"And she acted exactly in line with her psychological profile," Pruitt said.
"You can't seriously consider sending Veronica instead of Monica," Griff said, staring at Pruitt. He looked around the room. "Veronica doesn't have the experience. Or the judgment."
"Besides," Eileen added. "Sheila's not available."
"Veronica? Sheila?" Agnes asked.
"The new Team One," Eileen said. "Sheila had a slight infection and went to a hospital..."
"A hospital?" Poole said. "Why in the world did she do that? Does she have any idea how dangerous hospitals are?"
"She does now," Eileen said through a clenched jaw. "She was on vacation and couldn't get to the clinic here and it was quite painful. She thought she'd be safe in the outpatient area..." she shrugged.
"A hospital," Poole said with a shudder.
"In any event," Eileen went on. "That means we'll have to find Veronica another partner. That could take months."
In line with her psychological profile. The words rang in Agnes's mind like a tolling bell. If this young woman, Sarah, who Agnes had to meet, reacted that way when faced with a young woman being attacked, how would she react to seeing innocent people about to be shot down? But this time she'd be briefed, prepared. Would she still react? Try to stop it? And what if she did? What could she do against automatic weapons? But she wouldn't have to go against automatic weapons, would she? Agnes had replayed the days before the attack in her mind thousands of times. She'd wavered over and over when there'd been time to stop it, to her eternal shame. Why didn't she just tell Sarah where to go when...the van. It hit her like a flash. All she had to do was tell Sarah to jump into the van when Agnes was getting ready to pull away the night before. She'd tell Sarah she'd gotten that information from the prisoner. Sarah'd recognize Agnes when she got into the van but at that point what difference would...
"Ah...Agnes?"
She started back to the present and saw them looking at her curiously, all but Pruitt, whose look was more calculating than curious. She fought off the belief that he was reading her mind. He didn't have to, she realized, she was halfway out of her chair.
"Sorry," she said with a shake of her head. "It's a lot to take in."
"The fact that this mission is so dangerous isn't an indication that we should send a team that has proven itself unable to refrain from intervening in spite of the consequences. It's an indication that this mission is flawed in its basic premise."
"Don't get shrill Pruitt." Griff grinned, Poole looked terrified, Sturgell Bob and Warren looked uncomfortable. Pruitt didn't appear to notice, but Agnes didn't believe that for a second. Antagonizing him couldn't help, but then again, how could it possibly hurt? Pruitt's eyes narrowed slightly. Stop. It can't make things better to bait him. She didn't have that tape yet.
"I agree with Pruitt," Sturgell Bob said. "Not about the team, but about the mission." Eileen and Griff added their nods, although they both looked as if they'd swallowed turpentine. Poole looked around the table as if trying to decide which side was going to win. Warren stared straight ahead, thinking or bored to death, and Dutch watched the rest of them with an expression Agnes couldn't read but that was really starting to get on her nerves.
"Is there any hope Agnes," Sturgell Bob went on, "...that whoever wants to do this," he paused as if considering his words, "...for whatever reason he has, could be talked out of it?"
"Maybe we should ask your assistant," Pruitt said dryly with a twisted little smile as Justin sat with the wide-eyed look of a child listening to his parents argue about sex at the dinner table. What the people around the table couldn't know, except Pruitt, was that she wanted to stop this mission as much as they did, at least she had wanted to. But the germ of an idea that'd been growing in her mind was blooming into full flower. Pruitt's implicit threat to send them after the tape had only solidified it. She wouldn't try to stop the mission. She'd stop the attack. She could almost feel herself stripping off the guilt like layers of clothes on a hot day. Freedom for the first time in her life. By the time the mission was over she might be a completely different person. Maybe married? With children? The thought sent shivers down her spine. But what about the risk? These people were talking about doomsday scenarios. But how could stopping one crime cause the end of the world? These were just model results after all. They really didn't have any idea what would happen. And what if it did? What if they destroyed the capability for time travel? Was that necessarily a bad thing? If this ship went down the captain would be relieved to go with it.
"I don't think," she said slowly. She didn't look at Justin but she wanted to be sure he got this right. "...that will be possible. We're just going to have to be sure that we execute the mission successfully." She looked around the table. It must be the right answer, because no one looked happy. Her eyes settled on Pruitt. He hadn't been willing to believe they were on the same side and now he knew they weren't. Two things she knew for sure. She had to watch her back, and she had to get ahold of that tape.
10
"Go on. Get outta here." The voice chasing Justin through her door stopped Agnes in her tracks. What was he doing here? Justin's face flushed as he scurried past her glare. She aimed it momentarily at Louise who raised her hands in a panicked, 'what was I supposed to do?', then passed through the door.
"You know what he tried to tell me?" Rick asked incredulously from behind her desk, a thick finger still pointing at the door where Justin'd disappeared. "That pipsqueak? That runt? That two bit..."
"No idea Rick," she sighed and fell into a chair facing him. Not what she'd hoped obviously. That she was moving things along and Rick could stay out of her hair. That should've made Rick happy, not left him sputtering like an old fashioned lawn mower with water in the gas.
"He tried to tell me. He tried to tell me..." Rick jabbed a thumb against his chest, "...that this whole thing was too dangerous." He waved his fingers in the air and rolled his eyes. "That we need to drop it." 'Well?' his expression asked when he'd dropped his hands and fallen dramatically back into his chair. 'Whaddayou think a that?'
"Did he?" What was that about? Don't tell me Rick's come up with a flunky with a conscience? In Washington? If any of those exist they're probably on display at the Smithsonian.
"And I've also been told," his eyes narrowed, "...that you don't want it either."
"He told you that?"
"No," Rick shifted uncomfortably in the chair and didn't meet her eyes. "Not him."
"Who then?" Agnes mustered wounded dignity into her voice as her mind raced. Had to be the security guard. Verma. The more she thought about it the more convinced she became. But when...the conversation with Pruitt. Had to be. She hadn't said anything about not wanting the mission out loud anywhere else. So much for the sanctity of level three conference rooms. The little security shit had it bugged. Well that'd be the last time she'd make that mistake. "I suppose your little security weasel?"
Rick's mouth opened but nothing came out. Bullseye.
"Oh come on Rick," she said, consolidating her advantage. "I spotted him the first hour I was here. "You know," she leaned over the desk, "...it doesn't do any good to have spies if they're stupid."
"He said you'n that Pruitt wanna stop it," Rick made one last, lame attempt to defend his position, but she laughed derisively.
"So what do you recommend Rick? That I tell Pruitt the truth? That I intend to leave footprints on his back? Or that I get him wound up to try to stop it himself? You do know that he doesn't want the mission? My God," she laughed. "When did you become so naive?"
"So you was just tellin him that?"
She shook her head in disgust.
"I mean," he went on in a rush. "What's the big deal anyways?" He raised his palms and eyebrows toward the ceiling and Agnes might've laughed if stress weren't holding her by the throat and squeezing. "You send a couple'a folks back, they pick up that tape, and Bob's your uncle." He snapped his fingers. "Fou
r more years."
"Who told you about the tape?"
"He give it me." He tilted his big head toward the door where Justin'd disappeared. "Heard it at the meetin you was at. Like the idea," he said, nodding his head up and down in emphasis. "Get it on tape. Got Sampson by the short hairs." He raised a beefy hand and clenched it with a grin. Agnes shuddered and pressed her legs together.
"We're not doing it that way Rick."
"Not..." He leaned out of his seat. "Why not? Tape. That's somethin folks unnerstand. I can just see Sampson's face, staring outta screens around the world," he said with satisfaction as he sat back down.
Agnes saw the face staring from screens too. Had to fight down shivering at the mental picture.
"Too risky," she said dismissively. She waved a hand as he started out of his chair again and he settled back down. "What did you tell me Rick? That I can be trusted? Well now's the time to decide whether it's true. I'll get your proof. We'll get the exact moment from the prisoner we brought here and we'll get that face on the screens for you."
"You talked to'im yet?" he asked, mollified but nervous. "That cop here to talk to'im?"
"He's here. Cooling his heels. They'll talk before the mission." But not until I get a crack at him first. And just how are you going to do that? One thing at a time. I'm running out of the burning building. Don't stop me to tell me about the leaking faucet.
"An when's that gonna be?" Rick asked with a sudden, studied casualness that sent Agnes's antennae quivering. "The mission."
"It's in planning." She shrugged. "A few days. A week."
"Good, good," he said. "Plenty'a time then."
"Plenty of time? Plenty of time for what?"
"Well," he squirmed uncomfortably. "I han't mentioned. The boss'd like a quick word..."
"The boss? The president?" This time it was her who shot out of her chair. "In person?"
"Course in person. You don't report to the president on a screen. We'll leave tonight. You give'im your report. You're back tomorrow night."
"Sure Rick. If he can fit me in. If there's fighter cover. If there's no emergency closing the airports. If there..."
"Now Agnes. What's done's done."
"And why do I have to report in person?" He shifted in his chair again and gave her the shrug of a kid with a face covered in crumbs who had no idea where all the cookies'd gone. "You told him what that creep Verma told you. Didn't you?"
"I was a little riled." It was half admission, half excuse. "I happened to be waitin to talk to the boss when I heard."
"Can't you cancel it? Tell him it was a mistake?" That's a joke. Rick admitting a mistake to anyone, much less the president.
She stared at him balefully as he stood up without bothering to answer. "Well," he said jovially, looking around. "I guess we're done here. We don't leave til midnight. You wantto go get somethin t'eat?"
"I've got things to do. Especially now that I'm going to be wasting my time in Washington instead of doing what you sent me here to do."
"Only a day Agnes," he said, moving to the door. "Only a day. Plenty a time." The door swished open.
Plenty of time. It took God a week to create the world. How long did it take the snake to ruin it? She thought of Pruitt slithering through the halls, hissing, while she was gone. She had to move fast.
Agnes stared at the wall behind her desk. So if she had to move fast why wasn't she moving at all? She tried to run options through her mind but couldn't find the energy. What was the point? The tape would show up before the mission. Pruitt would see to that. Oh sure. Once Rick saw it that tape'd never see the light of day. He'd bury it so deep it'd never be heard from again. She was a known backer of the President after all. But he'd bury her next to it. But it wasn't even that bothering her. The protective shell she'd built up over twenty years was crumbling around her. Like a turtle she'd thought the hardness of her shell was a strength, but all it took was one well placed rock to show it for the weakness it was. When that tape came back Agnes knew her insides would run out onto the ground like water. But it wasn't even the tape. Not really. For the first time Agnes realized the depth of her hope that she'd be able to rectify what she'd done. Not atone but actually stop it. She hadn't realized that hope'd been growing inside her like a small flower. Hadn't realized it until she felt the sweaty hand around its stem.
"Ahem."
"Artie." She spun around in her chair, or tried to, but she was still on the wrong side of the desk and the chair didn't swivel. Artie reached forward with a panicked look but she managed to catch herself before falling out of the chair to the floor. He looked even more panicked when she shook with laughter. Probably the edge of hysteria even she could hear.
"Sorry Artie," she said, standing. "You caught me day dreaming. What can I do for you?"
Artie straightened.
"I thought I'd drop by and see whether you had any questions on the personnel files."
She'd forgotten all about them. Agnes sat back down, reached over, pulled a file off the top and slid it across the bare desk. She flipped it open. He lowered himself into the chair next to her like a visitor who'd been warned to avoid sudden movements.
"No picture?" She looked up at him.
"Dr....we believe it's insecure to have photos of the employees in the same file with their records. They're filed separately under a numeric code. If you want I can..." he started to get up but Agnes waved him back down.
"Never mind," she sighed. "Huang must be a galloping paranoiac."
"Dr. Ted understands that the project must be protected at..."
"Perfect record," Agnes said to herself as if Artie's words were background noise. "Until that last mission." She looked up again. "No one told her she was a candidate for Head of Operations? Why on earth not?"
"It was awkward since she reports to Eileen and Eileen's a candidate as well. But Dr. Ted has, had, a very high opinion of Monica. Even Pruitt preferred Monica. He has more confidence in her to follow the protocols than Eileen. Certainly more than Griff."
"Well she blew a hole in that," Agnes said with a shake of her head, slapping the file closed and reaching for the thicker one. She spun it across the desk and opened it. Read, flipped pages. A smile traced her lips. "Now this one's more interesting."
"Ah Sarah," Artie sighed. "Sarah's been a challenge. She was the one employee Dr. Ted and Pruitt could never agree on. Dr. Ted was dazzled by her brilliance. Pruitt on the other hand..."
"She must scare Pruitt to..." Agnes frowned, sat forward. It can't be. She read it again. The black words on the white page flashed like neon but she still couldn't believe it. "It says she doesn't know what's in here?" she said slowly.
"She shouldn't," Artie answered nervously.
"But..."
"Well she may've hacked into her file," he admitted. "Before Dr. Ted had them de-digitized."
"So she knows?" Agnes asked with a finger planted onto the paper in front of her and frowned across the desk. "About her father?" And her mother. Ruth'd had a daughter. Agnes'd never had any idea. After the attack Agnes'd walked away from everyone and everything associated with it. When she'd moved out of the apartment Ruth's things were still there. But Ruth'd had a daughter and that daughter was here. How could she face Ruth's daughter? "According to this her aunt never told her. She'd only know if she got it here."
"Well, we can't be sure..."
"For God's sake Artie. Answer the question."
"Yes," he snapped. He stared across the desk in surprise at himself, his face reddening. "She must know. Dr. Ted and Pruitt had a huge fight over it. Pruitt wanted to ban her from time travel. He said she never should've been hired in the first place."
"Who set her up with the college kid? Don't try to bullshit me Arnie," she snapped as he began to shake his head. His eyes flicked around the room.
"Ronald," he hissed. "But it wasn't his idea. At least I don't think it was."
"Who told him to do
it?"
But this time Artie 's head shook definitively. "Don't know," he muttered sullenly. "The rumor is it was someone on the board."
Agnes drummed her fingers on the file, staring past Artie's ear while he watched her and tried not to hyperventilate. She finally nodded and closed the file.
"This mission," she finally said.
"This isn't a level three..."
"Who's available for the second position?"
"Well," he cleared his throat. "We've just started going through the chrononaut pool. It's unfortunate about Sheila because there really isn't anyone with the experience..."
"What about Sarah?"
"Sarah?" He jumped out of his chair as if he'd just noticed the wrist and ankle clamps and the wires running to it. "We just suspended her. Pruitt would never..."
"I was given to understand that I picked the teams."
"Yes...but... she...but. You've seen her file. Her parents..."
"Sarah," she said, pushing the files across the desk at him.
"But..."
"Sarah," she snapped. He stared at her. Looked around the room. Stared again. Finally got up slowly, picked up the files, and slumped out of the room without another word.
No time to get to the prisoner before her trip to Washington but she had to make sure she got to him before he talked to the policeman. She flashed a screen onto her desk. Verma's face popped up. "Come up to my office," she snapped and flashed the screen off before he could answer.
Agnes drummed her fingers on the desk. Sarah's father. Her mother. The same attack. It was too perfect. But what if she did it? What would it mean? Come on. How bad could it be to save innocent lives? What could really happen? Could it be as bad as Sturgell Bob's models predicted? Impossible. Wasn't it? Could she really do it? Did she have any right to do it? To put Sarah at risk and potentially bend the future into some terrible shape to save those people? To save her roommate? To save herself a lifetime of guilt? What would it be like, to live a life without guilt? Without a rodent living in your stomach gnawing away at it day after day, year after year? And even if she could manage it what difference would it make? Before she could send them Pruitt would find out and make that tape public and she'd disappear down the rat hole where highly connected government hacks went when they screwed up too royally to publicly admit what they'd done.
Soul Source: Back and There Again Page 18