Fulfillment (Wilton's Gold #2)

by Craig W. Turner

  “ждите! позвольте мне объяснять!” she said, holding up her hands toward Belochkin. She needed the chance to give him her explanation, one that she was sure would win him over.

  “Since you are clearly an American spy, I will speak to you in English,” Belochkin said, looking at her sternly.

  “Вы не помните меня?” He had to remember her from their time together.

  “английский язык!” he said forcefully. She wasn’t going to be able to change his mind on the choice of language.

  “You don’t remember me?” The Russian still had the gun aimed at her.

  “I do.”

  She pointed earnestly at the lab. “They are going back in time right now to murder you.”

  Belochkin laughed. “Why would they do that? I raised Ekaterina from a little girl.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “You’d have to ask her that. But I assure you that I came from a reality where you were murdered in your backyard after playing basketball. I saw the aftermath as a little girl. I returned to Moscow, and instead of becoming a physicist, I became a spy. The reason you are alive right now is because I time traveled with the American and stopped the murder. It was the night you saw him hiding in the bushes. Do you remember?”

  She had him. She could see him processing the information. He waved at the big Russian to lower his weapon. “You set off the alarm?”

  “Da,” she said. A subtle reminder that she was on his side.

  “But there was no one there to murder me.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not true. Ekaterina was there to murder you. As was I, at the request of the Americans. But I changed the plan. I killed her and then saved you.”

  The big Russian spoke for the first time, “The Americans did this?”

  Now she laughed. “No, not originally. Ekaterina, your protégé who you raised from a little girl, did this on her own. Your murder changed history, however. As a result of your leadership not being present, the Soviet Union fell in 1991. In the reality I come from, Russia and America are generally allies. The Americans believed that in order to preserve that history, someone still had to go through time and murder you.”

  “What made them believe that?”

  She wondered how much time she had to tell the story.

  “Ekaterina had no way to return to the present time, so she lived in America for three decades. When she learned of Dr. Jacobs’ time travel experiments, she reached out to me. While she told the Americans that they needed to fulfill the assassination, she told me of her actual plot to restore history. Her instructions were well-thought out and I was able to stop the murder.”

  He paused, then said, “Well, thank you for that.” Then he nodded to the Russian to open the door to the lab the rest of the way.

  A moment later, they were inside and immediately could see that the time machine the Russians had constructed was no longer usable. What appeared to be spider-like tentacles hovering over a chamber in which the time traveling subject would sit were bent and cracked, some in pieces. Whatever had caused the blinding flash had essentially destroyed the machine.

  “Вы работали с ними,” Belochkin said to the Russian. “это разрушено?” She didn’t pin the big soldier as a scientist, but if anyone would have knowledge of the machine, the General Secretary must have thought it would be him.

  “это разрушено пока,” the Russian said. Without knowing what it looked like before, Ekaterina had to agree with him that it was indeed destroyed.

  “And, our project leader is gone,” Belochkin said, returning to English. “I don’t suppose any of her scientific knowledge transcended to you?”

  She shook her head. “All is not lost, though,” she said as there was a sudden noise behind her. She turned to see three workers in lab coats – two men and one woman – hastily appear in the doorway. She could tell from the looks on their faces that they were devastated to see the lab in disarray. The woman nearly broke into tears when she saw the condition of the time machine.

  Nonetheless, now Belochkin took out his own pistol and aimed it at them. “кто знал об этом?” he asked. His tone was forceful, but relatively calm. Calmer than she would’ve been. One of the workers asked what had happened, but Belochkin only stormed up to him, placing the nozzle of his gun inches from the man’s face. He was terrified and it was clear to Ekaterina that he had no clue of his boss’s intentions. It was quickly clear to Belochkin, as well, that they didn’t know what had happened, as he swept the gun toward each of the others before lowering it to his side. He motioned for the scientists to enter the lab and explore the damage. They immediately went to their computers, while the man who Belochkin had threatened went directly to what was left of the time machine, joining the Russian.

  After a few moments, Belochkin asked for their assessment. They told him it would take an entire rebuild – years of work – to repair. In addition, a good deal of the knowledge to do so had unfortunately gone into the past with Ekaterina. Belochkin turned to her. “Why did you say all is not lost?”

  Partly because she didn’t know the people who would be listening, and partly for a demonstration of camaraderie, she waved Belochkin outside the lab and into the hallway. Once they were alone, she said, “I am not the scientist, but I would think that since we’re still standing here, in at least one reality, Ekaterina was not successful in carrying out the assassination.” It was strange talking about her other self by name.

  “Then what is there to worry about?”

  “Other realities,” she said. “I learned much from Dr. Jacobs as we traveled. With their knowledge of time travel, it’s possible that they could make multiple attempts to fulfill this course of action until they succeed. The safest way to be sure is for me to travel back in time to stop them.”

  He motioned to the lab. “The time device is destroyed. How do you expect to do this?”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out Jeff’s device. It was a calculated risk, because he could simply take it from her as a matter of protocol, intent upon using it himself. Or sending the big Russian. “I have Dr. Jacobs’ time device.” She handed it to him to inspect.

  “He can travel through time with this?” he asked, looking it over thoroughly. “It has no chamber.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know how it works,” she said, “but I can assure you that it does. I have traveled with him to 1983 and to this present time with it. All you need to do is be in contact with it when the button is depressed.”

  He continued to absorb the details of the device, his brow furrowed with both interest and strategy. This was one of the most intelligent world leaders in any history, so for her to convince him that she was the person for the job, she would have to be sharp. And she wanted this job, if only to regain control of the situation.

  “почему Вы думаете, что я должен послать Вам назад вовремя?” he asked. She was pleased. First, she’d gained his trust, which had returned him to speaking Russian. Second, she had her answer already prepared for why she should be the one.

  She laid it out for him, explaining that she’d physically been in the situation in 1983 and would be best suited to react quickly if anything went wrong. She knew Dr. Jacobs very well, and was confident that she could overtake both him and the other Ekaterina easily with her set of skills. Then she would return to the present and turn over the American’s time device to the Russian scientists. He thought for a moment, then argued that if anyone had proper knowledge of the compound, it would be him. To which she replied that she didn’t want the Premier of the Soviet Union to place himself in harm’s way when she could easily get the job done on his behalf.

  “как это устройство включено?” he asked.

  She explained to him that it was powered by a nuclear battery. From what Dr. Jacobs had told her, there were two charges left in the b
attery – one to take her to 1983 and one to get back. He asked how time was selected on the device and she demonstrated how she could scroll backwards on the device’s LED screen, pointing out the coordinates for 1983 and then for the return trip. She told him that there was a formula for determining the coordinates, which only Dr. Jacobs had, so they did not have much flexibility unless they reached him. He took the device out of her hand and looked at it closely.

  He repeated her instructions back to her. “This is 1983? This is today?” She watched his face as he thought, a brilliant mind at work, and guessed that in that short time he’d already figured out Jeff’s formula. A slight smile crossed her lips, as she’d realized somewhere along the way that with already known coordinates attached to specific dates and times it would be very easy to plot others. They were on the same page.

  Without another word, though, Belochkin glanced quickly at Dmitriyev and nodded, then turned and started walking down the hallway away from her. After a momentary hesitation for her surprise, she started after him, but was suddenly held in place by a vice grip around both of her arms. She looked back as best as she could to see the enormous Russian holding her. “Wait,” she said in English. “What are you doing?”

  Belochkin turned back toward her. “I am still standing here, so I am not in any harm from Ekaterina and your American friend,” he said, also in English. “With one trip back and one return trip, I can think of far better uses for this device than going back in time to halt a hopeless cause. Thank you for bringing the device. I’m sure the Americans who sent you would be pleased with your efforts.” He turned and continued down the hallway.

  Ekaterina realized that once Belochkin made it to the doors at the end of the hallway, it would likely be the last time she saw him or the time device. Probably the last time she’d see the light of day, either. Though the predominant thought in her mind right now was not her own well-being, but that of the planet. Her plan to destroy the Russian time machine had not only been to stop the murder of Belochkin, but also Belochkin’s own plans detailed in the time travel room she’d seen in the compound in 1983. If he disappeared with Jeff’s time device, her chances of stopping him were gone.

  In that moment, she realized what he’d deduced while standing there facing her. Mathematically speaking, if he had the coordinates for 1983 and for today, he could figure out the coordinates for any moment in time. She’d just given him exactly what he needed to carry out his plan – and, because Jeff’s technology was portable, an easier path to success for what he’d devised before.

  The soldier’s grip around her arms was oppressive. She felt completely immobile, which was not an acceptable option for her. She knew they couldn’t stay standing here in the middle of the hallway forever, but she needed him to move quickly, to start to take her wherever it was he planned to take her. She thought that with even the slightest diversion she could escape his clutches. But she needed that diversion.

  She tried to coax him into it. “где Вы берете меня?” she asked, hoping even the question of what her fate would be would push him to some kind of action.

  It did. He pulled her right arm to turn her away from Belochkin.

  As she felt his right hand subtly relax from around her arm, she took advantage, thrusting her elbow into his sternum. He winced, but was not taken aback, which she’d expected. But it was enough that she was able to twist her body out of his grip. She didn’t have time for a drawn-out fight, and knew that minus the element of surprise she wouldn’t be able to match the Russian’s brute strength, so she delivered a blow to the bridge of his nose. A popping sound echoed through the hallway as blood spattered from his face onto the white floor and he went down to one knee, a look of astonishment overpowering the face of someone who had obviously never in his life been taken down. Especially so quickly. And especially by a woman.

  There was no time to revel in victory, however, and Ekaterina turned to follow Belochkin just as one of the scientists came into the hallway to see what the commotion had been. He saw the blood pouring from the Russian’s nose and grabbed Ekaterina by the arm. She shoved him hard into the wall and then broke into a sprint after the General Secretary.

  Belochkin, however, had also heard the commotion, and now was also running. He was only about 25 meters from the doors, and Ekaterina had no idea what was on the other side of them.

  He was a man of more than 70 years, though, and was not fleet of foot. His sprint to the doors resembled that of a deer that had been wounded by a hunter’s rifle, and she was catching up to him quickly. He reached the doors and pushed through them, the door closing behind him just as she reached them.

  Suddenly, a gunshot rang out from down the hallway and a bullet ricocheted off of the door three inches from her right leg. The Russian was firing at her – he’d probably been waiting until the Premier was through the door before doing so. With his injury, his vision was sure to be blurred. Still, in the confines of the hallway, she was well aware that even a poorly aimed shot could ultimately find its target.

  Not needing any more incentive, she burst through the door as another shot echoed in the corridor behind her. The door slammed shut just as the bullet hit, sending a small group of workers scurrying from the scene. This less secure hallway was now filled with employees of the facility, so accosting the General Secretary of the Communist Party would have to be done delicately.

  She saw his red coat fleeing down the hallway to her right and pursued. Though most of the workers tried to give him space to pass, many froze in their places. These, Belochkin showed that he was still a powerful man, shoving various men and women to the left and right. Ekaterina hurdled one woman who had been tossed to the ground. She could see ahead of them that Belochkin intended to reach the guard station at the end of the hall. If he did reach it before she could get to him, she would be heavily outnumbered and her gambit would be over. She determined to not let that happen.

  When she was about ten meters behind him, Belochkin stumbled, toppling to the ground. Several of the workers present bent immediately to help him, but he was weak and out of breath. She noticed two of the guards leave their position by the door to head in their direction. As she approached, she saw that Belochkin was huddled to the side, protecting the time device. She would have to pry it from him.

  By the time she reached him, he was surrounded by helpers. Since she needed to get the time device from him before the guards reached the fray, she did the only thing she could do without time to strategize – she hurled herself into the workers like a bowling ball would attack pins. Bodies flew in all directions and she was on top of Belochkin. He elbowed at her randomly to try to shake her, once landing a blow to her shoulder, but he was little match for her. Still, he kept the device concealed in a tight grip that was going to mean her demise.

  She punched him sharply in the trachea, cutting off his breath. The device fell to the floor next to him, its metal clinking off the tile, and she grabbed it. As she started to stand to complete her escape, she made eye contact with Belochkin for what seemed like an eternity. Though his expression was one of fear and desperation, a rush of memories came back to her from her childhood. From his training at the compound to his random visits at the Academy. When he would read the poetry of Pasternak to her, and when he would sternly send her to bed even though she wanted to practice the harp for just ten more minutes. And when her parents were taken by the government, and he was the first to visit her in her new home at the Academy to tell her that Mother Russia had something special planned for her, and that he would be her mentor. She loved and hated this man with all of her heart.

  But they were feelings she would have to explore at another time, as the guards were advancing. She tucked her head and rolled across two bodies of workers sprawled on the ground and directly into the muzzle of a pistol pointed at her left eye.

  The guard holding the gun started to give her a warning, but never got the chance. She lashed out and knocked it from his h
ands, sending it spinning down the hallway. The other guard reached for his own weapon, but Ekaterina kicked to the side and bent his knee backwards with a spine-chilling crack. The first guard recoiled for hand-to-hand combat, but she flew past him toward the exit.

  She assumed there would be at least one more guard at the front gate, and she was right. With the other guards shouting after her, two more appeared in her field of vision. She had about twenty meters to get to them and evaluated her options as she ran. Both were scrambling to pull out their weapons, and in her mind she pitted her own training against theirs. She was familiar with how they would have been instructed and needed to compare how much further her own training had gone. The fact that they couldn’t brandish their guns fast enough gave her the answer; at the least, she had more experience.

  She didn’t slow down, which surprised them both. The guard on the right squeezed off an errant shot that missed her and flew recklessly down the hallway, sure to hit someone. The other hesitated a moment too long and Ekaterina was on him. She hit him at full speed and tucked her hands under the man’s armpits, using her momentum to lift him off the ground. She laid her head in the middle of his chest and used his body to shield her as they went through the glass doors together. As deadly shards of glass shattered around them, they landed horizontal on the other side of the security doors, the guard’s body cushioning her impact. She rolled heels over head off of him, pushed through the outer door, and resumed her sprint across the yard. Knowing that shots could be following her, she ran in a serpentine manner until she was almost to the trees that were covering the outhouse.

  No shots came, however. She’d caught everyone by surprise. Given Belochkin’s mysterious trek toward the lab where they’d met, she was sure the guards would not have known he was in the building. As a result, they would not necessarily have understood the urgency of the situation.

  Peeking back toward the facility, she ducked into the outhouse. She didn’t have time to waste, as a quick phone call could have the entire compound crawling with armed guards. It was imperative to her that she position herself properly for the jump to 1983, and for that she needed as little resistance as possible.