“Mom, can I have something to drink?
“Of course, Joseph. What would you like? We have water, soda, beer and I'm sure Fritz has something more alcoholic.”
“Soda would be great.”
“It's on the counter. Glasses are by the sink. Ice is in the freezer.” Emily pointed to each.
Ashley snickered. “I want one too. I'll get it. Anyone else?”
“Yeah, a soda. Are you going to tell me to get it myself?” asked Fritz.
“Would I do that? To my best friend?”
“Uh-huh. You sure would.”
“Excuse me but things are pretty serious,” said Emily. “You two better stop fooling around. Ashley, sit down. Natalie, would you help me, please?”
The snickers that had been an undercurrent broke into laughter. Natalie sighed. “Emily, it's not so bad if guys wait on themselves.”
“Oh, darling, I do have so much to teach you.”
Chapter 14
DECLERCQ TAPPED ON the door to Room 1215 and said his name. Lucas Weiss stepped into the hall and said he would meet Florian in the bar. When Declercq left the elevator, he scanned the lobby for the bar entrance. An attractive blonde turned the pages of a magazine, just in line of sight of his destination. Taking a table in the dimmest corner of the bar, he waited. Moments later, Weiss joined him.
“Tell me, Mr. Weiss, what's on your mind?” Declercq watched as his companion scanned the room, a frown carved on his face, his eyes darting at small movements. “What's wrong?”
“Maybe nothing. Everyone gravitated to you tonight. Do you know Georg Badenhof? Or did you? I should say.”
“His family name is legend in the business world, but we never met.”
“I did. Met him several times. They say he killed himself. It came to mind when Seymour said 'Caballeros'. Georg was a member, and the last person in the world who would kill himself.”
“You think his death suspicious? And why tell ME?”
“Why? You were not intimidated by what you observed. Others watched you and listened to what you said. You have met the president of the United States. Others will consider you our leader. I am suspicious. Whoever this unseen host is, he has researched us all in great detail.” His head jerked toward the doorway, as a man and the blonde from the lobby entered the bar. “Have you noticed that they are watching us,” Weiss said, wagging his head to the newcomers.
“Weiss, you are upset. But why tell me? People listened to me because my ship exploded. Nothing else.” Florian chose his words to seem casual and untroubled, but pondered what impression he might have left. Certainly nothing he wanted.
Weiss continued. Badenhof had told him that his personal wealth had increased four-fold, as if the Caballeros caused the events to occur.
“Such as?” Florian asked. The couple had taken a table across from them, and while the woman talked, she kept looking at him.
“Georg told me to buy shares in NDC, and then told me to sell them, just before the CEO quit. He told me to invest in companies in Abu Dhabi that were owned by the man who jumped from the skyscraper. He even told me to keep an eye on ship builders. You can appreciate what that would mean.”
Declercq absorbed what Weiss suggested, some of which he had already been told. “If your conjectures are correct, you are implying the Caballeros blew up my ship. But what would you have me do?” After a career of careful conversation, he hesitated to say too much. Weiss could be setting him up.
“I'm uncertain. I don't need the money. Declercq, to be frank, I wonder if I will be allowed to leave.”
“That is not my impression,” Florian lied. “We have been asked because we all have interests in the future of the Middle East, one way or another. Our host gathered us to make our businesses coordinate, and make us all money as the projects develop. He couldn't have foreseen my problems.”
“He could have planned them.”
“But why? With so much work to do, how would stopping it benefit anyone? I judge that you're wrong and worrying too much. We'll both feel better in the morning.” Florian watched the couple leave the bar. Have I seen her before? With a deep yawn, he said, “I've been up for almost two days. Shall we leave?” Florian dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table and stood. A reluctant Weiss followed him to the elevators. From another corner of the lobby, the blonde and her companion walked toward the elevators too. She stepped in and pushed a button. Weiss pushed 12.
“Good night, Mr. Weiss. I'll be leaving in the evening. Breakfast, perhaps?” The elevator stopped. The couple left, and Declercq blocked the elevator doors.
“I'll be gone at seven a.m.,” said Weiss. “I'm sure we'll talk again.”
Florian turned toward his room, searching his wallet for his room card. In the hallway ahead, the couple appeared to be waiting for him.
“Mr. Declercq, we work for General Beech. We are watching out for you.”
“Thank you. I'm fine.” Not looking again, he stepped into his room, said good night and shut the door. He had calls to make.
* * *
STIFLING A YAWN, the president picked up the buzzing phone. He stared across the room at the door where the portal opened. I envy Fritz. Imagine the whole of history he could visit. And take me with him. That would be so cool. General Beech relayed the conversation he had just completed. He returned to the yellow pad, jotting notes.
“Jim, you need to watch Weiss. He could be a plant, or a loose cannon. If he's right, and they see Florian as their leader, he could be in more danger than we anticipated. What name did Seymour call the head guy?”
“Richemartel. I'm not familiar with that name.”
“Neither am I. Is Florian going home or back to London?”
“He's leaving for London tomorrow night and he said he'll go home on Monday.” “Now that we have the next meeting's date, tell Florian we'll need him again soon.
I've talked to our make-up friend. He says no problem.” Before leaving, the president woke Tom Andrews and asked him to find what he could about a man named Richemartel.
Two Sunday morning meetings, one at the White House and one at the Russells, began earlier than any had expected. The president answered his phone at 4:30 when the first reports of an attack on a Florida naval base became public. At 6 AM, Emily shook Fritz from a deep slumber with news that another attack had occurred during the night.
Throwing cold water on his hair and face, Fritz had his coffee in three minutes, and parked himself in front of the TV in thirty seconds more. He flipped channels to see which stations were covering the story. Once again, only NBC had a crew on sight, but the reporter said that other stations were arriving. In the background, as the red sky declared sunrise approaching, cameras panned the wreckage of the burning planes. The reporter pointed to a section of chain link fence that had been removed, as fire trucks hurried from plane to plane.
“Where's my breakfast?” The new voice startled everyone, Fritz nearly falling from his chair, leaning too close to the TV. “What's going on?”
“Ash, since you got back, you've regained some of your former pain-in-the-ass self. Someone attacked the Pensacola navy base early this morning. And why are you here so early?”
“Navy. Again.” Fritz looked up at him, walked to the sunroom and returned with a yellow pad and his phone to his ear.
“Good morning, Ms. Crispin, this is Fritz Russell.”
“Do you bother him every chance you get, Mr. Russell, or only when he's busy?” she answered.
“I try to even it out. Is he available?”
“He's not. We have a small disturbance to handle at the moment.”
“If you're referring to Pensacola, tell him that's why I'm calling.”
“I'll tell him you called. He's not in his office at the moment.”
“Thank you. Please tell him I'll be waiting.” Turning to Ash, he said, “I sure miss Lily Evans. Did they say anything about casualties?”
“So far, none, the reporter said. Just the planes, t
he ones furthest from people.”
“It looks like they just wanted to show how easy it was,” said Joe. “Two or three guys attach bombs and leave.”
“Remote detonation?” Ashley suggested.
“They didn't say. Maybe timers,” said Joe. Fritz wrote all the comments.
“This sounds like a re-run,” Fritz said. “New Caballeros, new bombings. And a new group of mercenaries.”
“Or the same ones,” said Ashley. “They never did catch the guys who attacked Camp David.”
“Camp David?” asked Joe. “You? At the summit?”
“Yeah, we were just lucky to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” said Fritz.
Emily said, “Fritz, you two saved the president and all those others. I'd say you were in the right place. Now, who wants breakfast?”
* * *
THE PRESIDENT LISTENED to the agents' reports: Declercq had breakfast in his room and had the desk prepare his checkout. He took a long, uneventful walk to Central Park and back, and settled in the lobby. Five of the other attendees had already left, with only Jeff Hammersley and the British MP, Travers, still around. The president thanked them, and took a call from the Israeli Prime Minister.
“Mr. Prime Minister, have the divers found anything?”
“We have what you suspected. Our labs have identified the explosive. It matches. So your ships, and this one … the same people? Do you suspect them in the Florida incident as well?”
“Maybe. Your findings suggest connection.” He bit his lip. Had Declercq told them everything? “Did the divers have any suggestions about removing the ship or the cargo?”
“I have some engineers working on the cargo. The ship may need to be dismantled. We can't blow it up. That would close the harbor. I wish I had better news for you.”
“Mr. Prime Minister, so do I. I only have a few more months in office. I had hoped to see more progress by then.”
“Mr. President, some progress has been made. The southern harbor is proceeding. The water plants and pipelines are growing daily. And each payday is putting money into the regional economy. It's a beginning.”
The president thanked him and expressed hope for a self-sustaining momentum by the time he left office. Determined to see progress, he asked to be told exactly what would be needed to clear the harbor. “We'll talk again soon.”
When he finished his call, Ms. Crispin told him that Fritz had called. The president asked when he had called. When she told him it had been three hours, he rubbed behind his left ear. “Ms. Crispin, let's make this easy. He's important. If I'm on the phone or in a meeting, please interrupt with a note. Don't use his name. Just put a note in front of me.”
“Certainly, sir. You could have told me sooner. I wouldn't have minded.”
He chuckled at her admonishment, told her he would call from a secure line, and walked from the office. He met his chief-of-staff in the hallway. “Sam, get me a cell phone that I can have Fritz Russell call me on. I don't want to go through the switchboard.” Sam Clemmons told him he would have it in thirty minutes.
* * *
“HELLO, MR. PRESIDENT. Another long day.”
“Hi Fritz. I just found out you called. Take this number. It's a cell phone that is only for you. No incoming calls recorded.” Fritz wrote it down. “Now, what's up?”
“Primarily, I wanted to be ready if you need the portal. The news is showing the same stuff Jane used to watch, so I've been trying to spot anything unusual. You should check surveillance footage. NBC had an early tip, again.”
“I'm waiting on responses from Florida, and from Tom Andrews. I'm sure we're getting closer.”
“While I have you on the line, I'd like to visit Ben Franklin again before school starts. Wanna come?”
“If time permits, I'd love to. Would he invite Adams and Jefferson again?”
“If I can pinpoint the date, I'll ask.”
“Talk to you soon then.”
After a dull summer, activity filled his life, including a full house of unexpected guests, well almost full, and the bad guys had reemerged. Only a year ago, the president had asked to use the portal to destroy the Narian nuclear program and rescue an Israeli settlement. Ashley had been back only three days, and they had already used the portal three times. He glanced at his notes. Another naval facility attacked. California, Virginia, Florida. He could see the US map in his mind. Left, right, center. “No,” he said. “Hey Ash, pull up the US map on the computer. I want to look at something.”
“What?”
“Remember your theory in the spring? About chess? Patterns? The attacks have a pattern. It's reversed, but North, South, East, West. North is missing.” Ashley's worry-lines jutted as he looked at the map. Fritz looked over Ashley's shoulder at the attack locations.
“Chicago,” Fritz whispered.
Chapter 15
“GOOD MORNING, Mr. President,” Fritz said. A female voice returned his greeting.
“Mr. Russell, the president is in a meeting. If you'll hold a moment, I'll say you're on the phone.” The sound of a phone placed none too softly on a solid surface forced the phone from his ear. “He said he'll call back shortly.” She disconnected.
Before he could pour another cup, his phone rang. “Hi, Mr. President.”
“Fritz, I'm on my way to a meeting. Sorry. What's up?”
“A question. Have any contracts been signed for fixing or rebuilding the ships? Someone is making a lot of money rebuilding and repairing all the damage. I think we might see large investments in those companies.”
“I'll check on the bidding status later. Tom Andrews investigated the name we got from Florian. He didn't find much on Richemartel.”
“Did he get a first name?”
The president looked at his notes. “Telesphore.” He spelled it. “Telesphore Richemartel.”
“T.R.! I'll bet he's Richter.”
“Fritz, I really have to go.”
“One more quick thing. I expect another attack is coming. Somewhere around Chicago.”
“Let me call you this afternoon. Bye.”
* * *
A STORY IN the local section of the New York Times said a man had been killed on Sunday night by a hit-and-run driver, as he crossed Park Avenue. Eyewitnesses said the car was a taxicab, which made a U-turn around the island and disappeared down a cross street. The report identified the victim as a Peter Seymour.
Scanning his fields, Richemartel smiled, as his crops were harvested.
* * *
FRITZ HARVESTED SOME tomatoes and the now-ripe cucumbers, clipped some lettuce, pulled some radishes, and watered the garden.
“Give me those,” said Emily. “It'll make a nice salad for dinner. You can grill those steaks.” Mixing bowls on the counter waited for her.
“What are you making?”
“Desserts. I've always liked baking. And I don't need to burn them here.” She chuckled.
“I'm going to cut the grass. Then I need to work on my school stuff,” said Fritz.
“Joe will cut the grass. He needs something to do.”
“Emily, he's working on a project for his new job. I'll do it.”
“He'll get it done. Let him cut the grass. You go do your work.”
Fritz had just opened the schedule on his desk when chattering interrupted. He shook his head and went to the kitchen. Dressed in gym shorts, his Walt Whitman tee, and his high-tops, Ashley said, “Get changed. It's time you lost a few pounds, and a few bucks.”
“I don't have time.”
“Sure you do. Emily told me Joe's got the lawn. School stuff can wait a couple of hours.”
“The president may call.”
“Take your phone.”
Emily said, “Go ahead, Fritz. And when you're done, pick up lunch. Get me one of those pastrami sandwiches.”
Reluctant to hit the court again, Fritz sighed and changed his clothes. On the way to Ashley's car, he scanned the sky. “Ash, you better put the top up.”
“Later, I have to beat you first.”
In the few minutes it took to reach the school, the sky had darkened, thunder rumbling in the distance. “I'm not playing, Ash. Let's see if the portal's open.”
“Let's go see Franklin and take him to lunch. I'm hungry,” said Ash. Thunder preceded his stomach rumbling.
Fritz tapped the doorknob and shook his head. He said they should go in and wait, but when he touched it again, the portal was open.
“I'm going in. Maybe he'll come back with me.” He pulled the door open. It was sunny in Philadelphia. Fritz called his name. From the next room came “Ah, Mr. Russell, you've returned.” Stark naked, as was his habit, with a book in his hand, he offered Fritz a seat. Fritz grinned, seeing for himself that the stories were correct. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Dr. Franklin, I was going to invite you to Riverboro today for lunch.”
“That would be enjoyable. But as you see, I'm not dressed for a visit. Or anything else. If you would allow me a few moments, I'd be glad to join you.”
“The president asked if it might be possible to meet with Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson again.”
“We can talk shortly. By the way, what do you call your attire?”
“These we call shorts. This is a tee shirt. We call the shoes, sneakers. May I ask a question?”
“What is it, m'boy?”
“What is today's date?”
“Ah, of course. Your clips. Today is August the first, only a few days since our last meeting.” He walked away saying, “my clothes are nearby.” As good as his word, Franklin entered his kitchen fully clothed, a vest and jacket already calling forth a sheen to his forehead. Together, they stepped into the school hallway.
“Dr. Franklin, allow me to introduce my friend and colleague, Ashley Gilbert. Ash, it's my honor to present Dr. Benjamin Franklin.”
“Dr. Franklin, it's a pleasure to meet you,” said Ashley, shaking his hand. As accustomed as he was to meeting historical figures, nevertheless Ashley looked at his hand. Fritz opened his classroom door and ushered them in.
Storm Surge (Quantum Touch Book 5) Page 6