Box Set - The Time Magnet Series

by Russell Moran

  Apparently, the American authorities at LaGuardia were as surprised as I was. My agents tell me that the aircraft was piloted by a woman who called herself a Navy admiral. She was accompanied by a tall handsome fellow who she introduced as her husband. My men have reported to me some odd facts they overheard from conversations. According to what they've heard, the airplane can fly at speeds over 1,100 miles per hour, almost twice the speed of sound. These stories are so outlandish that I have ordered my agents to continue to follow up on them.

  But whoever flew this plane, one thing is certain; the Americans have invented an amazing new type of aircraft.

  And it's my job to learn everything possible about it, and to report back to Berlin.

  Chapter 31

  “General Mumford, sir, Admiral Patterson's escort pilots are here to see you.”

  Mumford led the two officers to an office at the base of the control tower. Although the air temperature was a pleasant 64 degrees inside the building, Mumford was sweating heavily. Auras of perspiration were visible at the armpits of his uniform.

  “Gentlemen, I'm not going to ask you a bunch of obvious questions. You two are experienced pilots, so I'll make it simple. What the hell happened to Admiral Patterson's plane? Lieutenant Jackson, you go first.”

  “I wish I had some details to give you, sir, but the simple truth is that one moment the plane was there, and the next it was gone. We saw no parachutes, heard or saw no explosion, and saw no debris in the water, even though we circled the possible crash location repeatedly.”

  “How long between your last contact with Admiral Patterson's plane and the time you noticed it missing?”

  “No longer than one minute, sir. During the flight I turned regularly to look at the plane, and I distinctly recall seeing Admiral Patterson wave to me. A minute later the plane was gone.”

  “Is that what you recall, Lieutenant Lopez?”

  “Yes, sir. My recollection is exactly the same as Lieutenant Jackson's.”

  “But there’s another thing to report, sir,” said Jackson.

  “Well, go ahead,” said Mumford.

  “There was another plane, sir, another F-18. It was tailing Admiral Patterson.”

  “Another plane?” shouted Mumford. “I had no information about another aircraft other than you two.”

  “Neither did we, sir. We assumed you knew about it. But we both saw it. And it disappeared just like Admiral Patterson’s plane.”

  “Okay, you guys have told me what your senses have told you. Here's my next question. Forgetting what you saw or didn't see, what is your guess, your opinion, of what happened?”

  “General,” said Jackson. “I know this will sound insane, but this situation is insane. I've studied all about that strange Gray Ship incident a few years ago, where then Captain Patterson and Jack Thurber claim to have slipped through a time portal or wormhole and travelled back in time. A Naval Board of Inquiry consisting of a bunch of admirals believed them. I'm sure you're familiar with the event.”

  “Of course,” said Mumford, “the whole world is familiar with the event. What's your point, lieutenant?”

  “Well, sir, you asked for my opinion, and here it is. Admiral Patterson's plane slipped through a wormhole and is now in a different time.”

  “Lopez?”

  “I concur with Lieutenant Jackson, sir. They've traveled in time.”

  “Admiral Patterson and Jack Thurber are good friends of mine. I've heard about this time travel business directly from them. I never once thought they were lying, even though I couldn't wrap my mind around the concept. But I think you guys may have stumbled on the truth, unbelievable as it may appear. So the three of us have come to the same conclusion. I have one final question, which you can answer or not.”

  “Sir?” they both said.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this information?”

  They both shrugged and held out their hands.

  “Thanks, fellas. Get your orders from the captain of the Lincoln and take off.”

  Chapter 32

  The phone rang and again I had to run to pick it up.

  “Ashley, it's Ike Tanner. I know you just had dinner with us last night, but I have a special request. My mother is due here from Germany this afternoon, and I’d love to have you and Jack meet her.”

  “Ike,” I said, “your beautiful house is beginning to look like our private dining room. I feel like we'd be imposing.”

  “Ashley, you're a fellow admiral and I can't give you orders, but please come to dinner tonight to meet my mom. You and Jack are responsible for her getting out of Berlin. It would mean a lot to me. Please?”

  At 6 PM, we tapped on the door of the Commandant's house using the brass knocker. We were about to have our third meal in four days with the Tanners. They're lovely people and great company, but both Jack and I felt like we were over indulging in the Tanners’ hospitality. But Ike was insistent. We brought an expensive bottle of Scotch, which we knew that Ike enjoyed. Jack and I wore our officer's blue uniforms in honor of the special lady who Ike wanted us to meet.

  Shiri welcomed us at the door, and not a moment too soon. The wind had shifted with an incoming cold front and the October evening had a feeling of early winter. We were beginning to feel like old friends with Shiri. She escorted us into the den where Margie, Ike, and an elderly lady, whom we assumed was Ike's mother, were sitting.

  If I had to guess, I would estimate Sylvia Tanner's age to be in her mid-70s. She was slender, impeccably dressed, and wore her steel gray hair in a familiar 1940s bun. When she saw us she got up from her chair as sprightly as a 30-year-old.

  “So these are the wonderful friends you told me about,” she said as she hugged each of us.

  “Such a pretty girl in her cute Navy uniform. Are you a nurse, honey?”

  We all cracked up, although Ike shook his head in embarrassment.

  “Mom,” Ike said as he held out my arm. Does this stripe look familiar? Ashley is an admiral, just like me. She's also a pilot. Jack is her husband and a lieutenant. They're our special friends.”

  “Oy, have I missed Brooklyn. Those Nazi schmoes would just as soon lock up such a pretty lady than salute her. And she's married to such a handsome boychik. The Brown Shirts would be meshugga about this.”

  ***

  “Mom, you're a born comedian and I love how you make people laugh, but we have some serious things to discuss.”

  “They make him an admiral and now he yells at his poor mother.”

  Ike walked over to Sylvia and gave her a kiss and a hug. She laughed and reached up to muss his hair. It's obvious that these two have a great relationship.

  “Mom, the reason I used my contacts to get you out of Germany is because of Ashley and Jack. We all know, and you know first-hand, what's going on in Germany. I keep reading the news accounts, but they seem to be heavily censored.”

  “The Nazis would censor birthday cards if they could,” said Sylvia.

  “Ashley and Jack convinced Margie and me that the situation in Germany is getting critical, not only for world peace, but for Jews in particular. These two folks have a historical perspective that the rest of us lack. They know what's coming, and it isn't pretty.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Sylvia. “You're not talking about that crazy time travel business that your lovely wife wrote a book about, are you?”

  “Yes, mom, I am. Ashley and Jack have come to us from the future, 2016 to be exact. They landed at LaGuardia Airport a few days ago in an aircraft that looks like something from science fiction. Margie and I believe them. Jack, in his life in the future, even wrote a book about time travel based largely on Margie's book. I know that sounds crazy, but we believe it's all true.”

  “It's not completely crazy, Ikey,” said Sylvia. “As you well know, I was a physics professor before your dear father died. I would still be teaching today except those Nazi criminals took over the university and fired me. I've read Margie's book, as you may remember
from the excellent review I gave it in The New York Times. I'm not totally convinced that time travel is possible, but Margie made a great case.”

  Jack and I looked at each other, wide eyed. Sylvia Tanner was becoming a different person before our eyes. A physics professor? She obviously gets a kick out of playing on her old Brooklyn roots, with her speech well sprinkled with Yiddish phrases, but we suddenly realized that we were talking to one smart cookie, a serious intellectual forced into retirement by the Nazis.

  “Mom, I'm going to ask Ashley and Jack to discuss our future. It's their past, so they know a thing or two about it. We have some things to worry about.”

  “I'm a Jew, Ikey. I'm good at worrying.”

  “Mrs. Tanner,” said Jack.

  “Call me Sylvia, handsome. Don't make me feel so old.”

  “Of course, Sylvia. Please call me Jack. Ashley and I have time travelled before. It's a strange phenomenon, but it's real. We can tell you all about our travels later, but for now I want to concentrate on the upcoming crisis. Shortly before Ashley and I landed at LaGuardia, we realized we had gone through a wormhole. I think you're familiar with that term from Margie's book. The thing that concerns us, actually frightens us, is that we encountered the portal in the air, in the sky. For various reasons, the equipment on our plane can’t give us an accurate navigational position to show us how to go back through the wormhole. We have an instrument on the plane known as a Flight Data Recorder or a Black Box, but we can't find out what's in it.”

  “My guess, young man, is that you're worried about reading digital data with the equipment we use today. I assume your instruments are digital, something that's being experimented with only now in 1940. I understand. That's a real problem. And I'm also guessing that the fuel your aircraft needs hasn't been refined yet.”

  Jack and I just sat there, dumbfounded and probably looking stupid with our mouths open. Little old Sylvia had just gotten the scientific impact of our problem after only a few words from Jack. When I first met this lady a half-hour ago, I wouldn’t have guessed that she was a scientist.

  “I told you folks that my mother was smart. She just likes to put on the old Jewish haberdasher way of speaking. She's really brilliant.”

  “Hey, Ikey. For the last 10 years in Berlin I had to watch what I said and how I said it, always wondering if a Brown Shirt would be nearby. Now I'm enjoying being back in my old Brooklyn, and if I want to use some Yiddish words, put up with it – boychik!”

  “So, before Admiral Mensch over here interrupted me,” Sylvia continued, “let me just say that I understand your problem. I've been reviewing the literature on the advances that have been made with the mathematics of digital technology, and I think I may be able to come up with some useful ideas. I already have some ideas. Sound good to you, handsome?”

  “Oy,” said Jack.

  ***

  “Sylvia, Jack has just introduced you to one of the parts of our mission” I said. “Yes, as a military person I think in terms of missions. So one part of our mission is to figure out a way to get back to where we came from. I have to say, Sylvia, that you have my heart pounding with your comments on digital technology. But I think it's important to talk about the other part of the mission. Simply put, our mission is to warn. As Americans and military officers it's our duty. Our past is your future, and we know what the future will bring. The next few years are going to be hell, Sylvia, and if you're a Jew, hell doesn't quite describe it. What Hitler will do to the Jews of Europe will become known as The Holocaust. Six million Jews will die at the hands of the Nazis. Thank your son that you won't be one of them.”

  “Oh my God,” said Sylvia, her eyes tearing, “will America go to war with Germany?”

  “Yes, Sylvia,” said Jack. “On December 7, 1941, Japan will attack our naval base at Pearl Harbor. The next day President Roosevelt will declare war on Japan and, because of Germany’s treaty with Japan, Hitler will declare war on the United States four days after that. The war will last four years and 80 million will die, including 55 million civilians.”

  “Can this be stopped, can you help us to stop this?” said Sylvia, dabbing at a tear with her handkerchief.

  “All we can do is warn people,” I said. “We've warned Ike and Margie, and now you. What Jack and I can do is limited. We're a couple of time travelers, and most people will think we're crazy. The warnings to the government will have to start with Ike.”

  Chapter 33

  “Ikey,” said Sylvia. “I know just the person you all have to meet.”

  “Oh no, not him, mom.”

  “Yes, him. Nigel Blake.”

  “Mom,” said Ike, as he leaned forward in his seat. “The man is insane. He has no credibility, even with the newspaper reporters who love to write about his latest caper. Nobody listens to him. I doubt he even listens to himself.”

  “Who is this man?” I asked.

  “He's a famous eccentric,” said Margie. “He’s an Englishman, but holds American citizenship and he lives here in New York. I don't know if I agree with Ike that Blake is insane, but he's quite eccentric. He's one of the wealthiest men in the country, possibly the wealthiest. Blake's an industrialist, with investments in everything from railroads to shipping. He’s also an inventor. I read somewhere that he holds over 50 patents for things he dreamed up. He also claims to be a time traveler. I interviewed him for my time travel book A Time Away.”

  “The man is a genius,” said Sylvia. “He's the smartest person I've ever met in my life, and that includes my son and daughter-in-law.”

  Margie went to a bookshelf and retrieved her book. She flipped to the index.

  “Listen to this,” Margie said, quoting from her book. “Of all of the people who I interviewed for this book, the most fascinating is none other than the famous industrialist Nigel Blake. He claimed that he crossed different wormholes a total of 10 times. The most distant time he encountered, according to Blake, was the Jurassic Era, about 200 million years ago. He also claims to have journeyed to the future, to the year 2014.”

  “Wow,” said Jack. “I remember reading about this guy in your book, and wishing I could interview him for my book. If you give Ashley and me two minutes with this guy we can tell you if he's authentic or not.”

  “I didn't think about that,” said Margie.

  “I did,” said Sylvia. “Do you think I didn't remember your book?”

  “I take back what I said about Blake,” said Ike. “I still think he’s a crackpot, but if he claimed to have visited 2014, who better to verify the facts around that year than our two friends from 2016. You folks aren’t the only people who have predicted the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor next year. Nigel Blake claimed that he learned about it on his time journey to 2014, but nobody believes him.”

  “I can make contact with him,” said Margie. “We had a pleasant interview, and I didn't go too rough on him in my book. If I tell him that I have a couple of time travelers who'd like to meet him, he'll drop everything to see us.”

  Chapter 34

  “It’s time we celebrated,” said Ike. “How about a little song, Margie?”

  “I think I’ll sing about something to take our minds off the cold air outside.”

  With that, Margie launched into a beautiful rendition of “Summertime” from Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess.

  Jack sat on the piano seat nursing his cognac.

  “Hey handsome,” said Sylvia, “how about a little accompaniment for our wonderful songstress?”

  Jack, who doesn’t play the piano, let out a laugh. But then he turned on his seat to face the piano and began to play. I’ve always loved Gershwin, but I couldn’t believe what Jack was doing. The piano accompaniment to “Summertime” is subtle and gentle, and Jack played it as if it were part of him. When Jack and Margie finished, everybody applauded. I’m not sure if I did – I was stunned.

  Ike then walked over to the wall and took out his clarinet.

  “Hey Jack, how about ‘Rhapsody i
n Blue’?” Ike said.

  Jack and Ike began their duet, with Jack playing the piano again.

  I closed my eyes and recalled sitting in Carnegie Hall a few years ago listening to Van Cliburn. Jack was better. What other secrets has Jack been hiding from me, I wondered.

  The evening wore on, with Jack commanding the piano, Ike on the clarinet, Margie singing, and Sylvia doing a lovely turn with a violin. I listened to An Evening in Paris, more selections from Porgy and Bess and Three Preludes.

  I’d never experienced a greater evening of music in my life. My emotions were getting the best of me, especially from hearing my amazing husband using a talent I never knew he had. As I wiped a tear away from my eye, I noticed Margie looking at me and smiling.

  “I hope I’m not catching something,” I lied.

  At 11:30, the evening was coming to an end. Jack and I bundled up to face the cold late October wind. The short walk from the Tanner house to ours was a struggle against a temperature in the 30s and a stiff wind in our faces. We couldn’t talk, but just held each other as we got to our house.

  We walked through the door and took off our coats, welcoming the warmth of the steam radiators. Without saying anything, I threw my arms around Jack’s neck and hugged him.

  “Hey, Maestro, what else have you been keeping from me? I can’t believe you played almost the entire Gershwin repertoire without looking at a note. I thought I knew everything about you, but tonight I learned that you’re a world class pianist.”

  Jack had a furrowed brow. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t responding to my praise for his beautiful music. Jack looked upset, even scared.

  “Hey, honey, what’s the matter?” I said as I held his face in both hands.

  “Ashley, that’s the first time I ever played the piano in my life. In–my–life. I didn’t read the music because I don’t know how to read music. It just happened.”