The Navigators

by Dan Alatorre

  “No, it won't be anything like that. Kind of slice at it with the blade from the bottle opener.” He made a sawing motion with his hands. “It’s an old canvas. There are probably little holes all over it. Find one and open it up.”

  Melissa eyed at the tiny blade on the opener. “And it'll just slice?”

  “I'm sure it'll put up some resistance. I mean, it's not thin like a bed sheet. You’ll have to put some muscle behind it.” He took the bottle opener from her and examined it. “Just don't break the blade and all should be well.”

  She nodded. “How big of a hole should I cut?”

  “I don't really know.” Barry sighed. “If I were to guess, I’d say a hole the size of a door.” He glanced at the dome. “They’re always worried about people leaving a door open. The rumor is an open door will deflate the roof in about fifteen minutes.” He rubbed his chin. “That sounds a little fast, but I'd say a door-sized hole would still do the trick.”

  “A door-sized cut.” Melissa took the bottle opener back and shoved it into her pocket. “Okay.”

  “Just be sure not to fall through the hole while you’re cutting it.”

  She glared at him. “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “There's a skeleton frame underneath the roof. You'll see it because the inside lights are on and it’ll cast a shadow against the canvas. Now, moving around up there isn’t going to be like bouncing on a mattress. It’s not a giant bounce house. The whole canvas will be firm and hard, but the supported places will be extra solid. The canvas attaches there. Just sit on the frame area and cut next to it, okay?”

  She nodded.

  “You don’t have to cut one big hole, either. Five or six big slices would probably work. If you can do more, do more.” He shifted his weight and lifted his broken foot off the ground, wincing. “Pay attention to the roof, though. If it starts to feel soft at all, get the hell off it.”

  I cleared my throat. “Uh, why do we need two of us on the roof?”

  “You don’t.” Barry cocked his head and pointed at the dome. “But it will take two of you to get onto the gutter, and at the top there’s a buttress. You’ll have to boost each other over that to get onto the roof. Besides,” he turned to me and smiled, “you don't want Melissa running around up there by herself, do you?”

  “I have absolutely no problem with her being a Lara Croft badass all by herself.”

  “You'll be fine, Peeky.” Melissa snickered. “Come on, let's go.”

  “One more thing.” Barry put up a hand. “Come down the same way you went up. Not every gutter goes down to the ground. Some go onto other roofs, like the ticket office. You’d be stuck there.”

  I looked down. “I’ll mark it with one of my socks or something.”

  “Okay. Once you’re down, start picking the lock for the overhead door, so we can drive the truck in when it’s time. Do you have the pins?”

  “Got ‘em.” Melissa patted a pocket. “It won’t be easy, but they should work . . . eventually.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not funny.”

  Folding her arms, she eyed Barry’s cast. “You make this all sound so easy—considering you’re going to be just sitting in the truck.”

  “Maybe we'll get lucky and one of them smokes.” I gestured to the side doors. “He'll come outside for a cigarette and leave the door open.”

  “Then what?” Barry laughed. “You overpower him and take his gun?” He squinted at the stadium. “How many do you think are in there?

  “Three or four,” Melissa said. “That’s what I saw when they unloaded this afternoon.”

  Barry climbed out of the truck, leaning on it for support. “Okay, remember. It’s a college campus. All kinds of kids go jogging around here at all times of the night. Nobody will think much of two of you running alongside the stadium.” He pointed at the far edge of the parking lot nearest the dome. “Run down the sidewalk until you’re close to the big downspout, then cut over and hide in the shadows.”

  He reached through the window and picked the pink princess radio up off the seat. “When you’re ready, let me know on this.” He clicked the talk button a few times, causing the one in Melissa’s hand to crackle. “I’ll be waiting for you down here and directing you as best I can.”

  She laughed. “Cinderella, my hero.”

  “I’m kinda nervous for you guys.” Barry sighed.

  “Don’t be. We got this. Right, Peeky?”

  I took a deep breath. The safety of my friends depended on a solid co-conspirator, and I was anything but that right now, thanks to that damned Findlay. “Actually, can you excuse me for a moment? I need to relieve myself at the back fender of the truck again.”

  “Jesus, Peeky.” Barry turned back to Melissa. “Are you okay with all this?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She placed her hands on his arms. “Watch me from down here and keep me safe.”

  He nodded. “I will.”

  He took in her face, illuminated under the nearby parking lot light. The bright eyes, the delicate curves of her cheeks. As he opened his mouth to speak, Melissa leaned forward.

  A muted trumpet noise rang out from my location at the back of the truck.

  “Oh, Peeky!”

  “Excuse me. Just a little gas. Sorry, I’m nervous.”

  Barry shook his head and dropped his arms. “You guys better get going before he explodes.”

  * * * * *

  “Findlay, I think we just caught another break.” Captain Ferguson hung up the phone. “That was my buddy over at Tampa PD. Guess what he said.”

  “That moron Riff hung himself in his cell trying to floss his teeth?”

  “Nope. He said that a Radio Shack store just north of the university was just robbed by two fellas matching the description of our guys, and they got a positive ID on the girl with them, Melissa Mills.”

  Findlay’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? They’re robbing Radio Shack stores now?”

  “That’s right.” Ferguson folded his hands behind his head. “All three of them. They’re still here in town.”

  “Seems odd for Melissa to implicate herself in a robbery. I thought she’d be smarter than that.” Findlay rubbed the back of his neck. “But, oh well. I’ll take my luck where I can find it.”

  “That store’s not ten minutes from here.”

  “I wonder what they took from it?” He glanced at Ferguson. “Cash?”

  “Radios. Specifically, walkie talkies.”

  Findlay sat back in his chair, his mouth dangling open. What would they want with those? Would walkie talkies somehow be useful in scrambling a radio signal during the transfer tomorrow? No. What are those bozos up to?

  Ferguson cleared his throat. “My friends at the Tampa PD want to put out an APB. It’s pretty much protocol at this point, Fin, but they’ll hold off if I ask them to. You should let them. Things are getting too big to control from here on campus.”

  “We aren’t just here on campus, Ferg. Dean Anderson has some powerful friends in the wings helping pull strings.”

  “They better be damned big.”

  “They are. Big enough to make a call to the fire captain and let me walk on an arson charge, and big enough to prevent some police paperwork from ruining my manhunt.” He rubbed his hands together, pacing. “Still, we ought to up the ante. Things are taking too long.”

  The captain reached for his coffee cup. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well . . .” Findlay smiled. “We have a prominent local politician whose daughter is out robbing the citizenry. Maybe the press would find that interesting. Let’s give ‘em a call. See what some outside pressure does to our lab rats. They’re out of money and out of time. Soon, they’ll be out of options. When they have nowhere else to go, they’ll come crawling to me on their hands and knees.”

  “You sure?” Ferguson sipped his coffee.

  “Ferg, it’s like this. Melissa Mills, daughter of the likely next mayor, possibly being involved in taking a time mach
ine that has already been recovered? Her lawyer father will have a rational explanation for that before the newscaster finishes reading the announcement.” Findlay waved his hands. “ ‘It’s all a big misunderstanding, folks.’ It’s embarrassing, but it mostly just hurts Melissa. Now, a news story about Melissa robbing a Radio Shack? Maybe getting arrested? Oh, that hurts Daddy. Big shot wants to be mayor but can’t control his own daughter.” He chuckled. “She won’t want that to happen. Trust me, when word of that gets out, she’ll fold in an instant.” He plopped into a chair, a grin stretching across his face. “And she’ll get the rest of them to fold, too.”

  Invigorated, he rocked forward and pulled the computer keyboard close. “Let’s see what the after hours number for the Tampa Tribute is.”

  * * * * *

  As we jogged to the stadium, Melissa in front and I enjoying the view, I considered at what point I might switch sides.

  I wasn’t at all sure Barry’s plan to reacquire the time machine would work, and if it didn’t, there was a good chance it would disappear for good. I’d never get my chance for a trip and all my hard work would be wasted. I’d never be able to pay back all the money I’d borrowed. I’d disgrace the family name just like my grandfather did, something I wasn’t sure I could live down. It ruined him.

  My stomach was a knot. I wasn’t sure I could trust a deal with Findlay, either. He might take my money and run off with it, leaving me just as disgraced and even worse off financially.

  Worst of all, I was in too deep to bail out.

  We neared the Sun Dome sidewalk. I was almost out of breath. Melissa’s bouncing booty showed no sign of slowing.

  “Peeky, can you keep up?”

  I gasped. “I… have a rule… about talking… while I run.”

  “Oh yeah?” She glanced over her shoulder. “What’s that?”

  “I… can’t do it.”

  “Okay, I’ll stop talking. We’re almost there.”

  “Still… talking”

  We neared the main gutter column. She glanced around. “Get ready.”

  A shadow from some trees crossed our path and created a dark spot all the way to the stadium dumpsters. When we reached it, Melissa made a hard left turn and ducked behind the trash bins. Seconds later, I was there, too.

  I could see her silhouette heaving as she caught her breath. “Let’s hold up for a second.”

  I nodded, my hands on knees as I sucked in air as fast as I could. She peeked around the dumpsters. “Doesn’t seem like anything unusual’s happening.”

  Barry’s voice came over Melissa’s radio. “How are we doing?”

  “We’re good.” She kept the radio to her face for a moment. “We’ll catch our second wind and start up the gutter. How is it from your side?”

  “Perfect. I don’t see anything.”

  I bristled. “Tell him to move to where he can see, then.”

  Melissa grinned. “He means he doesn’t see anything out of place.” Then the smile left her face. She held the radio to her mouth again. “You do mean you don’t see anything out of place, right Barry?”

  “That’s right. And let’s try not to use our names.”

  “Damn.” I snapped my fingers. “We should have thought up code names.”

  Melissa looked at me. “Who do you want to be? Red Dog One?”

  I shook my head. “You can be Red Dog One.”

  “I’m no dog, period.”

  The radio crackled. “Peeky can be yellow dog.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Melissa put the radio back in her pocket. “I’ll tell you later. Ready to climb up a giant gutter?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She turned to the stadium gutter, looming large before us.

  “Melissa, should I climb up you, or should you climb up me?”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “You climb up me, then turn around and help me pull myself up.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I did gymnastics in high school. I can get up that thing with a little help.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Could you pull yourself up that column?”

  I shrugged. “Again, chess club fails me.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  * * * * *

  “Tampa Tribute news desk.”

  Findlay sat up straight in his chair, nearly drooling on the desk with delight. “Hi, I have some interesting information that your political beat reporter might be interested in. Can you patch me through?”

  “We have forty-five different political races going on right now, sir. Can you tell me which one this involves?”

  “This is for the Tampa mayor’s race, regarding candidate Mills.”

  “Candidate Mills. Got it. Let me see which reporter we have assigned to that race. Just a moment.”

  “Sure, take your damn time, darlin’. Like I’ve got all night.” Findlay leaned back and rubbed his nose, snorting. “But this information is a bombshell, and it won’t wait. So maybe get me connected now or I’m on the phone to your competitors in three minutes.”

  * * * * *

  Barry stared at the dark spot on the stadium gutter where Melissa and Peeky should have been.

  There was a loud knock on the driver’s window. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

  A uniformed officer.

  Barry rolled down the window. “Yes, sir?” It was a bicycle cop. That’s why he hadn’t seen him approach.

  “Sorry, I need you to move the vehicle. You can't park here.”

  “Oh, okay.” He peered over at the Sun Dome. Melissa had finally gotten over to the gutter and was helping Peeky up.

  The officer shined a flashlight into the truck. “Everything all right here?”

  “Uh, sorry. Just letting off a little steam after a fight with the girlfriend. Thought I’d park and cool off for a while.”

  The officer clipped his flashlight back into its holder. “Well, you can't cool off here, pal.”

  “No problem, sir.” He started the engine.

  * * * * *

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, are you the reporter covering the mayoral race in Tampa?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, sweetie, I have some news that’s gonna blow your socks off.” Findlay rubbed his hands together, holding the phone with his shoulder. “Get this. The daughter of the so-called next mayor of Tampa has been implicated in the theft of university property at USF, so she went on the run. Now, the Tampa Police Department has just reported that Melissa Mills was 100% positively identified as one of three people involved in holding up a Radio Shack just north of the USF campus.” He chuckled. “Does that sound like something the Trib would be interested in?”

  “It definitely does. I can guarantee you, the Trib would be interested in learning more about your story, Mister—what did you say your name was?”

  “Chris Findlay. And you are?”

  “My name is Janice Peterson.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The climb up the gutter was harder than it looked. It was a continuous concrete shaft over 100 feet long, just wide enough for a person to walk in. The gutter’s concrete side walls would hide us as we worked our way up—if we crouched—but it was installed at a steep angle, so it was a difficult climb. Melissa managed to hunch over as she ran up the dirty gray shaft, so I tried to follow suit. She was at the top before I even got half way.

  Gasping, I arrived at the buttress where the gutter met the roof. It was as Barry had described, a concrete wall about six feet high, but it had seemed much smaller from the ground.

  Melissa was staring at the parking lot.

  “What’s happening?” I wiped the sweat off my brow and squatted next to her, peering at the empty lot. “I thought I heard a car.”

  “You did. Barry… moved the truck.”

  A twinge of fear shot through my belly. “He left us?”

  “He didn’t leave us. Barry wouldn’t do that.”

 
; “Then where’s the truck?”

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We still have a job to do.” Standing in front of the concrete buttress, she reached up and ran her fingers along the top.

  I pointed at the Cinderalla walkie talkie in her pocket. “Call him on the radio.”

  “I tried. There was no answer.”

  “Then how do you know he didn’t just leave?”

  Her head whipped around. “I know that the same way I know you wouldn’t leave if you were in the truck.” She pointed at the empty lot. “Something’s happened, that’s all. A temporary glitch.” She turned her face to the concrete. “He’ll be there when we need him to be, just like you would be.”

  I swallowed, holding back the guilt. “Okay, you’re right. What’s next?”

  She sniffled. “Help me over this stupid wall.” She jumped up and grabbed the top, swinging her leg to catch the lip.

  “It’s a big buttress, not a wall.”

  “Who are you saying has a big butt? Because it’s a long way down, fella.”

  “No, no, I mean—forget it.” I grabbed a handful of her rear end and shoved.

  “Hey! Watch the hands.” In an instant, she was laying on the top, a bent leg on each side like the buttress was a concrete horse. She held out her hand. “Grab hold and pull yourself over.”

  * * * * *

  Janice Peterson set down her notebook and leaned forward, pressing her cell phone to her ear. “Mr. Findlay, that is quite an interesting story you have there. How do I know if any of it’s true?”

  “Oh, it’s true all right, lady. I have pictures, videos, cell phone records, you name it. So is this front page material or what?”

  “Possibly. As it happens, I’m working very closely with Mr. Mills’ campaign for the paper.” She looked at the file folder of notes she’d accumulated on the Mills family. “This is the kind of information that can change the course of an election, depending on how it’s handled. But I’d need exclusivity. Only The Tampa Tribute gets your story and your information. And I’d need that in writing.”

  “You got a deal. How soon can we meet?”

  “I can send you an exclusivity agreement right now, and you can send me what you have. We can meet tomorrow morning to go over the details. How’s 11am?”