Fate (Wilton's Gold #3)

by Craig W. Turner

  “What do you suggest?” Bremner asked. Dexter was now standing behind his chair, leaning on its back and unable to speak from his frustration. Especially because he’d thought he and Jeff were on the same page.

  Jeff shook his head. “I can’t say. I haven’t been through the program yet. I need to learn how everything works. Then, based on my own experiences and now this situation, I would feel comfortable making recommendations.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Why?” Dexter asked.

  Bremner was suddenly stern. “We have a line of people waiting to participate in the program. It’s revenue. This research isn’t free. You know how this works.”

  “A line of people...” Dexter mumbled. All of his misgivings about the program from the outset were becoming a reality. Though he hadn’t anticipated being handcuffed by politics the way they were. He vowed that, as Jeff created new rules for the Time Program, he’d be in his ear about the importance of integrity over a big pay day. Ironic that they’d reached this point after their initial plans.

  “I won’t take long,” Jeff said. “I’m not really looking to time travel, so you can run me through an… expedited process. As long as that works for everyone.” Dexter saw Victoria was nodding, so he nodded himself.

  “Can we hold off on running anyone else through the program?” Dexter asked. “For the time being?”

  “For a short time,” Bremner said. “Many of them have already paid. Some have begun the process.”

  “I’ve interviewed two already,” Victoria said. “No problems so far.”

  “Well, we also have to address the issue that Kane himself raised with us,” Jeff said. “The fact that no computer system we can create can determine whether or not there are word-of-mouth stories handed down from generation to generation. That’s a huge hole in the system. Someone with a devious plan could easily be able to figure out how to make it work.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Again, without going through the process, it’s hard to say. On the surface, I think the psychological evaluation needs to be tighter. And I think that, for safety reasons, we can’t expect an academic – no offense, Dexter – to be capable of warding off a threat. Not alone. This was a 70-year-old cancer patient. What if the person was more physically fit and well-trained? I don’t know if it was the other me that put these rules into place, but they’re very reliant on a belief in the general goodness of mankind.”

  “I can assure you that the psychological process is tight,” Victoria said, annoyed. Dexter looked at her. He couldn’t remember her retorting to Jeff like that, ever in the past – the old one or this one. Though he’d never said anything to anyone, including Jeff, he’d been fully aware of their personal relationship. He’d inadvertently seen them at a Baltimore-area restaurant one Friday night, sitting across the table gazing at each other romantically, holding hands. Once the idea was planted, it didn’t take much for him to decipher their body language on a daily basis to understand that there really was something going on. Now he was intrigued. This was honestly the first time he’d seen her say something to Jeff that wasn’t glowingly positive or, at the least, supportive.

  “Please don’t take it personally,” Jeff said, addressing Victoria while still looking at Bremner. “What needs to happen is less analysis and more profiling. We need to go into every mission not assuming the person is a good guy, but that he or she is a criminal hell-bent on doing harm.” He looked at Dexter. “You got hit over the head with a bottle because Kane’s psych evaluation told you that he wasn’t a risk. You weren’t ready for it. Clearly, he should have been labeled a risk. Had we analyzed him as a risk, we would’ve seen something. But we didn’t. The entire premise of this program is based on a misguided assumption that people are honest and good and mean well.”

  Bremner snickered. “I hate to tell you, Dr. Jacobs, but most of this program was designed by you.”

  Jeff was shaking his head. “No. That’s not accurate. The me that designed this program hadn’t seen the things that I’ve seen. I’ve seen time travel go very bad very quickly because of one person’s actions. Dexter’s seen the same thing. There’s far too much at risk to take a blasé attitude about this.”

  Dexter was pleased that Jeff had mentioned him, and given him credence for his position. “Anything we can do to make the program safer,” he said, jumping in, “we should do. And we shouldn’t be hasty about it. Let’s do it right.” He looked to Victoria, who was still stewing. She clearly wanted to say something, but couldn’t get it out. So he prompted her, “Victoria?”

  “Dr. Jacobs,” she said, ignoring Dexter and turning her attention directly toward Jeff, “you sought me out because you wanted this done in a specific way. I did exactly what you wanted in a way that was true to the science of psychology, despite the fact that what we’re trying to accomplish here is beyond any hope of morality and decency. But we did the best we could. Benjamin Kane was cleared because he checked out across the board. In fact, I’ll have you know, Kane scored higher on his analysis than any other participant in the program to date. Top score. He was the lowest risk out of any candidate. Now if we asked the wrong questions, or didn’t anticipate Kane’s next move, we did so based on a system that you devised. For you to stand here today and tell me that a deficiency in Kane’s psychoanalysis was at fault for his running is pre-”

  “Dr. Graham-” Bremner attempted to interject.

  “Let me ask you this,” Jeff said. “Out of all the candidates who have been selected for the program, how many have been turned away because their evaluation came back negative?” Dexter looked at Victoria. “How many?” Jeff repeated.

  “None,” she said. “They’ve all checked out. But you have to understand, participants in the program come from-”

  “Did it occur to you that I might’ve written the rules at the behest of someone else in a way that would enable the program to churn out as many missions as possible? How much is a mission again?”

  “Minimum of a million,” Dexter said. Why he was helping him make whatever point he was making, he wasn’t quite sure; they might be on the same side when it came to morals, but it still irked him that Jeff wouldn’t side by him when it came to fixing the Kane situation.

  “Minimum of a million,” Jeff repeated. “It doesn’t really behoove us to turn many people away, does it?”

  Now Victoria walked across the room until she was a foot from Jeff. “Well, if you did that, you’re an idiot.”

  Jeff laughed, and now Bremner stood, moving around his desk to usher Victoria to one of the office’s many chairs. “Alright, alright,” he said. “We have some things we need to take care of. Let’s just move forward with running Dr. Jacobs through the program as if he was going to take a mission.”

  “I need a mission,” Dexter said.

  “Again?” Bremner, en route to his chair, stopped and looked up.

  “Where is he going?” Dexter said. “Or, where would he go if he was going somewhere? It plays into the calculations.”

  Bremner sighed. “I think Dr. Jacobs can handle coming up with something.” He turned to Victoria. “Dr. Graham, can we have a minute?”

  Without a word, Victoria nodded and left the room. Dexter and Jeff sat in the two chairs facing Bremner’s desk while the USTP chief sat down again. “Dr. Jacobs,” he said, “we can’t have episodes like we just had.”

  “Excuse me, sir?” Jeff asked.

  “When we last talked, you’d assured me that your relationship with Dr. Graham was over.”

  Dexter started to stand up. “Dr. Bremner, I can leave for this, too,” he said, motioning to the door with his thumb.

  “Stay put,” Bremner said, then turned his attention back to Jeff. “Can I trust we don’t have to have this discussion again?”

  Jeff leaned forward in the chair and set his hands on the edge of Bremner’s desk. “Dr. Bremner, if we’re going to all be working together in time travel, eventually we�
�re going to have to learn to accept the intricacies. The person you had that conversation with is not me. I am not him. The person who was dating Victoria and who had breached protocol in doing so was not me. You – and Victoria – cannot hold me responsible for what happened.”

  “Well, there’s nobody else,” Bremner said with a sigh.

  Looking at Bremner’s face, Dexter could see that he’d realized he was wrong. “A woman scorned,” he said quietly.

  “What’s that?”

  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Dexter repeated.

  “Yeah, well that can’t end up being a problem,” Bremner said. “Dr. Graham is a very talented psychologist, but we can’t have some mysterious one-sided battle going on between the two of you. You’d better make sure it stops.”

  “Me?” Jeff said. “How is this possibly my responsibility?”

  “Just make it happen,” he said. He pointed to Dexter. “You... You need to see him through this process quickly. I know you have misgivings about Benjamin Kane and I understand that. At least, I think I understand. But I have people higher than me who want to see this program back on track.”

  “They’re not worried about the dangers?” Dexter asked.

  “Let’s just say that one situation going bad isn’t going to deter them from seeing this program through,” he said. “And don’t challenge me on this, Dr. Murphy. We can spew all the psychobabble we want – you being the only person who believes that Kane murdered that man in the 1930s makes you an overwhelming minority. It would not be very difficult to discredit you.” He paused and took a breath. “But we don’t want to do that, and please understand that that’s not only coming from me. We all just want to get back to work.”

  Dexter rubbed his chin in the way only an intellectual could. “Hanging me out to dry, huh?”

  Bremner smiled. “I prefer to think of it as protecting you, and making the best use of our resources.”

  “Dr. Bremner,” Jeff said, interrupting their moment. “Since I’ve been back, I’ve been running non-stop at the behest of the Time Program. I would like to ask for twenty-four hours so I could compose myself – maybe think about finding somewhere to live? Buy some clothes?”

  “Twenty-four hours?”

  “Yes. Not tomorrow, but the next morning, I will report here ready to begin. I’ve been through a lot – and that doesn’t even begin to assess the idea that the life I knew before traveling to Russia is gone. I could use a break. But I know you want to get to this, so I won’t waste your time or keep you waiting any longer than necessary.”

  Dexter looked at his friend. With the meetings and the impromptu trip to Florida, he’d completely forgotten that Jeff had been put into an untenable situation. As Bremner gave Jeff his reluctant okay, his fire about Kane quickly drained from him. There were other important things.

  A moment later, they were exiting Bremner’s office. Victoria was nowhere to be seen – she must’ve made her way back to her office once she was no longer needed. They stood looking out over the atrium. “What do you make of that?” Dexter said.

  “I think the other me was up to something,” Jeff said.

  “You don’t have to be a genius to figure that out.”

  They didn’t look at each other. “You knew about the relationship?”

  “I did, yes.”

  “How long did it go on?”

  “Couldn’t have been too long after her arrival here,” Dexter said. “I can only assume it ended when you left.”

  “So here’s the question... Why would I go out of my way to recruit this woman, only to draw her into a relationship when I knew that my plan was to skedaddle? What’s her role here?”

  Dexter fixated on a fichus up against a window three floors below. The least productive thing he could think of was being dragged into a discussion about Jeff and his old girlfriend. He changed the topic. “Are you certain your plan was to skedaddle?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jeff sat in the middle of the mall’s food court eating a chicken sandwich and curly fries. The bags of clothes he’d already had the opportunity to fill sat on the floor leaning against his right leg – he’d already pulled them out of the way of a woman in a wheelchair trying to navigate the narrow aisles. The sandwich was dry and poorly constructed, and it hadn’t been his top choice for lunch, but with limited time he didn’t want to waste it in a full service restaurant. He’d get himself something more appealing for dinner.

  He’d seen Agent Fisher tailing him at least a half-hour ago. Fisher now sat on the other side of the dining area, his face stuck in an I-Pad as he pretended to be doing something extremely captivating. Jeff smiled. He flashed back to Fisher stalking him at the hotel bar after he’d hunted down Ekaterina at the airport. He couldn’t imagine how this FBI agent, who was trusted enough to be put on one of the federal government’s pet projects, could be so inept at espionage. Not wanting to underestimate him, though, Jeff simply assumed that Fisher wanted to be seen.

  The tail wasn’t a surprise. He’d figured they’d want to know his every movement, which was going to be a frustrating way to live life for however long it lasted. Jeff wanted to remind Fisher that the U.S. government had put him into this situation to begin with, and the least they could do was respect the fact that he was cooperating when what they’d asked of him was really too much to ask of anyone. So far, they’d treated him like a business traveler. But he wasn’t. This was his life. He had no home. He had no substance. He had no relationships, other than his friendship with Dexter and a very confusing connection to Victoria. He hadn’t even been able to take a moment to consider any of those things, he’d been so busy doing their bidding.

  But at least he could get some clothes. He finished his sandwich and stuffed the last few curly fries in his mouth then picked up his bags, leaving the food court. He kept a quick pace through the mall until he reached a men’s store he used to like in his previous life and ducked inside. He took a few moments analyzing the store, then positioned himself behind one of the racks of dress pants that enabled him to see the entrance. Sure enough, sixty seconds later Fisher slowly strolled by, his hands behind his back. Jeff averted his eyes to keep Fisher from knowing he’d seen him, but knew it was entirely possible they were playing the same game.

  Back to the business at hand, Jeff grabbed a handful of pants and four shirts from around the store and headed into the changing room. While he hadn’t been able to convince them to care about his plight until after they’d gotten what they needed out of him, he had been effective in making them feel responsible for his expenses. After a quick requisition, he was now enjoying a taxpayer-funded shopping spree at the mall. But he wouldn’t take advantage. Despite his apparent rapid rise to power and influence, he was still a lab geek at heart, so middle-of-the-road attire was acceptable and appropriate enough. He chose two of the pants and two of the shirts – though he did go back to the rack to find a third shirt in a different size, which they didn’t have in stock. He cashed out and walked into the mall to find a shoe store to complement his array of purchases.

  Predictably, there was Fisher, leaning against the railing overlooking the mall’s lower level, waiting for him. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” he said.

  “Stakeout?”

  “Not exactly.”

  A throng of teenagers walked between them. Jeff let them pass, then stepped forward toward Fisher. “I would think you’re here to make sure I don’t do anything stupid. That I don’t try to pull anything now that I’m not being monitored in the friendly confines of a government facility.”

  “Well, yes, that’s why they sent me.”

  Jeff shook his head. “I don’t know what I could possibly do. I don’t have access to the time devices, and it doesn’t matter what changes you make to the future. Only the past.”

  “You can understand why they’re paranoid.”

  “Oh sure,” he said. “I would be.”

  “You got a minute t
o chat?”

  He looked around the mall and held up his bags. “I only have today to myself, and I was kind of hoping to spend it doing as little as possible that had to do with the United States Time Program. Tomorrow I dig back in. Can it wait?”

  Fisher stared at him blankly.

  Jeff sighed. “Alright – well, at least buy me a beer. That’ll make it more tolerable.”

  There was a restaurant near the entrance where Jeff had parked the car that had been rented for him, so he threw his bags in the trunk and met Fisher at the bar. They ordered draught beers and settled onto their bar stools. After a few moments of watching Fisher watch sports highlights on the television hanging in the corner, Jeff said, “Well, you’ve got me here. What’s up?”

  “I’m trying to figure out how to word this,” Fisher said, still looking at the TV. “I need to know something about time travel.”

  “What’s that?”

  Now he turned to face him so he could talk using his hands. “Thinking about Benjamin Kane...” he said. “Now, I don’t know all of the details – I haven’t been privy to those conversations. But my general understanding from Dr. Murphy’s description is that he went back in time and murdered a competitor of his family’s business. Now, because that happened in the past, currently there’s no need – or, let’s say no reason – for Kane to go back and do that again.”

  Jeff took a swig from his beer. “I have no idea what you know and what you don’t know, and what’s classified or not, but yes, you’re right.”

  “Okay,” Fisher said. “That’s the first part. So, the Benjamin Kane that you met with yesterday has no intention of going back in time. However, that doesn’t take away the fact that someone named Benjamin Kane murdered the other man in the 1930s. Right? It’s still in the history books, yes?”