Storm Surge (Quantum Touch Book 5)

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Storm Surge (Quantum Touch Book 5) Page 3

by Michael R. Stern


  “She was hunting for links to Richter. None of that surprised her. She told me she had a feeling.” Jane's feelings regularly alerted everyone that something was amiss, or some action imminent. Ashley brushed his eyes and poked at the newspaper, still on the table since breakfast. “Looks like the development plan is going ahead full bore.”

  “They have so much to do. The president told me that men are coming from all over the region to get work. Training schools for construction and the trades have opened, the water plants, the harbor and acres of solar farms are going up. Pipelines for water, a new electrical smart-grid. Declercq's ships are all being used. No wonder they want him in the Caballeros.” The Caballeros. Back to them again. Then his phone rang. “It's Tony,” he said. “Hi, what's up?”

  “Hi Fritz. The president wants the portal. To get Declercq.”

  “Now? It's four in the morning in Europe.”

  “He said to call when we're ready. He told me to call you.”

  “That's weird, but sure. See you in a few.” Ashley jumped up and they were out the door.

  They waited a few minutes for Tony's arrival. When Tony pulled up, Natalie got out. Ashley said, “Hi Nat.”

  “Oh my God, Ashley. Is that you?”

  “Nope.” Fritz laughed, as the hatch opened and Tony pulled the generator out. Ashley told Fritz to get the door, and he gripped the other handle.

  “You're a hot mess, Ashley,” Nat continued.

  “What? You don't like my Middle Eastern disguise? I've been assigned as a spy.” Fritz couldn't help but grin at the return, in part at least, of his friend's wisecrackery.

  “Uh-huh.” She followed the generator to the open door. “Looks more like you have a Halloween assignment—scaring the kids.”

  “Enough, you two,” said Fritz. “Let's get the president.”

  The president stopped in his tracks as he stepped through the portal, and Mel Zack had a gun pointed at Ashley before a word was said. “That's a hell of a greeting,” Ashley said.

  The president squinted, and then stepped to shake his hand. “I hope you aren't planning on playing basketball like that.”

  Fritz asked, “Where to?”

  “Hang on a second, Fritz. General Beech is coming. He was finishing up with Florian.”

  “It's almost five o'clock over there. What's happened?”

  “We need him here to find out.” As the general walked into the hallway, the president asked, “Where is he, Jim?”

  “I was printing it. His London office.” He passed the sheet to Fritz. “He's waiting here.”

  “This looks like a closet,” said Fritz.

  “It's a secure room, like a bank vault. We can talk about it when he's here,” the general said.

  The portal opened, revealing a man, with tense features and angry eyes, standing in a closet. Declercq looked around, shook the president's hand, and nodded to the others until he looked at Ashley.

  “What's happened, Florian?” asked the general. Declercq told them that one of his ships exploded, just outside Ashdod. The crew was safe, he said, but the ship sank, blocking the channel. “The Israelis are furious. Nothing can get in or out.”

  “What were you carrying?” asked the president.

  “Solar panels and wind turbines, production from your American suppliers. My largest ship.”

  “No weapons or explosives?” asked Beech.

  “No, Jim, none. It may take months to clear the wreckage and reopen the channel. A crane alone would be incapable of lifting those turbine blades from the water.”

  “Do you have a description of the explosion?” asked Fritz, glancing at the president.

  Declercq told them the ship had been anchored close to port with docking planned for sunrise. After the explosion, the crew had barely enough time to float the inflatables. “The captain said it felt like the bottom blew out, all at once.”

  The president's almost imperceptible head shake warned Fritz to be silent. “It will be daylight soon, Florian. I'll call the Prime Minister. He'll have the Israeli navy on site by now, and I'll send some divers. They'll have an idea of what to look for.”

  Declercq considered the comment. “What to look for? The same people did your Navy ships, too?” The president nodded and told General Beech to call Admiral Davis, get the divers set, and get the reports sent to the Oval Office.

  “General, have him meet us at midnight at my office.”

  The general walked into the hallway.

  “Florian, I have a question. Why were you in the vault when we came to get you?”

  “I often work in there. No one disturbs me, and no one can get in. I wasn't sure how long I would be here.”

  “Have you decided what you're doing about your invitation?”

  “I had intended to call Mr. Seymour today. I had planned to decline.”

  “And now?”

  “I understand why you want me to go, Mr. President. But frankly, this frightens me. Aside from the distraction, if these people are as dangerous as you have said, how safe will I be?”

  “Florian, we are on the verge of major changes in the world, if we succeed. If not, I believe the world will fall on dark times which may take centuries to reverse. None of us will be safe. Our children and our grandchildren will ask why they are carrying this load when we could have ended it.” The president rubbed his head. “I have an idea, Florian. I may have a way to keep an eye on you. But you'll have to be part of them first. If you go, you'll be able to see who else is involved.” The president checked his watch. “We'll call, Jim will, in two hours. Does the room have a phone?” When Declercq said it didn't and he couldn't get reception inside, the president asked him to inform the general if he resolved to go. “When Jim calls your office, just say yes or no. He'll call you back. We'll meet here again later. Jim will tell you when. I need to go now and call the Israelis. I'll have information for you and I'll get your crew home safely.”

  Fritz reset the portal and Declercq dashed through to London. The president told Fritz to get him home, but before he stepped into the Oval Office, he said, “It could be a long night. Do you mind?”

  Fritz said, “I don't. Jane would say to look at videos. Those bombs could have been planted before the ship set out. And I'm guessing they were detonated by someone on shore, not by a timer.”

  “Good analysis. Thanks. I'll ask Admiral Davis to get the ship's itinerary, and I'll talk to the Prime Minister about the area around the explosion. If Declercq agrees to go, we'll need him here again in about three hours. I'll call you.” He turned slightly, and said, “Welcome home, Ashley.”

  When the door clicked shut, Tony began packing the generator. Ashley took one side as they walked through the silence. With a quick glance behind him, Fritz envisioned the noisy hall only a few days away. “Silly to go home,” he said. “Why don't you guys come to my place?”

  “Linda's not going to be happy,” said Nat.

  “She's not home,” Fritz said, in a tone with points like needles.

  * * *

  BACK AT THE kitchen table, Fritz said, “I feel like a gerbil on one of those wheels.”

  Ashley leaned on his fists, hands beneath his beard. “I'll bet the president wants to use the portal to raid the meeting.”

  “If he does that, he blows any protection I have. He can't arrest anyone, even Richter.” Fritz grimaced. “I hope Declercq has the courage to step up.”

  They didn't have to wait long to find out. When the president called, he said Declercq had agreed, but needed to be on a plane to New York. “Fritz, we'll need the portal this afternoon. If I'm not mistaken, his room won't be safe.”

  Nat and Tony left but Ashley lingered. Fritz told him he could stay if he wanted. Ashley said he wanted a drink and asked Fritz to join him. He grabbed the bottle of Jack, usually full and dusty, now with only enough for a couple of drinks.

  “You've been busy.”

  “That's about the fifth or sixth one since Linda left. I have an eveni
ng cocktail. Sometimes evening comes early.”

  “Then let's kill this sucker.” Ashley plopped two glasses on the table. “We'll get more tomorrow. Thanks for staying up.”

  “What's on your mind?”

  “I've had two months pretty much alone. I've considered asking you to let me go back so I could stay with Jane.”

  “We've been on the same track. I considered retracing my conversation with Linda's father that set her off. I can't help but think that we've overused the portal. It's taken over my life. I've considered going back to our meeting last fall, and telling the president I wouldn't help. But that would change history for sure.”

  “But would it change it? Or put it back the way it was supposed to be?”

  “What was supposed to be, Ash? Maybe I was supposed to find the portal, and use it like we have. You remember our visit with Lee's wife. Maybe we were supposed to tell her that people still remembered him to make the end of her life better, happier. She died not long after we visited.” He emptied his glass.

  “I've never seen you drink like that,” said Ashley.

  “Things are different around here now. Quiet. So quiet, I can hear every little sound.” He picked up the empty glass. “This helps me sleep. I don't wake up now when TJ cries, or when Linda goes downstairs. I don't smell lasagna at four in the morning.”

  Ashley shared Fritz's solitude. In his head, he felt the wind rushing past his face during the many hours on the highways. He downed the remaining bourbon.

  Chapter 8

  TIME TO RELAX in the mornings would end soon. When Fritz opened the newspaper, a small article in the business section caught his eye. Jonathan Hartmann's yacht had been sold at auction for much less than its value. The story went on to report the strange death of the founder of National Data Corporation, once a Caballero, not yet solved. Fritz said aloud, “They eat their young.”

  By the time Fritz had cleaned up and showered, Ashley had returned. As they headed out the door, a black Suburban pulled up behind Ashley's car. Tony waved as he crossed the lawn, and Natalie climbed from the passenger's seat.

  “The president called. We need to go now,” Tony said.

  Ash and Tony carried the generator to its spot in the hall. The hum of machinery nearby alerted them that they weren't alone. Fritz told them to wait in his classroom until he checked it out. A floor polisher, driven by the head of the school's maintenance, Joe Pettinelli, buffed the main corridor to the principal's office.

  “Hi Joe. Just wanted warn you that I'm here.”

  Turning off the machine, Joe said, “Hi Fritz. Here we go again, huh?”

  “Soon enough. I'll be here for a while. Is that a problem?”

  “Not for me. I did your hallway and the classrooms on Monday.”

  “I'll try not to mess anything up. See you soon.”

  “Hey, Fritz. Are you going to have another tournament this year? I really enjoyed it. Lots of fun.”

  “When school ended, my kids said they wanted to do it again. We'll see soon if they still do. Say, do you have any drop-cloths around, or tarps?

  “Nothing usable. I had to throw out what we did have. I'd get more but … the budget.”

  “It's okay. George didn't get my class painted, again, so I'm going to do it myself. If I get to it, I'll just buy them. I hate how it looks. Maybe I can get him to free up some money for you.”

  “That would be great. Maybe we can go over a list of stuff I could use. He might listen to you.” George McAllister, the principal, fussed constantly about school funds but continually forgot that he had another source, the president, for special projects. Fritz made a mental note to remind him.

  “Sure, Joe. I'll be glad to look at it. See you later.” He returned to his classroom on newly polished granite reflecting the sunlight that found a path into the unlit hallway. As he turned the corner, Ashley's quick sidestep avoided a collision.

  “Ash, open your room. We don't want to be out here.”

  Fritz unlocked his desk and placed the White House brochure on the top, adjusting the paperclip. When he pulled the door open, the president, Mel Zack and General Beech left the Oval Office behind, a floor plan in the president's hand.

  “He's in the room now, Fritz.” Seconds later, Declercq stepped into Riverboro High.

  “You look tired, Florian. How was your trip?” asked the president.

  “Not as quick as the last time I came.” His voice hinted of his tension and weariness from his flight, despite his attempted humor. A packet had been waiting so he hadn't even unpacked. He handed it to the general. The embossed outer cover was titled Forum for International Business Cooperation. Inside, an invitation announced dinner the following evening.

  “Is this all? This is a lot of expense for one piece of paper.” Declercq said he'd checked and nothing more had been included.

  The president handed him a phone, with a transmitter built in and turned on. “Florian, if you feel any threat, push this button, and we'll come immediately. We will have agents right outside the meeting room.”

  “I need to keep my own, so I can be contacted from my office or my home.”

  The general told him to say that one was business, the other personal. He handed Florian a phone number and said to add it to his speed dial.

  “When this is over, we'll talk again,” said the president. “For now, stay in the hotel as much as possible. Thanks, Florian, and good luck.”

  * * *

  “FRITZ, I HATE to do this to you. Tomorrow night, Colonel Mitchell will be here with a couple dozen of his guys. I want to set the portal outside the room. If we can get Richter, we can end this. But I don't want the new group involved, if possible.”

  “How will you find out if he's there?” asked Fritz.

  “We have people on site. We haven't told Florian yet. We swept for bugs. If it's safe, we'll inform him tonight.”

  “You want me here tonight then?” asked Fritz.

  “No. He'll be contacted by our people in the hotel. Here's how this plays out.” As the president discussed the plan, Natalie took notes, the source documents for their upcoming evening's discussion. When he'd finished, he said, “Time for me to leave.”

  “Mr. President, you've been calling Tony to set up. Why?”

  “Fritz, we don't know how much they've learned, or if we're close to the end. I don't want to be in direct contact with you any more than necessary. I want you all to come out of this in one piece. I'll see you tomorrow.”

  Chapter 9

  AT HIS FARMHOUSE, pacing the country kitchen, phone to his ear, Richemartel issued instructions. “At six o'clock, go to each room, and bring them the new invitation. Take them to the apartment. Do you have the men? Good. Keep them separate until they arrive. You have the cars arranged?” He listened to the questions and sighed. “No, I will not attend. My name is not to be mentioned. You will wait at the cars, all of you. Release them at nine o'clock. Take them back to the hotel. No interference. No deviation.” He hung up and lifted his martini glass in a toast to himself. “Back in business.”

  * * *

  “THIS IS THE MOST people at this table in months,” said Fritz. Ashley handed him the still-wrapped sandwich from their trip to the deli. “I forgot about this. Anyone want a soda, glasses are on the counter.”

  Nat thumbed through her notebook. “Why is he using soldiers instead of police?” she asked.

  Tony said, “Because they've already used the portal. Anyone new would have to learn.”

  “And that would mean more danger for us,” said Fritz. “Like that matters anymore. I'll bet the colonel is tired of going back and forth.”

  “You really have been sidelined, Fritz,” said Tony. “The colonel's been at the airport with about twenty-five guys all summer. You should see the place now. It's like an underground palace. Not like a barracks. Milt Chelten has had them working and building. They dug out a whole wing for a rec room, a media room and a library. And a duplicate of the conference room a
cross the hall from you. The Summit room.”

  Fritz said, “Well, we have until tomorrow night to kill. Do you two want to stay for dinner?”

  “If you're grilling,” said Tony, “let me get some sausage and fixings. I have a special family recipe.”

  The doorbell chiming interrupted their chatter. Fritz looked at blank faces and shrugged.

  As he opened the door, Emily Miller stepped past. “Hi, Fritz, can I come in? You remember Joe.” Joe shook hands with his brother-in-law and carried her suitcase inside.

  Fritz stood statue-still. “Is Linda with you?”

  “Let's just say that I'm on a mission. I got tired of waiting for you to show up.”

  “I haven't seen you in a while, Fritz. Nice house,” Joe said.

  “Emily, what's going on?”

  “Are you going to invite me in? Or not?”

  “You're already in. And of course you're invited. But what's happened? Why are you here? How's TJ?”

  When Ashley walked from the kitchen, Fritz introduced him, forgetting that he had met them both before.

  “So why are you standing out here?” Ashley asked. “The party's just getting started.” He looked at Fritz, questions tattooed over his face. Fritz shrugged again. As they walked to the kitchen, Joe checked out the dining room furnishings. He tapped his mother, asking without a word what he was looking at.

  “It's your grandmother's,” she said. “She wanted Linda to have the whole thing. It's ugly.” Fritz snorted. The dining room was antique and formal, Linda's favorite room. Fritz introduced Tony and Nat, as they shifted chairs to make room.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

  “Do you have anything to eat?” asked Emily. “We've been driving since the middle of the night.”

  “You can split a deli sandwich, or I have ham and turkey in the fridge.” He passed her his still-wrapped lunch. Emily took it and said that it would do fine.

  “Get your own, Joseph,” she said.

  At a now-full table, drinks poured and sandwiches being chewed, Fritz asked again why they'd come. And why had they driven all night? Joe started to talk, but his mother pushed his shoulder and told him to shut up and eat.

 

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