9781940740065

by Paul B. Kohler

  Epson nodded slightly. He was still holding the dime between his fingers. He looked at each of the four time travelers and nodded again. “Mr. Gallagher, I believe them. Why would those buffoons downstairs want to jeopardize my research? No, these folks are from the future, and we should welcome them with an open mind.”

  “I, for one, will not stand witness to their shenanigans. If you can’t see it yourself, there’s nothing I can do for you. I’m leaving!” Michael Gallagher turned and stormed out of the lab.

  Nobody said anything at first. Peter broke the silence with a low whistle. “Is he always wound so tight, Doctor?”

  “Ha. Mr. Gallagher has been in my employ for the better part a decade. That is the first time I’ve witnessed such an outburst. You four are really from the future, right?”

  “Yes, Doctor. We are. Without the ability to give you any more proof, you’ll have to take our word for it,” Peter smiled at Epson.

  “Well then. Welcome to 1942. How long do you plan on staying?”

  “We plan on sticking around long enough for the doctors here to help you get this contraption working and send us back. Julie and I are here to conduct historical research in the meantime. We’re hoping to be on our way home in a few months,” Peter said.

  “Oh. A few months. I see.” Epson looked pensively at the strangers in his lab. “How do you expect to remain true to your future if you’re spending an extended period of time here? There could be some catastrophic consequences for the future if you change anything!” Epson squealed apoplectically.

  “Dr. Epson, we’re a highly trained scientific team. We’ve run hundreds of test scenarios to account for any time displacement,” Lamb replied calmly. “We’re prepared; nothing will disturb our timeline, or our mission.”

  “In addition to our research, Julie and I will keep our chronologic footprint to a minimum,” Peter added.

  “Oh, I understand. As long as you are all aware . . . Well then, we’ll have to find you all a place to stay. As soon as Miss Stewart returns, she’ll be able to help you out with whatever you need.”

  “Miss Stewart? Who is she?” Julie asked, not recalling the name from reading through Epson’s research records.

  “Oh, Miss Stewart. She’s our personal assistant. She helps Mr. Gallagher and me with the nonscientific activities of the day. If it weren’t for her, we’d likely forget to eat.”

  Peter smiled. “She sounds wonderful. I may have to get one of those for myself when we return.” As the words left Peter’s mouth, he noticed Julie’s eyebrow arch slightly.

  “Well, it might be a while before she returns, so it looks like we’ll have a bit of time to kill. Tell me, Mr. Cooper—”

  “Peter. Please, call me Peter,”

  “Okay, then. Tell me, Peter. What’s it like in 2013?” Epson asked.

  CHAPTER 3

  Michael Gallagher frantically guided his 1936 Plymouth coupe into the porte cochere at the corner of Allston and Shattuck and screeched to a halt. Before the valet made any movement toward his car, Michael sprang from the wheel.

  “Where’s Emmett?” Gallagher demanded.

  “Um, he’s at lunch,” replied a man in a red suit laced with gold trim. “He’ll be back around one. Are you staying at the hotel?”

  Gallagher looked at his wristwatch and saw it was 12:13. “Damn!”

  “Pardon? Would you like me to park your—” began the valet, but Gallagher cut him off.

  “No! I need to talk to Emmett right away. Do you know where he eats?” Gallagher asked.

  “He’s . . . he’s probably down in the lunchroom. I can send for him if you’d like.”

  “No. Just tell me where it is.”

  “It’s for employees only, so—”

  “I don’t care! Tell me where or I’ll just start opening doors until I find the right one,” Gallagher snapped.

  “All right, all right. Go through the lobby, past the front desk, and down the hallway to the left. Halfway down, turn right into the back stairway. The employee lounge is the first door at the bottom of the stairs,” he replied, eyeing Gallagher questioningly.

  “Thanks,” Gallagher said as he sprinted for the entry door.

  “Hey! You can’t leave your car there,” the valet yelled, but Gallagher was already gone.

  Gallagher walked into the lobby of the Whitecotton Hotel for the first time since meeting Emmett there several years ago. Emmett had approached him while he was attending a lecture in the grand ballroom about a new theory on Einstein’s general relativity and collapsed neutron stars. Little did Gallagher realize at the time that he would be swiftly recruited into the Society and begin leading a double life.

  As he dashed past the concierge, he briefly glanced over his shoulder to see if any of the other hotel employees were watching. Not a single eye looked in his direction. Gallagher hustled down the corridor and easily found the stairway. When he arrived at the bottom, he found himself in front of another hotel employee.

  “I’m looking for Emmett? The guy at the front desk said I could find him down here,” Gallagher pleaded.

  “In there,” the employee said as he nodded his head toward the open door.

  Gallagher walked past him and into the small employee lounge.

  Emmett looked up from the book he was reading; shock and dismay flooded his face. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had to see you. Something’s happened,” Gallagher cried.

  “I don’t care! You know how this works.” Emmett stood and rushed to shut the door. “We’re never to meet in person. You swore that you would abide—”

  “I know, I know. But events from today made it imperative that I talk to you right now.” Gallagher fidgeted with the keys in his pocket as he paced back and forth.

  “Shh. Shh. Not here. Nobody can see us together. Did you talk to anyone?” asked Emmett, moving to close the break-room door.

  “Just the valet. He told me you were down here,” replied Gallagher. “Oh, and some guy that was walking down the hall just now.”

  “Dammit, Gallagher! Mandrake is not going to be happy.”

  “I don’t think he’ll be that upset after he hears what’s happened,” Gallagher proclaimed.

  Emmett turned to face his agent. “Well, what’s so important that you’ve potentially blown both of our covers?”

  “It’s the time machine. It works,” replied Gallagher.

  “We know this already. That’s why you’re there—to prevent the process of it from becoming fully functional.”

  “That’s the thing. It is functional. Four people just appeared from the future, and there was nothing I could have done about it.”

  The color drained from Emmett’s face as he leaned against the wall. “Is this confirmed?”

  “As best as I could. They had all the right answers—”

  “Wait, you talked to them?”

  “Of course. I pressed them for some kind of proof that they were from the future.”

  “And?” Emmett coaxed Gallagher before he could finish.

  “And one of the doctors showed us a dime from 2013.”

  Emmett looked at Gallagher in disbelief and began to pace nervously about the room. “More than seventy years.”

  “I didn’t know what to do, so I came here,” Gallagher said.

  “Yes. It is good that you . . . came straight away.” Emmett said reassuringly. “Wait. What did you tell them before you left?”

  Gallagher scratched at the side of his face and said, “I . . . I think I said something about not believing them and—”

  “Michael, you’ve got to get back there. You’ve got to observe everything, now more than ever. You’ve got to see why they’re here. I’ll contact Mandrake and see what the next step should be.”

  “Go back? Are you sure?” Gallagher asked.

  “Yes, Michael. It’s crucial that you find out as much as you can. And don’t come back here. Ever! Send a wire the moment anything changes.”

&
nbsp; “I, um, I guess I could tell Epson that I panicked or something.”

  “Come now, Michael. You have a brilliant mind. I’m sure you can do better than that. Now go. Don’t speak to anyone on your way out. Do you understand?”

  “I understand. I’ll wait to hear from you, then?” asked Gallagher.

  “That’s right. If there are new orders, I’ll contact you.”

  Gallagher nodded his head and walked toward the door. Emmett unlocked it and held it open for him. Gallagher walked past him and, as instructed, didn’t say a word to anyone all the way to his car.

  CHAPTER 4

  When Miss Stewart returned with the lunches and saw the four strangers visiting the lab, she assumed that Epson’s concerns were validated. She feared that they were there to shut the program down. But as soon as she saw the look on Epson’s face, she knew it was something quite different.

  One by one, Epson introduced the team to her. And with each introduction, Stewart became more and more bewildered. With Gallagher gone and Epson preoccupied with the sudden revelation of the functionality of his time machine, he had no appetite. Peter and his team, on the other hand, were famished. The doctors shared one of the meals while Peter and Julie shared the other. They each took turns answering what questions they could for both Dr. Epson and Miss Stewart about their year of origin.

  After some time of dancing around events and specific knowledge of the future, Peter decided that he and Julie would leave with Miss Stewart to find housing, while Drs. Larsson and Lamb would stay with Epson to discuss what adjustments might need to be made to his time machine. Epson agreed to drop the doctors off later.

  Because the team had entered the secure military base by means that no one in 1942 could have fathomed, Epson was concerned about them leaving the facility. They decided that the best time would be in the midst of the lunch rush and hoped that the military police, or MPs rather, didn’t ask too many questions.

  Miss Stewart drove a 1940 Chevy deluxe coupe, which had an enormous trunk. Without having IDs, Peter concluded that they would ride there until safely away from the base. Peter chuckled; Julie was less than amused. But they knew the attitude on base was different in wartime 1942 than in their own timeline.

  At just before 1:00 p.m., Miss Stewart led Peter and Julie up the familiar stairway from sublevel six. Peter had been in the stairway only twice before, but in his timeline the paint was faded and the treads worn from foot traffic. Now, as they climbed the five flights of stairs, everything looked shiny and crisp. He thought he could smell freshly applied paint and feel the grip of newly imprinted steel with each step.

  As they exited the stairwell and passed through the blast doors, Peter’s familiarity vanished. They entered the long corridor with the arched walls and roof, but it seemed . . . different. To begin with, it was only half as long as he recalled. There was no security door, no freshly painted walls blocking off the tunnel. To the left there were steel stairs leading up. But the stairway was different as well. In Peter’s timeline, the stairway was a switchback style, where this stairway was straight up and landed at a large bulkhead. Peter assumed that there must have been some substantial remodeling over the years and ignored the differences. Still, it was trippy.

  Once through the bulkhead, familiarity returned. They stepped into the large warehouse that had army green painted crates stacked to the ceiling. The mock village was nowhere in sight; Peter had known it would not exist in this timeline.

  Stepping out into the sunlit afternoon, the base was buzzing with military activity. Thankfully, Miss Stewart’s car was parked just to the side of the warehouse and away from prying eyes. They approached the car and slipped into the trunk without notice.

  Fifteen minutes later, the three of them sped along the Pacific Coast Highway, heading for downtown San Francisco.

  “I think the first place we’ll check is the Perry Hotel. I’ve heard that they have weekly and monthly rates,” Stewart said.

  “I don’t want you to go out of your way, Miss Stewart. Anything will do, really. Just as long as the place is near shopping and transportation, we’ll be fine,” Peter replied.

  Miss Stewart nodded her head as she drove in silence. Her face wore a mask of contemplation. “I know it’s probably none of my business, but what are y’all really here for? I’m no scientist, but I understand Dr. Epson’s work enough to follow along with conversations about it. I can understand why your two scientist friends came back. But you two are a mystery.”

  “Julie and I came back to conduct a little historical research,” Peter said with their rehearsed response.

  “Ooh! Sounds interesting,” Stewart replied. “What kind of research, exactly?”

  “Do you have a first name, Miss Stewart?” Julie asked.

  “Oh yes. It’s Gertrude, but everyone calls me Miss Stewart; it would be peculiar to hear anything else.”

  “Well, Miss Stewart, those two gentlemen are our coworkers. Peter and I are here for another reason. It’s top secret, and we have to keep quiet for now. I’m sure you understand,” Julie said as she smiled warmly.

  “Say no more. I sometimes stick my nose where it doesn’t belong,” Stewart said as she blushed slightly. “You won’t hear another peep from me about it, and your secret is safe with me.”

  Peter glanced at Julie and admired how she knew that speaking so directly would be the right approach with Stewart. He had been ready to expound on the ruse when elaboration was clearly unnecessary. Julie winked and smiled.

  Thirty minutes later, Peter unlocked the door to his room on the third floor of the Perry. Julie stepped in, followed by Miss Stewart. It was a suite, which provided them plenty of space. Space that afforded them separate sleeping areas without raising suspicion.

  “Are you two sure you can afford this?” Stewart asked. “A standard room is less than half the cost of this palace.”

  “We’re sure. Even though we’re coworkers, we’re also newlyweds, and this is kind of like the honeymoon we never had,” Peter said, wondering how much of the lie Stewart would buy.

  “That’s so nice. How memorable for the both of you,” Stewart’s smile glowed. “Now, what is your plan for clothing and other incidentals?”

  “Well, we are going to need a few things. Clothing is a priority. We’re also going to need toiletries,” Julie said.

  “And a car,” Peter added.

  “A car? Dear, San Francisco has the best transportation system. The trolleys are free.”

  “We’re aware, but as we mentioned earlier, we plan on conducting research during the day,” Peter said, disguising the real reason for needing the car. He and Julie would be spending the next several weeks preparing for the trip to France, and their own vehicle was a necessity.

  “Are you two rich back in 2013? A car could set you back several hundred dollars.”

  “We’ll be fine. We’ll just sell it before we head back,” Julie said.

  Stewart nodded in understanding and then gave Julie an appraising look. “We’ll deal with the car after Dr. Epson arrives this afternoon. First off, let’s get you into something . . . a little more appropriate?”

  Julie looked down at herself. “Is this outfit not correct for the time?”

  “Oh, it’s fine, dear. It’s just a bit faded, is all. And last year’s style. How about the three of us do a little clothes shopping?”

  Peter cringed at the thought. “How about the two of you go shop for Julie. I’ll wait for the docs to get here, and we’ll go then.”

  “Are you sure?” Julie asked. “It won’t be a long trip.”

  “No, I’m positive. Besides, I’ve got some studying to do,” he said, hoisting his satchel up.

  “Then it’s settled. Us girls will go have a pleasant time buying wonderful things,” Stewart said, a little too eager. It was apparent that shopping was her forte and that Julie was in capable hands.

  Stewart started for the door as Julie followed. With her hand on the handle, Stewart glan
ced back to Peter and then to Julie and paused.

  Julie grasped the awkwardness and returned to Peter. She leaned in and kissed him on the lips. “We’ll be back, dear.”

  Julie sauntered back to the waiting Stewart, trying to suppress her giddiness.

  Stewart on the other hand wore her smile ear to ear. “Oh, young love. I envy you both.”

  Julie pulled the door shut behind them, leaving Peter standing in shocked silence. His only thought was, I could get used to that.

  CHAPTER 5

  Finally alone, Peter sat at the small corner desk, emptied out the contents of his satchel, and tossed it aside. He scrutinized each of the three envelopes one at a time: an envelope of money he’d brought for Operation Abraham, another envelope of money that Applegate had given him for operating expenses, and the mysteriously large manila envelope that Applegate had given him the night before. Pushing the money aside, he stared blankly at the manila envelope, fear coursing through his veins. What kind of side mission could the general actually have planned? he wondered. With trepidation, he tore open the flap.

  Inside, he found a letter written by Applegate, along with several smaller envelopes. He scanned each label as he set them aside: Julie Frey, Dr. Bernard Epson, Dr. Brett Lamb, Dr. Griff Larsson, Peter Cooper, Michael Gallagher, Gertrude Stewart, Mailing Instructions (open after returning from France), International Travel Information (open on the train to New York), Surplus Funds. Peter returned to the letter and began to read.

  Peter-

  If you are reading this letter, I want to congratulate you on making the mission a success, if for only the time travel portion. You and your team have accomplished something paramount in human history. That alone deserves merit. But without complete success, those merits may go unrecognized. It is important that you read this letter in its entirety, as well as the contents of the enclosed envelopes as soon as possible. Your success will depend on it. Additionally, this information is strictly confidential and is for your eyes only. DO NOT SHARE WITH THE TEAM.