"Verma seems to've disappeared."
"Well," Agnes snapped, forced a smile onto her face as Louise cringed. "Find someone. He's in one of the apartments on the residential level. Louise looked timidly back at Agnes, who tried to nod encouragingly. Mike looked back and forth between Agnes and Rick, seemed about to say something, shrugged, got up and followed Louise out of the door.
"You really think he'll find anythin out?" Rick asked when the door'd swished closed.
She shrugged. "What've we got to lose?"
Hartron's eyes narrowed into slits in his fleshy face. "Time Agnes. We got time to lose."
There's a joke in there somewhere. Time to lose. Time travel. Get it? But Agnes didn't have the energy. Every corner she turned in this maze had the same two paths out, disaster and ruin. No. She was kidding herself. There was only one way out at this point. Ten feet from the electrified fence and she was running full tilt. The look on the fleshy face across the desk told her that scrubbing the mission wasn't going to happen. She tried that and he'd just take over himself. The only option is to keep running headlong for the exit and hope it didn't turn out to be the door of a flying airplane.
"It's going to take some time to set up another mission."
"No it's not Agnes," he said, the warning in his voice clear. "Acause time's somthin we ain't got a lot of." He said we, but his finger was pointing across the desk at Agnes.
How much time? Could she even convince these people to go through it again? Eileen hadn't looked as if she'd do it again. As if she could go through it again. These people were shaken. They'd just lost a colleague. How soon would she be able to...
"Today."
"What? Today? Today what?"
"I want'em gone today. You said one'v'em's alright. She can go."
"But she's...who'd go with her?"
"Find someone," he waved a hand around.
"But there's not..."
"Justin," he said before she could answer. "...send Justin with her. Keepin an eye on these people'll give him a chance to redeem himself."
"Justin? He's not trained."
"Don't start goin native on me Agnes," he said dismissively. "I ain't just been sittin here. I been talkin to people. All that trainin they get's on logic." He shook his head. Logic? "On how to act in the past an shit like that. They don't really need to know nothin to go. They ain't nothin to operate. No," he cut her off although she was just staring across the desk at him in shock. "We're gettin this done and we're gettin it done N-O-W now. Unnerstand?"
"Rick. We're talking about time travel. There's no hurry. We can..."
"NOW Agnes." He jammed a finger onto the table top. "You either get what you need from that cop or they just go after that tape. But they go today. Else..." he stood and stared down at her from under a furrowed brow, "...I'll send'em myself."
She watched him stalk out the door.
Fast. Well fast was what she'd wanted, wasn't it? This disaster put her slightly ahead in a race with Pruitt, that squirrel Verma and that semi-human bad joke Dutch on her heels, didn't it? If she could move the finish line closer then that's exactly what she wanted, wasn't it?
"Louise," she called.
Louise stuck her panicked face through the door. "I sent him with..."
"Never mind," Agnes cut her off. "I need to get the planning committee."
"When..."
"NOW LOUISE," she took a deep breath as Louise recoiled a step back. "Now Louise," she said in a lower voice. "Now."
10
"I'm surprised they let you leave in those clothes," Monica said, more for something to say than anything else. Sarah hadn't changed since the, what, accident? Disaster? Technical difficulty? She looked good in them, but Sarah looked good in everything.
"I didn't ask." Monica's car rolled to a stop and the door slid open. Sarah climbed in and Monica followed. "I couldn't bear the thought of going back into the prep room with her clothes still there."
Monica nodded. "You think she's..." her words trailed off. Somehow saying it would make it more real.
"Don't you?" Sarah asked quickly. She stared out the window. Shrugged slightly. Her eyes were far away, as if she were grappling with some complicated problem.
"Hazel's," Monica finally said.
"Hazel's is an unusual location at this time Monica."
"Aaaaagh. Don't argue with me."
"I'm sorry Monica. I didn't catch that. Could you repeat it?"
"Hazel's," she snapped. She felt the car move smoothly out under her. It wasn't so much that the thing argued with her, but it never finished an argument. Just like her...Oh for God's sake give it a rest.
"You need to be more assertive," Sarah said.
"Thanks for the feedback."
"Payback for the ride."
"Where's your car anyway?" Monica asked after they'd rolled silently past the Magellan parking lot.
"Forgot it's in for service," Sarah answered, staring across the parking lot as they passed, her forehead concentrated in thought. They rode in silence the rest of the way. Hazel's was almost empty at this hour so there wasn't any need to argue with the car over where to park. They went inside and Monica ordered them both coffee. Sarah drummed her fingers on the table and stared off into space.
"What?" she asked when the coffee arrived and broke into her train of thought long enough to notice that Monica was staring across the table at her.
"That's what I was going to ask you."
Sarah frowned. Looked down at the coffee steaming in front of her. "Do you think they'll send another mission?"
"I don't see how they can after this."
Sarah's frown deepened. "What do you think happened?"
Monica shrugged, trying not to see Veronica's eyes through the windshield and to forget that the last thing Monica'd said to her was that she got her hair color out of a bottle. "Mapping failure? They'll know more when they..."
"Find her," Sarah finished, nodding glumly. She thought about it. "Maybe a diversion?"
"A diversion? How's that possible?" Sarah only shrugged in answer. "Anyway," Monica sighed. "Whatever it was you're lucky Agnes stopped you before you got into the truck."
Sarah's nod became more thoughtful. "Sure. Lucky. But why'd she do that? What was that all about?"
"She must've known...I don't know. Something."
"Known what? And why'd she put me on that mission anyway?"
"With your record?"
"Exactly," Sarah answered, missing the irony. "I mean if you had a supersensitive mission who would you send? The report falsifier or the one with the baseball bat?" Sarah shook her head. "Did you see the look on her face when she grabbed me? She was panicked. As soon she saw me she flipped out. And she held on to me with a death grip." She drummed her fingers on the table and stared past Monica. "And why bring that prisoner here and then not talk to him?"
"Maybe she did..."
Sarah's shaking head cut her off. "No. He said no one's talked to him."
"He said...you mean you talked to him?"
"I got a screen into his room. He didn't really say anything. Just said he wanted to talk to some policeman. I wanted to see if I could get something from him before the mission but..." she shrugged. "Anyway, no one else's talked to him either. So why bring him here? What's going on Monica?"
"I don't..."
"What day is it?" Sarah suddenly barked. She stopped drumming and pressed her hands on the table top. Her eyes focused on Monica, gleaming in hope with triumph peeking out from behind it.
"What day is it? Why..."
"Day. Of the week. It's not a hard question. Honestly Monica." She flicked a screen, glanced down, then stared up excitedly. "It's Thursday."
"OK," Monica agreed. "It's Thursday."
"I don't believe it." Sarah slapped a drum roll on the table with her hands. She leaned back into the booth. A broad smile beamed across the table. "I thought I got the day wrong. That I
was confused with the accident and everything. But I didn't. It's Thursday," she repeated. "That explains it. That explains everything." Her face fell to a frown. "But what happened?"
"Sarah what are you talking about?"
"Be right back." Sarah slapped a hand against the table hard enough to spill coffee over the side of their cups and slid out of the booth. Monica watched her stride toward the ladies room, but she took a right and pushed her way out of the front door.
"Sarah?"
"She's leaving." Monica looked over as someone got up from the booth behind her and started toward the door.
"You want me to bring you another cup of coffee so you can watch it get cold?" Tammy called after her as she grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth, following the young man who was heading for the door. She'd seen him somewhere but couldn't place him.
"Sorry," she said over her shoulder.
She was moving somewhere between a fast walk and a trot when she hit the door. She pushed it open, shaded her eyes against the sunlight, stepped out and stood next to the man shading his eyes with his hand. She was just in time to see her car make a right turn and disappear down the road.
9
"Heard any good jokes lately? That's an ice breaker. Actually it doesn't have anything to do with ice. Ice is a metaphor for an awkward silence." Dutch thought for a second. "Although I'm not entirely sure why."
"What's your job here anyway?" Mike asked as they rode down in the elevator.
"Oh I'm sort of a Dutch of all trades." Dutch grinned and pointed a finger at Mike.
"You sure that thing won't go off?" Mike muttered.
Dutch hesitated for a second, then his grin broadened and he jabbed the finger back and forth. "Good one."
"Thanks." Everyone who thinks the world's gone crazy should come here for validation. The elevator stopped and the door opened. They stepped into a small foyer and a door in front of them slid open. Mike tapped the retinal scanner with a finger nail as he passed. "You don't need to use this?"
Dutch grinned and pointed his finger again and Mike decided it wasn't worth pressing the point. He was retired. Out of it. Wouldn't've come here except for the chance to see his son, and that'd been the disaster he should've expected. If Homeland Security wanted to let a maximum security terrorist live in an unlocked lunatic asylum it wasn't any skin off his nose.
They walked down a long corridor.
"Why do the walls do that?"
"Do what?"
"Lean." One wall of the hallway was normal, but the other tilted outward.
"The levels down here are tapered. They get narrower as you go down."
"Why?"
"I know a good one," Dutch said, ignoring the question. "The bartender says we don't serve faster than light neutrinos here. A faster than light neutrino walks into a bar." Mike knew the finger'd shot out without looking. "You see, if you travel faster than light effect comes before cause."
"If you have to explain a joke it isn't funny."
It took Mike a few steps to realize Dutch'd stopped. He'd reached a door, which didn't open. Turned and looked back. The lunatic stared at him with a stunned expression.
"Well," he finally said. "We going in?"
"I can't find any validation for that." Dutch finally said. He stared at Mike with the look a patient'd give his doctor when asking, 'how long?'
"Validation for what?" Mike asked impatiently. He pushed on the door but it didn't budge.
"That if you have to explain a joke it isn't funny."
"Everyone knows that." Mike tapped the closed door with his knuckle. Today?
Dutch's frown deepened but the door finally swished open.
"How did you..." But Dutch'd already passed him and walked through the door. He looked around as they walked.
"What is this place? It looks like a hotel."
"Have there been empirical studies?" Dutch asked as they stopped in front of one of the doors lining the wall. "I've searched all of our records and can't find anything."
"Empirical studies?"
"That a joke isn't funny if you have to explain it."
Mike stared back into Dutch's look of increasing concern. Shook his head. Tapped on the door. "This is a joke, right?"
"It isn't a very good one if I have to explain it," Dutch mumbled morosely.
The door slid open. They entered an open, comfortable room. An apartment. Mike looked around, his eyes resting on two doors. He walked to the one to the left, which swished open in front of him. A small bedroom with a single bed, closet and drawers built into the wall. No one. A painting over the bed. A flower. While he watched it got blurry and turned into something abstract. He came back out.
"Bathroom?" He nodded his head at the door with a small red light projected high on the wall next to it. "Red mean occupied?" Dutch shook his head, still staring at him strangely.
Mike tapped on the door. "Ansari?" He waited. "You in there? Ansari?"
He turned back to Dutch as the door swished open.
"How do you...never mind." The bathroom was as big as the bedroom and he was halfway in before his brain registered what his eyes were seeing. "Jesus Christ," he gasped as he recoiled back into the living room. The door swished closed.
"What is it?" Dutch asked without interest.
"Take a look," Mike nodded with his head. He stepped back and took in air, trying to keep from hyperventilating. "I'm too old for this," he muttered as Dutch walked to the door.
"Oh dear," Dutch said, looking inside. "This is no joke. Does that mean it's funny if I explain it?"
"What?"
"If it's not a joke it isn't funny. So if you have to explain it does that make it funny?"
"What the hell are you talking about? There's a...a...he's..." but all he could do was point at the open door.
"Yes. I saw him," Dutch sighed petulantly. "I suppose you'd better go tell someone."
"Me? What about you?"
"I have responsibilities. I can't just run off."
"Responsibilities? What can you have to do...never mind." Mike looked at the door. It swished open. "How do you...never mind that either. I'll never find the way back up there."
"Just project a screen and follow the bouncing ball."
Mike looked at him, projected a screen. He looked at his wrist, nodded, took a last look at the bathroom door, and disappeared. The door closed behind him.
Dutch stood staring blankly ahead for several minutes until the door swished back open. He turned.
"Well?" Pruitt's eyes slid past Dutch and rested on the red light of the bathroom.
"Oh yes," Dutch said without being asked. "He's quite dead. But at this time I can't tell you whether there's anything funny about it."
8
"For God's sake Dutch, turn that damn light off."
"Why Pruitt, I've never seen you so emotional."
"Just turn it off Dutch."
"You don't think it adds verisimilitude?"
"Off Dutch." Pruitt rubbed his forehead as the light turned green. He took a deep breath. "This is intolerable. It's what I knew would happen one day. We're losing control." He lowered his hand and turned to Dutch. "We need to find them. Stop this. And there's only one way to do that."
"Sarah?"
"And Monica." Pruitt nodded. "We have to take care of them."
"Take care of them Pruitt?"
"Yes. Yes. It has to be them."
"I must say that I'm not sure your logic is sound Pruitt."
"You?" Pruitt said, contempt dripping from his voice. "Questioning my logic?"
"Just trying to be helpful Pruitt."
"But how?" Pruitt asked himself, staring at the red light.
"We can use Dr. Ted's secret launch room."
"Secret launch room? I didn't know Ted had a secret launch room."
"That's because it's a secret," Dutch giggled. "Don't ask me to explain."
Pruitt frowned
at him. "How does it work? Can you operate it without anyone knowing? What will it do to the instrument readings in the main launch room?"
"From Dr. Ted's launch room I can control both rooms and make the instruments read anything I want."
"That's what we'll do then. We'll use Ted's secret room to send them somewhere. Anywhere." He gave Dutch a meaningful look. "As long as they don't return."
"That's what you want? To send them somewhere and not have them return?"
"We can't have them found. Surely even you can see that."
Dutch concentrated on Pruitt. He slowly raised his finger. "If they're found you'd have to explain, wouldn't you?"
"Of course. That's why..."
"Then," Dutch cut him off, a grin breaking out on his face, "...it wouldn't be funny."
"Funny? Dutch, what in the world are you talking about? Do you understand what to do?"
"Oh yes Pruitt," Dutch answered gleefully. He jabbed both index fingers at Pruitt like a kid shooting a fake gun. His grin split his face in two. "I know exactly what to do. And don't worry," he lowered his voice. "I won't explain it to anyone."
"Won't explain it? You won't breathe a word about it. That's an order."
"Of course not," Dutch giggled.
"How do I get there?"
"Where?"
Pruitt sucked in a deep breath. "Ted's secret room," he said slowly. "Where do you think?"
"Aah. Just follow the bouncing ball Pruitt."
"The bouncing ball? What..." Pruitt stared for a second, then projected a screen on his wrist. He glanced at it, then back up at Dutch.
"Alright. I'll meet you in Ted's launch room then." He looked Dutch over suspiciously, then took a deep breath. "Then there's Agnes."
"Agnes?" Dutch said with a frown. "What about Agnes?"
"This can't end until we've eliminated her too."
"That could be difficult Pruitt," Dutch said slowly. He dropped his hands and frowned in concentration.
"Difficult? Just figure out a way to do it Dutch." He pressed a palm against his forehead. "Just figure out a way to do it." He turned and stepped toward the door. Stopped. The door swished open. He strode through without turning to see Dutch's finger pointing at his retreating back.
Soul Source: Back and There Again Page 23