The Time Change Trilogy-Complete Collection

by Alex Myers

  Attracted by the laughter, more people gathered around. Teddy stood in the boxer ready position presenting both of his backward upturned fists to Jack. There was a spreading smile on his face.

  Jack finished removing his coat while still seated on the ground. He also removed his T-shirt, throwing both to Robbie. Jack stood, and Teddy advanced, planting his right foot and coming at Jack with a huge roundhouse punch. Apparently, he was going for a knock out versus just winning points.

  Jack quickly ducked under Teddy’s wild punch and after failing to connect, Jack stepped around him and pushed Teddy, sending him flying on his belly his hands splayed out in front of him.

  The crowd cheered.

  Teddy rolled his head from side to side looking like he was trying to figure out how he got on the ground so quickly. He got to his knees, and from the crouched position launched himself, grabbing Jack’s midsection.

  Jack turned himself around so that Teddy was now holding him from behind then turned around again, this time stepping around behind Teddy. Jack now had him in a reverse bear hug. Teddy slumped in seeming defeat. Robbie gave Jack a thumbs up from the crowd and Jack smiled back at him.

  Suddenly Teddy stiffened and jumped off the ground, hitting Jack with the top of his head under the jaw. That was the second hit Jack had taken to the jaw. He loosened his grip slightly and Teddy stepped away.

  “That’s two. That’s two hits to the head. You never said they had to be with my hands.” Teddy laughed out loud and played to the crowd. “Don’t you think you’re a little too old to be out here? This is a young man’s sport. What is your name?”

  “The name is Jack.” He was seeing stars and kept a weary distance away. It had been a rookie move on Jack’s part to underestimate his opponent.

  “Tell you what, Mr. Jack, let’s make this even more interesting,” Teddy said, circling the ring. “Let’s increase our bet from five dollars to ten, just to make it worth our time and effort.”

  Everyone in the club had gathered around the ring, making a solid mass two-people deep all the way around. They were energized.

  Robbie caught Jack’s eye again and gave him the ‘what’s going on’ look.

  “Tell you what you Rough Rider,” Jack said, hoping to forever taint the term in Teddy’s mind. “While you may go charging around like a bull moose, I’m about to have a bull moose party. I’ll take your bet, but instead of ten dollars let’s make it fifty dollars—unless you’re yellow.” Jack knew there was no way Teddy’s pride would allow him to turn down the bet. One more little jab was meant to totally enrage him. “Fifty dollars, that is, if you can afford it.”

  “Let’s do this,” Teddy trumpeted in his high-pitched voice. Teddy stepped forward and threw the same overdramatic, roundhouse punch and once again, Jack ducked under, stepped around, and pushed him to the ground.

  The crowd was electrified and the score was two to two.

  Teddy got up slowly and looked like he was calculating his every move. He finally stood, assuming his boxer stance. The crowd was thunderous and the sound of their cheering echoed off all the hard surfaces in the gym.

  Teddy threw everything he had at Jack: jabs, uppercuts, crosses, hooks; nothing connected. Teddy was especially bad at broadcasting his move to Jack who simply had to react and get out of the way.

  The crowd got excited every time Teddy threw a punch, and moaned every time Jack would step out of the way. Every time Teddy swung, big globules of sweat fell to the ground.

  Both fighters were wearing hard-soled leather shoes, and the ring was getting slippery.

  Jack’s jaw throbbed with pain. He moved away from unwanted Teddy swings, but he worried more about slipping and falling than getting hit.

  Teddy’s cheeks were red and he was breathing hard, but he still managed to say, “Give up?”

  “Maybe,” Jack said. “Wait, no, I’m good. Let’s finish this.”

  “Make your move,” Teddy panted.

  “Hey Teddy, did you know that my name is Jack Riggs, Martin Riggs’ son?”

  Teddy looked confused, yet somehow more determined. He came at Jack with a fury. He did a full-arm-wide wild swing, with all of his might and fury. Even without Jack moving, the swing missed him by at least two inches. Teddy lost his balance and slipped on his own sweat, his feet flying out straight in front of him.

  When Jack moved to avoid the punch, he slipped on Teddy’s sweat and spit too, and somehow he ended up underneath him. On the way to the ground, Teddy’s hand touched Jack’s head.

  Theodore Roosevelt lay on the ground eyes closed and unmoving. The crowd was silent. Then someone shouted, “Is he dead?”

  Jack looked at the unmoving man and wondered if he might have killed the future president of the United States.

  Theodore Roosevelt’s eyes sprung open, and he said without hesitation, “I won. I got you before I fell.” He was unmoving and lying on his back, but managed to shout, “Bully, I won!”

  A cheer went up from the crowd.

  Jack knelt down and looked at Roosevelt.

  “Why are you here?” Teddy asked, ignoring the crowd around them and speaking softly so only Jack could hear. “Your father can’t cut me loose, I want this.”

  “Are you the one who’s going to deal with Douglass?”

  “Douglass? That nigger? No, I’ve got back up on Arthur.”

  Teddy opened his eyes and several other people swooped in and lifted him to his feet. “Riggs, I’ll see you on Saturday at the Windsor Hotel and don’t forget you owe me fifty dollars!” The second part Roosevelt said loud enough so the entire crowd could hear.

  Everyone cheered. Robbie moved to Jack’s side. “Pay the man his fifty dollars, please,” Jack said.

  “Fifty dollars? I thought it was only five?”

  “It was until I let my pride get in the way.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Jack walked through the lobby of the Windsor Hotel on Forty-Sixth Street in the fashionable residential section of Manhattan. The lobby was immense. The ceilings were extremely high and ornately carved mahogany. Old decorative gas lamps hung from the ceiling and gas sconces from the walls. The hotel had been built ten years earlier and now electric lights lit the majority of the hotel, but the gas lamps lent a richness to the atmosphere. It was nine o’clock and the lights shone brightly on the sidewalks along the street.

  A large fireplace in the sitting area blazed warm against the chill that danced on the December night air. The burning oak, the smell of cigars, scotch, and pipe tobacco gave the place a manly, not at all unpleasant, aroma.

  The grand staircase was across from the front desk. Jack took it to the second floor and the main dining room. Six gilt framed, nine-foot tall mirrors gave the large room an even more expensive feel. He searched over one hundred tables for his father but didn’t see him. He asked the maître d’ and was told there were three other dining rooms and five private rooms, and as far as they could tell, there were no Riggs, Fairbanks, Roosevelts, or Wilsons on the premises. It was suggested that he try the bar downstairs next to the front desk where food was served and there was plenty of room for meetings.

  Jack walked back downstairs. Had Teddy Roosevelt lied to him? From the staircase, Jack saw Teddy Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, and three other men walk out of the dark paneled door of the first-floor bar. He hurried down the steps to catch them before they hit the streets.

  The five men were nearing the front entrance when Jack yelled, “Martin Riggs!”

  Jack hustled to catch up and the tallest of the men turned. Standing in front of Jack was Abner Adkins.

  But it wasn’t Abner Adkins, it was his father. The same man that had tried to kill him and his sister and had emotionally abused his mother. Teddy, Woodrow, and two other men turned to watch Jack approach. Teddy looked nervous, Woodrow looked smug, and the other two men gave him a puzzled look. Abner didn’t look surprised to see him.

  “You need to leave. Go find Frances. Go back to Virginia and invent thin
gs to your heart’s content.” It almost sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth. “The stakes are too high for any mistakes. This needs to come off without any hitches.”

  “What do you plan to do to Douglass?”

  “Will you keep your voice down!” Martin Riggs grabbed Jack’s arm and moved him a few feet from the group. “If you don’t butt out, you will regret this, I promise. Someone is going to die, and it very well could be you.”

  “Martin, let’s move along, we need to be there by nine-thirty.” The man who spoke was nearly as tall as Martin and had a chubby face with big whiskers and a mustache. Jack thought there was something familiar about him. The last man in the group was barely able to make eye contact. He was about five foot eight and slightly built with chiseled features, a cleft chin, and pursed lips.

  Martin turned and held up one finger to the man, then turned quickly back to Jack and quietly said, “I bet your friend Brent Hopwood forgot to tell you that if you die, this trip back you don’t bounce back to the future like you did the last time. You die here and you’re dead everywhere. Just all the more reason for you to keep your nose out of this and just go home.”

  His father walked out and Jack stared at his own reflection in the door’s glass. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was the clothes, but Jack had never seen the resemblance before, not only did his dad look like Abner Adkins, but Jack did too.

  CHAPTER 26

  Sam Clemens came busting into the suite waving a newspaper overhead and said, “Here’s the scoop, but it’s not all the scoop. Listen here,” Sam read from the newspaper, “‘President to name Frederick Douglass as vice president today’. Every Negro in New York—North America for that fact, are acting like this is Christmas Day, New Year’s, and their birthdays all rolled into one.” Sam sat at the table next to Jack who was nursing a hangover and drinking black coffee. Jack pushed the tray and coffee pot over to Sam and he poured himself a cup.

  Robbie came through the door and both Sam and Jack stared at him a little too long. “What? A guy can’t sneak in at eight o’clock in the morning?”

  “You’re just getting in right now? Well, aren’t you the playboy?” Jack said smiling.

  “He wasn’t just out catting around. You haven’t told Jack about your fiancée have you?” Sam took a cigar out of his inside coat pocket.

  “You know her,” Robbie said, “or you know her father, Andrew Sanger.”

  “I didn’t know he even had a family.”

  “Yeah, he married a month or two after you did. I remember being at the wedding,” Robbie said.

  “Me too, it’s hard to forget a bride that is that heavy with child,” Sam lit the cigar and took two big puffs blowing the smoke toward the ceiling.

  “That child would be my fiancé, Gertie.”

  “Andrew lives in New York, right? How do you know her?”

  “She spent summers down in Norfolk with Miss Frances and Emily.”

  “Frances?” Jack asked.

  “I had dinner with Frances last night.”

  Jack’s face flashed surprise.

  “I mean, she was at a dinner at Andrew Sanger’s house and we all ate together.”

  “Did Frances bring me up?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, she did, privately, not in front of the other people. As wonderful as Andrew Sanger thought you were, I’m not sure how he would react knowing you were a time traveler.”

  “What did she bring up?”

  “Evidently, she had time to think about things. She thinks your problem must be more than the age difference. She pressed me for a better explanation.”

  Jack was agitated; he thought this was clearly the last thing he needed to deal with right now.

  “She said if nothing else, she at least needs an explanation—for you to be honest. She pushed me to tell her, but I just said I would talk to you.” Robbie wasn’t backing down.

  “I can do that at least,” Jack said. Turning to Sam who was sipping on his coffee he said, “You think I should hear her out?”

  Sam raised his bushy eyebrows and gave a single nod of his head.

  “Okay, let’s get through this mess. I believe my dad is going to try to kill Fredrick Douglass this afternoon.” He filled them in on what happened the night before at the Windsor Hotel. “My father said someone would die.”

  After describing the men with his father, Sam said, “Those men sound like Garrett Fairbanks and President Arthur.”

  “But Arthur doesn’t seem like the killing type, why would he nominate Douglass if he didn’t want him to serve? And if they want to kill Douglass why do it in such a public place?”

  “Unless they want to send a message,” Sam said.

  “Maybe we are not looking at this correctly. President Arthur’s goals, your dads, and these other three people are all different. They probably don’t even know about each other’s plans. Our problem is trying to connect them all together. I bet your dad knows what’s really going on,” Robbie said.

  “Maybe. Why would they want to kill Arthur before he announces Frederick Douglass as vice president? That way my dad would automatically become president?”

  Robbie looked at Jack, not understanding his reasoning. “Next in line for the presidency, the secession order goes to the president pro tempore of the Senate.”

  “Oh that’s right, they changed the law back in the 30s—1930s,” Jack said. “Then what is my dad up to?”

  “Have we any idea how we’re going to get into this event?” Jack asked.

  “I got an invite,” Sam said.

  “So did I,” Robbie said.

  “Why did you two get invited?” Jack asked without malice.

  “They want me to write about it,” Sam said.

  “They invited a bunch of industry leaders. I didn’t talk to anyone directly, but when I checked in yesterday morning at the complex, there was a message from President Arthur’s Chief of Staff, he said Morgan, Rockefeller, Westinghouse—they are all going to be there.”

  “So, I’m the only one having a problem getting in?”

  “You could go as my guest,” Sam said.

  “We could get a wig and a dress, and you could go as Sam’s date.” Robbie said.

  “Very funny.” But Sam was laughing too. “Ha-ha guys. Seriously, do I have to get checked out by the FBI or something?” Jack thought for a second about disguises, but let it go.

  “FB what?” Sam asked.

  “Too early for the FBI I guess. Have either of you ever heard of the Secret Service?”

  “Of course, your old friend Allen Pinkerton is running it.”

  “Perfect, Pinkerton is just the kind of advantage we need. But he’s gonna freak out when he sees me.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Alan Pinkerton was sitting at a table when Jack walked in. He didn’t look up from his paperwork. “I really don’t know who you are, but I don’t have time to play games with you right now—” Pinkerton looked up and stopped abruptly.

  “Remember when we were scouting out the SAC plant in Williamsburg and you thought there was something odd about me?”

  Pinkerton’s mouth hadn’t closed since Jack walked into the room. “You were killed—saw it with my own eyes. I was one of your pallbearers.”

  “Pink, that wasn’t me, not really me.”

  Pinkerton looked visibly upset; Jack could see his mind trying to process what he was seeing.

  “I always felt bad for not being honest with you. There’s nothing supernatural, nothing unworldly about me. I am just a traveler from the future. You can get all weirded out and act all strange or you can listen to what I have to say. Here’s what I believe is going to happen here today and here are the players…”

  Pinkerton listened patiently as Jack told him his story, how Fairbanks, Wilson, Roosevelt, and his father were at the center of it.

  After Jack finished, there was a pause before Pinkerton spoke. “When we were on that hilltop and I said I thought you were an alien, I didn’t
mean from another country, I meant, not of this earth. I changed my mind about confronting you because of how ridiculous it sounded. I have spent my life observing and relying on what I see and hear. There was always something mighty odd about you, something that you just explained better than anything I could’ve thought up. Your information has always been impeccable. Today I’m entrusted with a great task, to oversee this big public event. Things need to transpire flawlessly. Have the things you said pushed my mind to it’s very edge? Yes. Do I believe you? Not believing you would deny what I am seeing in front of me. I don’t have any choice but to believe you.”

  “How secure is the room where the oath will be given today?” Jack asked.

  “Once it’s under way, no one enters or leaves—I learned that lesson before. Every guest has been vetted, including the press and the VIPs.” Pinkerton referred to his seating chart. “So you are in the seat next to Frances and Samuel Clemens.”

  “Frances?” Jack’s eye twitched, anxiety welled in his throat—this was trouble on multiple levels. “What’s Frances doing here?”

  “She is one of the social attendees. You two are not here together?”

  “No, I haven’t talked to her since I’ve been back.”

  “Good God man, why not? She is your wife. That woman has been devoted to you and your memory. I’ve seen her and spoken to her many times over the years. What the hell is wrong with you?” Allan Pinkerton rubbed his forehead.

  “She had Abner Adkin’s baby.” Jack sat rigid in his chair, his fingers clasped together in his lap.

  Done with the rubbing, Pinkerton furled his brow. “No. Let’s do the math. Your daughter—”

  “Frances and Abner’s daughter—”

  “Please bear with me. Emily was born on my wife’s birthday, March 1, back that up nine months—what was going on at the end of June 1857?”

  “I can tell you exactly what was going on. That was only six months ago for me and my timeline. She broke up with me, out of the blue. We weren’t together anytime around then, so it couldn’t have been me.”