Storm Unleashed

by Michael R. Stern

  “Fritz, how can you ask me to do all this? I'm as busy as you are. How do you know we'll need the cafeteria? Maybe no one will come.”

  “You saw the kids. They filled the auditorium. We may not have a full house every game, but the parents and the sponsors are likely to show up for the final rounds. My ninth graders have already started an advertising campaign for the entire schedule.”

  “You can't let them run wild. Advertising, charging admission, using the school all the time. I'll never get home. The phone barely stops ringing now.”

  “It's not easy for either of us, George. Say yes or no, but I need to know. I'll take care of the details. We're out of time.” Fritz realized his voice was louder than it should be, and George was already turning crimson. “Sorry, George. I need to know.”

  “I have to think about the cost and review the legal issue of charging admission. I'll talk to you later.”

  “Dammit, George. We charge to get into football and basketball games. What's the difference?”

  “I have things to do right now. If you'll excuse me.”

  Fritz slammed the door as he left. After the last bell, he returned to the office to apologize to George.

  “I accept your apology.”

  “George, I'm juggling time, and I don't have much. I have to give the kids information about where the tournament stands and the president needs to set up for the summit. We need to let the workers get started. I'll take care of it. But you have to decide on this stuff.”

  “Okay, but the costs for the cafeteria, the auditorium, and the room can't come from my budget.”

  “The president said he would take care of the room. If we collect admission, we can use it to pay the other costs of the tournament.” Fritz hurried back to his room, trying to remember when he wouldn't have been bothered by any of this. David Jewels was waiting for him.

  “Hi Mr. R. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure, David, what's up?” He was talking to a student who was now taller than he was.

  “I wanted to ask about General Lee. I saw you with him at Starbucks. He was real, Mr. R. That wasn't any projection. Did we really time-travel?”

  “Sit down, David.” Now what do I do? “How old are you now, David?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Two-hundred years ago, that would be old enough for you to be on your own, get married, have a family, maybe move to the wilderness. Open a store or study a profession or a trade. Today, you're a student in school, getting ready to go to college. And you're old enough to go to prison as an adult.” David listened intently. “David, wait for me in the hall, please.”

  Fritz took out his phone. “Hi, Tony. Can you come to the school now, with the equipment?” He listened to a quick response. “Tell you when you get here. Thanks.” Then he dialed another number. “Hi, Mrs. Evans, is he available?”

  When the president picked up, Fritz said, “A student cornered me. He saw me with Lee at Starbucks. He's old enough to go to prison, if you get my meaning. Can you help? Will you be there in a half hour? See you then. Thanks.”

  From his window, Fritz saw the new SUV pull into the parking lot. When he left the room, David was waiting. “Are we going to see the general, Mr. R?” David's freckles looked like they were jumping. They walked to the parking-lot door, now locked for the evening, as Tony pulled to the curb.

  “No, David. How's the tournament coming?”

  “My team's doing really well. We practice a hundred questions a day. We're not telling anyone. We think we can win.”

  “Hi Fritz. What's up?” Looking sideways at David, he raised an eyebrow.

  “Tony, this is David Jewels.”

  “Hello, David.”

  “Hi, Mr. Almeida.”

  Tony checked the parking lot before unloading. “I guess I'm not so unforgettable.”

  Fritz told Tony he had been caught this time. They were going to see the president. Tony set up the generator and hooked up the doorknob. Fritz and David went into the classroom. David stood by as Fritz placed a paperclip on a brochure for a White House tour.

  “Come with me, David.” Once in the hallway, Fritz pulled the door open and took a step. In front of him, the president was crossing the Oval Office.

  “Come in, come in. Happy you could stop by.”

  “David Jewels, I would like to introduce the president.” David held his breath as he shook hands.

  “You look a bit startled, David. I know how you feel. I felt the same way the first time Mr. Russell walked through the portal and found me here. Won't you take a seat?”

  Although David was speechless, Fritz said, “Sorry to take your time, Mr. President. David was in the class that met General Lee. He saw him again when Lee came to Riverboro and was asking how that happened.”

  “Pretty cool, huh, David?” Seeing the student's obvious confusion, he patted David's shoulder. “Now, you and I need to discuss national security. You're the only student who knows, David. And I am going to ask you to swear an oath that you will discuss this with no one, not parents, not friends, not anyone. Mr. Russell will be giving me your address and phone number. Do you agree?” Still stunned, David nodded. “You need to say it out loud.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

  “Good. Now that we've taken care of business, can I get you a soda?”

  David looked again at Fritz, who shook his head. “Mr. President, we won't keep you. But if you would allow it, could David talk to me about this?”

  “Good idea. David, you may talk only to Mr. Russell, who I give permission to tell you more. David, you have just portaled through space. Kind of like surfing. Except you don't get wet. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm planning to save the world.” Leading them to the door, he shook David's hand again and told him he was a member of a special group of people.

  “Mr. President,” said Fritz. “Indulge me a moment. David, take a look around and absorb it all. This is the Oval Office. That is the Resolute desk. I'll tell you more about that later. That document on the wall is the Emancipation Proclamation. David, this is a special place.” David was too stunned to look very hard. “Time to go.”

  Dazed by his encounter, David said goodbye. Ashley was talking with Tony in the hallway when the door opened. He waved to the president but said nothing.

  “Let's go in, David. Tony, Ash, come with us.”

  “Mr. Russell, did that really happen? Were we really at the White House?”

  “What do you think, David?”

  “It sure felt real. He looked like the president. He even felt real.”

  This was the moment Fritz had dreaded. Did he continue lying to his student, or tell him the truth? “David, you remember what Mr. Almeida told you last spring? About the projection system.” David nodded. “And you remember we discussed time-travel as one option?” David nodded again. “David, what you just witnessed—” Fritz could feel his insides churn, “what you just did, was real.”

  “Mr. R, does that mean,” he paused, “I spoke to Robert E. Lee, really?”

  “David, last year, I was hit by the lightning that hit the school. Remember?” David nodded. “The day we went to Appomattox, I got a shock when I grabbed the doorknob. We found out later that some kind of connection lets me open a portal to the past or a tunnel in the present. Tony works for the government, not Hollywood. And that's all the truth.”

  “Mr. R, how have you kept this secret? It's cool, but how do you know when it's going to happen? Does it only work at school? Have you gone anywhere else?” The questions poured out.

  “David, those are all good questions. I appreciate how quickly they came to you. Some of them I can't answer, and the rest will have to wait. I will tell you that I saw John Wilkes Booth at Ford's Theater and met William Shakespeare. That was General Lee at Starbucks. And you just shook hands with the president.” David rubbed his hand.

  On the way home, Fritz called the president to thank him. “Mr. President, I had to decide. I hate lying to the
kids, and David is impressed and scared enough to be quiet. The story is still so unbelievable that no one would swallow it.”

  “I'm not concerned about him, Fritz. We're looking at the phone traffic after my interview. So far, there hasn't been much. But we have a line on one of the ship bombers. If we can find him, I may need your help again.”

  * * *

  WHEN HIS STUDENTS were gone, a stranger entered. “Are you Mr. Russell?”

  “I am. Can I help you?”

  “Sir, my name is Milt Chelton. I'm in charge of refitting the room across the hall. We want to start on the floor as soon as possible. I was told to speak to you.”

  “Have you seen Mr. McAllister?”

  “He's the one who said to see you. Mr. Russell,” he looked around, “Tom Andrews was my friend for twenty years. I'm an agent. The crew is mainly from the service or the ops group at the airport. I know. The president said I should tell you.”

  “Thanks. You understand that I can't help you do it. And it can't be done when the kids are here, Mr. Chelton.”

  “Call me Milt.”

  “Thanks, I'm Fritz. We have a wrinkle. Next week, we start a tournament, so people will be here until early evening. That leaves you nights and weekends.”

  “We'd planned to do it at night.”

  “Starting when?”

  Tomorrow, if possible. We want to get the supplies inside.”

  Fritz shook his hand and headed to the office. George frowned when he saw Fritz coming.

  “I was leaving.”

  “I know. I'll be quick. The construction guys are going to start tomorrow. And we're going to need the auditorium every day.” George was quiet. “We'll have two or three games a day. About an hour each. That will clear the school by dinnertime. I've spoken to Joe Pettinelli. He agreed to help.”

  “I hope this works. I keep getting calls from other schools. I don't want to be embarrassed.”

  “George, when this is done, you'll be a hero to these kids for letting them do it. Stop worrying. The teachers have your back.”

  Chapter 17

  THEY FOUND THE BOMBER in Cuba. Jane and Tony were on their way to the school. By the time Fritz arrived, Tony was set up. Fritz set the paperclip on a satellite photo Jane handed him—a house outside Havana.

  Jane and six heavily armed men waited. “This won't be easy. Our suspect isn't alone, but we don't know how many are with him. We'll surround the house.”

  “Do you have enough guys for this?” Fritz asked.

  “More are on the way, but we can't wait. Send the rest when they get here.”

  He opened the door. The fragrance of an ocean breeze drifted through the doorway. A tan, beachside bungalow reflected the sunset, and the gentle sound of breaking waves harmonized with the calm, a calm that would soon end.

  Within only minutes, Captain Dolan and thirty armed men in Kevlar vests ran through the portal. Fritz told him the area was wide open. Gunfire met them. Jane kneeled near the entrance and waved them to her left.

  Minutes after Fritz closed the door, Ashley arrived.

  “They're in already. Jane went. There's shooting.”

  As before, Tony, Fritz, and Ashley stood in the now-empty hallway, watching as the last light of day slithered down the granite floor. Fifteen minutes later, the door opened. The salt air wafted through with the first soldiers, who led a single blindfolded prisoner. Dolan said the surprise attack had left four men dead in the house with no American casualties.

  “Captain, take him into that room,” said Major Barclay, pointing. “Fritz, get the man.”

  “Take off the blindfold and take out your pistol,” the president told Captain Dolan. “Colonel, you are charged with multiple counts of murder.” The president spoke calmly to the North Korean officer, but his pointed words left no doubt what would happen. “Your diplomatic immunity matters not one bit to me. Who are you working for?” The prisoner sat motionless. “Colonel, you know who I am. I know you speak English.” Dolan cocked the pistol. “You were one of the bombers of our ships in San Diego and probably involved in the other bombing. Your government has disavowed you. Who hired you?” No answer. “Colonel, I don't have a lot of time today. I'll be leaving shortly. You don't want me to leave you in their hands. You have a minute to answer my questions.” The president waited, an eye on his watch. “Do you have a family we can notify?”

  The colonel blinked. “I have a wife and two children,” he said, with a barely noticeable accent.

  “Where are they? So we can let them know you won't be coming home.”

  “They remain in North Korea.”

  “Give him something to write with.” Jane took a pad and pen from the desk. “Colonel, the address, please. Colonel, time's running out.”

  The captive met the president's stare, glanced at the others surrounding him, and lifted the pen. Dolan removed a large serrated-edge knife from the scabbard on his belt. “I'll be leaving now,” the president said.

  “Wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “We were hired by a man, I don't know his name. He paid cash.”

  “What information do you have? Did you do both bombings?”

  “One of my teams did each. We had no other contacts. Money was left for us.” The president nodded to the soldiers, who released their holds, though Dolan's knife remained close.

  “Bind his hands. Then we'll have a conversation.” The president sat and gestured everyone else to do the same. “We'll be here a while.”

  Jane turned on her computer's recorder. When asked where the money was now, the colonel said, “In the bank. We were paid half up front, half when done.” When asked how the money changed hands, he told them a woman delivered a briefcase. She waited at public benches at bus stations. When he sat down, she left.

  “How many teams? How many men?”

  The colonel said he knew of four teams, eight men each, but he had no control over them. They had each been assigned different missions. “I only met with their leaders once. I do not know where they are now.”

  “Do you recognize this picture?” Jane asked. She showed him a picture of Penelope Wise. He said no. Then she showed him a series of random pictures, like a police line-up. He peered at each and pointed to Caitlin Morgan.

  “Have you ever heard of the Caballeros?” asked the president. The North Korean said no.

  * * *

  MILT CHELTON and his crew arrived just as the interrogation ended. “Fritz, get me home. We'll talk tomorrow. Jane, I'll talk to you later too. We have a link, but we need the bank records.”

  “Milt, would you mind having your guys clean up this room? It's been a busy night.”

  I know. Half my guys were involved.”

  On the way home, Ashley broke the silence. “Do you think the president would have shot him?” A reply was slow in coming.

  “Every time I see him, he's angrier,” Jane said. “When Dolan took off the safety, I thought he might. But I think it was a stall so he didn't have to. Still, if the colonel hadn't talked, I don't know. Now they're taking him for more questioning. No, I don't think he would have shot him. He wants answers. Dead men don't talk. And he remains a Constitutionalist, even though this guy is an enemy combatant. And if word ever got out … He cares about his legacy.”

  “He's getting to be a badass,” said Fritz.

  “Not getting to be. He is, Fritz. I've said before, he's always sold short. This is far from over.”

  Chapter 18

  FRITZ SHUDDERED AT the thought of the week ahead. The tournament would start on Monday. Linda had a test on Tuesday. Ashley's Aristocrats were in Wednesday's second game.

  A call from the president interrupted his class preparation. He said he wanted to speak to the Israeli prime minister face-to-face before the summit. “I want to use the portal to remind him and to get his input on how he thinks the rest are going to react. Want to come with me?”

  “Mr. President, my tournament starts tomorrow. When do y
ou want to go?”

  “How about next weekend? It shouldn't be for long.”

  As busy as she was, Linda took a moment to complain that the portal was nothing more than convenient transportation. “He could make a phone call.”

  * * *

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, they're gone,” yelled the man. He listened to the description. An empty bungalow, four dead men, and empty cartridges found around the perimeter. “Did they get away? Were they arrested?” Once again, he had assigned a simple job that had not been done. “Find out and call me back.”

  * * *

  THE START OF the Phillies spring training topped the morning news on the car radio. The tournament pounded in Fritz's head as he walked in. Liz Chambers waited at his door.

  “Morning, Fritz, I think we'll need the cafeteria today. My last class will set up everything. On Friday, I asked a couple of seniors to set up the video cameras.”

  “Thanks, Liz. I hadn't even thought about that.”

  “Will George introduce everyone today?”

  “He said he would.”

  With his thoughts floating elsewhere, Fritz chose topics to engage his classes and free him to think about the week ahead. In the first class, he listed some inventions of the mid-1800s and let the class discuss which were most important. He included Samuel Colt's revolver, the sewing machine, pasteurization, Morse code, and the daguerreotype. While the class argued, he made notes on questions about the summit. Second period, he discussed the use of fear to polarize the electorate. He listed the 1919 red scare, the post-World War II red scare, and terrorism in the Middle East. For his American History classes, he handed out “The Sentiments” from the Seneca Falls convention, and the classes discussed the beginnings of the women's rights movement.

  “Mr. R?”

  “Go ahead, Fran.”

  “The Sentiments sound a lot like the Declaration of Independence. Was that intentional?”

  “Yes, I believe it was. When it was written, America had had time to become the country the Founders wanted. The Sentiments emphasized that the same reasoning used to gain independence from England argued that women should have the same rights as men. Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucretia Mott, the primary authors, were abolitionists and believed that equality should be for everyone. In 1848, they wanted laws changed.”