by Erik Foge
“Why, are you sending someone back to kill him?”
Plackett’s eyes narrowed and his jaw hardened. “Listen very carefully,” he said. “Your job is to bring Field Marshal Rommel to General Bradley’s headquarters and not worry about Hitler. Clear?”
“I emphasize again,” Cole said, his eyes hard, “that doing this will be a great service to the United States and NATO.”
“Do I have a choice in this?” Erik asked, but his only response from Cole and Plackett were emotionless stares.
“What do you think?” Bonesteiner asked.
Erik shook his head. Clearly, the answer is no. But what if Rommel could be saved? The world could be a better place if he lived. Would it be worth it if saving his life could prevent the Korean or Vietnam War?
Cole interrupted Erik’s thoughts. “Well?”
Erik continued pondering. But what if it causes another unseen war or conflict? He stared at Cole; thoughts raced through his mind.
“Will you do it?” Cole asked.
Erik leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. There are too many variables that could change the outcome of the Cold War.”
“Have you heard of Operation Unthinkable?” Cole asked.
Erik shook his head. Cole explained that Churchill did not trust Stalin and believed he was going to keep Soviet forces in the countries he occupied. Thus Churchill and Roosevelt had met secretly and planned military operations in the Balkan Peninsula known as Operation Unthinkable. It involved re-arming 100,000 German soldiers to join the Allies, and he also wanted the US to use the atomic bomb should the Soviets refuse to surrender. Roosevelt agreed to the operations, and they planned to begin in December, 1944.
“That’s insane.” Erik rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “The American public would be too weary for another war.”
“I disagree because the Nazis still occupied the Balkans. We’d be liberating more countries and making them NATO allies and crippling the Russians in the years after the war. And you rescuing Rommel can make this all possible.”
Erik took a deep breath. It could save lives, stop those wars before they start … And aside from his deeper concerns, Erik found the idea of going back to the period he had studied in detail awfully tempting—to actually live it, not just study it from afar. “I’ll do it. But I have one more question.”
Grins filled the room. “What is it?” Cole asked.
“When do I go, and how will I get back after I finish my mission?”
“The Colonel and you will come back to the states, go to the project location, and then both of you will return to 2008. You leave tomorrow in the afternoon between 1200 to 1500 hours. A car will be sent to your residence at 0600 hours, and you will be flown to the project area.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Is there a problem?” Cole asked.
Erik nodded. “I normally have a month to prepare before I go on an op.”
“There’s no need for preparation. It is an easy in-and-out. We’ve planned this to the last detail. Everything will go smoothly.”
Erik sighed. “I just hope your machine gets me to Rommel before he’s transported to the other hospital.”
“What do you mean?”
“Rommel is scheduled to leave the Luftwaffe hospital in Bernay at 0500 hours on the twenty-third of July. He’ll be taken to the hospital at Le Vésinet, which is located just outside Paris, and there he’ll be guarded even more closely.”
“You’ll get there before he is transported. Now, since that’s covered, our conversation is over.”
Erik turned to Bonesteiner. “Sir, my vacation was scheduled for next week.”
“I’m aware of that, but it will have to be put off until you get back.”
“Understood,” Erik said in a distant voice, knowing his girlfriend would be mad about it.
“Erik, go home and prepare yourself,” Bonesteiner advised.
Erik nodded and exchanged handshakes with the Cole and Plackett. He pushed back his chair, got up, grabbed his belongings, and headed to the door.
Bonesteiner approached him just before he exited. “Good luck and Godspeed.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Bonesteiner closed the door behind Erik and turned to Cole and Plackett. “He’s the best historical analyst we have.”
“I don’t understand how you put up with him questioning authority all the time.” Cole snapped. “He was that way when he gave the briefing on the Seawolf and when you sent him to my office.”
“I agree. Can we trust him for doing Project Pegasus?” Plackett asked.
“I appreciate your frustration,” Bonesteiner replied,“ but Erik is the most knowledgeable person for the period, and I respect a man who speaks his mind. Most of all, I know he’ll succeed.”
Placket frowned. “How long has he been with the agency? His clearance level?”
“Ten years. Top Secret—Sensitive Compartmented Information/ Special Intelligence.”
“Damn,” Cole muttered to himself, not realizing Erik’s security clearance was so high. Most CIA Senior Analysts have top secret clearance, but Cole knew that Sensitive Compartmentalized Information clearance meant he was one of the few analysts that the intelligence community trusted. That meant Erik had fewer constraints on sensitive information, and the ability to do real harm if he knew ONE’s real intentions for sending him back in time.
Cole opened his laptop and opened the file that contained Erik’s dossier. He glanced at it, then looked up at Bonesteiner and asked, “Correct me if I’m wrong; Dr. Függer had some training at the farm?”
Bonesteiner nodded.
“The reason I’m asking is because his dossier has holes, mainly about his training.” Cole met Bonesteiner’s gaze. “I feel that information is relevant.”
Bonesteiner crossed his arms and shook his head.
“How much training has he had there?”
“Enough.”
“Do you care to share?”
Bonesteiner shook his head again and dismissed the subject with a short sideways jerk of his hand. “That’s a need to know basis, and you don’t need to know.” He saw no reason to tell Cole that Erik had received fifty-two weeks of Paramilitary Operations Officer training which is equivalent to the Navy SEAL Buds.
“It seems he has proven himself from the beginning. Does he have any family?” Cole asked.
“No, his parents and brother were killed in a car accident five years ago.”
“Well, at least no one will miss him,” Plackett states. Bonesteiner glared at him, and Plackett corrected himself, “I mean, should he meet with a problem he can’t handle, we wouldn’t have to explain his death to the next of kin.”
Bonesteiner shook his head. “Someone will miss him.”
“His girlfriend will.”
“And who might that be?”
“Sorry, that information is classified.” Bonesteiner gave a self-satisfied smile.
Placket snorted in derision.
Cole found the information on his laptop and showed it to Placket. He had no photo, but that would be solved today. Her name was Jamie Anderson, and she worked in the records department in the Pentagon. They glanced at each other and nodded slightly without Bonesteiner noticing. “How resourceful is he?” Cole asked.
“He knew about the flaws of the Seawolf Class submarine,” Bonesteiner said while staring at Cole. “You do remember that Admiral? He also knows about Plum Island, among other things.”
Cole nodded with disgust. “I remember he brought up the Seawolf flaws in Hawaii, but how in the hell did he know about those things?”
“Like he said, all he does is read. If he can’t find the answer, he’s able to get the information he needs.”
“He’s that good?” Plackett asked.
“Let me put it this way: He probably already knows who you work for.” Bonesteiner met the gaze of each man in turn.
“That’s impossib
le.”
“That’s what he’s known for doing.”
“And that’s why he’s dangerous,” Cole whispered to Plackett, nodding discreetly. He closed his laptop and gathered his things. Bonesteiner got up from his desk as the men prepared to leave, and Cole and Plackett extended their hands.
“I hope that Dr. Függer doesn’t let us down,” Plackett said.
“He won’t. He might even surprise you.”
* * *
3. O.G.D.S, Orbital Group Destination Services, a C.I.A. front that has both analysts and field operatives in hotels and other vacation locations to obtain and gather information from foreign leaders.
3. RED HERRING
“All journeys have secret destinations of which the travel is unaware.”
— Martin Buber
Immediately following the meeting, Erik went to his office to drop off the classified documents and placed them in a locked filing cabinet. As he exited, Erik grabbed a book, locked the door to his vault (office), and proceeded to the main floor. He strolled through the Original Headquarters Building lobby and noticed that two more stars had been added, and stopped by the Memorial Wall on the north side. The stars symbolized the CIA analysts and field operatives who gave their lives for the United States and government. He hoped a visit to 1944 wouldn’t mean a star for him on this wall.
He continued out of the lobby and stopped at the south wall to read the agency’s motto fixed in stone. “And Ye Shall Know the Truth and the Truth Shall Make You Free — John 8:32” Erik smiled, noting how much he believed exactly that, then exited through one of the three security checks, headed to his car, and drove to meet Jacques for lunch.
Erik entered the restaurant and looked for Jacques. Groups involved in animated conversations filled the various dining rooms—each themed according to a different Chinese dynastic era—while host, servers, and bussers worked as a team like a well-oiled machine. Neatly organized condiments and a small candle sat in the center of each table. Erik found Jacques’ large frame seated against the rear wall of one of the rooms. He strolled over and took a seat and dropped his attaché case beneath the table. Jacques’ hazel eyes focused on Erik for seconds at a time, then danced around the room, analyzing people’s body language and reading their lips. A subtle bulge on the upper left side of his suit jacket concealed his sidearm.
“So how’s it going?” Jacques asked.
“I’m alive,” Erik said with a smile.
Jacques tilted his head forward and squinted his eyes. “I know you’re alive, but how are you doing?” His eyebrows rose.
“Okay.” Erik reached under the table and pulled a book from his attaché case.
“And Jamie?”
“She’s doing great and still loves her job.” Erik sighed deeply. “She’s going to be pissed off.”
Jacques gave a puzzled frown. “Why?”
“I have to go away.”
His doubtful look intensified. “Another one? You’re just an analyst.”
“True, but I don’t have a choice. I leave tomorrow.” Erik held the book out to Jacques.
He stared at it but didn’t take it. “Why are you giving me this?”
“Because history may change, and I need you to watch over Jamie for me until I get back.”
Jacques raised his hands and shook his head. “How long will you be?”
“Just watch over her for me, okay?” Erik waited for Jacques’ reassurance.
It came with a nod; then he took the book.
“I need you to pay close attention to the marked chapter,” Erik said. “Especially the map of Belgium. If it changes, show it to Bonesteiner.”
Jacques glanced at the book, Battle of the Bulge: Hitler’s Ardennes Offensive, 1944-1945 by Danny Parke, then back to Erik. He still frowned. “Changes? Seriously?”
Erik leaned forward. His voice lowered to a whisper. “If history changes, the records of that history will change too, right?”
“Yes, but …”
Erik shook his head. “Don’t ask,” he said, sitting back again.
Jacques’ eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“I noticed they added two more stars to the Memorial Wall. Do you know anything about that? Who they were?”
“Not field ops.”
“Analysts?”
Jacques nodded.
“Do you know their names?”
Jacques slammed his fist on the table. “No. Stop being so damned curious.”
“That’s my job as an analyst.”
“No, it’s not. Just be careful. This is not like when we were in college.”
“I know. Maybe that’s why they hired me.”
“They probably hired you for your skills, and to watch you.”
“Watch me?”
“Yes. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but when I worked for Bonesteiner when we were in college I was approached by a man, most likely an operative, and he advised me to tell you to stop digging or else. Then he drove off before I could question him.”
Intrigued to know more, Erik grinned. “I see, and why did he say that?”
“Maybe because they thought you were sticking your nose where it didn’t belong.” Jacques pointed at Erik and emphasized, “You did have a habit of doing that. You better watch your back.”
“Well, nothing has happened yet.”
“Yeah; yet.”
The server walked up to the table and hovered, smiled, and waited for their orders. Jacques signaled Erik to go first and while Erik placed his order, he opened the book to the marked chapter and flipped through pages filled with facts, diagrams, and black and white photos. His eyes widened when he stumbled on a photograph of an SS Colonel he recognized. It was Ahriman, whom Jacques had worked with briefly on an op. But why is Ahriman wearing SS clothing, and why is he back in World War Two? And why does Erik have a photo of the rogue field operative who kills whomever he’s ordered to without mercy, without thought, and most of all without prejudice? He glanced at Erik and understanding dawned. Oh, shit! Jacques quickly schooled his expression into something relaxed and placed his order. Then he stared directly at Erik with a piercing gaze. “Watch out for the red herring in black. He might be stalking you.”
“Excuse me? What?”
Jacques rested his hand on the book with his finger nonchalantly pointed at the photo of Ahriman. “Make sure a red herring in black isn’t stalking you.”
Erik gestured with understanding to Jacques and repeated what Jacques had told him with a puzzled look.
Jacques squinted. “Listen to me, damn it!” he said, his voice deadly serious. He tapped on the photo.
Erik looked down, then up again to meet Jacques’ eyes.
Jacques gave the bare hint of a nod to acknowledge the understanding he saw there. “I’ve known you for a long time, and I also know you have a lot of enemies, maybe on every continent, so you need to be careful.”
Erik grinned. “Like the ones in college? My fan club?”
Jacques shook his head, and his words turned cold. “No. Worse. And these guys don’t take numbers.”
The food’s arrival cut off further discussion, and over lunch they exchanged stories, laughed about old times, and joked. “So is Jamie going to be upset with you that you can’t take your vacation?” Jacques asked.
Erik nodded. “What do you think? She really has wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, ever since I told her about opening day on the thirty-first of March 1889.” Erik grinned and chuckled to himself, shook his head.
“What are you laughing about?”
“Well, when we go see it, she wants to wear a school girl outfit and wants me to pose as her professor. She wants me to tell her the history again, and after we go up and come down, we’re planning to have a picnic on the grounds by the tower.”
“Only you.” Jacques shook his head and laughed.
They opened and read their fortune cookies, then exchanged their fortunes and read them with a smile and a nod. Jacques got
his attention.
“Hey, are you still thinking about writing a book?” Jacques asked as they prepared to leave.
Erik nodded and picked up his attaché case.
“You know you’ll never be able to as long as you work for the company.”
“I’ll find a way.”
Jacques tilted his head and regarded his friend with a knowing smile. “The only way you’ll be able to is if you start a new life.”
Erik nodded again.
Jacques shrugged. “Okay, see you when you get back.”
They shook hands, embraced lightly, and parted.
4. BROKEN PROMISE
“We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if we seek them with our eyes open.”
— Jawaharlal Nehru
Pentagon, Washington D.C.
In the Records Department on the third sublevel in the Pentagon, an attractive, well-manicured young lady in her mid-twenties sat at her neatly organized desk, her jobs arranged in a pattern according to her priorities. Jamie Anderson was an Administrative Support Assistant for the Department of Defense, in the Records Department. She spent most of her time completing administrative tasks, managing files and records, and other office procedures. Jamie’s bosses found her a valuable employee because she was dependable, showed initiative, and took her responsibilities seriously.
Right now, she had little to work on, so she pulled out her cell and texted her boyfriend, Dr. Erik Függer—something she did several times a day, along with admiring the photograph of him she had on her desk. Even after dating and living together for nearly three years, Jamie was still amazed at his intelligence and delighted by his old-fashioned mannerisms and protective nature. She hoped Erik would propose to her in Paris.
An admiral walked in and approached Jamie; she adjusted her posture. “How can I help you, admiral?” she asked in a professional tone. Jamie had the ability to learn quickly, but it was Erik who had helped her recognize the ranks of the different armed forces.
“I need information on these two naval officers.” The admiral handed over documentation that would allow her to access their personnel files.