“Okay, let's go,” the major said. She flashed a sparkling glance at Ashley. Fritz noticed. So did Linda. “Mr. Russell, you go and get the maps set.” She almost sounded cheerful. “We'll get the time for the first group just before the man goes through. To the second, Mr. Gilbert.”
“Got it.” He returned her smile.
Tony was ready. The maps were set. Ashley got the time as the first group went in. They repeated the process for each subsequent set. Then they waited. When the men began to come back, Ashley noted the times. They then checked those times with what the team leaders had noted.
“Any issue with time differences, Tony?” the colonel asked.
“Yeah, some more than others, but all of them came back one minute sooner than we clocked here.”
“That means they were at their locations at Bagram for less time than they were supposed to be. But when they came back, at our end, they said they took the full time. Except the last group,” said Fritz.
“They all have the same one minute difference. Something happened in the portal itself,” said Tony. He rubbed his chin and looked at the generator.
“We'll have to calculate what that does to our insertions,” the colonel said to the major. “We'll need to make allowances on the timers, I think.” She agreed.
With the first trial complete, Fritz reset the maps and they did it all again.
The first group exited, and Fritz asked, “How close were you?”
“I stepped on the flashlight,” said a lieutenant. “Right on target.” The next three groups told the same story. The fifth group reported they had missed by about ten yards. The sixth reported they had hit the target. When the last men returned, they looked terrified.
Colonel Mitchell asked, “What's wrong?”
“Sir, we entered into headlights and rifles aimed at us. A patrol saw the flashlight and drove over to check it out. They assumed we were infiltrators. It's a good thing we spoke English and were officers. We made them call the general to clear us. But now we have a secrecy breach. They saw the portal outline. I told them we were testing a secret weapon. I probably shouldn't have said that.”
The colonel said, “I'll take care of that with the general tonight. Okay, everyone, listen up. We've still got some loose ends here. We have to be close to perfect in practice. It went well, but there are details still.”
When we go for real,” the major added, “American patrols won't be greeting us.” Fritz looked at Ashley and mouthed, “us?” Ashley shrugged.
“I think I've figured out the power issue,” Tony said. “We need more air turbulence. One more plane flying about three thousand feet lower should do it. No one should notice.”
“Except the air traffic people at every airport around here,” said Lois, breaking her silence. “How do you expect to keep this secret as more and more people get involved?”
Major Barclay said, “By doing it quickly, doing it once, doing it right, and getting out of here fast. Ms. McAllister, these men have been hand-picked. They were elite to start, so we have the best of the best.” She considered the comments, trancelike, made a note on her clipboard, and then focused on Lois. “But we're not trying to be secret. When this is done, there's gonna be a big bang. It's just essential that we not be anywhere near here when that happens. We can't let the school be pinpointed.”
“Well, I certainly hope not,” said George.
“Tony, is the Air Force monitoring the flights?” the major asked.
“They know it's a drill. Commercial flights have been rerouted,” he said.
“Can we finish this please?” Fritz asked. “We can talk later. The only group off target was the fifth.” He showed them the map for that entry. “I marked where the clips were placed the first time through. See?” He showed them a map and told them he had moved the paperclip slightly. “They were off just a bit. The clips are pointers. I've learned that I can adjust places and dates in the past, but it's clear I can maneuver in the present, too.”
Looking at Colonel Mitchell, the major said, “That means if something goes wrong, someone can fetch whoever is in trouble.”
Tom stuck his head in. He said, “Some guys need the latrine.”
George said, “I'll show them. I might as well be doing something.”
“We can think about what still needs to be done, but I think we should do a trial run with everyone to make sure the portal holds.”
“You're right, Mr. Russell,” the major said. “Colonel, how soon can you have everyone here?”
“Once we have the comms figured out. Tomorrow.”
“Comms?” Lois asked.
“The phones, so they can contact us,” Linda answered.
“Are we done for tonight then?” asked Lois.
The colonel replied, “We have one more thing to do. We need to go back and see the general at Bagram. Will you set that up, Mr. Russell? Major, please come with me.”
Fritz set up the entry point. He opened the door and got a stronger shock than he was accustomed to. Barclay and Mitchell went through. George rounded the corner, leading about a dozen men down the hall at a more leisurely pace than they had used in the other direction.
The classroom door opened and the major and colonel returned. Mitchell turned back to thank the general for his help as they came into the hall. Before the door could close, the general pushed it open. He looked around, surprised despite his having been told where he was headed. “Welcome to New Jersey, General,” the major said.
“I didn't believe it. I'm not sure I do.”
Lois said, “General, I know how you feel. But it's real. Now you can lose some sleep over something really weird.”
“Yes, ma'am.” He said goodbye and let the door close.
Tony said, “Colonel, I have an hypothesis. The time changes in the portal may be caused by the adjustments to the maps. The groups were off by a minute. Changing the maps took about ten seconds each. That's about a minute. I can't prove it, but it's worth finding out.”
Fritz agreed. Ashley said, “That makes sense to me. Maybe tomorrow we should measure how long it takes to get the maps changed and the next group in. That could matter when you go for real.” The major wrote on her clipboard at the bottom of a full page of notes, and then thanked him.
“I think we're done for tonight,” the colonel said. “Let's let these people go home.” He went to Ashley's room and within a minute, the soldiers began to leave. The cars were waiting at the door.
“Mr. Russell,” the major said, “I'll be speaking to the president shortly. I'll be in Washington in the morning for a briefing. But the entire team will be here, if possible, tomorrow night. Can you do it again, say eight o'clock?”
Fritz looked at Linda, and then at George, who either drifted away or didn't listen. “George, tomorrow night. Okay?”
Lois said, “Of course it's OK. We'll be here at seven forty-five.”
Fritz nodded yes. “If this works tomorrow,” the colonel said, “the mission will take place on Wednesday night. Mr. Russell, if you can meet us after school on Wednesday, I'd appreciate it.”
“Sure,” he said. “See you tomorrow then.”
The major waved as she left, but looked only at Ashley. Tony Almeida, who had just finished packing his gear, headed out with a wave.
George said, “Let's make sure they didn't leave anything in the classrooms,” and he headed to Ashley's door.
Fritz said, “It's too late for us to talk about this tonight. It's too bad we don't have a holiday tomorrow. Let's see if George needs help.”
As they walked toward the classroom, Officer Shaw called down the hall to ask Fritz if they needed him any further. “We'll be out of here in a couple of minutes, but this happens again tomorrow at eight. I'm sure you'll be told.”
“Mr. Williams said he would keep me in the loop. Mr. Russell, you may not remember me, but you were my teacher for American history eight years ago.”
“Your face looked familiar, but I couldn't
place it. You look older,” Fritz grinned. “Jim, right?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. R. You look a little more mature yourself,” said Jim. “I'd better go. See you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Jim. Thanks.”
Jim Shaw turned back. “Mr. Russell, what are they doing here?”
“Saving the world, Jim. See ya.” Fritz walked into his classroom. Everything looked normal, so he took his keys, and switched off the lights. The others were coming out of Ashley's room.
“We put all the chairs and desks back,” George said.
Ashley said, “George, you do this nicely. If you're free, you can put my house in order next weekend. I'll pay you.”
Lois gave him a dirty look. “Do you have plans, Mr. Gilbert? A visit from a certain major, perhaps?”
“You asked for that, Ash,” said Linda. “Let's go home.”
Chapter 7
THE NEXT MORNING, Fritz awoke earlier than usual. Outside, a few leaves had begun to change. The full display would soon arrive, especially the reds, oranges and yellows of the mature maples in the front yard. Before leaving, he and Linda discussed her notes. He worried that he didn't know enough about the portal and that lack of information could cause a disaster. In spite of her own misgivings, Linda said that if Tony calculated the power needs correctly and everyone had phones, she predicted the mission would go smoothly. She asked if there would be a medical team, just in case. And they might need a cleanup crew bigger than just themselves.
“I'll text and ask. I gotta go. Love you. I'll see you later.”
Ashley and Sandy were in the hall talking when Fritz arrived. He tried to be unobtrusive and just said hi as he walked by. Sandy said, “So Fritz, I haven't had a chance to ask. What happened with the president?”
“Sorry, Sandy. I can't tell you.”
“See. I told you.”
“Are you covering for him?” Sandy accused.
“Come in here, both of you,” said Fritz. He didn't want to start the week lowering red flags.
“We can't talk about this, Ash. Sandy, that goes for you, too. You know that. The president has a mission he wants undertaken, and he wants it done quickly. Ash knows because he was there. Sandy, it's so secret I'm not going to tell you what it is, for your own protection. But he needs the portal to do it. And Ashley can't tell you either. Sorry. How are your folks?”
“They left this morning,” she said. “I enjoyed seeing them, but they keep telling me I should come home. Mom said they have teaching jobs there, too. I told them I'd think about it,” she said, looking at Ashley, who said nothing. She said “see you later,” and left.
Ashley started to speak, but Fritz cut him short. “No matter what happens, Sandy can't know what's going on. Not ever. If she'd been with us at The Mill or the meeting, that would be a different matter. She can guess whatever she wants. But if she finds out, she's in danger. Last spring, Tom Andrews told you that if we hadn't figured out how to open the portal, he had been told to “disappear” us. That still holds. For anyone who knows about the portal. If you tell her, that goes for you too.”
“Hold on Fritz, are you saying what I think you are?”
Fritz exhaled loudly, not wanting to be drawn into this conversation then. “Ash, the president made a point of saying something before he left on Wednesday. Look, we know this mission is dangerous. We can't be the ones who blow it. We all, including Sandy, swore not to mention the portal. It's just more important now.”
“Got it. See you later.”
When Ashley opened the door, Fritz heard the young noise of school about to start. Lost in thought, he had Monday in front of him and classes on the way. I'll let them read in class, get a head start on homework. He planned to follow suit all day. The ninth graders could read the Constitution. The bell rang. He wrote homework assignments on the board as his first-period students settled in. “Class, we're going to do this like a study hall. I have a splitting headache.” He hated misleading his kids, but today he needed an excuse. “So you can start your homework in class.” Books came out and most started to read the long assignment.
Mary Anne Leslie asked, “Are you okay, Mr. Russell?”
“Just a headache, Mary Anne. I'll be fine. Thanks. Class, I want to get through this unit quickly. I want to get past the Middle Ages by the end of the week. Then we'll start discussion of the Reformation and the Renaissance.” Fritz began reviewing his notes on the Narian mission.
In second period, he settled the kids down and turned back to the mission.
“Mr. R?” asked Eric Silver.
“Yes, Eric.”
“We met over the weekend and put a program together, like you asked.”
“Over the weekend? Did you all decide to love school this year? I'm impressed. You have an outline already?”
“Actually we have the outline and some of the details. We guessed you would need more to get a feeling of what we want to do.”
“And it's all written?”
“Yep. Elaine and I typed the notes everyone took.”
“That's awesome, you guys! Eric, I can't do anything with you until the end of this week or early next. But I can look at what you've prepared. Then we can talk later. Okay?”
“Sure Mr. R. That would be great.”
Fritz took Eric's quarter-inch thick packet, complete with a one-page summary. “Thanks, Eric.” He glanced at the outline. An immigrant family arrives in New York followed by scenes through the end of the twentieth century. This is very clever. The project would last the whole school year. Then he read the extra notes. The invention of electrical appliances, the Versailles Treaty, the rise of the Nazis, World Wars One and Two, Yalta, the Manhattan Project, the Cuban Missile Crisis. The kids had worked hard. Fritz said, “Well done, Eric and Elaine. Guys, at first glance, this is a very ambitious proposal. I look forward to talking with you about it.” The class murmured a quiet, happy buzz.
But in third and fourth periods, when Fritz again had the classes read, neither group was engaged. In the middle of fourth, Janet Abbott asked, “Mr. R, What's wrong? You haven't been like this since last spring and the time-travel stories.”
“I'm fine, Janet. I have a bad headache. Sorry, class. But this gives you a head start on your homework. So keep reading.” He could get away with that excuse for one day, but he'd need to be ready to teach the next. Anticipating the upcoming evening, the tension took hold like waiting for the starting gun or holding your breath underwater. When class ended, he and Ashley went to the cafeteria.
“I can't concentrate. I have the kids sitting and reading,” Fritz said.
“You need to pull it together this afternoon, tomorrow, and Wednesday, or take time off. You can't make anyone suspicious.”
Ashley was right, and as if in confirmation, three teachers came up to them and asked Fritz if he felt okay. One said her tenth graders had asked if she knew if he was sick. Fritz told each inquirer that he had a vicious migraine.
“See what I mean? Get it together, buddy.”
Fritz said, “I can't believe we're doing this again. I worried before, but this is crazy. Ash, why would any sane person want to be president?”
“Chicks.”
After lunch, Fritz lectured on the role of the Catholic Church, the Papacy, and the Church's influence on European politics. Then he set them reading. “If we get ahead by Friday, no homework for the weekend.” Subdued cheers rose and died.
When sixth period ended, Sandy came into Fritz's class. Uh oh.
But she just wanted course information. “Hi, Fritz. You're going to be teaching the Renaissance soon, aren't you?” she asked.
“Yeah, probably starting next week.”
“Do you think I could bring my class in? Sixth period is my Shakespeare class. I'd like to give them a feel for the era.”
“You mean you want an hour off,” said Fritz. She stepped back as though he had slapped her. “Sorry. Okay, when I get to it, we can talk before they come in. I'll figure out which s
pecific class would work best for them.”
“That would be good,” she said. She wanted to say something more, Fritz thought, but she left as his next class trickled in.
When the class started, Fritz began to discuss early labor organizations. He started with the National Labor Union, the first national workers organization in America. “Founded just after the Civil War, and although it only lasted until 1873, the NLU had paved the way for the Knights of Labor and the American Federation of Labor.” Fritz watched the students take notes. Once again, he relished the level of their attention.
“People then often worked twelve hours a day for six days a week.” He grinned. “I think school should be six days, from seven in the morning to seven at night, all year long. What do you think?” In response, they battered him with boos and raspberries. “Makes you think though, doesn't it? The Knights' supported a law mandating an eight-hour work day. They also wanted an end to child and convict labor. What if you could choose to work instead of go to school for twelve hours? Still want to boo me? Anyway, the Knights of Labor opposed the use of immigrant workers, especially the Chinese. We'll talk more about various discriminatory labor practices and union support for them throughout the course. We'll also discuss American economic policy. Does anyone want to take a shot at why unions would discriminate?”
Abigail Hoffman raised her hand. A new student to Fritz, the only kid in the class who hadn't been to see Robert E. Lee, he called on her.
“It's Abigail, right?”
“Please call me Abby, Mr. Russell.”
“Abby, how have you avoided all my classes until now?”
“I don't know.”
“Then, Abby, consider this class as your last, best chance to learn from a great teacher.” The students who had been in his class before expected what he did next. He held out his right arm with his index finger out straight, bent his arm at the elbow, and pointed at his face. His slow motion act earned him some applause and a few boos. “So what do you think, Abby?”
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