Storm Surge (Quantum Touch Book 5)

by Michael R. Stern

  Chapter 10

  THE FIRST LADY called the Oval Office and told her husband that Koppler's attorney had arranged a press conference, due to begin any moment. “You better get on first. You may even be able to cut him off.”

  “Are you coming down?”

  “I wouldn't miss it.”

  He called his press secretary and told him to tell the press corps that he'd be making an announcement in five minutes in the briefing room. “Alert the networks to prepare to break away.”

  When word spread that the president would be making a statement shortly, phone calls and emails flew. The president had been good for ratings all week long, so everyone hoped this latest story would have legs. Early Monday news might afford a two or three-day spike.

  “Good morning,” he said. “I have a number of items to discuss with you. I have details for you about the shutdown of the power grid, the impact on electronic voting machines, and the results of our investigation into the bombings of our bases and the attacks on the White House.” The reporters were busy with their notes and the networks wouldn't be breaking for commercials for a while. For the next ten minutes, he told the story, stopping after each part to let them absorb the enormity of his comment, and begin to ask questions. For him, not answering them, making them wait, added to his enjoyment. With each piece, he mentioned the name: Thomas Koppler.

  “Although we have witnessed unfortunate loss of life, our ability to turn the tide and identify the culprits is the result of a new technology which allows us to penetrate a time portal, to any place where we need to be whenever the need should arise. Ladies and gentlemen, it's now safe to announce—we can time travel.” Silence enveloped the room, reporters looking up from their notes, to each other, and then to the president. He stood in front of them, his sparkling teeth emitting a look they had grown accustomed to seeing. Before questions started, a wave of laughs rolled toward the lectern.

  “Mr. President,” several reporters called.

  Then, instead of taking questions, pad in hand, he waved to the room and left.

  * * *

  WHEN FRITZ HEARD “time travel,” he sprayed a mouthful of coffee over the coffee table. He turned to Lois and Martha. “What the hell is he up to?” The live coverage had switched to regular programming and they listened to the comments, and saw more laughing on the news than Fritz had ever seen.

  One anchor said, “The president has made a parting gesture to the White House press corps and we have seen a first. Payback for the past few years for all the stories we've gotten wrong.”

  His guest said, “I agree, but he's not being subtle. That gesture you mentioned, I'd say he flashed them a double-fisted, double-eagle salute.”

  “No one believes it.” Fritz said.

  “And you don't want them to,” Jane said. Jane and Ashley had come in through the kitchen. “Fritz, this is the best thing that's happened since you found the portal.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I'll let him tell you his strategy, but you'll agree when you hear it.” Ashley's bobblehead in support lasted after she stopped. “He'll be calling in a little while. He cut off Koppler's lawyer from holding a press conference. He's just made any mention of the portal into a joke.” She pointed to the TV. “Listen.”

  A reporter popped on screen in front of a picture of the White House. “I just time traveled here to give you the latest news from the President of the United States.” On a split screen, background laughter from the studio technicians escaped through live microphones and showed a new image of the anchor, trying and failing to look angry, with a hand over his mouth.

  * * *

  JAMES SAPPHIRE READ the report left by his secretary. An unusually large set of account deposits had been made late the previous Friday. He grabbed his cell phone when he saw the name.

  “What the hell are you into?” he asked.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Tim replied.

  “You made a deposit in your account of one hundred million dollars on Friday.”

  Tim Miller's phone fell out of his hand.

  The front door opened just as Tim's phone hit the floor and skittered toward his son. Joe picked it up and said, “Hello?”

  “What's going on?”

  “Oh, hi Uncle Jim, it's Joe. Dad just dropped his phone.”

  “I'll bet he did,” Sapphire said.

  “Hi Mom,” Joe said, handing the phone to his father. “Dad. Where's Linda?”

  Tim's pallor had returned to the flour-like shade of the previous evening. “I'm back, Jim. Sorry. That has to be a mistake.”

  “Not one that I can see. It's your personal account, with a list of all the transactions in your name. They were all made Tuesday before the grid crashed.”

  “Where did the money come from? I was in Baltimore with Linda.”

  “Well, it's here now. Pretty slick trading, I'll tell you that.”

  Emily joined Joe at the table, listening to half the conversation. “Well, I have no idea how that happened. You know how much I keep in that account.”

  “Tim, the numbers work. Rapid transactions, shorting, options. It looks to me like you knew what was about to happen.”

  “I didn't.”

  “Does this have anything to do with why the president was with you?”

  Tim's color rose to crimson, and he snorted, “I'll bet those two are behind this. To make me look bad.”

  “What two?” asked Sapphire.

  “What two?” asked Emily.

  “Fritz and his boy. They did this to me.”

  Sapphire said, “Well, you better have some kind of explanation, Tim, because the SEC will be here and I've got to show them. Good luck.”

  “One question before you go. Is it mine?”

  “Right now it is. For as long as you can keep it.” Sapphire hung up.

  “What's happening?” Emily asked.

  “Somehow Fritz has manipulated the stock market, him and his president friend, and dumped money in my account.”

  “That was nice of them,” she said.

  “Nice, my ass. I'm in trouble with the government now.”

  “How much are you talking about, Dad?”

  “One hundred million dollars. They'll be looking at all my records.”

  Emily gasped at the number, but Joe quipped, “And you always said Fritz would never amount to anything.”

  “This is not funny.” Tim's rage, barely controlled, turned on his son. “He did this to me. That portal again.”

  “Hold on, Dad. That doesn't make sense.”

  “What doesn't?” asked Linda, carrying TJ into the fray. “Hi Joe. What are you shouting about?”

  With a deep breath to begin, Tim told her what had transpired before her arrival. She asked what could possibly make him assume Fritz was involved.

  “To get even, to embarrass me, to get to you.”

  She considered his comments and the rage he spewed. “Daddy, Fritz has no clue how the markets work. He doesn't care.” She set TJ on the floor. “I always handle our investments.”

  “Then the president did this.”

  “Don't be silly, Tim. He has more to worry about than making you look bad,” Emily said. “You had better calm down. We have company on the way.” His eyebrows creased above his nose. “The lawyer.”

  * * *

  THE PRESIDENT returned to his private office and to the continuing construction and repair occurring throughout the West Wing. His wife walked in moments after, his wide grin greeting her.

  “That went well,” he said. “They'll never believe a word I say from now on.”

  “One reporter said that you've succumbed to the insanity claims of the past eight years.”

  He snorted. “Now if we can fuel that story, the portal will be safe. So will Fritz and the rest.”

  “You better call him. He's likely to be wondering what you just did. You've both spent so much time trying to hide the portal.”

  “I want him
to go with me on one last trip. For a year and a half, we've been joined at the hip, and done some good things. We may not have another chance.” He lowered his head, and when he looked up, his eyes glistened, only in part from the forming tears. “Life gives us opportunities. Sometimes, we suffer great pain to follow a chosen course. It's time now that I thank him for choosing me.”

  * * *

  AWARE OF THE activity surrounding him and ignoring it, Fritz remained glued to the news channels until his phone buzzed. Checking the caller ID, he said, “You're out of your mind.”

  “I've been told that,” the president said. “You might be right. But pretty soon, they won't have me to kick around anymore.”

  “Now I know you're nuts, channeling Richard Nixon.”

  “I'll explain it to you later. Right now, I have a request.” Fritz waited through the hesitation. “I'd like to use the portal, one more time. Just for me.” Fritz sensed a deep sadness as he spoke. “Would you come get me after school on Friday?”

  “Where do you want to go? Why did you call me, not Ashley?”

  “I want you to come with me.”

  * * *

  THE DOORBELL RANG and Tim opened it, expecting Lou Roseman. Instead, two FBI agents held up badges. Agents Reid and McConnell walked in and followed Tim to his family.

  “Mr. Miller, we've been sent because we've met before. We've been instructed to bring you with us in a matter of securities fraud.”

  “I demand to speak to my attorney.”

  “I'm sorry, sir, but you don't get to make demands,” said Reid. “Here's your choice. You can come voluntarily, and quietly. Or, we can arrest you, charge you with obstruction, and drag you out of here in handcuffs.”

  “But I haven't done anything.”

  Mc Connell said, “Mr. Miller, we don't judge. And we don't care. You can choose the easy way or the hard way.”

  “Emily, call the right people,” Tim said. “Where are you taking me?” When he had the answer, he said to have his lawyer meet him at the Federal Building.

  “Can we come,” asked Joe.

  “Suit yourselves. I can't stop you,” said Agent McConnell. “But you'll just be waiting, maybe for quite a while.”

  As the agents led him to the front door, Tim said, “Stay here. I'll handle this. Get the lawyer.”

  When the car doors closed, Emily returned to the table, wiping her eyes. Without a mention of what had just happened to his father, Joe asked his sister, “What the hell are you doing? Lou Roseman is a divorce lawyer.”

  “Have you seen my back? Look at my neck. That man used a knife to mark where to cut my head off.”

  “Fritz did that?”

  “No, of course not. That guy, Koppler's nephew.”

  “Oh, so Fritz hired him?”

  “Don't be ridiculous.”

  “Well I couldn't be sure. You and Dad make Fritz out to be a monster of massive proportion. Actually, I'm under the impression that Fritz found you and Ashley killed the guy.”

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  “Linda, he's your husband. You abandoned him, took his kid, and he still saved your life. He was injured. Pretty badly. Saving the president. Again.”

  “The portal's the reason I was taken in the first place. They found where we live.”

  “In New Jersey?”

  “Don't be stupid. No, here.”

  “And you honestly believe that Fritz told the guys you've been chasing, who you've both been afraid of, that you were in Ohio. Now, that's stupid.”

  The doorbell rang again. “That's Roseman,” said Emily.

  Louis Roseman, in a wrinkled off-the-rack suit, with an open collar above his tie, opened a hand-tooled leather briefcase. Joe stood at the counter while his mother and sister appraised the man. With a reputation for effective representation, his appearance, either deceptive or intentionally off-putting, kept Joe alert.

  “Your father has filled me in on your situation, Ms. Russell. I've prepared the necessary documents, your share of joint assets, alimony, etc. He assumed you would want custody of the child. I always suggest sole custody without visitation. Gives us a point to negotiate with your husband's attorney. I'll ask you to sign the places I've indicated with the little tabs. I can file these this afternoon.” He handed her a pen.

  Linda rolled it between her fingers, glancing at her mother, sitting to her right, and then at the pen. Roseman flipped to the first signature page, and pointed at a line under which her name had been typed.

  “Aren't you even going to read it first?” Joe asked. “You don't have a hint of what Dad told him.”

  “It's just standard language, Mr. Miller. We'll see what they counter with, and see how far we need to go.”

  “Linda, are you sure? Do you really want a divorce?” Emily spoke as close to a whisper as she could. “In spite of everything, Fritz came after you. I know he loves you.”

  Linda pulled the form closer. “He used the portal, Mom. Without it, I'd never have been taken.”

  Emily had no response, but Joe stepped in. “Linda, if Dad hadn't said anything, you wouldn't have been taken.”

  Linda turned, but looked at his feet. “What?”

  “Dad broke his promise. He told Uncle Jim. And then Jim told a bunch of people, including the Caballero guy.” Linda turned to her mother. Emily nodded. “No one told me that.”

  “Just go ahead and sign,” said the lawyer. “We'll work out those little details.”

  As her brother's comment digested, distaste filled her face, accented by her raised lip. She handed him the pen, closed the folder, and pushed it away. “I need to have a conversation with my family before I sign anything, Mr. Roseman. I appreciate your taking the time. I'm sure my father will be in touch.” With an undisguised smile, Emily escorted Roseman out of her house and then washed her hands in the kitchen sink.

  “Before we try to get your father out of trouble, we have some calls to make,” Emily said. “Linda dear, maybe you should call Fritz.”

  “Not yet, Mom. First, tell me everything that's happened.”

  * * *

  “MR. PRESIDENT, I have a report, on those secret transactions.” Tom Andrews chuckled.

  “Tell me. This is going to be fun. No, funner.” He listened to the details that Tom had gone through, and the people he had contacted.

  “And, Sapphire called him first thing.” The president laughed a real laugh.

  Chapter 11

  FRITZ HAD TOLD his mother he'd try to make it home for Thanksgiving. Home? This is home. This is where Thanksgiving should be. Fritz gazed out the kitchen window, a cup of coffee in front of him. By the backyard bushes, fluttering wings displayed a fierce battle, as the sparrows held on in the brisk wind. I've got to go back to work. A strong gust tried again to chase the birds from the bush. As he raised the cup to sip, a squirrel looked in, an acorn in its paws. I can't stay here. I need the noise. I need the distraction.

  He grabbed his jacket and walked out the front door. Driving made his stitches rebel if he bent his knees too far. But he'd walked to school more than once. I'll go see George and tell him I'll be back on Monday. Then I'll stop and see Ash. Maybe we can go somewhere after school. After a few blocks, he'd reached his limit. With the wind blowing in his face, he returned home, walking even slower.

  He tossed his coat on the couch in the family room and turned on the TV. A breaking news banner announced that Thomas Koppler would have a press conference at three o'clock. Fritz checked his watch. Not yet noon. The anchor switched to a reporter, with the Justice Department building as the background. “Mr. Koppler denies all the allegations and the charges against him. This morning, Judge Segado released him despite the government's objections.”

  “Just what I need.” The anchor repeated the president's accusations about election tampering and the conspiracy, and rolled video of both White House attacks. “Been there, done that,” Fritz said. He texted Ashley expecting a quick response, but nothing came until
Ashley headed for lunch.

  “Hi Fritz. Are you okay?”

  “Bored, but yeah, I'm fine. Koppler is out on bail and having a news conference at three. Why don't you come over?”

  “I would, but I have a meeting after school.”

  “Well, stop over when you're done.”

  Fritz moved closer to the TV when the news conference began. Koppler had a full house at a private club in downtown Washington, frequented by the sounder of attorneys who crowded the public trough. In his introductory statement, Arthur Salzmann, Koppler's attorney, called the government charges 'outrageous lies' and 'a miscarriage of justice.' “Typical defense,” Fritz said. When Koppler came to the microphone, he stood tall and impressive. From the outset, he displayed a disarming charm to his audience.

  “I am proud to be an American. I've been permitted to enjoy the American Dream through hard work and perseverance. I have served my country in wartime and have donated large sums to those less fortunate. The president's statements about me are both false and libelous. He told you all about a new technology. He used that ability to invade the privacy of my home and brought his people to cause personal harm. One of his minions murdered my nephew, who was helping me defend myself. When this debacle, this overreach of power, is allowed to occur, believe me when I tell you, none of us, not one law-abiding citizen, remains safe from the abuses of our government and this president. And it is our government. We the people will not stand for it.” Although the cameras had been pointed at him, the cheering of the crowd changed the TV's focus to the full room, clapping and yelling.

  Fritz watched agog. Under normal circumstances, he would be yelling at the screen, but now, he sat in stupefied disbelief, his fists clenched. Koppler had played every bluff that would gain sympathy. The outpouring of support would be contagious. The SOB would get off. He exhaled sharply all the while thinking that the time had come to get a gun.

  By the time Ashley arrived, Fritz's slow burn had ignited. He recounted Koppler's statement and told Ashley he wouldn't allow Koppler a moment when he wasn't looking over his shoulder.

  Ashley asked, “What are you going to do, shoot him?”