just waltz right out the door without even getting his name?” He bristled at that, but had the good grace not to respond, just looked away sulkily.

  “We need the originals too,” I said. “You clearly can’t be trusted with them. This is sensitive information.”

  “I can’t give out the originals, ma’am,” he said. “They’re police property.”

  I pulled the folded-up sheet of paper out of my pocket that Calliope had spent the morning working on and passed it over to him.

  “This is not a request,” I said. “It’s an order.”

  He glared at me.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll have to go down and get them from the evidence room. It might take awhile.”

  “I’ll wait,” I said.

  “I can have them messengered to your office.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m staying right here until they’re in my hands. If you want me out of your hair you better find them fast.”

  He turned irritably and headed down the hallway.

  “You didn’t offer me any coffee,” I called after him. He stopped and turned.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, straining for politeness through gritted teeth. “Can I get you some coffee?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  He stomped off.

  I pulled the envelope of photos out of my purse and began leafing through them. At first, there didn’t seem to be anything in them that was new information – at least not to someone who had watched the whole burglary play out while hiding across the hall. I flipped through shot after shot of the DNC offices, straining my eyes to see if the burglars had left any clues behind. Then I stopped, frozen, photo in my hand, and felt the gears in my head stop turning and click into place.

  Buried inside the stack of photos of the room itself was a close-up photo of one of the wiretaps the police had confiscated. And there,
clear as day, I saw it.

  A logo engraved in black plastic, an imposing capital U hovering over a letter E.

  The wiretaps that the Watergate burglars had planted in DNC headquarters hadn’t just come through the Slipstream. They had been manufactured by United Enterprises.

  “I was right,” I whispered to myself, ecstatic. “I was right.”

  This was it. This was the evidence we needed. Once these photos were in the hands of Congressman Holmes, we were home free.

  I was so exuberant when Barlow returned – reluctantly handing over to me the second packet of photos – that I forgot to be unpleasant to him, just shot him a sincere expression of thanks, took the photos and bolted. I paged Calliope the second I got outside.

  “You’re kidding,” she said when I told her, and laughed in delight. “It worked.”

  “I’m on my way back now,” I told her. “I’ll grab a cab for the train station right away.”

  “Wait,” she said, “I have a better idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You have two sets of photos,” she said. “Let’s bring back the originals for Grove, but I can think of somebody else who would be very interested in the second set.”

  “Oh my God,” I said, realizing. “Woodward and Bernstein.”

  “United Enterprises already exists in this time,” she pointed out. “It’s nothing big yet, but it’s a real company. They might spot something you’ve missed, some link between U.E. and John Dean that we haven’t been able to find. At any rate, it’s worth a try.”

  “You’re a genius, Calliope,” I said. “You’re a saint. You’re a national treasure.”

  “I know,” she said. “Now go. Hurry. We didn’t budget for any unscheduled detours and I can’t exactly call Grove and tell him to hold the transport for a last-minute change of plans.”

  “It’s only five now,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “There are only a few more trains tonight,” she said. “Just make sure you’re on one of them.”

  “I promise,” I said, looking over my shoulder nervously as I crossed the street to hail a cab. I felt suddenly apprehensive and double-checked to make sure my wrist tracker was still on. I felt better with Calliope knowing exactly where I was, and it was broad daylight after all, but I’d had enough unsettling experiences walking around alone in 1972 that I was a little leery, exhaling with relief when I stepped out of the taxi at the Washington Post building, looking around and deciding that I had not been followed.

  I had hardly gotten a chance to give my name to the receptionist when Bob Woodward stepped out of one of the nearby offices and spotted me.

  “Regina!” he exclaimed, worry and astonishment on his face. He took my arm and pulled me into an empty conference room. “Get Carl,” he called over his shoulder to the receptionist. “Right away.”

  While we waited for Bernstein, he drew the blinds closed, blocking off the windows that opened out into the rest of the office. He didn’t say anything to me but his body language was tense and highly-strung. Carl arrived less than two minutes later, closed the door behind him, locked it, and sat down with his notepad.

  “I’m going to tell you a lot of things,” I said, “and some of them are going to sound crazy, but I’m going to ask you to trust me enough to hear me out. You’ll be able to corroborate everything I say once you know where to look.”

  “Can you tell us what happened to you last night?” said Bob. “We’ve been worried sick.”

  Last night, I thought. Twenty-four hours for them, several days for me, a year and a half for Carter. Sometimes it still made my head spin.

  “I was . . . in hiding,” I said carefully. “I can’t tell you where. There were two men in a car parked outside the restaurant – they had been following me – and another, a blond-haired man hiding his face behind a newspaper. He seems to turn up everywhere I go. A friend of mine – somebody I trust – came to the restaurant to warn me that I’d been spotted and to get out. There wasn’t time to stay and warn you. He had to get me out of there before the men in the car took me.”

  “Are they dangerous?” asked Bob. “The men who were after you. Is your life in danger?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Mine, and others. You have no idea how high this goes.”

  I pulled out the crime scene photos I’d gotten from Barlow and set the packet of copies on the table, keeping the originals in my purse for Grove.

  “You cannot let these out of your sight,” I said. Bernstein took them out of the envelope one by one and laid them out on the table.

  “Where did you get these?” he said.

  “They’re the police photos from the break-in.”

  “I know what they are,” he said. “I asked where you got them.”

  “From a man named Detective Barlow,” I said, “and he can’t know that you have them or that you’ve spoken to me. I’m going to leave these with you, and trust that you’ll be able to make use of them, but there’s one in particular I want you to see,” I pointed to the close-up photo of the wiretap.

  “This device was manufactured by a company called United Enterprises,” I said, “and you probably haven’t heard of them yet, but you will. They didn’t just sell illegal wiretapping equipment to these burglars. They’ve been in on the plot from the beginning. They’re the ones that concocted the entire Gemstone plan.”

  “They arranged for Gordon Liddy to take it to the White House – to Dean’s office, specifically. I’m confident that Dean is their man on the inside and that if you dig around, you’ll find a connection between him and this company. I don’t know what it is yet, but I know it’s there. United Enterprises paid for Operation Gemstone and they paid to plant those bugs in the DNC office and a whole lot more besides. They’re desperate for Nixon to be re-elected.”

  “This company is in bed with Nixon?”

  “I don’t know what Nixon knows,” I said. “But I know that United Enterprises wants to get Nixon re-elected in ’72 and Ronald Reagan in ‘76, and if that happens, all hell will break loose.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They’re in the war-mongering business,” I said. “They want a president whose strings they can pull. All of this – the spying, the secrecy – it’s not just to discredit the Democrats. It’s to buy Republican loyalty. They don’t just want to keep Nixon in the White House, they want him to owe them. They’re trading favors. They’re pulling strings to keep Nixon in power so that when they come knocking, Nixon will have to take their calls.”

  “Everything you’ve uncovered – you’re on the right track, about all of it. You have to keep digging. You have to find the link between this company and John Dean, and you have to get the truth about the Watergate break-in out there. Nobody else will if you don’t. But be careful. They’ve killed to keep this secret already.”

  They looked at each other.

  “Start again,” said Bob, “from the beginning. Take us through it step by step.”

  * * *

  It was nearly ten o’clock before I finally looked at my watch and realized that if I didn’t leave soon, I’d miss the last Ivy City train.

  “I have to go,” I said. I shook hands with Carl, then Bob walked me out to the elevator.

  “Let me give you a ride,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll take a cab. It’s safer. They know I’ve met with you at least once. You’re probably being watched too. I’d imagine your phones are being tapped. We shouldn’t be seen together outside this building.”

  “I’d feel better if I knew you were somewhere safe,” he said. “Cabs are risky.”

  “All of this is risky,” I said. “I’ll be okay.”

  “How will I reach you?” he said. “If I need to see you again.”

  “The photos should get you what you need,” I said. He shook his head.

  “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  His eyes were very blue, I found myself noticing for the first time, and r
emarkably intense.

  “Are you on the run?” he asked me.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have a safe place to stay?”

  “I do. I can’t tell you where, but yes.”

  The elevator door opened just then and I stepped into it. He got in with me.

  “Please be careful,” he said, not looking at me, as he pushed the button marked “Lobby” and the elevator began to descend. “I know I don’t have to tell you that, but I’m telling you anyway. I don’t want to find myself writing your obituary.”

  “I thought that was a whole other department,” I said.

  “Don’t joke,” he said. He did turn and look at me then, his warm eyes earnest.

  “I’m being careful,” I said. “I promise.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I trust you.”

  And then suddenly, startlingly, out of nowhere, he hugged me, hard and tight, and pressed a kiss on my cheek. Then he pulled away abruptly, as if he had even surprised himself. Neither of us quite knew what to say after that.

  “Well,” I said finally, “I suppose I better go back upstairs and hug Carl now or he’ll feel left out and it will throw off your whole working relationship.”

  Bob laughed, all tension gone. I laughed too.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you, Regina Bellows,” he said as the elevator reached the lobby and the door opened.

  “I get that a lot,” I said, “but usually as an insult. So thank you.”

  “Stay safe,” he said again, and I nodded.

  “I’ll try to contact you if I find out anything more,” I said. “In the meantime, just keep digging. I’m counting on you guys. Don’t screw it up.”

  He laughed.

  “If I had a dollar for everyone in this building who’s said that,” he said.

  I reached out my hand and he shook it.

  “Goodbye, Regina,” he said. “It’s been an honor.”

  “Goodbye,” I said. “Thank you for everything.”