Storm Portal (Quantum Touch Book 1)

by Michael R. Stern

  “Tom’s here now, Mr. President, but Fritz has gone through, and we don’t know if we can get him back.”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  “George took the keys out of the desk.”

  “Put them back. The key opens the portal,” said the president, agitated, just short of shouting.

  “Tom put them back already, but nothing has happened yet. That was just a couple of minutes ago.” He thought a moment. “Maybe the portal doesn’t open immediately. Maybe it takes time for the different times to match up.” He was talking more to himself than the president. “Mr. President, what do you want with Fritz?”

  “Mr. Gilbert, I really didn’t want to do this over the phone. I can’t tell you the specifics, but I need to use the portal, and if he will help, it may save several lives.”

  “Wow,” said Ashley. He and I later decided that the president had chosen to trust him with that much to show how serious he was about protecting us and about getting me back.

  ••••

  “GENERAL, PLEASE excuse me, but right now, I’m a bit distraught. No one but me knows how the portal works, and no one knows that I have come here.” Standing up, I scanned the room. I was struck at how bare his office was. A large credenza behind him, a closed cabinet and papers spread on the table. No decorations, no memorabilia.

  “Mr. Russell, if the portal returns, then you must leave immediately, but perhaps you might visit again, and maybe,” Lee hesitated and finished with a tone of hopeful anticipation, “take me back with you. I would so like to see one of your automobiles.”

  I smiled at him. “General, I don’t know if that’s possible. But if it is, I would be most happy to show you whatever you would like to see.” We both sat quietly, nervously waiting for something, anything, to happen. Before I could take another sip of tea, the portal reappeared.

  “Goodbye, General, until we meet again,” I said, reaching to shake Lee’s hand.

  The general took my hand and said, “Godspeed, young man” as I returned through the portal.

  ••••

  WHILE ASHLEY WAS SPEAKING to the president, I returned through the classroom door.

  “He just came back, Mr. President.”

  “Would you put him on, please, Mr. Gilbert?”

  “Welcome back, dude,” said Ashley, exhaling heavily. “The president wants to speak to you.”

  I was trying to get my bearings. I was back, but I didn’t know why they were all in the hall, why Tom was there, why the president was on the phone. I took the phone from Ashley, and said, “Hello, Mr. President.” I was still a bit disoriented as I looked at the others, wondering what was happening.

  The president said, “Fritz, I didn’t want this to be this way. I’d hoped to explain in person. But I need to ask a favor. It might be dangerous, but you could perhaps save several lives. Last night, our ambassador in Eledoria was captured and taken to a house as a prisoner. His family is in their own residence, but also under guard by kidnappers. We know where they are, but we can’t get to them. If we could use your portal . . .” He hesitated, I think to let me absorb what he was asking. “We have maps in detail, and Tom has the best shot in the service with him. If we could use the portal, we can rescue them without anyone knowing how we did it. Will you help?”

  “Mr. President, what makes you think it will work?”

  “I don’t know that it will, but we do know that they will kill him and his family, as a political statement. His children are eight and ten. I have to try.” Thunder rumbled.

  “This is all so confusing, but, yes, of course. What do you want me to do?”

  “Tom has the maps. Would you put him on, and I’ll tell him what to do?” I handed the phone to Tom, who walked down the hall listening to the president’s instructions. He told the president he had received a distressed message from Mr. Koppler. “Mr. President, I’ll tell you about it later. You won’t be happy.” He handed the phone back to me, headed to the Suburban, and motioned to his companion to come in.

  The president said, “All you need to do is set up the paperclips on the maps. First, get the family. Then, get the ambassador. Once they are safely in the school, Tom will bring them back to Washington. You know that trip already.”

  I shook my head, not believing what was going on around me. “Mr. President, no promises, but I’ll try. This is all new to me. Do you want to hold on?”

  “I do, but it’s better if you call me back when you’ve tried it. Okay?”

  “Okay. Talk to you shortly.” I handed the phone back to Ashley, as Tom and Mel joined us.

  “Good to go?” asked Tom. I nodded and led them into the classroom. Tom handed me the maps. Moving the book off the desk, I looked closely at the locations for the extractions. I took out a paperclip, fit it so it touched the room they were trying to reach, and set the map on the desk. “What now?”

  “OK. We all need to leave the classroom,” Tom said. “It would be best if you three,” speaking to Ashley, Sandy, and George, “were hidden somewhere. If this goes well, we’ll be back in a matter of seconds. If not, there could be some shooting. I have no idea what will happen. I just don’t want you in the line of fire.”

  Sandy understood, grabbed George’s arm, took hold of Ashley’s shirt, and pulled them to her classroom. With everyone out, I grabbed the doorknob, nodded affirmatively to Tom, and opened the door. Tom entered first, with Mel right behind. I held the door open for a second as the scene changed. Tom motioned to close the door. I couldn’t see anything through the window. After only a couple of minutes, just as I was stepping back down the hall, the door opened quickly. Two barefooted children, a boy and a girl, both in pajamas, and a dark-haired woman walked into the hall, followed by Tom. Mel arrived moments later with a duffel bag.

  “It worked,” said Tom. He told the ambassador’s confused family that they were safe and that he would explain everything shortly. Speaking in staccato, he quickly introduced me and walked them to Sandy’s classroom. Returning to my classroom, he placed the map of the ambassador’s location on my desk.

  “Do you know where he is?” I asked.

  “We think he’s here,” he pointed. “The upper rooms. But we’re not positive.” I placed the paperclip. “Mr. Russell, this may take a little longer. And it might get hot. So stay away from the door.” Both agents removed pistols with silencers attached. “Ready, let’s go.”

  I got my friendly shock and opened the door. Across the hall, voices came from Sandy’s class. I walked to the entry, and Ashley came over. The ambassador’s wife was holding her children. Sandy and George were kneeling with them.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “They’re in the portal,” With a lowered voice, I said, “they think this will be harder, maybe gunfire.” Pointing to the family, I asked, “How are they taking this?” Lightning flashed again.

  “Not sure. They’re confused; who could blame them. But they’ll be all right. They don’t know they’re in New Jersey yet.”

  Suddenly, three bent figures ran from my classroom. Gunfire exploded behind them. Tom turned and pushed the door closed. I noticed blood on Tom pants leg.

  “Are you hit?” I asked.

  “Yes, but it’s not bad, I don’t think. I need to call the president.”

  The president answered instantly. Tom told him they had been successful. He handed the phone to me, as the ambassador looked at his surroundings, confused.

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “Fritz, I can’t thank you enough. This is significant, but we can’t let anyone know. We have to keep the ambassador hidden for a couple of days to keep you safe. No one can know. I’m not even sure we should tell them they just walked into New Jersey. You’ll tell the others?”

  “Sure, Mr. President. Will you tell me how this all happened?”

  “I will, but not now. We need to get everything settled first. Thank you again.”

  “Mr. President, Tom’s been shot. Should I ta
ke him to a hospital?”

  “Let me speak to him.” I handed the phone back to Tom.

  “Yes, sir. It’s not bad, sir,” he said in response to the president’s question. “I’ll dress it here and get it looked at when we get back. Yes, sir. I will. Talk to you in a couple of hours.” Tom put the phone back in his pocket.

  “We need to leave quickly, Mr. Russell. I’m sure the president will be in touch soon.” The two agents and the ambassador walked across the hall, gathered the family, and hurried to the Suburban.

  Back in my classroom, Ashley hugged me. No one really knew what to say.

  “Are you all okay?” I asked. “I need a drink.”

  Ashley, Sandy, and George all said they were fine. Ashley explained what had happened when he thought I had been kidnapped. Then he asked, “Where did you go?”

  “I had tea with Robert E. Lee.”

  Epilogue

  WITH A PHONE to his ear, he said, “I don’t care what it costs. The result will be worth it many times over. We need to mix in the Arabs, so try the Eledorians. They’re already suspects. You know the rest. Get them ready. We’ll know when the time is right. And this time, get it done.”

  ••••

  I WAS HAPPY to get home that day with more stories for Linda. Ashley and Sandy came for dinner. The president had called to thank me again, and explained how he had figured out the puzzle of the portal. He had played the tapes of my desk a dozen times, he said. Frame by frame, he finally saw the lock on the drawer. The key. Ben Franklin. He said the realization was so clear to him, such an obvious clue, he wasn’t surprised we’d found it ourselves so soon after he had. “Fritz, between us, I’d love to talk to you about places we could go together.”

  THE BOOK, COFFEE table-sized, sat on his lap. Sandy had gone home after their long day. In gold embossed letters, UNPREDICTABLE blazed at him. His hands covering his face, his shoulders shuddering in secret wracking anguish that no one shared, Ashley again closed his high school yearbook.

  THE SCHOOL YEAR ended, and the seniors heard a commencement address by the president of the United States. The McAllisters, Sandy and Ashley, and Linda and I were all guests of the president for a weekend at Camp David, where we met and spoke with the ambassador and his wife. During the summer, the president announced the retirement of Jim Koppler after a long and illustrious career in service to our country.

  Summer vacation kept us busy. We went to the ballpark and “down the shore.” Linda watched the Tour de France in July, her All-Star game.

  As the riders sped downhill, I remembered our first meeting, accidental. And almost an accident. Standing on Fifth Avenue, all I saw were two wheels aimed straight for me. She swerved and missed. Not enough time for more than a quick glance at her face. She smiled and kept pedaling.

  When we met at a party later, she said she remembered my face. I had a different look on it then, she said. Panic, she recalled, chuckling.

  I asked her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee. She smiled again. And said yes. She told me about her love of bike racing and that she worked as an editor and also part-time at Bicycle Habitat in SoHo. She wanted to own a bike shop business, a chain or a franchise. But before she did, she wanted to get her MBA. Now, I don’t really believe in this stuff, but by the time the evening ended, I felt like I’d known her forever. I’d never enjoyed coffee more.

  “Fritz, I need to get riding again. I miss it so much.”

  Before the summer ended, we spent one weekend on Long Beach Island with Ashley. At dinner, we discussed the role the portal played at the end of the year. In the sun, with the waves providing sound effects, I listed what we had discovered. The portal opened with a combination of thunderstorm, my desk key in the lock, paperclips pointing to a location, and a shock on the doorknob. We found that time traveled at different speeds. I still wondered if we were going back or if the portal transported the past to the present? And more than anything, we needed to determine if we were affecting the future by using the portal. My bruised face had finally returned to normal. I joined Linda and Ashley with a scar of my own. Not as long as Linda’s, nor as dramatic as Ashley’s, I braggged that mine was much older. We had learned that the portal was dangerous, and we all had questions as yet unanswered. I couldn’t get over an eighty-year-old photo of my feet.

  “Do you think the kids were changed because we went through?” asked Ash.

  “I don’t know, but maybe we’ll know more in the fall.”

  Linda said, “Then I hope we have perfect weather, every day for the next ten years.”

  ONE AUGUST AFTERNOON, past the heat of the day, I went to the backyard. Linda was harvesting tomatoes. I took two from her, intending to slice them and with a little salt and pepper, cure my rumbling stomach until dinner. I showed her the file folder I had brought out.

  “What is it?”

  “My book. Well, a couple of chapters anyway.”

  “That’s great. Let me pick some peppers, and I’ll read it.”

  We were again invited to the White House for dinner, this time as special guests, but none of the other guests knew why. And to add to the summer’s events, I got the scare of my life.

  “Fritz, I spoke to Dr. Rosenblatt a few minutes ago.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Fritz, he said he found something growing.” Her not looking me in the eye sent a shiver through me.

  “Lin, I’m here no matter, I promise. Did he say what he thought it was?”

  “He did.” She hesitated. I held my breath. “Fritz, you’re going to be a father.” Then, the eyes sought mine, and I realized they put the sky to shame.

  That summer ended, as all summers do. Vacation was over, and another school year was about to begin. On the night before classes started, Linda and I sat together on the sofa in our family room, watching the local news and weather. As the local weatherman was predicting a 70% chance of thunderstorms, my phone rang.

  Looking at Linda, I answered. “Hello, Mr. President.”

  A Last Request

  Dear Reader,

  If you have finished this book, and enjoyed the story, I have a request. Each writer wants, perhaps needs, to know that their effort has been worthwhile. Only you, the reader, can decide that. So, I’m asking you to tell the world what you think. Please leave a review, on Amazon, on Goodreads, or any social media site you choose. All writers will thank you. Certainly, I will and do.

  Michael R. Stern

  Sneak Peek

  Continue reading an excerpt from SAND STORM,

  book two of the Quantum Touch series.

  Chapter One

  “YOU’RE TELLING ME the world is a dangerous place? Me?” The man’s patrician arrogance stormed the phone. “You’ve continued to do what you want because the world remains a dangerous place.” Standing at his window, the Washington Monument as a backdrop, he scoffed at the little people below, scurrying from place to place. As if they were important. “We need to proceed carefully,” he said in a calmer tone. “Not knowing what they know, we can’t allow what we know to make us careless.”

  The man sat down behind the mahogany desk in his elegantly decorated office. Photographs of himself with the power elite of a generation covered the walls. Gray-haired, immaculately attired in a Savile Row gray pinstripe, he kicked off his shoes. The calfskin loafers breathed while his toes caressed the plush carpet.

  He switched the phone to his other ear. “I don’t care what it costs. The result will be worth it many times over. We need to mix in the Arabs, so try the Eledorians. They’re already suspects. You know the rest. Get them ready. We’ll know when the time is right.”

  AT FOUR THIRTY, two black Suburbans pulled up in front of the Russell house. Fritz had been watching and walked outside to meet the president. More people than he had expected climbed from the cars. The First Lady had come along, as she had in the spring. The president introduced the others. Fritz said hello to Tom Andrews, head of the president’s Secret Service
detail and agent James Williams and then spotted Mel Zack, still in the driver’s seat of the second Suburban.

  The president said, “Tom is taking the team to The Mill to get security set up for when we go to dinner. They’ll be back later.” Overwhelmed in more than numbers alone, Fritz refused to let the intimidating company dictate whatever his decision needed to be.

  An attractive young woman with a mischievous look examined Ashley’s car. “Nice ride,” said the president. “Ash’s baby?” Fritz nodded.

  Fritz’s wife, Linda, and his friend and fellow teacher, Ashley Gilbert, stepped out on the landing. Ashley stared, then coughed and cleared his throat when introduced to Dr. Jane Barclay from the Department of Homeland Security.

  “Uh oh,” Fritz whispered to Linda.

  “Yup,” she whispered back.

  FRITZ INVITED his visitors into the family room. Late afternoon sun reflected off the flat screen TV on the wall. Ashley brought extra chairs from the dining room and claimed a seat where he would be able to keep an eye on Jane Barclay. His place secure, he went to help Linda bring in the food.

  While the others found seats, Fritz and the president pulled two of the dining room chairs to the middle of the room, facing each other. “Fritz, I’ve brought some of the people who are most involved in protecting the country,” the president said. “They know what you did last spring. They also know about the portal. This meeting is top secret, of course.”

  Fritz nodded to each of the president’s advisers. “What is it that you have in mind?”

  The president said, “You mean, what do I want?”

  “I was trying to be polite, but yeah, what do you want from me this time?”

  “Fritz, the Narians have completed their nuclear project. Forget what they say, it’s a weapons program. I’m talking about an imminent nuclear threat, and they’re in the starting gate. Israel is weighing its options. We’re doing everything we can to hold the Israelis back, but I don’t know how much longer.”