36: A Novel

by Dirk Patton

  “I’m willing to take the chance,” I said. “I don’t see another option.”

  I said the last to Patterson. He had sat perfectly still, listening to the discussion. Now he appeared to be weighing the options.

  “Doctor, can you make the machine do this?” He turned and looked at her.

  “Sir, I’m not sure you understand…” She stopped when he held up a hand.

  “Yes or no, Doctor. Risks to Mr. Whitman aside, can you do this?”

  She stared at the table for a long time. Chewed her lip. Took a drink from her bottle of water.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “I can do it.”

  54

  The world around me blinked, then I was standing in one of the empty office suites in the building across from the restaurant. I turned my head, but when it stopped, the world kept going. The room around me whirled, picking up speed. Staggering sideways, I reached out, but there was nothing to support me. Crashing to the floor, I lay there and slowly curled into a ball.

  I’ve been drunk and had the bed spins so bad I wanted to die. I’ve been whirled on amusement park rides until I threw up. I’ve been on a C-130 flying through the edge of a Typhoon over the Sea of Japan. Turbulence so bad we were bouncing up and down several hundred feet at a time. For over an hour.

  None of it compared to this. Not even close. It didn’t matter what position I tried to take, or whether my eyes were open or not. The world was nothing more than a whirlpool of colors and shapes, spinning faster and faster as it sucked me down into the vortex. So this was what the other assets had been talking about.

  The only good thing was that when it stopped, it stopped. Suddenly. Without warning, everything snapped into sharp focus. Blessed, stationary focus. Slowly I climbed to me feet, amazed to not find the floor and myself covered in vomit.

  I checked my watch. I’d only been down for three minutes. Three minutes! How had the people who’d been affected for an hour ever agreed to endure this a second time?

  If things had worked according to plan, I had arrived before Julie and I took a walk to recon the street. If we were even here. I was concerned that we hadn’t been in the room when Patterson sent the hotel manager to check, but wasn’t able to come up with an idea for a better time or place to arrive.

  Right now, I needed to confirm I was when and where I was supposed to be. Pulling out the cellphone Patterson had provided, I pressed the redial button. The Hilton’s number was already in memory.

  My call was answered quickly and I confirmed that Mr. Trip Cummins was a guest at the hotel. The operator connected me to the room, but after twenty rings the phone remained unanswered. I hadn’t really expected it to be that easy.

  So I was in the right place at the right time. Where the hell were Julie and I? My head still had problems wrapping around referring to myself in the third person, but I was starting to get used to it. A little.

  Stepping to the window, I opened the blinds a few inches and looked out at the street. A few pedestrians strolled by and there were two large, black Suburbans parked at the curb in front of the restaurant. Secret Service. They’d been there when we’d walked by before.

  Moving back and forth, I looked up and down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of us. Nothing. Where the hell were we and what was happening? Did I head for the hotel? Try to get inside and break into the room? All that stopped me from that course of action were Dr. Anholts’ repeated warnings about the danger of coming into contact with myself.

  So, I stood where I was and waited. Trying to decide what to do. Where to even start looking. Checking my watch, I was surprised to see that over an hour had passed. In frustration, I decided to run the risk of a foray into the Hilton when a woman with long, blonde hair caught my eye.

  She was slowly approaching on the far sidewalk, holding hands with a tall man. Even though they were too far away for me to pick out their features, I instantly knew it was us. Breathing a sigh of relief, I kept watching as they approached, caught completely by surprise when Julie lifted her face and kissed him, me, on the cheek.

  That hadn’t happened!

  I, or that me, looked down and kissed her back, then they resumed their walk towards the restaurant.

  This version of us had already become intimate! That was all that made sense. And they’d probably been rolling around in the sheets, or maybe even the shower, and hadn’t heard the phone or the manager opening the door and checking on them.

  What the hell? Why were things different, and what had accelerated the timeline? Initiated the intimate part or our relationship. In my version, it had been the kiss outside the restaurant as part of our disguise. What had happened differently here to make it happen earlier?

  Continuing to observe, I forced myself to remember that it didn’t matter. What did matter was that I warn Julie and myself. That’s all I had to do. Then I could go sit in a bar or a movie and wait for time to expire and transport me back to my real time.

  I’d wait until they were on this side of the street. I knew they’d pause directly in front of the window I was standing in, wanting a good look at the angles to the restaurant. While they were stopped, I’d go out the front door and let them see me. Keep some distance between us, but be sure they both understood the mortal danger Julie was in.

  It seemed to take forever for them to appear in front of my window. Julie came to a stop, bending to check her sandal. The other me turned to face her, and the restaurant. I left the window and headed to intercept them.

  Opening the office door, I stepped into the hallway and turned towards the building entrance. I came to a stop when I saw two men in dark suits, standing in the lobby. One of them held a clipboard in his hand, looking something over, but the other one spotted me and nudged his partner. He looked up and they both turned to face me. Fuck! Secret Service doing a sweep of the building!

  So far, I hadn’t done anything to warrant undue scrutiny from them. Fighting the impulse to run, I casually pulled the office door closed behind me and began walking towards them. I intended to just stroll on past and out the front like I didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Sir. Secret Service. We need to speak with you,” one of them said as I approached.

  He held up a badge case and his partner took a step away, opening some space between them. I didn’t like the look of that. You open space between you and your partner when you’re expecting trouble.

  I had showered and changed clothes before being transported here. Hadn’t wanted to take the time, but Patterson convinced me I smelled like a gym room locker and needed to be presentable. I was now dressed in slacks and a polo shirt, a light jacket covering the pistol holstered on my belt. I hadn’t said anything about the FBI ID I’d taken off my doppelgänger, and it was in my hip pocket. Thank God I’d thought to keep it with me.

  “FBI,” I said, approaching them. “ID in my back pocket.”

  I warned them before reaching behind me. Their eyes followed my every movement, locking in on the badge and ID card when I held it up. After a brief inspection I saw both of them relax.

  “What are you doing here?” The older of the pair asked.

  “Tracking a white supremacists and his shithead brother,” I said, falling back on the last story I’d spun. “What about you? Counterfeiters in the building?”

  I could tell they didn’t like that question. They were part of the Presidential detail. Maybe not the guys who walked next to the big man, but they were still several rungs in the pecking order above the guys that dealt with financial crimes.

  “Advance team for POTUS,” he answered, voice tight. “Tell me about these guys you’re looking for.”

  “Couple of asshole, skinheads,” I said, anxious to get away from them. “Got away from us in Virginia. Found a piece of paper with a business name at this address in their house. Business is gone. Office is cleaned out. That’s what I was checking.”

  I hoped it sounded good. I also wasn’t concerned if it raised enough of a
red flag for the President’s dinner to be canceled. The more senior of the two reached into his shirt pocket and removed a business card, handing it to me.

  “Can you email what you’ve got on them? Need to do a threat analysis.”

  “Sure. No problem,” I said. “Gotta run, fellas. More leads to track down.”

  I didn’t wait for them to say anything else, just took off. Walked across the lobby and out the front door. Looked around, hoping to spot Julie and myself, but we were nowhere to be seen. Turning to my left, I headed for the hotel.

  55

  I covered the remaining distance to the hotel in just a few minutes. Stayed on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, keeping a close eye out for Julie and myself. Actually, I was looking more for her than me. With thick, blonde hair that glowed in the morning sunlight, she’d be the easier of the two to spot. But I never saw either of us.

  Stopping in front of a flower shop that faced the hotel, I looked across the street, thinking. Decided to try contacting myself by phone, again. Same results as last time. Either they hadn’t gone back, or they’d already found something else to occupy themselves. Lucky bastard, I thought, before realizing I was talking about myself. Hell, this was getting confusing.

  Standing there, I tried to think of where they could have gone. Couldn’t come up with any ideas. Thought about the best way to approach myself. Ensure I believed me when I was able to warn me. I knew I’d be suspicious, just like when I’d encountered the fake me in the empty building. Sure, he’d known some details about a conversation…

  My thoughts came to an abrupt halt. How had he known those details? Only one way I could think of. He’d gone into the room and planted a microphone. It was time to do something. Continuing to stand on the sidewalk with my thumb up my ass wasn’t accomplishing a thing. I needed to make contact and get Julie to a safe place.

  I glanced both ways. The street was clogged with traffic. Bumper to bumper, occasionally moving a few feet before coming to a full stop again. Stepping off the curb, I slalomed my way through the idling cars. Crossing the center stripe, a horn blared to my right as I stepped in front of a shiny Lexus.

  Jumping slightly from the sudden noise right next to me, I looked around, thinking I’d stepped in front of a car that was starting to move. That wasn’t the case and there hadn’t been a reason for the horn. The car in front hadn’t budged, and it didn’t look like it was going to in the immediate future. I shot a glance at the driver of the Lexus who had honked, a woman wearing a business suit and shouting into a phone held to her ear.

  “Bitch,” I muttered to myself.

  Glancing around to make sure I wasn’t about to get run down by a distracted driver, I froze when I saw a face behind the wheel of a car in the next lane. It was a plain, white Chevy sedan and was stuck three positions back from the Lexus. The face was mine.

  I was alone in the car. Where the hell was Julie? There was no reason for her to not be with me. Our eyes locked and even from a distance I saw recognition and an instant of panic on his face. This wasn’t me!

  The instant I realized this was the FBI agent I’d killed, or would kill, when he tried to make me believe he was me, all the pieces fell into place. He was the cleanup man. He’d managed to find us and get into the hotel room and bug it. Waited for me to leave to stop the assassination before he’d moved in.

  He would have no idea how much I’d told Julie or the unconscious man in the other bedroom. Cummins had been shot without another thought. But maybe he could find out if I’d told Julie anything. And if she’d told anyone else. So he’d worked her over, trying to make her talk. I’d be very surprised if she’d said a word.

  Time had been short, so he’d killed her whether he got any answers or not. Then he’d come after me. He’d been listening, so he knew where I was going. Followed along, tried to lure me into the open so he could make an easy kill and not have to get into a fight that could draw attention. That was the last thing he would have wanted.

  If the Secret Service got a hint of a gunfight anywhere in the area, they’d scrub the President’s plans. Just like they’d done when I fired the rifle and told them there was a shooter loose in the area. Only this guy didn’t want that. He wanted everything nice and calm so POTUS would roll up and go inside. So that Hellfire missile could be launched to take him out.

  But I’d been the fly in the ointment. He’d almost had me. Made me drop my guard at first with the details he’d provided as if he had been me and experienced them firsthand.

  If chance hadn’t put Monica in the same hotel I’d been in, it would have worked, too. His plan had been smart, but you can’t prepare for something as unexpected as the presence of a woman I hadn’t seen in over a decade.

  All of these thoughts flashed through my mind in the blink of an eye. So did my decision. I had to stop him now. Drawing my pistol, I leveled it and moved to the side so I had a clean line of sight on the windshield in front of my, his, face. The instant the sights came on target, I pulled the trigger three times.

  The bullets punched through the glass, but I couldn’t tell if I’d hit him or not. As I’d fired the first round, I was pretty sure he’d ducked beneath the dash. Moving forward, I ignored the frightened screams that started up from the cars on either side of me. Doors began to open as people exited their vehicles and ran away.

  Rushing forward, I kept the pistol trained on the windshield as I approached. His head didn’t pop up and no return fire came my way. Had I gotten lucky and put him down with one of the shots? Slowing as I reached the front bumper of the Chevy, I craned my neck, trying to see into the front seat.

  It looked empty, but he could have squeezed onto the floor, weapon in hand as he waited for me to show myself at the side window. Circling, I angled in. With my finger tight on the trigger, I darted my head forward and cursed when I saw the car was empty.

  The passenger door was ajar and I raised the pistol and scanned for my target. I didn’t see him, but if he was staying low and moving through the now abandoned vehicles that filled the street, he’d be hidden from me.

  Dashing around the back of the Chevy, I knelt and put my face close to the pavement. I had open sight lines as I looked under the surrounding cars and trucks. In every direction I checked, feet were running. All except for one pair. Someone was duck walking, staying low and moving slower than the panicked civilians.

  I didn’t have a clean shot. Jumping to my feet, I leapt over the hood of a car that had rolled forward and come to rest against the truck in front of it when the driver bailed out. Weaving between the cars, I headed for where I’d seen the feet and legs.

  Before I could reach a spot that gave me a shot, I heard sirens approaching. Shit. There had probably been about a hundred people that dialed 9-1-1 as soon as I started firing the pistol. The cops would be here soon. And probably the Secret Service agents that were just down the block. This had to end quickly.

  Movement to the left caught my eye and I ducked as two shots sounded. I heard the impact of the bullets on sheet metal as they slammed into a car next to me. I looked for a target for some return fire, but he had already disappeared.

  Moving laterally, I stepped into a narrow gap between the vehicles parked at the curb in front of the Hilton and the first lane of traffic. More movement, and I whipped the pistol around and started to pull the trigger when I saw him running, gun in hand. A panicked woman with a small child in her arms ran directly between us and I barely managed to stop my finger from completing the pull. If I had, I’d probably have hit her, the child, or both.

  That moment of cover gave him time to vanish down the entrance ramp to the hotel’s underground parking structure. Stepping around an idling Town Car, I sprinted after him. I needed to catch up and put a bullet in his head before he got lost in the maze of the garage. There would be blind corners. Vehicles to hide behind, under or in. I would probably be unable to locate him before the cops flooded in.

  I should have slowed and
exercised caution before charging around a blind corner. Every bit of training I’d received told me I was making a mistake, but I didn’t have time to be careful. Urgency to not lose my target’s trail drove me as I rounded the turn and started down the ramp that descended beneath the street.

  He was waiting at the bottom, where it flattened out for the first level below grade. Tucked up tight against a concrete wall, pistol braced as he waited for me to appear. He fired three times. The first two rounds missed, but the third caught my left arm.

  It didn’t hurt, and I only knew I’d been shot because of the impact. It was a dull blow; kind of like being punched by a fist. It hit me hard enough to twist my upper body and cause me to tumble to the ground. Rolling, I slammed to a stop against the curb and brought the pistol around, seeking a target.

  He was gone again. Goddamn it! I tried to ignore what was becoming a burning pain in my arm. I could feel blood running, inside my jacket. Had time to hope the bullet hadn’t hit anything big that would cause me to bleed out before I could kill him. Then dismissed it from my mind. Getting to my feet, I started running again.

  As I reached the first sub-level, the sirens grew louder and sounded as if they were almost on top of me. I had no idea how the cops were getting into the area. The street was completely blocked with abandoned cars. Maybe they were driving on the sidewalks.

  Putting aside pointless thoughts, I tried to look in every direction, swinging the pistol around to stay in sync with my eyes. I was holding it one handed now, my left arm refusing to cooperate any longer. It hung limply at my side, flopping against me as I ran. I could feel blood running across my hand and dripping off my fingers.