As the door closed behind her, he picked up the remote control, flipping on the huge television screen, channel surfing, trying to get a handle on the variances caused by his 13 year jump ahead in time. The vehicles he saw on the screen were smaller, traveling at a much slower pace. Electric power or battery power, he figured. Cool. I wonder if we're running low on oil products these days. Probably. The clothing styles worn by the TV actors were not a lot different than what he was wearing. Blue jeans still seemed popular. One thing he noticed was that nudity seemed pretty common on most stations.
He switched on the FOX news channel and sat back against the chair, his mind wondering to this girl he had just met. Eighteen years old and never before been serious about a girl. Then along comes Shauna, giving him feelings that he had never before had about anyone. And then, out-of-the-blue, this dream-boat picks him up in a phone booth, and he's losing his head over her. And it's on a temporary trip to the future. Both in the same night. Well, sort of, he chuckled.
Something on the screen caught his attention and he frantically searched for the remote, needing to turn up the sound. He recognized the street scene, downtown Radford, various shots of Turner Steel, one of the mill, the main headquarters, one of factory workers streaming out after a shift change. He listened attentively while the announcer gave his voice-over.
"...In Radford, Turner Steel, the last American wholly owned and operated steel corporation made a valiant, last minute, but successful stand against a hostile takeover bid by the Japanese multi-conglomerate, Tukisasi Corporation. Announcing last week that his company had completed, at least in principle, the takeover of Turner, Tukisasi CEO Manyo Tukisasi today backtracked, announcing that Tukisasi was dumping all stock from the takeover bid. A combination of fanatical community support for Turner, a strong management effort led by CEO H. Tucker Hall, and a restructuring of the company in order to cut inessential cost defeated the Japanese raiders. Turner boss Hall read a terse statement to the press at 7:30 p.m., eastern time."
The screen switched to Susie's father, standing behind a lectern with the Turner Steel logo on the front flanked by two dark-suited men Andy didn't recognize.
"I would like to thank the citizens of the greatest city in this country, the finest employee force a man could hope for, and finally, Mr. Simon Greenway and Harvey Short of Greenway, Short, for their advice and guidance during this crisis. I would also like to announce that Turner Steel will be hosting a ‘Thank You, Radford’ reception at the Alexander Turner Convocation Center tomorrow afternoon. At that time, several announcements will be made that will influence the future of this great company. Each and every citizen of Radford is personally invited and urged to attend. Thank you."
As the camera panned back from the dais, Andy focused on the woman standing next to the gentleman to H. Tucker's left, a beautiful, well-dressed black woman, a serious look on her face, holding a leather briefcase in her left hand. Shit, that's Shauna, he thought excitedly, recognizing the girl he had taken home an hour ago. What the heck is she...Greenway, Short? Of course, that's where I heard that name. That's the company that hired Shauna to work during college. Holy shit, she's right there with Ol' H. Tucker himself, right on FOX.
The door opened, Jan breezing in, a smile on her face. She threw her bag in the general direction of the couch, flopped down after it, picked up the phone book. "That didn't take long. Anybody call?" she asked.
"Nope, didn't ring once." As the story ended on FOX, Andy turned down the sound, his attention back on the blonde.
"Great, let's call Pensacola, see if they can help you," she said, finding the number she had written down earlier after talking to base information at Eglin. She punched in several numbers, listened for a moment, and then spoke in a business-like voice.
"Good afternoon, my name is Jan Wilkins. I'm calling from Eglin. We have a request from a family member to find a Naval aviator named Andrew Webster...we were told you might be able to help us locate him." She looked up, a question in her eyes, and then said, "No, we don't have a service number. Sorry."
She listened carefully, then looked around frantically, finally spotting her pencil, grabbing it and writing down the information she was receiving, using the back of the phone book to copy it all. "Thank you so much. We will relay this information to the family member immediately. Yes. Jan Wilkins, office of information, Eglin. Fine. I hope to talk to you soon. Thank you. Bye-bye." She hung up, giggling for several seconds.
"Yes! Hey, do you want to go into the detective business with me. This stuff's simple."
"You found him?" Andy asked excitedly.
"No problem. Never hurts to tell little white lies, right," she laughed. "He took it for granted that I was attached to Eglin, to the office of information, whatever that is. I think he's going to call and ask me for a date the next time he's in town. Won't he be surprised? Jan who?"
"You were great. Where's he at? Is he a pilot? Tell me!" the boy sounding like a little kid at Christmas.
"Commander Andrew Webster arrived, let's see here, arrived Pensacola yesterday on temporary travel orders. He spent the night, left this morning on a military transport, apparently hitched a ride to be dropped off at Lackley Naval Air Station, they think. The guy said military hitching is like hitchhiking, a free ride somewhere close to where the sailor is going. Anyway, uh, your dad, if this is the right Andrew Webster, is on seven days requested leave, leave address is, let's see, the Hotel Manchester, Radford. I thought he left Radford when you were a little kid? Does that make sense?"
"I'm not sure what makes sense today. Did they give his permanent duty station, by chance?"
"Yeah, wait a sec. Here it is. He's, I think this is right, Wind Commander on the aircraft carrier USS Kansas. What's a wind commander?"
"Wing Commander, not wind. That means he's the commanding officer of all aircraft assigned to the Kansas. God, he promoted fast, didn't he," the boy said, talking to himself. "I was sure he'd be down here somewhere, but now he's on the way to Radford, and I just left there."
He was absently staring at the television screen when the hour’s news came back around, the story about Turner Steel beginning on the muted screen.
"Oh shit," he cried, suddenly putting the pieces together, or at least he thought he was. "Shauna and Turner Steel...I think I know why he's going to Radford, it must have something to do with Shauna. And maybe she had something to do with saving H. Tucker's ass. He's going back for this reception, I'd bet a million bucks on it."
Jan was looking at the boy with a look of amused wonder on her face, the gibberish he was spouting making no sense to her at all. "What are you talking about?" she asked, once he calmed down.
"I've got to get back to Radford," he proclaimed excitedly. "How much does it cost to fly from here to Radford?"
"Only one way to find out," she said, picking up the phone book. "How'd you get here? Didn't you fly down?"
"Uh, yeah. No. I mean kinda caught a ride with a friend," he answered, pulling out his wallet, counting his cash again.
"I still think you hit your head," she said, waiting for someone to answer the phone.
Hanging up the phone, Jan picked up the paper she had been writing on. "One way, Fort Walton Beach to Radford. $395. You're booked on TSA, flight 212, leaving at 9:25 p.m., arriving Radford 3:17 a.m. Forget the detective business, maybe I'll be a travel agent. Anything else, sir?"
"Oh shit, Jan. I can't take that flight. I'm, let's see, I'm 87 bucks short. Maybe I can rent a car and drive there, drive all night."
"Wait a sec," Jan said, walking into her bedroom, returning in a moment, handing Andy an envelope. "Here. You can pay me back the next time you see me."
The boy opened the envelope, three fifty dollar bills falling out in his lap. "I can't take this from you," he said. "You don't even know me, Jan."
"Listen bud, if I needed a hundred bucks for an emergency, would you give it to me?" she asked in a matter-of-face voice.
"Well, yeah, sure I would. But..."
"No butts. It's a loan. I'll get it back the next time you're in Miami. Deal?"
"Deal," the boy said, overcome with the generosity of his new friend. "Thanks." He suddenly bent forward, hugging the girl. "You're a good friend."
"Yeah, I know. Come on, we got to catch a ride to the airport. I've got a party to go to later, so you're gonna have to sit at the airport a little while by yourself."
"No problem. Thanks Jan, really, I promise you'll get this back."
"I don't doubt that at all. You're a nice guy, Andy." She kissed him, hard, on the lips. "Now, come on before this turns into something that would cause you to miss your plane. But the next time I see you, promise me it will be for a little longer, give us time to finish this, time to fool around a little. Promise?"
"Promise," he answered, serious. Very serious.
The airport was crowded with military personnel, men and women in the uniforms of every branch of the various services standing around, waiting for arriving or departing flights, the airport bar packed tight, standing room only. Jan accompanied Andy to the ticket counter, bought his ticket and handled the check-in for the boy, then walked him to the security gate. Stopping at a book store on the way, she rushed in and bought him a couple of magazines to read on his flight
"You've got a two hour wait, pal. Don't fall asleep and miss your plane. Will you be all right?"
"I'll be fine. I don't know how to thank you, Jan, I couldn't have done any of this without you."
"Yeah, I know. I had fun. Promise me you'll call if you're ever in Miami."
"I promise. And I'll get your money back to you."
"Don't worry about that, just whenever you can. Good luck, Andy. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for." Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed the boy on the lips, gently.
"Jan..." he started.
The girl knew what was coming, wasn't sure how to handle it, and then barged straight ahead. "Andy, let's be friends, okay. Just friends. That's really all I can be with you."
"But, if I can get back down sometime..."
"Andy, truth time. I'm a hooker. A prostitute. That's what I'm doing up here, working a party for a couple of big-shots from Texas. That's what all my appointments are, I’m working. That’s what I do. I'm sorry; don't think badly of me, Andy. I used to wish, I still wish sometimes that I can meet someone like you, a nice guy, fall in love, and never have to do this again. But it's me. It's me, and I'm not sorry. Sad, sometimes, especially when I know guys like you really exist out there."
Hugging him tightly, she finally pushed him away. "Take care, pal, it's been a great day."
Turning, she hurried away, reaching the end of the corridor, turning around and waving at the boy who stood looking after her, the girl wiping something out of her eye, then disappearing into the crowd, leaving the boy with one hand in the air, frozen in his wave.
35
It was the middle of the night when the plane landed at Radford International Airport. Andy walked through the familiar buildings, ducked outside, and looked for a taxi, wondering where he was going to go. He was exhausted, and needed to catch a nap, that was his main priority.
He ordered the cab driver to take him to the closest motel to the Alexander Turner Convocation Center, wherever that was. It must have been built sometime in the past several years, Andy thought. It hadn't existed in 2010. The taxi, an old, black full-sized Chrysler containing dents of every imaginable size and shape dropped him in front of another unfamiliar business, the Hudson Motel.
"Not too expensive, but it's clean," the driver told him. "The convocation center is right down there." He pointed down the street, a huge, modern looking stone auditorium taking up the entire next block.
"Big, isn't it," Andy murmured, paying the driver. As the car pulled away, he counted his remaining money, not sure the 61 bucks was enough to rent a room. He was still adjusting to the prices of the future. They didn't seem to be all that different, the inflation not nearly as bad as he would have imagined.
The two-story white and pink motel was lit by yellow fluorescent strip lighting, an electric bug killer hanging at each corner of the building. The constant zapping sound was proof that Radford was filled with the normal share of summertime mosquitoes, the Hudson Motel apparently doing their civic duty in trying to eliminate this particular species of man-eaters. Andy walked into the lobby of the motel, not seeing anyone save a solitary, bored-looking desk clerk looking at a magazine behind the counter. Andy was embarrassed about asking the price of a room, then decided the only way he was going to get himself some rest was to get this part of it out of the way. This looked like a one star operation, so maybe he was in luck.
"Excuse me, how much does a single room cost for one night?"
The clerk, a young looking man with long, greasy hair and a bad case of acne, put his magazine down, looked up at Andy with surprise, looked at his wrist watch, and spoke. "Pretty late to be getting around, isn't it?"
"My plane just got in. How much for a single?" he repeated.
"The cheapest we got is $75 dollars. That's a king size bed, all the movie channels, and whirlpool bath. You want to register?" he turned the register book around so that it faced Andy, holding a pen out to the boy.
"Uh, no, I think I'm a little short. I lost my credit cards on vacation, and I don't have enough cash. Thanks anyway," Andy said, stepping back from the counter, preparing to walk away.
"Wait. How much you got?" the clerk asked.
"Sixty-one dollars," Andy answered.
"Hey, the nights almost over. If you'll be out of the room by two in the afternoon, I'll give it to you for, well, how about half price. That would be, uh, 37.50. Sound fair?"
"Great," Andy said. "I'm exhausted and need some sleep. I'll be long gone by two. Thanks a lot." He signed in, using his first initial and his last name. He paid the clerk and took the key, thanking the man again, requesting a noon wake-up call, then went in search of his room. It took him about four minutes to get undressed, under the covers, and sound asleep.
When the phone woke him at noon, Andy rose feeling like a new person, finally rested enough to make at least a few rational decisions. His first thought, which hit him while he was standing under a hot shower, was how much longer do I have before this trip is over? I've been gone a long time, a full 24 hours now. How does this thing work?
He dressed in the same clothes, trying unsuccessfully to rub the wrinkles out of his slacks, left the room and dropped the key at the desk. He found a copy of the Radford Daily News sitting in the lobby, sticking it under his arm as he walked out of the motel. The failed takeover bid was splattered all over the front page, with side-bars filled with quotes from all the principles involved. Skimming through the paper, Andy finally found the story announcing the reception that was to be held at the Turner Center. It was to start at noon and continue throughout the afternoon and evening.
Looking at his watch, Andy saw that it was pushing two o'clock. Hopefully, whatever it was he was looking for would be there by now. He had discovered a lot about his future. He had obviously become successful in the military, rising quickly to the rank of Commander, in charge of an entire Naval Air Wing. That in itself was impressive, and seemed to complete his mission.
But something else was nagging at him. Hopefully he would be given the additional time to discover the answer. Why was his future self coming back to Radford for a Turner Steel celebration? His father was a doctor, not involved with the politics or the machinations of Turner. He had not grown up in the so-called "Turner family circle” like Susie and Jody had. So, why had something dealing with Turner brought him home on a special leave?
And then there was Shauna. How did she fit into this deal, if at all? What was she doing on the podium with H. Tucker Hall and Simon Greenway? Just a convenient assistant, probably, he surmised. She was holding a briefcase, probably a messenger for Greenway, Short? And did he and Shauna still have a friendship? Doubtful, he thought, after this many
years. But I hope so. Only one way to find out, and that was to go snooping at the Turner Center. And hope the Wizard, or Jody, gives me a little more time. I wonder how he knows when to bring me back.
There was a huge crowd outside the building, many people crowded in the street and making travel impossible except on foot. Large letters on the marquee announced the Turner Steel Thank-You Radford All Day Bash. Several CNN, FOX, and local news trucks were parked in the lot, satellite antenna's sticking out of the backs, pointing toward the sky.
Wait a sec, what if someone recognizes me as the younger Andy Webster, he thought suddenly. That might be hard to explain. This was getting a little complicated. Shaking off that worry, hoping for luck, he walked through the crowd, ducked inside the door, and found a corner, far away from the milling sea of bodies.
He didn't have long to wait. He picked out the man in the Naval uniform right away, walking across the lobby, bringing Andy up straight, his attention instantly riveted on the guy.
The Naval officer was passing into the main auditorium, his back to Andy. He had his arm around the shoulders of another man, this one a young black, dressed in a dark suit and pale blue shirt, the two talking with their heads close together as they walked. Following through the same doorway, Andy found himself inside a massive auditorium, complete with a lavish stage and cushioned, tiered blue velvet seating for several thousand audience members.
Andy took a seat toward the rear of the auditorium, out of the mainstream of the crowd. Television cameras and their operators were jockeying for position down front, the anchormen speaking softly into their microphones. He recognized H. Tucker Hall sitting on the stage along with a dozen or so other dark-suited executives. Sitting next to H. Tucker was Susie's mom, Elizabeth Turner Hall, looking as though she hadn't aged a day in the past twelve years, thanks in part, Andy knew, to the scalpel and talents of his father. It took about 15 minutes for the seats to fill, Andy searching for the Naval uniform, finally spotting it down front, sitting in the front row, center stage. The young black man was sitting to his left, a tall, elegant looking black woman on his right.
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