Fate (Wilton's Gold #3)

by Craig W. Turner

  “You? Security?”

  “I received training,” he said, looking down at the table. Jeff was right. It had felt like a strange choice at the time. “The logic was that the first and foremost priority was preserving history, not taking down a potential runner. It was decided that historical acumen was preferable to fighting skills.”

  “I’d say both are probably important.”

  “And I would agree with you,” he said, not hiding his real opinion on the matter. “Anyway, the program moved forward and went along without incident until you decided you couldn’t help yourself anymore and took off for the Gold Rush.” He held his hands up. “I assume the Gold Rush, to be clear. I really have no way of knowing, for certain.”

  “Weren’t parameters put in place to protect against that?”

  Dexter laughed. “Well, nobody had access to the devices without security authorization except for a few people. Nobody expected an inside job.”

  “You would think they’d have been a little more cautious, with the dangers inherent.”

  “Not if the person creating the rules had ulterior motives.”

  Now Jeff laughed. “Ah. I see. And who creates the rules now?” He gnawed on a curly fry while Dexter tried to determine what he was insinuating. But Jeff continued, “I suppose figuring out what my motives are would be pretty important – especially since it appears that I never came back.”

  He nodded. “Though we thought this was you coming back. You have to understand that it’s really difficult to accept that this is not you. Or, the you that we knew... You know what I mean.”

  Jeff ate for a moment in silence, then took a swig from his beer. “Alright, I think I have a good idea what happened – or, at least a train of thought I can follow. What’s the situation you need help with? I’m assuming it’s a runner – another runner, besides me – since you didn’t answer that question when I asked.”

  Dexter took a deep breath. “A businessman named Benjamin Kane paid the USTP to visit 1930 to see the Empire State Building while it was being constructed.”

  “Wait – just for context – how many of these trips have been done?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Okay.”

  “As soon as we arrive, Kane hits me over the head with a bottle, takes my gun, and disappears into the crowd. As I’m searching for him, I hear a gunshot and run across 5th Avenue to see a man lying on the sidewalk, bleeding from his stomach. Kane had disappeared. The man, who eventually died, was an industrialist whose company competed with the Kane family for over 80 years.”

  “He wanted to eliminate the competition?”

  “So to speak, yes.”

  “You know this for sure? About the guy being a competitor of this Kane fellow?”

  Dexter sighed and shook his head slightly, staring past Jeff and out the window toward the parking lot. “No. I know their companies were competitors in the 1930s. I found that out while I was there by talking to a bystander, though it hadn’t come up in my research. But I never had reason to connect Kane to George Mellen, the man he murdered, before making the trip.”

  “And when you returned, that history was gone. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “This is a dangerous, dangerous game you’re playing,” Jeff said. “There could have been a thousand reasons that Kane went and killed that guy. But now we’ll never know. I thought you said there were rules about who could visit where?”

  “There were. There are. But Kane must have known, somehow, where the man would be on any given day on a crowded New York City street corner.” He shook his head, defending his work. “No way could that have shown up in the research.”

  Jeff wasn’t pinning blame, though. “So, why not just go back and stop him?”

  “Well, that’s the intent,” Dexter said, though he had major reservations that it was the right thing to do. “The Time Program leadership is squeamish about it though. Considering the science of it. One change was made, creating a new line of history. Would another change fix it – or only make it worse?”

  Jeff was nodding. He’d finished his burger. Dexter still had a full plate in front of him, for the most part. “So where do I fit in?” he asked.

  “You created the time travel rules. They want your guidance on this.”

  “Will that get me out of hot water for running?”

  “I suppose you’d have to negotiate that with them,” he said. Jeff nodded, then he looked past Dexter again, deep in thought. “We have something in common, you know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We both have a recollection of a history that no one else has.”

  Jeff turned his attention back to the front. “So you believe me now?”

  He shook his head. “Maybe. Let me rephrase. We both have recollections of other histories that no one else has.”

  “Oh. Big deal,” Jeff said, shaking his head and digging into his burger again.

  “It is a big deal. Think about the power that puts into our hands.”

  “Power?” Jeff said. “I can’t even get back to my own time. My own home. What kind of power do I have?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean,” Dexter said, particularly frustrated now since he’d had the power and hadn’t wielded it. “It’s not power I would ever want. But you’re telling me you saved the United States of America as we know it. Why would anyone believe that? I’ve told them that I witnessed a murder that had massive implications in our reality. I could’ve made up anything to tell them and there would be no way to prove me wrong. I didn’t even have to tell them anything. The histories that you and I know don’t exist in this reality.”

  “Did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Did you make it up?”

  “No, Jeff,” he said. “It actually happened. I wish it hadn’t.”

  “Off the top of my head, I’m not sure how my involvement helps,” Jeff said, finishing off the last of his beer.

  Dexter shook his head at his friend’s nonchalance. He was far too aloof about the entire situation. He hoped he’d take it more seriously – as seriously as Dexter did – once he was able to settle in. “The science of time travel is no longer about whether it can be done,” he said, keeping it real, and attempting to get Jeff focused. It was a question he’d spent a good amount of time considering since returning from the Kane trip, and he wanted them to be on the same page. “It’s about what happens when you do it. In theory, and based on the experiences you say you had, you are the foremost expert. We need your help. I need your help.”

  “Alright,” he said. “If it helps me get back to my own present time, I’m in.”

  “I can’t promise you anything.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jeff closed the door to his hotel room behind him and felt, for the first time in a long time, a little bit of freedom. It would be short-lived, of course, as first thing in the morning he’d be right back in the grips of the U.S. Time Program, which was apparently a catastrophe-waiting-to-happen that could unfortunately be traced directly back to him. It was an honor he most certainly didn’t want, and he’d already determined that much of his time going forward would be spent planning how to distance himself from it.

  What a horrible idea. He’d known all along, in his research and as he began his experiments, that playing with time travel was playing with fire. Actually, it was far worse than fire – more along the lines of playing with the sun. But he’d been able to control it by keeping the circle of people who knew about it small, and holding the opportunity for malfeasance to a minimum. Meaning no “fleet” of devices and security measures to ensure that if time travel got into the wrong hands, there was only so much those hands could do with it. He’d had one device. The software to determine the coordinates to enter into the time device had been kept on one computer. While he would admit that his intentions from the beginning hadn’t consistently been 100% pure, he had at least gone to gre
at lengths to ensure safety and security.

  Of course, the USTP would have plenty of security around the technology they’d taken from him, as well. But then they’d gone and introduced it to the public. Once the cat was out of the bag, there would be no turning back. The situation that Dexter had described to him about the businessman murdering his competition in the 1930s was just the start. There would be more problems. And they would have much greater impact.

  That was also assuming that they – they being the “good guys,” whoever they were – would have any idea that anything was taking place. Dexter, Evelyn Peters and himself were all manifestations of the worst parts of his time travel hypotheses, in that they’d all experienced histories that no one else on the planet had. Each of them was up-front enough to share what had happened, something they were under no moral obligation to do. People intending from the outset to use time travel to do harm would not be so forthcoming.

  Jeff realized that, as he’d been thinking, he’d wandered across the room and was staring out the window. It was not late, but being December it was dark already. He tried to remember what time of year he’d actually left when all of this had started. He remembered laying in the forest in the snow and frost in Russia after fleeing from Ekaterina, but he also remembered the dewy spring grass as he lay sprawled on General Belochkin’s lawn after absorbing the force of his tackle. Tracing the path of his travels, he ended up remembering walking into Congresswoman Rosa Rivera’s office in Queens, his friend Dexter by his side, neither of them tainted yet by alternate realities, evil intentions, or government agendas. It was the fall. It was cool – there was a chill in the air. He longed to be back there.

  Remembering that he only had a limited amount of time to relax before being thrown back into a completely undesirable situation, he sat on the bed and slowly took off his shoes. A wave of relief went through his body, and he wanted nothing more than to just lie back on the mattress and forget everything. But he knew that if he did that, he’d fall immediately asleep, and more than anything, he wanted some time to think without being grilled by an FBI agent with whom he thought he’d had a good relationship. Sleep was less important.

  He imagined what he might have left to him, three years into the future. His parents had passed away years ago, but at the time he’d disappeared his sister had been living in North Jersey, close to him. Beyond her, family was relegated to cousins who he rarely talked to, and his circle of friends, due to the all-encompassing nature of his work, had been small. He thought of Abby and Emeka, the other members of his time travel team, and wondered where their lives without him had taken them. Assuming his phone was bugged or he was otherwise being monitored, he wasn’t in the position to let anyone know just yet that he was alive and well, but he imagined how those close to him would react to the news.

  He hadn’t been given the opportunity to ask about the other details of his life – his house, car, savings, etc. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if they’d treated his disappearance as though he’d died, or as if one day he was there, and the next he just simply wasn’t around. It was the U.S. government he was dealing with, so he didn’t put anything past them in terms of retribution or, probably worse, absolution. He thought of all the movies he’d seen about soldiers anonymously dying in classified operations, and wondered if he’d been categorized in the same manner.

  He’d been able to access his bank account from Russia, which astounded him now that he knew a little bit more about his state of affairs, so at least some remnant of his existence had been preserved. He wished he had access to a computer so he could do some research, but Abby’s tablet had been taken away from him. There was little hope they’d allow him that kind of access yet. They’d want him quarantined as long as they could keep him that way.

  There was definitely a cat-and-mouse game afoot, and because of it, he didn’t know who he could trust. Even Dexter, who had tried to play “good cop” with him at dinner. He may have been genuine in wanting to understand Jeff’s situation and his intentions, but while there had been ample opportunity for Jeff to tell him what he’d really found in 1849, he’d decided to keep it quiet. For now, at least.

  He had a suspicion that Dexter knew more than he was letting on anyway. His line of questioning, his body language… What Jeff had told him at dinner – about Russia, about a woman who had lived 30 years twice because of time travel, about multiple versions of people in one place – was mind-blowing stuff. But nothing had seemed to surprise him. Jeff had deduced, or rather, accepted, during dinner that the Jeff that started the Time Program with Dexter was a different version of himself, following the path of a different reality than his own, although some of the history could have been the same. Though, there was no way of knowing what they might’ve had in common. In fact, it was possible that the other version of himself had never time traveled, and simply had experienced just one reality until the day he decided to run, for some reason. The fact that he had run, though, made Jeff think that he probably knew more than he allowed Dexter and the other USTP folks to believe. Dexter not being blown away by Jeff’s incredible story also made him apprehensive.

  Finally, he gave in to his exhaustion, unbuckling the top button on his pants to allow room for the enormous burger he’d just eaten, and laying back onto the soft pillow. As his head sunk in, he felt the influential pull of serenity taking over. Knowing it would be only moments before sleep set in, he turned his thoughts to the present.

  First and foremost, his top priority was to learn as much as he could about what had happened in the past three years – the creation of the USTP, the mysterious “other” Jeff that had put him in this predicament, and the revised history that made Agent Fisher and him complete strangers. He needed to understand the USTP, the government’s philosophy and plans for it, and its proximity to real danger. The USTP needed him for something, so as long as he played ball he’d have the opportunity to engage, learn and analyze. In the morning, he hoped he’d have the opportunity to meet some of the USTP reps – and he’d use his influence in the program and his knowledge of the science of time travel to get as much information from them as he could. In the end, getting back to his own present time took precedence over anything.

  Jeff fell asleep resolved that he would do whatever it took to make that happen.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “It’s a paradox,” the gray-haired military man at one end of the table said, pounding his fist on the portfolio in front of him to accentuate his point. The medals hanging from his chest clashed together from the momentum of his fervor.

  Jeff smiled. “Paradox” was the first place people who hadn’t experienced time travel went when talking about time travel. Walking into the room, he’d known that he’d have to allow the bureaucratic fog to die down before he – as the only expert in the room – would have his chance to talk.

  “Explain what you mean, General,” said Dr. Andrew Bremner, chairman of the U.S. Time Program, who Jeff had met on the way into the room. Bremner, as Dexter had explained to him, had a unique and charismatic combination of scientific knowledge and political savvy. He’d described him as a good fit for the top of the organization, and Jeff had been immediately impressed – while his alleged criminal background would have warranted any manner of salutation, Bremner had shaken his hand firmly, welcomed him aboard with a smile, and promised to sit down with him for a drink sometime to talk about his travels. Apparently, Jeff’s story had already made the rounds of the higher echelon of the USTP.

  “Benjamin Kane went back in time and eliminated the very reason why he needed to go back in time,” said the general. Jeff had shaken his hand as well, but people were flying at him furiously, so he wasn’t able to retain all of the names. He just remembered his hands were rough and that he’d scowled at him. Guilty until proven innocent. “Even if he’d come back like he was supposed to, there would be no reason in this present time for him to go back at all.”

  “You’re assuming that I’m correct in
assessing what his intentions were,” Dexter said, jumping in. There were a dozen people around the table – eleven men and one woman. Jeff had been informed by a phone call to his hotel room at 5:30 a.m. that a car would pick him up at 6:30 and take him to the USTP, where he’d be participating in a meeting with the organization’s leadership. The purpose of the meeting would be two-fold: (1) so he could tell them the truth about his experiences; and (2) so they could pick his brain on the Kane situation. They’d skipped ahead to the second part of the meeting almost immediately, which was beneficial to him, since he was able to use the time to assess the various personalities around the table.

  “Well, if you’d correctly assessed his intentions before leaving, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now talking about it, would we?” the general asked.

  “Alright, alright,” said Bremner. Jeff could see leadership in him. He was calming and authoritative at the same time. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The real reason we’re here this morning is to talk about Dr. Jacobs’ sudden arrival yesterday. We’ll get to the Kane situation in a bit.” He unexpectedly turned to Jeff. “Dr. Jacobs, the floor is yours.”

  “Thank you,” Jeff said with confidence, even though he hadn’t anticipated giving a presentation. He thought about what Dexter had said the evening before – while he had this grand story about the Soviet Union, he could really say anything he wanted, claiming to have experienced it in an alternate reality. Despite that leeway, though, he decided to go with the truth; if nothing else, it would be easier to remember, complicated as it might be. “First, though, General, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my time traveling, it’s that the concept of ‘paradox’ cannot be proven.” Jeff was actually pleased to get a divisive grunt out the man. “You see, every decision that is made on a daily basis, by every person on the planet, unfolds a new universe. You picked up – what is that? – a cheese danish this morning from the buffet table. There is possibly another universe where you chose a scone. If you were to time travel back ten minutes and throw all of the cheese danish in the trash to ensure that you would not pick a cheese danish, and then come back, it doesn’t stop the fact that in some reality you chose a cheese danish. We may not be able to comprehend that reality with our minds, but it exists. And even if the rest of us in the room didn’t know about it, you, the time traveler, would know it exists. Point-in-question, if and when Benjamin Kane shows up back here in the present time, in his mind he will know the history that took place before he decided to time travel. If it exists in his memory, it exists.”