“Wow, that is strange. My weapons guy approached me last month about the same thing. It seemed logical as hell. You don’t want to have humidity around weapons and ammunition. Like
you, I just approved it. It’s probably just a matter of being overcautious, something I appreciate from a guy in charge of a lot of fire power.”
Chapter 17
As head of the New York field office of the FBI Joint Terrorism Task Force, Paul Rizzuto is a busy man. Bennie warned us not to be surprised at the guy’s calm demeanor. I guess that such a high voltage job requires composure when things can erupt into chaos at any moment.
Rizzuto’s office is located on the West Side of Manhattan at a location I’m not supposed to disclose so I won’t.
We met Janice in the lobby at 9:45 AM. She wore a business suit, but something about the way clothes fitted her it could have been a bikini. The lobby was pure Functional Federal. Nowhere on the walls or floor was anything about the JTTF. It could have been a post office. We then began our tour of security check points and metal detectors.
A young Asian woman gave us a cheery hello and opened the door to Rizzuto’s office. It was large, not for ceremonial purposes but to accommodate hastily called meetings. On one wall hung an enlarged photograph of the Twin Towers on fire. On the opposite wall hung a beautiful photo of the towers when they were still upright. I assumed that this is an ongoing reminder for Rizzuto of the purpose of his job. Paul Rizzuto, about 45 years old, walked from behind his desk and shook all of our hands, smiling broadly. Bennie, who’s often worked with Rizzuto, rated a slap on the shoulder. Ben was right, the guy had a sense of calmness about him. His default facial expression was a smile, and when he spoke his speech and mannerisms didn’t let
you know he was a hardened cop. If you were a movie booking agent looking for an FBI honcho, Rizzuto wouldn’t get the job.
“So, Bennie, I see that you’ve acquired some interesting new friends. The little bit of information you told me on the phone yesterday has me intrigued. So what’s up?”
Bennie introduced us.
“Jack Thurber here is a famous journalist from the Washington Times."
“Ben, excuse me but I thought that Mr. Thurber was aboard the Lincoln when it blew up. I hate to be impolite, Mr. Thurber, but I thought you were dead.”
“Well, yeah, more about that later, Paul,” Bennie said.
“Wally Burton is with The New York Times. You probably recognize his name.”
"I do," said Rizzuto. "You do fine work, Mr. Burton. You’d make a good cop."
“And Janice Monahan is an engineer. She was married to Joseph Monahan, the weapons officer on the Abraham Lincoln,” Ben said.
“Bennie, my old friend, can you give me an executive overview of what we’re meeting about?”
“You asked for it, Paul, and here it is. We’ve uncovered evidence about the Thanksgiving Attacks and how they may have happened, including the possibility that at least one of the bombers is still alive. Also, Jack Thurber has some thoughts on how to prevent it.”
“Ben, what do you mean prevent it? The attacks were almost two years ago.”
“Paul, when I told you we were gonna blow your mind, I wasn’t kidding.”
“I’ll let Jack Thurber take over. Do you remember Jack from all of that nonstop coverage of the Gray Ship incident in 2013?”
“Of course I do,” said Rizzuto. “Anybody with the least bit of curiosity would remember it. It was the most amazing story I’d ever heard. I must admit, it has me rethinking my idea that time travel is impossible. Please go on Mr. Thurber, Jack if I may. Please call me Paul.”
As Bennie predicted, I then proceeded to blow Paul Rizzuto’s mind. I gave him a summary of my time travel experiences and then, with Ben, Wally, and Janice contributing, I reviewed what we know about the attacks, including the possibility that Joseph Monahan may have become a terrorist and could still be alive. We also discussed the air conditioners for the weapons departments, and how five of them were ordered, presumably one for each of the targeted ships.
“Paul, I’ve come here from the past, from the year 2015,” I said. “You thought I was dead. I should be dead, but I traveled through time before the attacks. Yes, all reports tell us that Jack Thurber was a civilian guest on the Abraham Lincoln to enjoy a Thanksgiving meal with his wife, Captain Ashley Patterson. So everything we know, now in 2017, tells us that I’m dead, Ashley’s dead, and so are over 26,000 other people. But I’m very much alive as you can see. My friend Bennie knows me better than anybody. He can tell you it’s me, including an identifying scar on my left arm.”
Rizzuto turned to Bennie and raised his eyebrows.
“It’s him, Paul. The fucker’s not kidding.”
“So Jack, forgetting for the moment my understandable skepticism, why are you here? Do you have information to share so we can prevent another attack?”
“No, Paul. Yes, I want to share information as well as gather a lot more. But my objective, my sole objective, is to find the time portal, or wormhole as we call it, return to 2015 and prevent the attacks. Bottom line. I want to go back and change history.”
Rizzuto stood and walked over to his window. He had a great view of the Hudson River. I think he wanted to go for a sail, anything to get away from this weirdness. He walked back to his desk and massaged his face with his hands.
“I’m in the business of helping to keep our country safe,” said Rizzuto, “to stop terrorists from killing us. By definition, my business lives in the future. I want to keep things from happening that haven’t happened yet. Now my head feels like it’s floating. You tell me you’re alive, that you’re Jack Thurber, the Pulitzer Prize winner and time travel expert. Our mutual friend Bennie Weinberg agrees with you.”
He stroked his face with his hands again. “Before we go any further, I want to show you something.”
Rizzuto hit a button and a large screen dropped down from the ceiling about 10 feet from a wall. He then accessed a video file on his hard drive and it flashed on the screen. The video was taken by a CNN news crew and uploaded to satellite where it was then downloaded to various news desks. A festive scene unfolded before us with a bunch of people walking up the gangplank of an aircraft carrier. You could see the captain, who everybody knew was Ashley Patterson, climbing the steps in her dress white uniform. Behind her was a tall man in civilian clothes. Rizzuto froze the video. There was a close-up shot of me waving to the camera.”
“Does anybody recognize that handsome fella?”
“Oh my God, yes,” said Janice. (Janice, please chill!)
“You can see the time stamp in the lower right corner of the screen," said Rizzuto. “The time is noon, three hours before the ship was destroyed. The next scene is a dining space on the Lincoln, showing Captain Patterson, her husband Jack, and other guests about to have Thanksgiving dinner. The scene was shot at sea off the coast of New Jersey at 2:45 PM, 15 minutes before the detonation.” He froze the video. “And there is our friend Jack Thurber. But here is the most troubling part of the video. Notice that everybody is still sitting around the table and what looks like mashed potatoes are being served. And there’s Jack, enjoying himself. The time is now 3 PM as you can see from the time stamp. Please brace yourselves folks.”
There was an ear shattering sound and then, with a sudden rasp, the screen went blank.
“We just witnessed the death of the man sitting in front of me,” said Rizzuto.
I hadn’t seen the video before, obviously. I fought a sudden wave of nausea. Janice burst out crying. Bennie kept shaking his head, saying, “Holy shit.”
I turned to Janice. When she stopped crying I said, “No, I didn’t miss the sailing. I wasn’t somehow spared.”
“Well folks, I’m a lawyer, trained in logic. What we’ve just seen tells us that Jack Thurber was killed in the Thanksgiving Attacks. And the only logical explanation for the fact that Jack Thurber is here with us is his story of travelling through time. I hereb
y file my skepticism in the drawer. You’ve convinced me that the impossible happened. You’ve also convinced me that it can be stopped. Jack Thurber wants to change history. God help us. God help us to help him.”
Chapter 18
“We need to move fast,” Rizzuto said, “but first there are details. I have to contact Sarah Watson, the FBI Director. I’ll suggest to her that I also contact Bill Carlini, the CIA Director. Sarah will clear it with the White House.”
“I’m going to recommend to Director Watson that we deputize each of you as provisional FBI agents. That brings up the issue of security clearances. First I need to know, do any of you have a handgun permit? I know Bennie does, of course, and he also has clearance. He’s a regular around here. I’ll start with Jack.”
“Yes,” I said, “I have a gun permit, and as a recent naval officer in a ship’s communications department I had a pretty high clearance, Top Secret I think.”
“Wally?”
“I have a concealed carry permit,” Wally said, “and I went through a security clearance check recently for an article I wrote about the Army.”
“Great. That leaves you Janice,” Said Rizzuto.
“Yes, I have a pistol permit,” said Janice. “After the attacks personal safety became an issue with me. I’m also an expert marksman, if that’s important. As far as security clearances, as recently as three years ago I was lead consultant on a new HVAC system for the Pentagon. I held a Top Secret clearance.”
Ben, Wally, and I just stared at Janice. This lady is no slouch, I thought.
“Excellent,” said Rizzuto. “I’m going to fast track your clearances. From what you’ve told me I don’t think we’ll have a problem. Shortly, each of you will become deputy FBI agents. I want to be straight with you folks. This mission could be dangerous. We’re looking for evidence of mass murder, and possibly for the murderers themselves. My conversations with Director Watson and Director Carlini of the CIA will be frank and thorough. They need to know Jack’s intentions. For that they need to be instructed on time travel, so obviously Jack Thurber will have to be with me when I meet them.”
***
“We also need to get clear on Jack’s cover,” Rizzuto said. “Jack, after your involvement in that Gray Ship incident, your face was plastered all over newspapers, magazines, and TV screens worldwide. It’s inevitable that someone will recognize you. So you won’t be a journalist named, what was it, Jack Harper? You’ll be Jack Thurber. If anyone questions you, thinking you’re dead, just say that you missed the sailing and have been away for the last two years. That’s a hell of a lot easier than trying to explain time travel. Everybody okay with that?”
We all agreed.
Chapter 19
My name is Janice Monahan, a name that I hate. I’ll change it back to my maiden name, Kelly, as soon as my lawyer tells me the name-change petition has been granted. The last few days of my life have been strange. Too strange. I’ve been interviewed once again about the Thanksgiving Attacks of 2015 by three guys posing as reporters from The New York Times. Well, one of them actually is with the Times.
But one guy I recognized immediately, the famous writer Jack Thurber. I know this sounds stupid, maybe even childish, but I’m falling in love with Jack. How can I fall in love with a guy who I’ve only met a couple of times? There’s something about the man that attracts me like I’ve never been attracted to anyone before. Any curbstone psychoanalyst will say that I’m just on the rebound from a bad marriage. Bad marriage? What if you found out that your husband murdered thousands of people and then vanished? Yeah, I’d say it was a bad marriage. Some women discover, after the wedding day, that her husband snores, drinks too much, cheats on her, or likes to gamble. But mass murder? That’s bad.
Jack Thurber is a wonderful man. Besides his good looks, he’s got a way about him that tells you he’s the real deal, a man you can trust, a man you can love. I can’t stop looking at him. When we separate after a meeting I miss him, I miss him as if he were a soldier who went off to war, even though we’d scheduled another meeting for the next day.
There’s one problem, though, a big one. Jack insists he’s travelled here from the past and that he was killed along with his wife in the Thanksgiving Attack on the Abraham Lincoln. I admit that I’ve seen some evidence that looked pretty convincing that his story has some truth to it, but I’m still not persuaded. I still think that he must have missed the ship’s sailing and that he’s here, in the flesh, and not some apparition from another time. I want to help this guy. I want to spend time with him.
I’ve told Jack that I will help him find that wormhole thingy and go back to 2015 and save the day, but my rational brain tells me that his story is a fantasy made up by a guy who’s been traumatized by the death of a beautiful wife.
I’m not a love-struck teenager, but a grown woman, almost 37. I have a math degree from Princeton, an M.S. and a PhD in engineering from MIT. I’m a left-brained empiricist. Show me the facts and I’ll put them together for you. I own an engineering consulting company that specializes in heating and air conditioning systems. Sounds boring? I get paid a ton of money for what I do, and I find it fascinating. So here I am contemplating time travel.
Bullshit.
I’ve read that there’s a phenomenon called survivor’s guilt, common among military people who have lost a friend in combat. It’s a psychological burden that a person carries with him when he lost a buddy and somehow managed to survive himself. I think Jack’s suffering from this. He knows he should have been on that ship when it was bombed, and he’s feeling guilty that his wife is dead and he lived. Somehow, despite a lot of evidence to the contrary, I think that Jack missed the sailing and is beating himself up over it because he lost not just a buddy, but the woman he loved.
Am I being honest with myself, or am I just making up my own story, a story that my heart wants to believe?
I’m not going through an easy time.
Chapter 20
We met at the office of Bill Carlini, Director of the CIA. Sarah Watson, Director of the FBI, had been on the job for just a month. Besides Carlini and Watson, also at the meeting were Paul Rizzuto of the New York Joint Terrorism Task Force, Wally, Ben, Janice, and myself. The four of us have taken to calling ourselves “The Thanksgiving Gang.” The gang sat on one side of the conference table and the Fed honchos on the other.
Turning to the CIA Director, Sarah Watson said, “Bill, I’m going to ask Paul Rizzuto to take the lead and bring us up to date.”
“Today’s meeting will be one you will never forget,” said Rizzuto. “Rather than explain why, I’m going to ask our journalist friend and provisional FBI Agent Jack Thurber to tell the story of what’s happened to date.”
After thanking Rizzuto, I walked to the head of the conference table, cleared my throat, and told THE STORY.
I’ve noticed that everybody who hears a guy say he’s traveled from another time has the same reaction. Sneering disbelief. Can you blame them? No matter how many amazing and tumultuous things happen to us, like 9/11 or the Thanksgiving Attacks, “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” as Shakespeare said, “creeps in this petty pace.” Directors Watson and
Carlini were no different. The only thing that softened their reaction was their respect for Paul Rizzuto. Nevertheless, they launched their skeptic rockets.
“I hate to be so blunt in the presence of women, but do you expect us to believe this bullshit?” Carlini said.
“Well, I’m a woman and I second Director Bill’s question,” Sarah Watson said.
“If I may,” said Rizzuto, “when these folks were in my office I showed them a video that was made by CNN for its affiliates. It was supposed to be a simple piece of human interest fluff about a bunch of civilians going on a short Navy cruise. The video was never released because the CNN brass thought it would be too upsetting. Bless them, they were right. The public should never see this. I have the video on this flash drive, the video I’m talking about.”
/> He handed the flash drive to Carlini who slipped it into a USB port on his computer.
Rizzuto continued, “Now I want to preface this by saying that we’ve had this clip vetted by the best video experts we have. It’s authentic, and hasn’t been altered in any way.”
Watson lowered a viewing screen and the video played, showing me boarding the Lincoln behind Ashley, and then the dramatic scene at the table, the final moment of my life.
The room fell silent for a few awkward minutes.
“When I prepared for this meeting,” Carlini said, “I reviewed the findings of the Naval Board of Inquiry after that amazing Gray Ship incident in 2013. Jack Thurber here and his colleagues convinced nine hard-nosed Navy admirals that they had travelled through time. That, plus the video we’ve just seen, tells me that we may have to suspend our disbelief. Your thoughts, Director Watson?”
“Well, for the life of me, I can’t imagine why Jack Thurber would want to make this up. But let me address a question to Dr. Weinberg. Doctor, as a forensic psychiatrist you’ve done great work for the FBI on the many occasions we borrowed you from the NYPD. You’re famous for your ability to assess the truthfulness of a witness. I want to hear it from your mouth. Is Jack Thurber telling the truth?”
“Madam Director,” said Bennie, “as I’ve often reminded people, it’s not my job to spot the truth, but to tell if a witness believes it to be the truth. Based on my experience, you can take Jack Thurber’s words and inscribe them in stone. He’s not lying.”
“Okay,” said Carlini, “let me see if I can put all this together into an executive summary, which Director Watson and I will soon have to give to the president. Jack, you died in the Thanksgiving Attacks two years ago. Somehow, prior to the attacks, you slipped through a time portal and wound up here in 2017. You’ve done a lot of digging, with the help of your colleagues here, and you’re convinced that you can go back in time and prevent the Thanksgiving Attacks. Would you say that about sums it up?”
Box Set - The Time Magnet Series Page 32