Touchstone (Meridian Series)

by John Schettler

  Nordhausen leaned in, somewhat excited. “Then by preventing the destruction of that train, we spared Masaui’s life and allowed his daughter Ada to be born?”

  “That’s about the size of it,” LeGrand smiled.

  “And the rest is history,” Maeve quipped. “At least the history that we know.”

  “Precisely!” LeGrand beamed with admiration. “Saving Mr. Ramer’s life changed everything. He is regarded as the Dean of the Prime Meridian—possibly the most significant life line of any man ever born in the Western world.”

  “Well,” said Nordhausen, “he very nearly died at the end of that mission. I understand you people had something to do with his survival.”

  “Oh yes,” LeGrand returned. “That’s where Paradox takes shape, a ravenous beast that devours anything that it cannot account for on the newly transformed Meridian. We exerted ourselves mightily to save his life—to preserve his integrity. Thankfully, we succeeded.”

  “I see,” said Nordhausen. “Then you had nothing to do with the tampering of the memorial site where we thought to bury Kelly after he vanished?”

  “Tampering? What are you speaking of?”

  “We buried a video that led to your discovery of the exact spatial and temporal coordinates of Kelly’s last moments.” Again, he looked at Maeve, somewhat apologetically.

  “It was Graves who found it—just another ripple from his original discovery, I suppose. His retraction was a timed event. We pulled him out to preserve the Meridian of his own life.”

  “Yes,” said Maeve. “I was just about to serve him tea when he turned up missing.”

  “We pulled him out,” LeGrand reiterated with a look of pride. “Amazingly, the moment he returned he went straight to the memorial site and found the DVD that Mr. Dorland buried there. Time has a funny way of echoing like that when things change. Do you know that the memorial site you chose was identical to the place you first laid Mr. Ramer to rest in the Prime Meridian?”

  “History does not repeat itself,” Nordhausen quipped, “but it does rhyme.”

  LeGrand smiled, then a squall of concern clouded his features. Maeve was watching him closely now, an odd expression on her face, as though she were coming to a silent inner conclusion about him.

  “But what is this tampering you speak of?” LeGrand went on. “Are you saying the site was violated?”

  Nordhausen took a deep breath. “Three days ago Kelly was taken ill—a strange malady. I thought it was my fault at first. I was… doing some research; following up a hunch. Then Paul and I uncovered evidence of tampering at Kelly’s memorial site. Someone dug up the grave and stole the video!”

  “What?” Now it was LeGrand who was struck with wide eyed amazement.

  “Yes, but it was only fortune or good habits that Paul had a backup file on hand, and we published it all over the Internet. Kelly recovered, but we aren’t quite sure about him.” He looked at Maeve again, but she held up a hand to reassure him that all was well. Her eyes were fixed on LeGrand, a look of suspicion clouding her features now. Then she took the baton herself.

  “We think his life is in jeopardy again,” she said flatly. “We think someone is trying to kill him.”

  “Good God…” the look on LeGrand’s face made it plain that he knew nothing about the incident. His eyes darkened, and he began to fidget, his hands rubbing together in a nervous activity. “I haven’t heard any of this. The courier said nothing whatsoever about it. If this is true, then we have more on the table here with your arrival than I first thought. This could be a Deep Nexus now; a moment of transformation. We may all have a vital part in deciding things before your mission is over. I was told to be on alert, but I don’t think the Order knows how serious this is. How long are you here?” He asked the question quickly, with a sudden sharpness of mind that set them on edge.

  “Forty-eight hours,” said Nordhausen.

  “Two days,” breathed LeGrand. “Two days. That’s not much time at all, but then the important things never need much. Damn! I had better have my wits about me. I never thought I would have a hand in a major transformation, but here it is, right in front of me, and all because of a loose strap on that damn purse to set me on your trail.”

  Part VI

  Travelers

  “The use of travel is to regulate imagination by reality, and, instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.”

  —Samuel Johnson: Anecdotes

  16

  Le Grand’s eyes seemed to light up with the revelation that now filled his mind, his thoughts spilling quickly into animated speech as he considered the situation.

  “First things first,” he said. “You must tell me why you’ve come. Oh, joy! What an honor this is. You really have no idea. Why, it’s livened up things quite a bit! This was the last month of my tour, you see. Napoleon is on his way here even as we speak. He’s received word that the Turkish fleet has appeared, but that wheezing old Mustapha Pasha is just sitting on the beach out there while his men try to secure the French garrison at Aboukir Castle. That’s where those two kind soldiers were off to when you arrived. Well, I suppose you know the history as well as I do.”

  “Quite so,” said Nordhausen. “Napoleon left Cairo on the eleventh of July, but he will be twelve days getting here.”

  “Too bad you can’t stay for the final battle! I’ve seen it twice now, and it’s well worth the wait. Oh, it’s not quite as spectacular as the Battle of the Pyramids, but it’s a darn site better than that nasty business in Palestine. Murat is leading the French Cavalry in the van. Napoleon won’t wait for Kleber’s Division. With the Turks picking their noses on the beaches, he just sends in enough foot soldiers to force the Pasha’s entrenchments, and then Murat dashes in with one of those cavalry charges that he becomes so famous for. It’s really quite a show!”

  “Sorry we’ll miss it,” said Nordhausen, “but we came on… other business.”

  “Oh, yes,” LeGrand rolled his eyes. “The discovery. You’re here for just 48 hours. You arrive on the 14th and leave on the 16th. The big day is tomorrow, of course. It’s nothing so grand as a battle, but the finding of the stone is something of a windfall for Western scholars. Being somewhat of a Savant myself, I always ride forward to Rashid here for the recovery. But why are you so interested in it? Did you pick up on the variation as well?”

  “Yes,” said Nordhausen. “Damn lucky I suppose. As I have said, I was doing some research at the British Museum. It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that I wanted to have a good look at the Rosetta Stone to confirm a suspicion I’ve been brooding on. Imagine my surprise when I found it damaged.”

  “Damaged? What are you speaking of?”

  Nordhausen related the details of his mission to London, and the harrowing discovery that no one could read the glyphs upon his return.

  “I see,” said LeGrand. He thought for a moment, then broke into a broad smile. “You want to see if it’s damaged upon discovery!”

  “Quite so,” said Nordhausen.

  “So, that’s what this is all about. The courier didn’t have any details, just a watch order. Still, it seems that the Order is now as interested in the condition of this stone as you two seem to be. I can’t imagine why, but what’s good for the Founders sits well with me.” He dipped his head in a bow and smiled again. “I am at your service then: Jean LeGrand, First Able Sergeant of the Milieu, Order of the Temporal Knights. How may I assist you?”

  “We need to observe the discovery, of course,” said Maeve. “And we want to be as inconspicuous as possible. You say you’ve witnessed this event before?”

  “Twice.”

  “Well man—was it damaged?” Nordhausen was eager for all the information he could get.

  “Not that I could tell. No, the discovery went off without any hitch that I could discern. Captain Bouchard is already at the Fort. He’ll be directing the improvements to the west wall tomorrow—that’s where they find it, embedded in the wall of
Fort Julien.”

  “You can take us there?”

  “Of course. It’s just to the north a tad, at the edge of the plantation country, on the west bank of the Nile. We’ll use the carriage. The two of you can sit inside and I’ll lead it right past the dig site at precisely the moment the stone is uncovered. We’ll have a perfect vantage point.”

  “Excellent,” Robert rubbed his palms together.

  “If I may ask,” LeGrand put in. “What kind of damage are you talking about? Was the stone defaced?”

  “Oh nothing as simple as that. It was broken clean across the top when I observed it at the London Museum. All the hieroglyphics were gone, and the curator of antiquities there claims it was always so.”

  That news gave LeGrand a start. “I see,” he mused. “This is more serious than I thought. What do you hope to determine here?”

  “The time of the damage, for one thing,” said Robert. “If it’s intact when they dig it up tomorrow, it will mean that the damage was incurred somewhere forward of this point on the continuum.”

  “Obviously,” said LeGrand.

  “I know it’s not much, but it is at least a starting point. We’re fairly hopeful that it will be uncovered intact.”

  “Yes, if it was damaged somehow, that narrows down the window of opportunity to just a few years before it reaches London in 1802.”

  “Better than that,” said Nordhausen. “The stone was taken to the National Institute in Cairo soon after it’s discovery. My research indicates that Napoleon ordered an inscription made of the writing. Two prominent lithographers were called from France. They’re going to ink the stone and roll paper over it to get a good image of the text. The damage must occur before that is accomplished.”

  “I see, then that compresses the affair to just a few months. Very clever! Napoleon won’t bother to pay any attention to it in the next week or so. He’s busy planning his battle with the Turks at Aboukir Bay.”

  “That means the time of greatest vulnerability will be the journey from the discovery site to Cairo.”

  “Quite so,” LeGrand concurred. “If I were planning something, that’s when I would strike. All the French troops in the area will be converging here, their minds set on the Turks. Let me think… Yes. If I were going to make a move on the stone I would probably arrange an ambush along the road—and considerably south of here so as to forestall any interference by the French.”

  “How long is the journey to Cairo likely to take?” asked Nordhausen.

  “I’m not exactly certain,” said LeGrand. “I’m here for the discovery, but then I take up with the Engineers as they make ready to join Napoleon’s attack at Aboukir Bay. I usually go on to the battle, but not this time. The watch order didn’t give me any specific instruction but, given this news, I’m afraid I have to stay with the stone. Problem is, the damn thing just lays around here for a good long while before they get round to moving it. Now I’ll have to come up with some plan to account for my necessary interest in the artifact for what may turn out to be a very long month. Too bad you can’t stay to keep me some company.”

  “You realize that this situation is likely to be dangerous now,” said Maeve.

  “Dangerous? My lady, everything I do here is dangerous. I have to watch things like an owl, being constantly vigilant while also remaining discreetly uninvolved, as much as possible.

  “Take those two French soldiers this morning. They were supposed to carry a message to the commander of the garrison at Aboukir Castle. Then I get word to put a watch on the road west of town. Incursion watch! That’s what we call it when someone initiates a breaching point on the continuum in the area. We look for the telltale signs—white haze, extreme cold, and that wonderful aurora that settles around you as you manifest. Well, as far as I could tell, the road was clear of traffic in the pre-dawn hours. Then I learned that this message was being sent, and so I found out who was going and claimed that I had lost track of some associates. I tagged along and, voilá! There you were. I handled the incident quite adroitly, wouldn’t you say? ”

  “To be sure,” said Maeve. “You made your rendezvous with us and managed to send the two soldiers on their way to avoid any contamination.”

  “Exactly!” LeGrand beamed with satisfaction. “The trick was in figuring how to prevent any interaction between the two of you and the soldiers. I had to find you before they did, and make sure your arrival did not deter them from their courier assignment in any way.”

  “Well, you’ve made a fine resolution of that one, and here we are.” Maeve set down her teacup, a pensive expression on her face. “But I have a question,” she said. “Just who would be trying to damage the stone, in your opinion, and why?”

  “Our enemies, of course.”

  “Enemies? Who exactly are they?”

  “Well,” said LeGrand, “that’s quite a long story. As to who, radical Islam has been most inconvenient for us over the last several decades. There have been a hundred nefarious groups that have sprung up over the years, but the heart of the nest is the Ismaili Cult of Assassins. As to why, I suppose you and professor Nordhausen have as much of a clue as I do. These people will simply not stop interfering. They won’t be satisfied until the whole of the world supplicates itself to the will of Allah. Their religion is infused with bad politics, and it’s becoming insufferable—nothing more than a thin veil of hypocrisy for their devious political aims. Do you know that Mohammed was the only major religious figure who was also a warrior?”

  “I see,” said Maeve, somewhat unconvinced. “Religion is like that sometimes… the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, the Hundred Years War, Protestants and Catholics at each other’s throats, popes paying huge bribes to Venetian merchants to have crusading armies delivered to targets of opportunity. You know the routine well enough, I suppose—’Soldiers of Christ,’ out to secure lands and fortunes for the Vicar. When it comes to hypocrisy, there seems to be plenty left over for the Christians.”

  “Yes, well at least we had the good sense to work most of that out during the Middle Ages,” said LeGrand.

  “Quite so,” Maeve returned. “Now it’s politics and economics to keep things interesting. Take this little adventure by Napoleon…” She gestured broadly to the unseen world outside the walls of the roadside inn. “It’s politically motivated, to be sure, but I wonder what the reaction would be in Paris if thirty thousand Turks suddenly landed in Marseilles?”

  “Oh, they’ve tried, but Charles Martel put an end to Moslem expansion in Europe at the battle of Tours in 732.” “True,” said Maeve. “And ever since then it seems the West has been on the offensive. Recent history would argue that you’ve got it all wrong, Doctor. The West has been sticking its thumb in the Islamic pie for the last few centuries—not the other way around.”

  “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.” LeGrand set down his cup, crossing his arms. “It really does come down to a clash of cultures when you get to the root of it all. The Islamic world is still centuries behind the West in terms of its social systems and politics.”

  “And so your Order is helping them along?” Maeve had that look in her eye that Robert knew all too well. He gave LeGrand a sideward glance, wondering if he knew what he was in for, and smiling uncomfortably.

  “Helping them is perhaps not the right way to think of it,” said LeGrand. “After Palma, the proverbial gloves have come off, Miss Lindford. Think of it like your 9/11 event in New York. That certainly catalyzed the American government. ”

  “With disastrous consequences,” Maeve put in quickly. “Don’t you think all that trouble in Iraq had something to do with the plans made by this Husan al Din?”

  “It probably spawned a hundred such plans, many you have yet to live through, I’m afraid. The worst was Palma, but we fixed that.”

  “And it undoubtedly created a few more problems at the same time,” said Maeve.

  LeGrand did not answer immediately, a troubled expression on his face. “If y
ou must know, things have taken a turn for the worse in recent years. They’ve discovered how to travel in time as well.”

  “Yes, we know, and now they have a mind to meddle in your affairs, just as you seem set on meddling in theirs.”

  “That’s about the size of it. A bothersome lot, these Arabs. The Turks weren’t nearly so bad. Oh, I suppose it wouldn’t matter if they were all living in Africa or huddled on some island continent like Australia. But the simple fact of the matter is that the whole of the Islamic Crescent sits atop 90% of the world’s oil and gas.”

  “How inconvenient,” said Maeve.

  “To be sure, madam. The West needs that oil throughout the twenty-first century… until alternative energy sources can be properly developed.”

  “Rubbish,” said Maeve. “We have the ability to develop and deploy hydrogen based fuel systems even in my day. The only reason we don’t is the enormous profit involved in the sale of a diminishing resource like oil.”

  “True,” said LeGrand. “No argument here. Still, facts are facts. Whether the West needs the oil or not, the powers that be have decided they need it, and that makes for some particularly troublesome times in the storied conflict of Western nations with the Islamic world. It starts with freedom fighters in Afghanistan and becomes airplanes crashing into the World Trade Center, and worse...” He seemed to catch himself, realizing he might reveal the course of future events to these people, and somehow alter them. “Well we all know how it ends, don’t we? It ends with Palma. After that, we simply decided we had to put stop to it, once and for all.”