Fulfillment (Wilton's Gold #2)

by Craig W. Turner

  After fiddling with Erica’s phone for a few minutes and finding nothing new, Jeff pulled the case onto his lap again. As he opened it, he looked out the window to see that they were back over water – the English Channel. This time, he pulled one of the needles out of its foam holder and examined it, leaving its cover intact. The needle itself was enormous, a far cry from the ones a doctor would use to administer shots. This one was not only breaking skin: it was going in deep. He imagined that it probably required some force to make it work, so he adjusted it in his hand until he was holding it like Anthony Perkins in Psycho. With the needle safely in its plastic holster, he stabbed at the air several times to make sure he had the feel of it.

  “It’s much easier using it in pantomime than it is on a human,” Ekaterina said from behind him, making him jump. He fumbled the apparatus and looked up to see her shaking her head at him. “It’s a good thing I’m here, eh?”

  His heart pounding, Jeff shrugged and smiled, then maneuvered the needle back into the foam.

  “Are you prepared to use that if necessary?” she asked, sitting in the seat across from him.

  “Why would it be necessary?”

  She reached across to the case sitting on his lap and pulled the needle out again. “If something should happen to me, wouldn’t you want to complete the mission?”

  He hadn’t really thought about it that way. “What’s going to happen to you? Time travel has enabled us to pinpoint the exact moment that you need to be there. The way Evelyn describes the situation, Belochkin is completely unaware of her being there.”

  Ekaterina held the needle up in her hand. “There is a reason they sent three of these.”

  “Well, yeah,” he said. “But I’m telling you right now, about the only thing I could think of that would make me use that needle on myself is if we end up in prehistoric times and I’m being chased down by a Tyrannosaurus. To me, getting stuck in the past isn’t nearly as bad as plunging that thing into my leg.”

  She nodded. “We are in agreement on that.”

  “You wouldn’t do it, either?”

  “No, I would not. However, some things are not always our choice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “According to your fulfillment theory, we must ensure that Belochkin is killed. That means that, if I am injured or killed, you must make sure that the mission is completed.”

  “But Evelyn said-”

  She held up her hand, stopping him. “Belochkin is a decorated Soviet officer. That Evelyn was fortunate enough to approach him without being seen or heard does not guarantee that it can be duplicated. You must be prepared to act if necessary. Are you?”

  “I guess I have to be.”

  “Your confidence is very reassuring,” she said with a grimace, looking away from him toward the front of the plane. He thought that if the roles were reversed, he’d want a little more from her, as well.

  He laughed dismissively, which was the wrong emotion for the conversation, but he didn’t want to be too accommodating. “Don’t worry. I’ll get into the right frame of mind by the time we get there.”

  She handed him the needle upright and he replaced it in the foam, then she reached across him and picked up the pistol. She pointed it toward the back of the plane, aiming with her eyes, checking it out, then put it back into the case. “American,” she said with a hint of disgust.

  “How are you going to get that past customs?” he asked, closing the case.

  “That will not be a problem,” she said. Then, without a breath, “Did you find out from the pilot where we are?”

  He nodded. “Just passed over the English Channel.”

  “We have some time. Let’s go over the plan.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, then shifted his body so he was facing her. “The plan is for us to land in Moscow and get to the hotel. We’ll need to get a little bit of rest, but both of us just slept, so we should be in good shape. We’ll get something to eat and then take the car that’s been provided for us south of the city about two hours to Tula. Outside Tula is where the compound that was Belochkin’s is. There’s no specific time for us to have to be there, other than before the evening, which corresponds to when Evelyn went back in time herself. Then-”

  “Does that not strike you as odd?” Ekaterina asked, interrupting him.

  “Doesn’t what strike me as odd?”

  “That Evelyn found you only days before you needed to go on this mission?”

  He stopped. When she said it that way, it did sound a bit far-fetched. “I guess fate has ways of working itself out,” he said, though he didn’t believe himself while he was saying it. It felt wrong, and instinctively he knew that the unknown answer here ought to concern him more than it did. “Evelyn knew when she went back in time. She has it all documented. I wasn’t really in a position to question it.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Go on.”

  He took a breath. “When we get to the compound, Evelyn said that there’s an outhouse at the back side of the property, behind a dense thicket of trees.”

  “Yes, I remember that. The outhouse is the far end of a secret tunnel that goes into the compound.”

  “That’s exactly what she said.” He was pleased that there was some recollection. Having Ekaterina as a guide instead of walking into the situation blindly was going to be a comfort. “We’ll travel back to 1983 outside the compound, giving us the opportunity to get our bearings. Once we’re there, we’ll go through the tunnel, putting us at the rear of the property inside the compound. From there, we should be able to see everything – including Belochkin. This is where Evelyn ended up, and from where she approached Belochkin. Unless something happens, you’ll then approach Belochkin and take him from behind, hopefully without him knowing. I’ll keep watch from the trees and wait for your return.”

  “What is ‘keeping watch’?”

  “I’ll keep an eye out to make sure no one else is around.”

  “Yes, I know what keeping watch means,” she said. “What do you intend to do if someone comes?”

  “Well, I’m not sure.” He shrugged again. “I’m just going with what Evelyn told me to do.”

  “I think you must have the gun ready.”

  “I might not be much help. I’ve never shot one.”

  Ekaterina sat back and sighed deeply. “I will show you before we go,” she said, not looking at him again. Clearly, that was how she voiced her displeasure.

  “It’ll be fine,” he said, though he knew his words weren’t going to convince her. Apparently, there was more to being an assassin than just hiding in the trees. “Look, I’m a scientist. I don’t want to be here anymore than you do, but I understand the request. I understand why this has to happen. I do. I’d much prefer they were sending in a team of Marines to get this done, but they’re not. We’ve got you and me. I don’t know too much about you other than that there are two versions of you on this planet and that you know some good wrestling moves. So don’t think that I’m sitting over here comfortable with the arrangement. Like I said, I can’t even figure out how we’re going to get off the plane without being sent straight to Russian prison.”

  Calmly, Ekaterina rose and walked to the back of the plane. He watched her as she went. She was very graceful, gliding as she walked, though every move was clearly made with purpose. A moment later, she returned with two glasses filled with brown liquid and ice. “Whiskey,” she said, handing him one of the glasses. He took it and drank a sip. It was strong and shocked his mouth, but it went down smoothly. Private jet luxury.

  She sat back down across from him. “When General Belochkin was murdered, I was taken from the science academy and placed in military school. He had been my benefactor, and without his advocacy I had no one. I was treated like any other Russian child. However, I excelled in the school and rose through the ranks quickly. Probably the same gifts that made Evelyn the top scientist propelled me to prominence in the Russian military. Though as I developed, my comma
nding officers believed that I would be most effective…” She paused. “… in covert operations, rather than front-line military. I was not given a choice. Shortly after the Soviet Union fell I was sent to Afghanistan to train. I was out of public existence for nearly twenty years, involved in various missions before resuming a public life only a few years ago. Evelyn was able to find me, which is why I am here with you today.”

  “You’re a spy.”

  She nodded. “I was. I am not anymore.”

  “But you still can be a spy, right? You tossed me up against that wall like a rag doll.”

  “What do you Americans say, it’s like ‘riding a bike’?”

  Now he sat back and took a deep breath. “I guess that makes me feel a little more comfortable,” he said. It did – knowing her capabilities. If Evelyn the scientist could pull this job off, Ekaterina the spy should be able to as well. “I’m glad we had this chat.”

  “I am only telling you this so that we have trust,” she said. “Normally, I would not say these things.”

  “I understand.”

  “Evelyn gave me specific instructions, and I intend to carry them out to her specifications. Where our paths go from there, I do not know.”

  “Does it matter?” he asked.

  “That depends on how the mission goes. In any case, I trust that you will keep what I just told you to yourself.”

  He nodded. He had no reason not to. “How did Evelyn find you?” he asked.

  “She’s a smart woman. One of the top minds in the world. I’m sure it was not difficult for her. How did she find you?”

  Jeff laughed. She’d said it with defiance. Apparently, Ekaterina would tell him things, but on her own terms. She wasn’t a fan of him asking questions. Given that relationship, he wondered how much he could get out of her before they went back in time the next morning.

  “The same way,” he said. “She’s a smart woman.”

  “There is one thing that Evelyn didn’t tell you, and that I feel you must know before we get there.” She was serious again.

  “What’s that?”

  “She will be there.”

  “She? Evelyn? Ah.” Of course she would, he thought. He hadn’t been considering that, but for the same reason that Erica was in 1849, Evelyn would be there. “What does that mean, do you think?”

  “My instructions are to kill her.”

  Jeff turned and put his head back against the seat. “Well, that changes the mood a little, doesn’t it?” Out the window he saw specks of light again. Suddenly he wanted more time before the flight landed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ekaterina was not concerned that her partner’s level of seriousness about their situation did not match her own. She’d begun to realize that once he carried her through time to Belochkin, he’d then be of little service to her or her mission. Which was good and bad. On one hand, she didn’t want to have to carry him if he was unable to perform when necessary; on the other, she needed him ready and alert when they needed to leave 1983. There was a chance it would require haste.

  The flight concluded with little more conversation – Ekaterina reading through a New York Times she’d bought that morning and Jeff continuing to fiddle with the smartphone he’d acquired. She could tell that he was obsessive about this mysterious woman whom he’d left in California, scrolling through her messages for clues to her existence. Inside, she felt a glimmer of hope for him that he could find her. It was a beautiful, almost romantic, story. She knew it wasn’t going to happen, but it was a nice thought for her for a moment somewhere over Poland.

  They landed at Domodedovo Airport, south of Moscow, and taxied to a halt on the tarmac. They disembarked and entered the airport, wheeling their luggage – including the case with the weapons in it – behind them. They approached the customs desk, where Ekaterina took the lead, handing her passport and military ID to the agent. The man, a burly Russian with rough red facial hair, inspected the documents and then handed them back to her. She was through.

  She stepped several feet away from the booth with her bags and turned to watch Jeff hand over his documents. The agent inspected the papers and let him through without a question. It was painless, though she knew that her rank in the Russian military was the reason for the ease of their entry.

  They walked in tandem through the airport to the arrivals, following signs for transportation. Jeff pointed when he saw a driver holding a tablet on which he’d written ‘Dr. Jacobs’ in digital handwriting, so they veered in the man’s direction. A moment later, they were in his car and headed to the hotel. As she sat next to Jeff in the back seat of the car, her mind returned to her line of thinking on the plane. She had two choices: do something to awaken Jeff so that he understood the gravity of the situation, or implement precautions in case she had to go it alone.

  She didn’t think she had time for the first option, so she started into #2. “Have you gotten enough sleep?”

  “Excuse me?” he asked, not expecting the question.

  “Are you tired?”

  He shook his head. “I’m okay.”

  She guessed the driver was not an English speaker, but leaned forward and closed the window divider anyway to be safe. “I was wondering if, before we went to our rooms, you could show me the program that you use to figure out the coordinates, and how you program them into your time device.”

  “I can handle it, really.”

  “Jeff, there is a lot at stake here. There is a good chance that things will go smoothly, but if they do not, I don’t want one of us to be put in danger because we were not well-prepared. If something happens to you, I will need to run that machine.”

  He was thinking. She surmised he was not happy with the conversation, but eventually he nodded his head. As the car pulled into the hotel parking lot, he said, “When we get upstairs.”

  Realizing that Jeff was a stranger in a strange land, she played host and delicately guided him into the hotel. The hotel itself was not terribly different from a typical chain in America. She noticed he was looking around, taking everything in as he’d been doing in the car. Though, in the dark of night, there was not much to see. Unfortunately for him, their trip was not one for sightseeing, so he would not have the opportunity to see any of the beauty and history of her home country. The airport and the hotel were his limits. In the morning they would drive into the rural areas and take on their mission. But, she reasoned that someone who had been to the California Gold Rush earlier that very morning had probably seen enough for one day.

  There was no line so early in the morning, so they checked in with the single clerk, Ekaterina doing the talking. They were given room key cards and headed to the elevator, dragging their luggage behind them. They rode up to the third floor, and took a long hallway where they found their rooms across from each other.

  “I’m going to throw my bag in my room and splash some water on my face,” Jeff said, “then I’ll come over with the device.”

  “Why don’t you leave the device with me?” she asked.

  He looked offended at first, then laughed. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, but handed over the case with the device just the same. “If it makes you feel better. Give me five minutes.”

  Ekaterina entered her room and inspected it. Typical hotel room with no special features. She actually missed the Waldorf Astoria and its lush amenities. As Jeff had told her was his plan, she went into the bathroom, wet a washcloth, and rubbed it across her own face. She generally did not suffer from jet lag, but the two trips within three days of each other were making her feel weary. It was about 4:30 a.m. in Russia, but her body had no comprehension of the time. She would sleep well for a few hours, but needed to have the conversation with Jeff first if that was to happen.

  A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, and she opened it to find Jeff standing in the hallway. He’d changed out of the button-down shirt he’d been wearing, and into a t-shirt that said “University of Albany” on the front
of it. He walked past her and sat on the bed. She sat next to him.

  She watched as he pulled the tablet out of its bag and touched his finger to one of the icons on the screen. He was going to give her an introductory course on the tablet, not realizing that she regularly had access to technology he’d probably only imagined. A series of windows came up on the screen, and he held it open-face so she could read along with him.

  “It’s actually quite simple,” he said, his fingers flying across the screen. “You enter the exact time to the second where you’d like to go and the program gives you a number – it’s usually 30-40 decimals long – and you enter that number into the time device. We’re going to April 9th, 1983 at roughly 8:40 p.m., and voila, there are our coordinates.” He typed as he talked, and emphasized the ease of use by turning the screen toward her.

  “May I?” she asked, holding her hands out for the tablet. He handed it to her without hesitation. “How do you transfer the coordinates? It cannot always be practical to stop, boot the tablet, and transpose the numbers. Yes?”

  “I usually write them down. That’s been the easiest for me. In fact,” he said, taking the tablet back from her, “maybe I’ll just quickly write these down before you make another entry.” He went to the desk and pulled a pad and pen out from the center drawer, then began copying down the number the tablet had revealed.

  “Doesn’t seem very efficient to write it down every time. What happens if you make a mistake?”

  He laughed, not looking up. “A mistake could be costly. I suppose, depending on where the decimal was, you could end up hundreds of years off from where you were trying to go.”

  “That would be unfortunate,” she said. “You’d better double-check.”

  “I always do, triple-check, in fact.” He set the pen and paper on the desk, pulling off the first sheet – the one he’d written on – and putting it into his pocket.

  Looking to help so that they could get some sleep, she pulled the case with the time device in it up onto the bed. It was locked, however, so she turned her attention back to Jeff. “It would probably be beneficial if you could electronically transfer the numbers over. Using wi-fi or Bluetooth.”