Book 11

by Robert P McAuley

  “Like a little girl on her birthday”, John Hyder had once said as she opened a hologram, “It’s as though you are opening a present on your birthday.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly, John. I just like my job, that’s all,” she said as he went out the door and she giggled as she thought, Actually, John, it’s more like opening two presents on my birthday every time I open a hologram. And it is like a present because you never really know what you’re going to get.

  This time the hologram showed a beautiful sunset of reds and yellows with the Eiffel Tower in silhouette as the drone flew in a gentle circle as it sought its target.

  Maryellen mentally bit her lip as she chastised herself, Drones or ‘bots as the young kids of the Hologram/Drone or HD department called their toys. She shrugged her slim shoulders and said to herself, “Tut-tut, Miss Muldey, no matter what they are called, they are the life of the program and the young boys and girls who repair and send them out are the sharpest kids in history as far as the Time Watcher’s Group is concerned.”

  She watched as the Falcon drone swooped down and perched itself on a windowsill of the famous art gallery; the Louvre. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the interior lights reflected off of some of the greatest pieces of art the world would ever know. She watched as a small-framed woman with her black hair tied up in a bun slowly pushed her cleaning cart along the corridor as she dusted here and there.

  Maryellen glanced at the information that showed up at the bottom right hand side of the hologram. It was 8:00 p.m., August 21, 1911.

  Looking back at the scene she saw that the woman seemed to have stopped at one painting during her rounds. The Time Watcher adjusted the hologram’s zoom feature and saw that she was admiring Leonardo da Vinci’s painting, the Mona Lisa. She dusted the glass case that held the painting to the wall and then gently removed the heavy case from the wall and placed it in her cart. Suddenly it seemed that she had shed twenty years as she straightened out and almost flew down the corridor pushing her cart before her.

  Maryellen flung open the door and summoned Ted, who had just relieved Clara.

  “Yes, Miss Muldey? How can I help you?”

  “Hello, Ted, will you be so kind as to summon the group for me?”

  “Right away, m’am,” he said as he walked towards the double doors at the end of the corridor.

  Twenty minutes later the rest of the group took their seats and after their nods and greetings, Maryellen addressed them: “Hi, gang. Let me get right to the point.” She stood and for an unguarded moment ran her fingers through her pure white hair nervously. Thrusting her hands into the pockets of her blue jacket she said, “Let me show you all the hologram I just received, then we’ll talk.” She activated it again and the group watched as the cleaning lady robbed the museum of its, soon-to-be, greatest painting.

  Maryellen said, “I checked our history computer and the painting was taken on that date, but the person who took it was a man, not a woman.”

  “Maryellen,” asked Joseph Sergi as he stood, “maybe it was a guy dressed as a woman?”

  “Maybe,” she said, “but here’s the timeline of what happened. On Monday morning August 21, 1911 a plumber named Sauvet spotted a man in a white smock motioning to him and pointing to the broken gate that kept him locked inside of the museum. The locked gate was the only way the thief could leave without being stopped by the guards. Figuring that he was one of the workers, the helpful plumber used a pair of pliers and a key to open the gate for him. Thinking back later, the plumber figured that the white smock covered the painting, ‘Mona Lisa.’”

  “What if she was his accomplice?” quipped Jerry Sullivan. “She hid him in the museum and after she stole it, gave it to him to smuggle out of the Louvre.”

  “Perhaps,” said Maryellen, “but it makes you wonder: was she just a cleaning woman who was forced into stealing it or is Maud’s story correct?

  “Well,” added John Hyder as he looked at his own laptop, “As we know it was brought to a museum in Italy in December of 1913 and the museum returned it to the Louvre. But the funny thing is it was never really famous before it was stolen. It became famous after it was stolen and even more so after it was returned. In fact the Louvre was hard pressed to control the crowds that came to see the now-famous painting.”

  “Just as Maud told me.” She walked a few steps, then stopped, turned and said, “Wait, I have an idea,” Maryellen ran the hologram once more. She slowed and stopped it when the woman’s identification badge came into view. “Adel Damien,” she said as she wrote the name down. “The same name given to me by Maud over tea.”

  “I’m on it,” said Joseph as he typed away on his laptop. It took a few times for the program to settle on the right Adel Damien.

  “Got something,” said Joseph as he stood and pushed back his hair from his eyes. Adel Damein was born in Paris on May 6, 1886. Attended school, grades 1 through 9 then studied art where she became a great mimic of the old masters. She put herself through school by working in the Louvre. She was a survivor of the Titanic and settled in New York City where she worked as a cover artist for various magazines.

  He shrugged his shoulders and went on, “Maryellen, I don’t see anything really out of step with the way it went down in history.”

  Alexis stood and the sound of her chair as it slid back got everyone’s attention. “Hey, gang. I’m not sure why, but I agree with Maryellen on this. I mean, for years everyone thought it was one guy who took and then returned it. Now all of the sudden we find out that history could very well be missing a chunk of the truth.”

  Jerry asked, “Maryellen, do you feel that we should check into this deeper?”

  “Yes, Jerry. I believe that we should send someone back and check it out.” She looked around the table and asked, “All in favor?”

  All agreed and Maryellen said, “I agree that it’s not the most important mission, but it is missing history and I’d like to see who the thief really was and what their motive was, after all, as you said the Mona Lisa wasn’t even famous yet.” She paced a small circle then stopped suddenly and said, “But, rather than send someone back on the doomed ship, why not just send a bot and watch as the ship hits the iceberg to see if someone tosses an object out of the porthole and onto the berg?”

  Once again the affirmative nods told her that they were all in agreement with her. “Okay, gang. Why don’t you all go home and get some sleep. I’m going to set up a hologram mission and do the same. We can all meet here at nine tomorrow morning.” She looked over at Jerry and asked, “Jerry, did you get the coordinates and time for the mission?”

  “Yep, right here,” he answered as he slid a folded slip of paper across the table to her.

  “Thanks, Jerry. Will you please send Ted in and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Ted entered and Maryellen handed him the paper with the information for his drone. “Ted,” she said as she ran her fingers through her hair, “This is touchy. We need to see if someone aboard the Titanic tossed a package from their window, and see if it landed on the iceberg that sank her.” She rubbed her tired eyes and continued as she looked down at her feet, “If possible direct your drone to not scan the ship as we’ve been there and done that at least once too often. Know what I mean?”

  The young man nodded, “I understand and will do my best, Ms. Muldey.” He left and went down to the same room that Clara had used earlier that day.

  I think the Albatross is best for this mission, he thought as he brought down the large bot and placed it on the workbench. He checked the status ticket tied around its neck. Flight status: Ready. Hologram camera: Inspected. Infrared camera: Installed 5-29-70. Fuel: nine C61-A pellets. Finished, he hefted the bot up to the Time Transfer Room.

  Placing the bot on the desk, he asked the guard, “How’s it going, Randy?”

  Looking at the large robot bird, Randy, who had relieved Freddy on the guard desk answered, “Great. And you?”

  “All is good,” Te
d answered.

  The guard turned the computer to face him and Ted entered the needed information into the laptop. He depressed the activate button and the door behind the guard opened.

  Randy asked, “Nose filters, Ted?”

  “Naw. I’ll be right back.” He descended the stone stairs and opened the security door to the Club’s garden of 1912.

  DATELINE: APRIL 14, 1912 PLACE: THE 1800 CLUB’S GARDEN, NEW YORK CITY

  It was 12 noon and the garden was just starting to come to life with fresh buds popping out of branches and tree limbs and thin blades of bright green grass poking up through the rich black earth. There were puddles of rainwater on the red, blue and buff flagstone walkway that reflected the sun, giving them the appearance of diamonds ready to be picked up.

  Ted double-checked that the small rocket tube hidden beneath the bot’s tail was clear before he activated the bird drone and tossed it up into the air. As expected, the bot circled inside of the walled garden as its internal navigation system locked onto the coordinates needed to cross the Atlantic Ocean to 41°46' N, 50°24' W. Ted watched as it locked onto the North Star and started its climb to a high altitude before activating its rocket engine.

  He smiled proudly and said, “Bon voyage mon petit bebe!”

  Once at 30,000 feet the drone drew back its wings into a rigid delta form, lowered its head and ignited its rocket engine. Almost instantly it was zipping along at 1,200 miles-per-hour.

  DATELINE: MAY 5, 2070 PLACE: HISTORY TRACKING CENTER, NEW YORK CITY

  All of the History Trackers had a room in the club for times like this, and Maryellen had decided to sleep in, rather than go home, as she wanted to be the first one in today. She shook her head and her damp hair flopped around as she tried to dry it before the group arrived. She opened her locker, selected a blue and white polka dot print dress with a white sash that she tied in the front. She patted her still slim waist and smiled as she selected a pair of low heel blue patent leather shoes, slipped them on and went to the conference room at 8:35.

  As she walked down the corridor she saw a woman pushing a cart with coffee, tea, eggs, cereal, bagels and all of the fixings for breakfast, enter the conference room before her.

  “Good morning, Ester,” she said to the woman.

  “Good morning to you too, Ms. Muldey. Long night?”

  “Yep! And that tea looks inviting.”

  The woman smiled and with a wink said, “Honey dipped tea. Goes great with a bagel and cream cheese.”

  “I’m sold,” came a voice from the doorway.

  Maryellen turned, “Jerry, good morning, Guess I won’t have to eat all of this myself.”

  Within five minutes the rest of the group arrived and all headed to the coffee and tea station set up in the corner of the conference room before sitting at the long table. They all noticed the single hologram cylinder standing on the mahogany conference table in front of Maryellen.

  “Good morning, all,” she said as she removed the tea bag from her teacup, “Ready for the showing?” She pressed her thumb down on the indent at the end of the cylinder and immediately a form appeared. A long white foamy wake was all that could be seen, as the night was so dark. All at the table knew that it was a ship’s wake as it cut through the cold, dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean, and all knew that the wake emanated from the large propellers of the doomed ship, Titanic. Nobody at the conference table spoke as all had their own thoughts. They were more familiar with the disaster than any other person alive as they had more than one mission with the ship and had watched her sink many times.

  They were grateful when the bot slid gently to the starboard side of the wake and, rather than be directly over the ship when it hit the iceberg, it scanned the area to the right-hand side of the first-class cabins. It slowed down to pace the liner, which started to turn to port of the suddenly visible iceberg. The iceberg seemed to take on the look of a mirror as it reflected the dark waters and sky and thus was invisible until the very last moment.

  As instructed, the bot scanned the starboard side of the ship and had a clear view of it as it slid its side against the iceberg. Suddenly an object flew from a window and landed on the iceberg. The bot soared lower and using all of its sensors located the three-foot by one and one half foot package that landed in a crevice near the bottom of the iceberg. Its job completed, the bot flew up to 30,000 feet and once again transitioned into a rocket-propelled machine that zoomed away from the scene below.

  All at the table were quiet and more than one pushed their half eaten bagel away.

  “Well gang,” said Maryellen trying to change the subject as much as she could, “we now know that the real Mona Lisa is on that iceberg.” She shook her head and said, “Any ideas?”

  “Maryellen,” said Alexis, “the only way to get it back is to send someone to get it.”

  Maryellen sighed, “Yes. That’s what I think too. That’s going to be a tough one.”

  “What about not going and getting it?” said Jerry as he looked at the iceberg getting smaller and smaller as the bot flew higher and higher.”

  “Not going to get it?” mimicked Joseph, “Isn’t this what we do?”

  “I only mean,” answered Jerry, “the world believes that the painting hanging in the Louver is the one and only. They’ll never know and we won’t have to endanger anyone with a trip back like that.”

  John Hyder raised his hand and said, “Jerry, as much as I tend to agree with you, I think it’s our duty to bring her back. Even if nobody ever finds out, we’re going to feel guilty about not even trying.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” quipped Jerry.

  Maryellen stood and said, “Why not let Bill Scott and the 1800 Club know what happened and see what he thinks?”

  Alexis nodded, “He has pulled off some great feats and has a one hundred percent success rate with our missions.”

  “I have a question,” said John, “I imagine we have to wait until all of the survivors are picked up before someone goes searching on the iceberg for a package. So, my question is, how do we identify that iceberg again?”

  Jerry stood and looked down at his open laptop and said, “We have the currents and wind directions on that day so we can pinpoint where it is going to be when the club member gets there.”

  “Don’t all icebergs look pretty much the same?” asked Joseph.

  Maryellen shook her head and said softly, “Not this one, Joseph. It has a smear of red paint along the side that scraped the ship.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  Maryellen nodded, “All in favor of sending Bill a hologram on this, raise your hands.” All agreed and she opened the door and asked Clara to step in.

  DATELINE: APRIL 18, 1870 PLACE: FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY

  Bill Scott loved his job as president of the 1800 Club as, whenever he wished, he stepped back in time and explored the many world-shaping events that took place in New York City. Although he could travel anywhere he wanted, he tried to stay local in case there was an emergency mission. He stood, squinted his eyes as he gazed up at the sun in the clear blue sky and thought, Great day for a parade! Not too hot and not too cold, just perfect. He looked at his pocket watch and nodded as he thought to himself, 11:05, get set Bill. Its about to begin.

  The time traveler stood in front of a store and used the reflection of its large windows as a mirror, something that most New Yorkers and visitors to the city did as they passed by the many large store windows. He tapped his high, black opera hat to a smarter angle. Bill had decided to go all out for this occasion and wore his long black coat with twin tails that stood out sharply against his starched white shirt with a stiff collar and black bow tie, gray vest, pants and spats. His military history showed as his spit-shined black shoes reflected the sunlight. He wore gray fitted gloves and walked with a silver-gripped walking stick. He liked the way the red carnation popped against his lapel and grinned as he thought, Boy, if my friends from the SEALs could see me now . . . what a laugh they�
��d have. Oh well, time to join the crowd that will become the first Easter Parade in New York City.

  He walked across Fifth Avenue and stood at the bottom step of St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Fiftieth Street as the ten large doors all seemed to open at once and hundreds of churchgoers exited the beautiful building. As they left the church they intermingled with churchgoers from Trinity church and others from St. Thomas’ Episcopal church. All were dressed in their finest spring outfits and while the men were mostly dressed in a tux, it was the women who took first place in their sense of design . . . especially in the hats they wore. It seemed that they threw tradition to the wind as many hats allowed them to tower over the men who escorted them along Fifth Avenue. More than a few were topped with decorative birds in nests made of cut green silk ribbon. The birds had their wings spread more than three feet wide in a protective stance as they guarded real, multi-colored hard boiled eggs while others wore famous buildings such as the Eiffel Tower on theirs sitting in a circle of paper flowers. One woman wore a hat decorated with the incomplete Brooklyn Bridge on hers.

  Bill smiled as he followed the crowd onto Fifth Avenue. Although Fifth Avenue sported wide sidewalks so visitors could stop and gaze into the various store windows and not impede others, the throng of people this Easter Sunday spilled over onto the street itself, forcing carriages to ride in a single file. It was one of the rare times that he couldn’t hear the carriage wheels and horses’ hooves on the street because of the laughter and conversations of the people. The festive atmosphere was contagious and all of the men had to continuously tip their hats and women nod back gently for fear of their top-heavy hat falling off as the crowd walked slowly down the wide street.

  The first Easter Parade in New York City, thought Bill, and the funny thing is nobody here realizes it. To them it was nothing more than stepping out of Sunday services and mingling with others who, following old European tradition, also dressed up for Easter. But for me, it’s knowing that it will soon be recognized as New York City’s first Easter Parade and I’m now a part of it.