“That’s good,” he said. “You know as well as I do the time travel missions are the face of the organization, but the research we’re doing is really the key. We’ve only scratched the surface of time travel research, but we need to continue to operate in a very controlled environment. There’s no room for error, and we are finally at a point in time where someone going rogue on us could devastate the program and derail everything we’re trying to achieve. Jacobs can be helpful, certainly, but he was a wild card even before he ran. I’m hoping this version of him has seen enough to make him a little more cautious.”
“Well, you can understand why he’d feel the responsibility.”
There was pause on the other end of the line, and then, “Yes, yes, I can understand that. And I realize that we’ve put him in a tough position that I promise you we will rectify as soon as we can. But we need to get the program back up and running as soon as possible. If Dr. Jacobs going through the process is necessary to get him up-to-speed, then I’m good with it. But we need to get moving. And I need your help to make that happen.”
“You have it,” Dexter said.
“Excellent,” he said. “I knew I could count on you. I will see you in the morning – and, please, I encourage you to call Dr. Graham.”
“I will.” Maybe.
The line clicked off and Dexter advanced the last few steps to reach Jeff. He grabbed a handful of bags from him.
“You too? Why are you here?” Jeff asked. He wasn’t smiling.
“We need to talk.”
Jeff shook his head forcefully. “No. Look, I’m going to go absolutely batty if I can’t get two stinkin’ minutes to myself to collect my thoughts. Not even the great Dr. Victoria Graham will be able to rescue me from the type of psychosis I’m this close to. Why can’t any of you get that?”
“Since you got here, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you back to your original time,” Dexter said, having expected that type of response from his friend. “I think I have a way to help make it happen.”
“I’ve already got that figured out.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do,” he said. “But I’m also sure that you need me. And I need your help at the same time.”
Jeff looked at him for a long moment, then sighed deeply. “C’mon, let’s put these bags in my room.”
“Your room’s probably bugged.”
“Oh yeah, I assumed that. We’ll get dinner. You’re buying.”
“You don’t have any money anyway.” He followed behind as Jeff laughed, though it wasn’t an earnest laugh. Dexter could tell he felt lost and just wanted some kind of relief.
They brought Jeff’s bags up to his room, which was much nicer than his previous temporary home. Upon entering, Jeff put his finger to his lips for Dexter to be silent, then he unloaded his new clothes, hanging the appropriate ones in the room’s closet. He retreated to the kitchen and poured a glass of water before quickly using the bathroom; then they were back outside, getting into Dexter’s car. Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a seafood restaurant on the banks of the Potomac near Mount Vernon.
The place was busy, so they took a seat on a wooden bench facing the water while they waited for a table. They hadn’t talked much in the car, Dexter wanting to be able to give his undivided attention to the conversation. The December air was cold and damp, but not intolerable, and a breeze blew the tall reeds in the marsh along the river. Had everything else in their lives not been happening, and had it been a few degrees warmer, it would’ve been quite peaceful.
Finally, after several minutes, Jeff asked, “Do you think we were tailed?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said with a big laugh. “Absolutely. Look, just to be safe, assume you’re always being tailed. I do – ever since the Kane mission. I don’t think they trust you very much.”
He laughed. “I suppose I can understand why. Though I don’t know what threat I am sitting in a restaurant having dinner. The devices are all locked up.”
“For now.”
“What do you mean?”
Dexter looked off toward the water. He couldn’t wait. “I want to go after Kane.”
“I know you do, but you can’t. You shouldn’t.”
“Think about it, though,” he said, his voice rising in excitement as he started into his sales pitch. “If I can get my hands on one of the devices, I can do it and be back without anyone even knowing.”
“Except that you’ll have a device with an extra trip on it, and battery usage to account for,” Jeff said. “I’ve already thought of this. And now I understand they’ve incorporated the coordinate tracking system right into the device?”
“How’d you know that?”
“I had a run-in with my favorite FBI agent today. He told me.”
“Who? Agent Fisher?” Jeff nodded. “He followed you when you were shopping? I was wondering why you said, ‘You too?’ when you saw me. So he approached you? You talked? About what?”
Jeff shook his head. “About nothing in particular. He was just making sure I was on the up-and-up.”
“Are you?”
“There are lots of ways to interpret what ‘on the up-and-up’ means, but right now, yes.”
Dexter heard the host call his name and they re-entered the restaurant. They were fortunate and got a table on the patio, which was covered with a temporary glass enclosure for the season. Their server, a young Italian man with a hint of a New York accent that brought Dexter back to when he and Jeff had first become friends, took their drink order and left to fetch them a bottle of wine. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. They had the same vantage point as they had from the waiting area, only here they were shielded from the breeze. The last remnants of dusk were disappearing, and he’d read that the above average temperatures the past few days were about to go away. “This is nice,” he said. It was. He hoped it was helping Jeff feel relaxed.
“Who was on the phone with you in the parking lot?” Jeff asked once they were alone again, causing Dexter to laugh. “You were talking about me. I know it.”
“It was Bremner.”
“Ah, that’s what I thought. I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to do. He must have an awful lot to lose.”
“Well, he is the head of the program.”
The waiter returned with their bottle of wine and went through the rigmarole of showing Dexter the bottle, pouring him a sample, and then pouring them each full glasses. They ordered a plate of oysters as an appetizer, then sent the man off as they looked through the menu. After a moment, they both set their menus on the table.
“So, tell me your big scheme,” Jeff said, sipping from his glass.
“Well, we’ve been authorized to take you through the time travel process starting tomorrow,” Dexter said. He’d been rehearsing the speech in his head all day, and didn’t let Jeff’s sarcasm derail him. “Tomorrow morning we’ll plug your information into the computer and get a PCS – a potential conflict score. Have you thought about your destination yet?”
“Does it really matter?”
“I guess not, really.”
“Well, you know what? Let’s blow the machine out of the water. Let’s say we’re going to send me back to my original time.”
“I don’t know...” Dexter said. “They’re not going to go for that.”
Jeff held up his hands. “Let’s say it’s a test case. You’ve probably only tried the program with logically sound data. Right? You’ve never put in your... grandfather’s house in the ‘50s? Just to see how the computer would react? You should.”
“Alright. So we’ll do the time you say you left. Anyway, tomorrow morning will be spent running you through the program. In the afternoon – and we wouldn’t normally do this on the same day, just so you know – you’ll meet with Dr. Graham for the psych evaluation.”
“How long does that last?”
“Usually as long as it needs to. For you…”
“With a woman I supposedly was dating?” Jeff said
. “Good lord. Clear my schedule.”
The waiter returned and took their orders. Jeff ordered a lobster tail, and Dexter chose mussels over linguine, which the waiter deemed “an excellent choice.” He informed them that their appetizer would be ready shortly, then left again.
“I would think that if a psych exam even needed any additional time to process, that would be a red flag that the trip isn’t the best idea,” Jeff said, picking the conversation back up.
“Perhaps you can make that recommendation,” he said. “Anyway, after that you’ll go through a series of physical tests and some defense training.”
“Why?”
“We can’t have someone having a heart attack or panic attack in the middle of a mission, and you would need to be prepared in case something went wrong.”
“Did Kane receive defense training?”
“As much as anyone else, yes.”
“Wow,” Jeff said. “I can’t see the guy we visited being able to hold his own if there was a situation. Heck, I can’t even see him passing a physical. How did he?”
“Well, he wasn’t in quite as bad a shape as we saw.” He sipped his wine.
“Yeah, but still… A terminal cancer patient? That’s just asking for trouble. You had a part in approving that mission?”
Dexter nodded. “Yes, but not the physical tests. That’s not my area.”
“Whose is it?”
“The military folks handle that aspect and make the assessment. There’s a gentleman named Captain Lowenstein who’s administered all of the exams.”
“Interesting,” Jeff said. “So the bottom line is that, if you have enough cash, you can get through the program.”
He was probably right, but Dexter didn’t like the insinuation since he felt his own character was being called into question along with everyone else’s. He actually hadn’t thought about how Benjamin Kane had made it through the tests to be accepted into the program. Sure, he’d had the wherewithal to overtake him and steel his weapon, but the guy wasn’t in great shape. That he could’ve passed the exam was a stretch. Which meant that Bremner, as head of the program, would have had to make the call to override a negative recommendation. Jeff’s line of thinking actually made him wonder if that had been the case. Though he wasn’t going to admit it to him then. “I don’t think it’s quite that simple,” was all he said.
Jeff shook his head. “It doesn’t matter right now. I’m sorry – I interrupted you. Go ahead.”
Dexter took a second to remember where he was. “Oh yes, then you’ll be trained on the device. This is where I see the opportunity.”
Jeff laughed as the waiter brought a plate of oysters and set it between them. “What do you want to do? Just grab the device and run out the door with it?”
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
“You’re going to have to explain it then,” Jeff said, sucking an oyster from its shell after dipping it in cocktail sauce.
Dexter didn’t touch the plate. “The USTP was built on an open field...”
“Never work,” Jeff said, shaking his head. “There’s no way you’d have the time to get the coordinates entered into the device before someone notices. And that’s not the type of thing you want to rush. Typing something in wrong could send you decades off course.”
“No, you haven’t seen the new devices yet,” he said.
Still, Jeff disagreed with him. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You have a better plan?”
Jeff laughed loud enough to catch the attention of all the other tables. “This doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
Dexter couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Alright,” he said, “let me rephrase that. You’re the time travel master. What would you do?”
“Well, I’d take the time device and run out the front door.”
“How?” Now Dexter grabbed a shell and slurped down an oyster.
Jeff motioned with his head toward the doors leading into the restaurant. “Don’t look, but our tails just arrived.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw them at the hotel,” he said. “Oh yeah, they’re coming out here. Looks like this conversation is over.” He changed gears quickly. “So, I saw on Sportscenter the Redskins are vying for the playoffs. What happened there? When did they get good?”
Dexter watched as two suited men were ushered onto the patio and took the table next to them. Both men kept their jackets on, he presumed to keep their weapons concealed. A waiter came over and began the process of taking their order. “Yeah, well, before last season the Redskins signed Alton Webster, the running back – you probably remember him from the Raiders – for some astronomical amount of money. He rushed for like 1,900 yards last year and it looks like he might get 2,000 this year.”
“Oh,” Jeff said, as if they’d been making small talk for the past hour, “so they’re players now, huh? Did you turn into a ‘Skins fan when you moved down here?”
He smiled. “No, my heart will always be with the Eagles.” He took a deep breath to rid himself of the frustration of the unfinished conversation, and then started back in with Jeff. At least they still had plenty to talk about. “These oysters are fantastic,” he said.
“Fantastic,” Jeff said, taking another one from the plate.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
December 13, 2015
Jeff sat at a computer terminal, a set of headphones encompassing his ears with the Beatles’ “All You Need is Love” playing loudly enough that it would be uncomfortable after very long. He’d been told at the outset that the music was intended to distract the user to ensure that he or she would answer honestly. He could only imagine that some multi-million dollar government grant had funded the study that yielded that brainstorm.
He was alone in a room that contained only the computer station and the desk it was on, his chair, and a low, teal faux leather couch. It was an uncomfortable enough room that he was secretly hoping the second half of his day – the psych exam – wouldn’t be spent sitting on that couch. Covering one wall was a one-way glass, though he couldn’t imagine who would want to watch him sit there and answer questions. Knowing himself, he envisioned that this part of the process hadn’t been one that he’d devised.
The questions on the screen in front of him were reasonable enough, though he’d now been at it for over an hour. They started with inquiries about his family, his friends and confidants, his business associates, and finally his personal relationships. Those were followed by questions seeking information about his business interests, assets, retirement funds, bank accounts, etc. They weren’t looking for specific details, as it was unlikely that someone would have all of that information in their head, but a general sense of the connections the person had. Even as Jeff input his responses, he figured the government would have all of the information they were seeking anyway, so his entries were more to evaluate his truthfulness.
The questions themselves stirred emotion in him. After all, most of his connections had been severed three years before. As he answered, he tried to give details of what life would have been like for him when he left, which to him was just over a week ago. But trying to account for a life that had been taken away from him was an exercise in frustration. Each detail they asked for reminded him of some aspect of his life he either hadn’t had the chance to address, or, worse, wasn’t even on his radar.
From a microphone on the other side of the mirror, Dexter had broken in following that set of inputs and asked if he needed a break. Jeff had shaken his head and waved him off, though he did ask for something to drink. An intern brought him a tall glass of orange juice, which he’d immediately finished, and left a blueberry muffin that he hadn’t requested. He ate it anyway.
The next set of questions addressed his interests and hobbies. How did he spend his leisure time? What types of literature did he read, movies did he watch, music did he listen to? Political affiliations? Though he tried his hardest not to, for each question
he couldn’t help but analyze what they were trying to get at by asking. Where would there be connections to assess and analyze just by them knowing that he was a Guns ‘n Roses fan? That he was the one person in the world that couldn’t sit through Titanic? He resigned himself to the fact that there were smarter people than him on the mathematics side of the process, and they’d somehow determined these questions were of significant importance.
After finishing this sequence, the screen in front of him filled with colors and faded to a general menu screen he hadn’t seen before. It listed eight categories of questions, with the first four listed as “COMPLETE.” As he read the categories he had yet to finish, he lamented that he had another hour and a half of sitting at the terminal in front of him, and for the first time he started to consider whether he could do what he needed to do without having to actually go through the rest of the process. But he’d committed, and was determined to see it through. Besides, after thinking all night about what he wanted to list as his destination and announcing it upon his arrival, he’d set himself on a path. While his choice would mean nothing to anyone else, Dexter and Victoria knew enough that any deviation by him would appear awkward and raise a red flag.
The heavy door to his right jostled and then opened, catching his attention. Dexter entered the room, leaving the door open behind him. “How’s it going?” Dexter asked.
“What’s with this room?” Jeff asked, laying his headphones on the desk in front of him. “You have these billionaires come and sit in this terrible little room? They’ve got to be used to their yachts and penthouse suites. Don’t they have trouble with this?”
Dexter laughed. “Not really. Doesn’t this have kind of a science fiction feel to it? The mystery of the mirror? The basic nature of the desk and the old IBM PS/2?”
“Well, thank goodness it’s not that old,” Jeff said. “But you could use an upgrade.”
“The room is supposed to be a little uncomfortable,” Dexter said, leaning on the desk. “Just like the music, it keeps people honest.”
Fate (Wilton's Gold #3) Page 12