“How are your plans coming along? Are there any updates on your travel?”
“We’ve just about wrapped up our shopping, and let me tell you, planning for two months abroad isn’t easy,” Julie said.
“That’s because you want to bring everything under the sun,” Peter said, obviously making a joke at his wife’s proclivity for excess.
“That’s not so. I just know what it’s like to travel to France, Peter . . . and you can never be prepared enough.”
France? They’re going to France? There was no mention of this before, Gallagher noted.
“Well, Jules, traveling to France in 2013 would certainly be a lot different than it’s going to be now. We’re probably going to be limited on the number of bags we can take on a navy ship. Most of what you’re bringing will likely be left on the docks. You may want to start deciding now what you’re gonna leave. Lord knows it will take at least a couple weeks to work that out.”
“You guys still scheduled to leave on the fourth?” Larsson asked.
“Yep. Why do you think I want Jules to start now?” Peter quipped.
My God, Gallagher thought. They’re going to France, and soon! The fourth of what? He listened, praying for more.
“Be that as it may, Mr. Smart Ass, at least next week’s train will be graced with my amazing ensemble!”
Crap! Gallagher thought. They’re leaving on a train next week? What day? What day? he fretted.
“That’s all great, guys, but do you have anything on the mission itself?” Dr. Lamb inquired.
The following silence unnerved Gallagher.
“No, nothing new on our end. The plan is still to get to Oradour-sur-Glane by the end of September. Once we get to Normandy, we’ll determine the best way to get there and complete the mission.”
Gallagher inhaled sharply and quickly covered his mouth.
“All right, then. Anything else we need to discuss?” Peter asked.
Gallagher felt he should get word to Emmett now, but he stayed, hoping for more information. He only heard a series of murmurs for the next few moments, and he assumed everyone was shaking their heads. Then he heard movement. He darted away from the door and tiptoed down the hall as fast as he could. Just as he got to the corner, he heard a door open behind him. He ran the last few steps, hoping he wasn’t seen. He flew past the elevator and plunged into the stairwell, dropping two steps at a time. Bursting into the lobby, he instinctively slowed to a casual pace and headed for the front entrance.
As he slid behind the wheel of his car, he realized he was still carrying the doctor’s attaché. Forget it, he thought and sped down the road. He needed to get word to Emmett immediately. Mandrake would not be pleased.
CHAPTER 14
Peter walked the ten blocks from his hotel to Grace Cathedral flushed with nostalgia. The last time he’d visited the cathedral was with the kids only a month ago, but it felt like an eternity. Since arriving in 1942, he’d had to keep his family from his thoughts. He knew he’d have to compartmentalize his feelings while on the mission, but the closer he got to the granite steps of the historic sanctuary, he realized the difficulty of the task. A sense of abandonment began to seep into the corners of his mind. The mental invasion was something Peter was prepared for.
Trying to focus on the present, Peter forced the feelings aside. From his southerly approach, he could just make out the spires of the cathedral inching above the rooftops of the surrounding buildings.
Continuing up the steep incline toward California Street, he wondered how much longer he would be able to deceive Julie. The lie he’d told her about his surveillance of Epson’s assistants could only last so long. He knew Julie was smart and would begin to figure it out, given enough time. Just a few more trips would be all he needed; today’s encounter to get the pennies and the ‘entrovement’ in a few days would be the culmination of Operation Abraham.
The burn in his thighs stole his attention as he ascended the final block. Peter smiled appreciatively at the architectural beauty as the cathedral came into view. Crossing the street, he wondered if he’d made a mistake by arranging the meeting here instead of someplace more inconspicuous. At the time, his attention had been so focused on obtaining the pennies themselves. Thankfully, his quick thinking and ingenuity brought up a location he was familiar with.
To Peter’s pleasant surprise, Canter had reluctantly agreed to run an entire roll of bronze pennies through the stamper with the date of 1943. His plan all along was to secure just a few of the valuable coins, and never in his wildest dreams had he imagined obtaining fifty.
Peter glanced at his watch and saw he was on time. It was three in the afternoon, and the bells began their toll from the apex of the spires. Before entering the church, he surveyed the grounds for anything conspicuous, but everything seemed in order. He chuckled. How would I know what was out of place in 1942?
Trusting in fate, Peter walked up to the south entrance and entered the partially completed edifice. He immediately noticed a number of differences. First, the famous labyrinth was nowhere in sight. That part of the cathedral would not be constructed until many years later. The pews throughout the nave were also temporary, smaller, less elaborate versions of the pews he had known.
At that moment, Peter realized how powerful the cathedral’s presence had been throughout his life. It was part of his college years and his time with Minnie. It had even been part of his time with his children. Now here he was, standing on the precipice of great change. He knew he had chosen this location wisely.
Peter walked to the rear of the nave, looking for Canter. He scanned the faces of the dozen or so other patrons but came up blank. He sat on a creaky pew in the back row and waited. From his vantage point, he would be able to see Canter, or anyone else for the matter. As he waited, he marveled at the breathtaking arches sweeping across the ceiling and the beauty of the ubiquitous stained glass windows. Peter felt a comfort he hadn’t known for some time.
“An interesting place to meet, Mr. Hooper,” Canter said, startling Peter as he slid into the pew next to him.
“Ah, yes. I am a fan of”—Peter paused to choose his words carefully—“of architecture. This is something special. I can only imagine what it will be like when it’s complete.” Peter smiled at the irony of his own comment.
Canter looked about impassively. “Yes, I’m sure it’ll be nice.”
“Did you have any problems?” Peter asked.
Canter shook his head. “Nope. No problem.”
Peter tried to read Canter, but he was stone-faced. No emotion, no concern—nothing.
“I assume you have also corrected the flaws in your security?” Peter asked.
Canter flinched slightly and turned to Peter. “I have. I just don’t understand how you knew of any of this. Unless you had plans of the mint, how would you have known the layout of the building? How did you get in?”
“I did have the plans. That’s all part of my job. I know everything about the mint, as well as many other government facilities. As for the how . . . well, that’s classified.”
“But wouldn’t that be an unfair advantage? How would the common criminal know how to breach the facility without any of the information you had?”
“Why would you assume they don’t? Suppose they were able to appropriate a set of blueprints from the designing architect; wouldn’t that give them all the information they’d need?”
“Not really. They would only have locations of walls and doors and such. They would still not have the information on staffing and shift personnel that you were privy to. It just seems that we were set up to fail, and I find that quite unfair.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Bart, but if you would prefer, we can just forget this meeting, and I can file my report—”
Canter cut him off. “No, no. I just want you to understand how bizarre this all is. Don’t file the report. You obviously know you have me over a barrel. It just doesn’t make sense.” Canter pulled a roll of c
oins from his pocket. The sheath was opaque but looked about the right size. “If you were going to blackmail me about this, I would have thought it would be for a lot more money than fifty cents’ worth of unusable 1943 pennies.”
Peter smiled. “I have my reasons, and it’s best we leave it at that.”
Peter held out his hand and waited. Canter glared suspiciously and then handed him the roll.
“How do I know you won’t file that report anyway? For all I know, this whole penny business might be all part of your plan to get me fired.”
“Why would I do that? You can trust me, Bart.”
“Can I? I don’t even know you. This all seems so . . . so cloak and dagger.”
Peter smiled reassuringly. “I’m not interested in seeing you or anyone else fired from the mint. My only concern is security. I want the best people in place to ensure the security of our national economy. Sure, I should report everything that I’ve encountered, but from where I stand, you’ve done nothing wrong here. I know your family counts on you. There is no funny business going on. The pennies here”—Peter dropped them into his breast pocket—“are just a token. If I wanted to really blackmail you, I would have asked for a stack of hundreds or something ridiculous. This roll of pennies will never see the light of day. As you say, it’s fifty cents. I just needed to see how far you would go.”
Canter was stoic. “Are we done here?”
“Sure thing, Bart. Just remember. I, or another member of my company, could run another test at any time. There will be no second chances. If we breach your security again, there will be hell to pay.”
Canter sat for a moment longer before standing and walking away. He didn’t acknowledge Peter again.
Peter remained seated for several minutes, contemplating his attitude toward Canter. He hoped that he had instilled a significant level of fear, enough that Canter would not breathe a word of any of this to anyone.
As he stood to leave, Peter pulled the pennies from his shirt pocket, deposited them into his front pants pocket, and walked toward the side exit leading to the gardens. It was still early, and he wanted to see more of the differences between cathedral’s past and present.
Stepping out into the daylight, Peter shielded his eyes until they could adjust. Once normal vision returned, it was too late to see the men standing on either side of the doors. The last thing he saw was a glimpse of yellow roses before the darkness.
CHAPTER 15
A hood was cinched tight below his chin, and Peter was grasped firmly by both arms. He tried to resist, but the more he did, the harder they squeezed.
“Hey!” Peter yelled.
The assailants forced him to move through the gardens, half dragging him, half carrying him. Despite the blackness, he could still smell the sweetness of the rose bushes.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked, trying a more subdued approach. Still, he was met with silence from his captors. “Who are you? Come on, you’ve got to give me something.”
“Quiet, if you know what’s good for ya,” replied a gruff voice.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” Peter demanded.
Instead of silence or another order to be quiet, Peter received a sharp crack on the back of his skull. He instantly saw a cluster of dancing stars. Peter momentarily lost his balance, and in turn, the guys holding him gripped even harder.
“All right, all right. I can walk on my own. Just let up a little, will ya?”
The vise grips released slightly, and the feeling began to return to his hands. They guided him forward and then left into the alley. As he stumbled up a few steps, he began to hear street traffic. Peter tried desperately to think of a way out. If they were going to shove him into the back of a car, he’d only have moments for an escape attempt when they released their grip. He had to time it perfectly and trust his instincts.
Which direction should I run? If he chose correctly, he could dash toward the south and into the afternoon pedestrian crowd. If he chose unwisely, he could run directly into the stone wall of the church—or even worse, into street traffic.
As they made their way up the alley, Peter tried to visualize his surroundings. His captors’ pace slowed and he began to hear the sound of an idling car. The moment was imminent. If he could just break away—
“Don’t try nothin’ funny, buddy,” said the man with the gruff voice as he shoved Peter into the back of a sedan and slammed the door. Peter’s head hit the opposite door, and the car lurched forward. With his arms free, Peter instinctively tried to loosen the hood. But before he could get to the knotted rope at the back of his neck, he heard another voice.
“Please, Peter,” said the new voice—a much calmer, more educated voice. “Just leave it on for a few moments longer. I promise no harm will come to you.”
“Easy for you to say. You weren’t just hit in the back of the head.”
“Ah yes. For that, I apologize. I asked them not to harm you, but only to . . . persuade you to come quietly.”
Peter rubbed the growing knot on the back of his head. “I was persuaded, all right.” He felt uneasy, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.
The car ride passed quickly, and Peter guessed they had only traveled a dozen blocks at the most. He also felt they were probably near the water, because most of the travel had been downhill.
A few minutes later the car stopped, and he heard the front doors open. Then one of the back doors opened and he was once again dragged by firm hands. Peter relaxed and halted any further protest.
He could hear the educated man whispering to someone behind him. He couldn’t quite make out the conversation, but he thought he recognized the other voice . . . but from where?
A moment later the man said, “It’ll only be a moment longer, Mr. Cooper. I promise, everything will be explained shortly.”
“You obviously know who I am. Would you care to tell me who you are?” Peter asked, hopeful to glean something from the bizarre situation.
“In time.”
The men holding his arms guided him up a number of steps and through a doorway. By the sound of their echoing footsteps, Peter realized they must be in an atrium of some sort, most likely with marble floors and high ceilings. The men stopped and stood beside him silently. A moment later, a mechanical bell rang before they all stepped into an elevator. As the doors closed, Peter felt one of the men loosen the hood and yank it from his head.
It took a moment for Peter’s eyes to adjust to the light of the small elevator. He blinked away the blur and focused directly ahead. The elevator car was lined in brass, and there were three other men in the car with him: two men on either side of him and one standing behind him. Peter could not make out the face in the reflection on the door, so he turned his head to face the man. Staring back was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair. He smiled and returned his gaze forward as the elevator reached its destination.
With much less shoving, the men guided Peter down a long corridor lined with mahogany. At the end of the corridor were a pair of massive wooden doors. The man in charge stepped forward and walked inside. Peter and the henchman followed inside, where his arms were released.
“That’ll be all, gentlemen.”
“You want us to stay close, boss?”
“Just near the lobby will be fine. I don’t expect any problems from Mr. Cooper.”
The two men backed into the hallway and closed the doors.
“Please have a seat, Mr. Cooper,” said the man, motioning toward the chairs placed on the opposite side of the desk.
Peter sat down and crossed his arms.
“What’s going on here?” Peter asked.
“I wanted to talk with you, Mr. Cooper. I know all about you and where you came from. Or should I say when you came from?”
Peter was shocked but didn’t let on. “Come again? When? I just came from Grace Cathedral, where I was praying for—”
“Come now, Peter. I know everything about you. And yo
ur team, for that matter.”
“If you know so much about me, you should know I am here with my wife on our honeymoon.”
“Ah yes. Miss Frey, is it?”
“Yes, that’s right. She kept her maiden name when . . .”
“You can stop the antics now, Peter. They won’t work.”
Peter stared intently at the man. His eyes darted about the room and then back to the man. “So who are you, then?”
“I’m sorry, Peter. Where are my manners? I am Asher Mandrake.” He stood and extended his hand. Peter reluctantly took it and gripped firmly.
“I think you might have me confused with someone else,” Peter said, trying a different tactic.
“No, no. I am positive I have the right person. You’re the man that has traveled from the future.”
“What! Are you insane?” scoffed Peter. “What on earth are you talking about? Traveled from the future? Like in some kind of space machine?” Peter asked, laying it on thick.
Asher chuckled. “No, not in a space machine, but through Dr. Epson’s time machine. I know all about it.”
Peter wasn’t sure how to react. General Applegate had assured him that their mission was virtually foolproof. Another deception? Peter wondered.
“That is the craziest thing I’ve heard in a long time. Who is this Epson fellow, anyway?” Peter asked.
Asher’s smile faded to a stern glare. “I really don’t have the time for charades, Peter. I know you and three others came through the time machine almost two weeks ago, and I would like to know why. There is no use in denying it any further. I could easily send my men to pick up Julie if you would prefer.”
Peter flinched at the mention of Julie’s name. “No, that won’t be necessary.”
The smile returned to Asher’s face. “Good. So, what is the reason you and your companions have traveled back from . . . 2013, is it?”
Peter nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s about right.” He wondered how this man knew so much. Applegate’s letter about the mole came rushing back to him.
9781940740065 Page 22