“Yes, of course. I can get the teams assigned to search the archives and work out the protocols with Echo – but the ones in our timeline? What do you want with them?”
“You don’t get it, do you? If what we saw is actually true, the only way it could possibly work is if Quyron’s jumpers were jumping into themselves in other lines – lines that lagged their own. Are you following me?”
“I am starting to, but…why are you so concerned about our line?”
“Well, we sure as hell don’t want them jumping here, do we?” Am I the only one who sees this threat for what it could be?
“I didn’t think of…”
“No, you didn’t. Lucky for you, I did. So, once you find out where our local boys live and who they know and all that, I want you to take a security team and escort them to the warehouse at the Point, and keep them there.”
Nsamba was shocked and almost stumbled. “What? You – you mean kidnap them?” Shocked by his own words, he furtively checked about to make sure no one had overheard.
“I didn’t say those words,” Vandermark replied, still walking. “But I will say that I don’t care how you get it done.”
“Neville, this is not Kampala.” He hurried to pull even with Vandermark. “We cannot grab people off the street here. I know you are upset about Quyron but…”
Vandermark stopped and drilled him with an ugly stare. “I’m not upset. I’m being pro-active. Something you should consider doing more of.” He lowered his voice. “Why do you think we built those warehouse cells, if not for something like this?” Just because you lie to yourself doesn’t mean that I do.
Nsamba looked around to make sure no one except Hahn was nearby. “I never understood why you built them.” Song Lee, standing silently nearby, felt just as uncomfortable as he did.
“Well, now you know.” Vandermark said smugly.
The tall Ugandan was cowed but persistent. “I will gather a team but, seriously, I will still need some kind of paper to justify us in case we…”
“Fine, I’m sure I can get some official looking authorization signed off by some flunky, if it will make you feel better, but your best bet’s still gonna be to stay under the wire.”
Nsamba was offended. “I know how this works better than you do, I’m just saying that without some cover we…”
Vandermark snapped at him. “And I’m saying if I said you’ll get it, you’ll get it!”
Nsamba nodded, his reaction carefully shielded, and moved off toward the elevators. Vandermark tapped a tiny phone clip on his lab coat. “Echo, get me Cap over at Liaison…okay, track him then. I’ll be right here.”
While he waited, he gazed out the wall of windows in front of him. His eyes traced the horizon where rows of windswept clouds sailed the lower third of the sky. “Song Lee, you need to move up the final trials.”
Behind him, Hahn was startled to be addressed. Her face betrayed her anxiety. “But I’ve told you, we can’t be ready any sooner than next week. We’re moving too fast already. I still have more testing I need…”
Vandermark glared at her over his shoulder. “You seriously think I don’t know about your secret test jumps over the past weeks? What do you take me for?”
Hahn reached a hand out to steady herself and suddenly looked ill.
Vandermark gave her a crooked smile. “It’s not even that I hold it against you - I’d probably do the same thing in your shoes – but no more whining, okay? Let’s be a big girl.”
Hahn steadied herself and urgently visualized sun dappled rocks in a quiet stream and languid koi floating serenely in the current. She refused to defer to him or reply to him.
His voice turned harsh. “You will be operational by tomorrow – and my people will be in the seats.”
“Your people?” Caught off guard, she lost her struggle to stay calm. Her carefully structured internal picture shattered. “The – the cradles are experimental. Don’t you understand that? We’re still working things out.” She folded her arms and stiffened. “I’m not comfortable with the idea of…”
He immediately cut her off. “My people can handle the risks. That’s the point. That’s what they do – it’s their job.” Vandermark’s phone clip emitted a tiny note. He instantly tapped it and turned away from Hahn.
“Cap? Vandermark. Heads up, I need a sign-off to detain a few people, ASAP.” He listened briefly. “Yeah, the highest possible. It just needs to look official – right, whatever. We’ll be crossing state lines though…so… Okay. Call me back on the other number later – yeah, that number. I’ll dictate something and your guys can convert it into the legalese crap, okay? Right. Bye.”
He disconnected and, without a beat, focused back on Hahn. “And I don’t give a damn about your comfort.”
“But you heard Quyron we need to make sure we’re not causing something. I’ve told you we’re moving into areas no one has…”
Vandermark suddenly leaned down and got face-to-face with her. His dark eyes bored into hers. “Stop babbling nonsense and listen carefully, Doctor. I didn’t fast-track you and buy you every toy you ever dreamed of just so you could balk when I needed you, now did I? Or do you miss that drafty apartment in Seoul where I found you, and those ignorant grad students and the stink of cold kimchee in the dark?”
Hahn bowed her head slightly and lost her way. “No. I – I understand. But I…”
“Do you?” Vandermark recognized the moment. If he believed in anything, it was his faith in his gift to know how to bend people to his needs. “We’re at the tipping point of an era. No more dead ends. No more groveling for scraps in the timelines. We get to make the future we want. And no one, not you, and not some glorified analyst, is going to deny me that. Not even some overactive timelines. Is that clear enough for you?”
The rebuke left Hahn speechless. Vandermark straightened back to his full height. His voice was all business again, but it was clear there would be no further discussion permitted.
“You’ll provide a revised timetable by tomorrow morning. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
Vandermark abruptly turned on his heels and ascended the gracefully curved glass stairs nearby as he headed for third floor. Oblivious to his beautiful surroundings, he was already tapping his phone as he climbed. “Echo, get Walters in personnel. Yes.”
Song Lee Hahn’s fingers had curled into tight balls, the nails making sharp dents in her palms. She had promised herself never to return to the petty male world of South Korean academia. Still, at the moment, this felt far worse. Yes, she had her labs and her experiments, and little oversight – he was right about that – yet it didn’t seem enough anymore. She couldn’t help but admire Vandermark’s mind but she was repelled by almost everything else about him, and she was beginning to detest herself for being so caught. Could Quyron be right?
Hahn watched until Vandermark disappeared at the top of the stairs. She was overwhelmed by the work she had ahead of her. Revised timetable! He didn’t seem to realize she had to revise an already overly aggressive timetable. It was one thing to alter lines on a schedule but quite another to make the revisions actually happen. This would necessitate equipment reworks, revamped target formulae, adjusted engineering workloads, added computer time, adjusted man-hours, not to mention the obligatory excuses and, her favorite, the telling of lies. She felt dishonored. The speed the new schedule demanded would increase errors, as she well knew, and there were no solutions for those. After all, who had time to check anything anymore?
Hahn hurried back down the hall, flexing the feeling back into her cramped fingers. She audaciously promised herself brighter days ahead and stuffed her qualms into a stone box in the corner of her mind, and sealed the lid. From now on, as far as she was concerned, the multiverse would just have to fend for itself.
CHAPTER 7:
Kendall’s eyes opened slowly. The morning light filled the soft white curtains with a fresh glow. The first thing he noticed was his irritated throat. H
e coughed to clear it but stayed warm under the covers as he woke up. For a moment, he felt disoriented. His eyes struggled to synchronize reality with his mind but he was unsure which way he was facing in the bed – toward the outside or toward Leah? A blink and a wider stare revealed a second pillow nearby and an empty place in the bed. Empty place? Startled, he sucked in air, sat up and stared at the vacant half of the mattress. His mind whirled with fear and regret. “Leah?”
He scanned the bedroom trying not to panic. “Leah?”
The bedroom door opened quietly and Leah breezed in wearing a bathrobe. She smiled at him. “Didn’t know you were awake.”
Kendall drank in the sight of her and tried to swallow his emotional turmoil. “Where…ah, where were you?”
“I slept in the guest room.” She came and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “You started really snoring when you came back to bed. I guess somebody decided not to wear his mask.” She looked at Kendall with concern. He was holding tight to her hand. “Hey, you okay?”
“Just a bad dream and…my throat is sore.”
Leah grinned at him. “I shouldn’t wonder!” She suddenly closed her eyes and made huge comical snorting noises through her nose and throat.
“Oh c’mon!” He poked her in the side and she jumped with a squeal. “It can’t be that bad!” He laughed and put on a glum look. “Besides, it’s not like I do it on purpose.”
“I know, dear. So, want to tell me about the nightmare?”
“It wasn’t a nightmare, exactly, it was just…I thought I’d lost you and then, when I woke up, I wasn’t sure it was a dream.” He wrapped a protective arm around her and pulled her close.
Leah touched his cheek. “Did you find me again?”
Kendall nodded. “When you came through the door just now.”
“That’s sweet.”
He nuzzled her neck. “A nightmare with a happy ending.”
Leah daintily unwrapped his arm as she got to her feet. “Oh no you don’t! I know how this story goes. I don’t have time for your happy endings – I’ve got things to do today.”
She quickly dug through a few drawers in her dresser and grabbed clothes on her way to the bathroom. “I get the shower first, okay?”
Kendall smiled. “Do I have a choice?”
Her cheery voice came from behind the closed door. “No. I’m just being polite. I’m always first because you always like to go downstairs and make your coffee, right?”
“What if I wanted to change things this morning?”
The bathroom door clicked into a locked position. “Not this morning! Go make your coffee, dear.”
But he didn’t leave the room. He sat motionless and enjoyed the simple sounds of his wife getting ready for the day. Was this one of the advantages of multiple memories? Did the part that so hungered for a return to these lost, everyday things, instruct the other parts to shut-up and revel in what they had? He didn’t care about the explanation. He just knew that he enjoyed all the small sounds this morning: her brushing her teeth, the shower coming on, her feet splashing, the water going off, the tiny squeal of the squeegee that she used to keep the doors from streaking, the towel in her hair, the slither of cloth over skin, the hair dryer and the brushes, and all the little precious noises of a shared life.
He got up and slid into his bathrobe, and quietly went downstairs, lest she discovered him listening and wondered what was wrong.
* * *
He was sitting at the kitchen table sipping his first cup of freshly brewed coffee when she came in.
“Well, don’t you look all relaxed?”
He smiled at her. “What’s wrong with that?”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m just surprised is all.” Leah measured water into a small pan and pulled together the fixings for oatmeal. “I figured you’d already be calling the insurance company about your truck and talking to the police and letting work know what happened and – I don’t know, things like that.”
“What’re you doin’ today?”
Leah set the pan on the burner and measured out the dry oats. “I want to get things ready for winter. I have to clean out the flower beds, take out the annuals, store the pots, cover the bushes, finish raking – the usual craziness, why?”
Kendall took another sip of his coffee and tried to sound casual. “Need some help?”
Leah was pulling out a bag of raisins when what he had said sank in. She slowly turned around and put a hand on her hip. “Kendall McCaslin, what has gotten into you?”
“What? I just thought you could use some help.”
“What about your truck and the police?”
“That can wait another day.”
“What about work? You’re always saying they won’t know what to work on without you.”
“Maybe it’s time they learned.”
Leah looked at Kendall and smiled uncertainly. “Yardwork? Really?”
His eyes caught the steaming pan behind her. “Your water’s boiling.”
Flustered, Leah jumped around and pulled the pan back from the burner. She grabbed a wooden spoon and put the pan back on the burner as she stirred in the oats and added a little nutmeg and cinnamon. She glanced at him and then turned back to the stove. “It’s that accident isn’t it?”
Kendall finished his coffee and brought the cup over to the sink beside her. “Maybe I’m startin’ to see things differently now. What if we just say that?”
Leah turned down the burner to let the oatmeal simmer and got out a bowl. She looked at him a long time before answering. “Okay,” was all she said.
Kendall headed back upstairs for his shower, calling over his shoulder. “By the way, I made enough coffee for two. And after I convince Josh to help us, I bet we’ll get done in time to go out for lunch.”
Leah shook her head as she poured the hot oatmeal into her bowl and added raisins and brown sugar. She smiled to herself and dumped in an extra pinch of sugar.
CHAPTER 8:
Taylor Nsamba perched on the edge of his desk toying with a set of small nesting baskets, a gift from his sister in Kampala. Woven from dyed raffia, they were shaped like miniature huts, each with its own detachable conical top. They were graduated in size and designed so that each one could fit snugly inside another. Nsamba’s long fingers danced as they manipulated the tiny huts in and out, spreading them in a straight line, gathering them back into a single hut, and then repeating the process.
“I understand your priorities, Tobias you can stop repeating them.” Nsamba kept moving the little baskets as he talked. He was on a speaker phone with two senior arena floor techs, and the conversation wasn’t going well.
“I get it. Here is what you don’t get. Dr. Vandermark has changed all of our priorities. Quyron’s jumpers are the only things he wants tracked now. Got it?”
A confident male voice replied quickly.“Yes, but the new fuel experiments on E75Q2 are at a critical point and so close to a solution – couldn’t we split time between that and…
Nsamba nearly fumbled one of his baskets. “Phillip? Are you still on the call?”
A careful, younger voice answered. “Yes.”
“Was there any confusion about what I said to Tobias a few moments ago?”
“No sir.”
“Do you think you can carry out these instructions without alerting Quyron or her techs?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then do it. It is your group now. Congratulations on your promotion. Am I making myself clear?”
There was a slight pause and then Phillip’s voice again. “I believe so.”
“What?” Tobias sounded agitated. “Taylor, you can’t just shuffle seniority on a whim. I won’t stand for it. You don’t have…”
Nsamba curtly chopped his comment off. “Take a few days and relax, Tobias. In fact, it would be best if you just tabled all your research. Phillip is going to need total access to our computer time allocations to handle this. Thank you, gentlemen.”
“Tobias! Unless you want a longer vacation, I would stop talking now. Go home and check back with me in three days.”
There was silence on the line. Nsamba let it go on. He continued stacking and unstacking his little huts.
“Okay then.” Nsamba’s tone was back to warm but firm. “Phillip, I expect updates as soon as feasible – that’s all for now.”
Phillip’s voice sounded cautious. “Thank you.”
Nsamba ever so slightly shook his head. “Echo? Disconnect.”
The young female voice responded clearly and immediately. “Of course, Dr. Nsamba. And Joanna has Mr. Benton waiting in your outer office.”
Nsamba methodically stacked the nesting huts one last time into a single unit and placed it precisely on the corner of his desktop. He breathed in quickly and exhaled. Stepping away from the desk, he stretched and waved his arms in a boxer’s warm-up – alternating to the left and then to the right, to get the blood flowing. He marveled at himself, so many years from the ring and still he warmed up the same way. How predictable, he thought.
“I will see him now, Echo.”
The door clicked open and a broad shouldered man wearing tailored slacks and shirt walked in with a calm familiarity. “As promised, we got some info and an address.”
Aaron Benton’s eyes were never completely still and his body remained coiled even when at rest. Benton was a senior internal security professional – one of Vandermark’s additional people, brought in when the special research group was set up two years before.
Nsamba crossed around and sat at his desk. Framed African folk art decorated the walls behind him, interspersed with handsome landscape photographs of the austere bush country of Northern Uganda. He folded his hands on the desk pad. “You are quick. I am sure Dr. Vandermark will be pleased.”
“Glad to hear it, but it’s not like these people were hiding, huh?” He smiled, knowingly. “Here’s what we got so far. Kendall McCaslin and Josh McCaslin – father and son. Father’s co-owner of a residential heating company, has a nice little house in the suburbs of Cincinnati. Son’s in the army but, for the moment, he’s home on leave. Those are the high points. We’ll confirm all this, per usual, but it looks to be solid. I think we’re good to go.”
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