A Time of Fear: Book Three of The Time Magnet Series

by Russell Moran

“New York Stock Exchange?”

  “Explosion.”

  “Color of the van?”

  “Burgundy.”

  “Markings on the van?”

  “White lettering.”

  “What did the lettering say?”

  “Ajax Plumbing Supply.”

  I turned off the metronome, snapped my fingers and patted Joe on the arm. He shook his head, yawned, and looked around the room.

  “Your subconscious thoughts, Joe, seem to indicate that one of the bombs will be placed in a van in front of the New York Stock Exchange. Does that bring any recollection to mind?”

  Joe closed his eyes and said nothing for a full minute.

  “Nothing, Doctor Ben. I have no recollection of that at all.”

  I slipped back into bullshit detector mode. “The guy’s telling the truth,” I announced.

  Janice raised her hand, not wanting to blurt out anything that would come between Joe and me.

  “Bennie,” said Janice, “is it possible that these subconscious recollections come from a dream or a nightmare?”

  “Good question, Janice,” I said. “The answer is ‘yes,’ The subconscious gets its data from a number of sources. But what we have here is a hint, a clue, a dot to connect. Hypnosis isn’t an exact science, but it’s a tool.”

  Buster dialed his cellphone. Within a half-hour the Central Intelligence Agency knew more about Ajax Plumbing Supply than the rest of the world would care to ask.

  It’s either a dream or a way to prevent a nightmare.

  Chapter 53

  They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep. For He commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heavens, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits’ end. Then they cry unto the LORD in their trouble, and He bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so He bringeth them unto their desired haven.

  Psalm 107:23-30, King James Version

  ***

  War has come between lovers since the dawn of history, and it was about to happen to Frank and me. Our brief time together was a lot more than a whirlwind romance. It’s a lot deeper than that. We’d known each other for about three weeks but it felt like we’d been together for a lifetime. I know that sounds sudsy, but I think part of it has to do with time travel and the bizarre crisis that we faced. It’s like our souls melded. Corny I know, dramatic I’m sure, but it’s the friggin’ truth. Frankie and I love each other.

  Frank was due to report aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln the next morning and take command of Carrier Strike Group 1115, named in honor of Thanksgiving 2015, less than a month away. Frank has gone over with me what he’ll be up to, within the confines of security, of course. The impending nuclear attacks have caused the White House to take some radical actions, one of them being the creation of four Carrier Strike Groups that will sail close to the shores of the United States.

  It’s mainly a show of force, Frank assured me, a way of flexing our muscles in front of the world, reminiscent of our original flag, a rattle snake coiled near the words “Don’t Tread on Me.” With the firepower and technology that Frank will command, a new flag would appropriately say, “Don’t even think about treading on me.”

  Frank said that he doesn’t expect to see danger or even much action. Even if the nuclear Thanksgiving attacks came to happen, and that’s what the White House is worried about, it’s unlikely that a foreign hostile power would dare to attack us. But it’s a big IF. With five American cities devastated by nuclear bombs, the nation would be a lot weaker. Our Navy would become our main line of defense.

  ***

  “How’s your hand, Frank?” I inquired, asking about the damage I inflicted by pouring coffee without a cup.

  “It’s feeling much better, Hon. At least it didn’t burn my fingers so I can still pinch your cute little ass.” With that, he did.

  “I’m feeling a lot better about the latest intelligence since our last meeting in Buster’s office,” I said. “It looks like we’ve narrowed the bomb locations and this crap may soon be over. But who knows. The last three weeks have been nothing but surprises, beginning with my picking up a handsome hitchhiker named Frank on the other side of a wormhole.”

  “I share your guarded optimism, Honey. The next few days and weeks are going to be rough, but I think we’re closing in on a solution. We’ve got great people working on the crisis, not to mention the beautiful lady in front of me. Add Buster to the mix and I wouldn’t want to be on the other side. He solves problems before other people even see them.”

  “Now I want you to make me a promise,” Frank continued. “A lot of unexpected stuff is going to roll down the hill in the next few weeks. You’re a tough lady, and that’s one of the things I love about you. But remember this, please. Our mission, yours and mine, has nothing to do with anger or hatred or fear. I know I’ve spoken to you about this before, but I want to remind you. Just think about the mission and how to get it done. Negative emotions have no place in this strange time. Watch Buster. He’s the most mission focused guy I’ve ever met. So that’s what I want you to promise me. You will focus on the mission, the task at hand, whatever it may be at the time.”

  “Yes, I promise,” I said. “When a man like you gives me advice, I think I’d be pretty stupid not to listen.”

  “But I have something I’d like you to focus on, Frankie.”

  “What is it, Hon?”

  “Let’s make love. Crazy hot love.”

  Chapter 54

  The shrill sound of the bosun’s pipe sounded throughout the USS Abraham Lincoln.

  “Carrier Strike Group 1115 Arriving.” This is the Navy’s traditional way of announcing the arrival of a dignitary, along with that person’s official position. Admiral Frank Thompson, commanding officer of Carrier Strike Group 1115, bounded up the gangplank, saluted the flag at the stern of the ship, and then saluted the Officer of the Deck on duty on the quarterdeck.

  “Welcome aboard, Admiral,” said Lieutenant Figueroa, the Officer of the Deck. “Sergeant Jenkins will show you to your quarters, Sir.”

  Marine Sergeant Jenkins, assisted by a corporal, picked up the admiral’s bags and the three headed for Frank’s new home, known as Flag Country on the USS Abraham Lincoln. His quarters were comfortable and his office was large, unnecessarily large thought Frank. Defense contractors know who to impress, and a lot of taxpayer dollars are spent on the brass who make the procurement decisions. While the captain and her crew manned the ship’s bridge, Frank’s at-sea station was the flag bridge, one level below.

  Admiral Frank’s aide was Commander Ezekiel (Zeke) Jefferson. Zeke was a 6’4” black man. He played tight end at the Naval Academy. Zeke was well known among his friends as an outgoing “people person,” a guy who would light up a room with his humor and friendliness. But his face always appeared to wear a scowl, a feature that suited Zeke just fine. As an officer on his way up in his career, he found it convenient to be able to intimidate people with his face, beneath which lurked a smile. His job as admiral’s aide was important, and Zeke’s gruff appearance helped to get things done.

  The date was October 30, less than a month to Thanksgiving Day. The Lincoln was scheduled to put to sea the next morning, October 31, 2015.

  Frank spent the day meeting with various department heads and conferring by secure phone with the Office of Naval Operations. At 6:30 PM (1830) he sat down to coffee with his friend Ashley Patterson, the Commanding Officer of the USS Abraham Lincoln, after they had supper together.

  “I don’t expect trouble, Ashley, but of course you and I know that our job is to expect trouble. I’ve gone down your checklist and everything looks like it’s a go. We sail at 0700 tomorrow. So tell me,
my friend, how is everything with you? We haven’t had much of a chance to talk in the last few days.”

  “Frank, I’ve just gone through the weirdest time of my life, and I’m including my four months in the year 1861 in that Gray Ship incident.”

  “Weirder than The Gray Ship?” said Frank. “Now that is weird.”

  “Well, listen to this and tell me if it isn’t weird. Three months ago my time travelling husband disappeared, then came back and said that if we don’t act fast the Lincoln and four other ships will get nuked, killing 26,000 people including Jack and me. So we stopped those attacks and then you came through the wormhole with Janice and blew the whistle on Plan B, the attacks that are supposed to happen less than a month from now. If so much life wasn’t on the line I’d almost laugh. But to change the subject, my time travelling friend, how’s everything with you? I hear that you and Janice have become an item.”

  “Yes, Ashley, we have become an item, more than an item. I feel like a kid who’s just fallen in love. When this chaos is over things will become more serious with me and Janice, long term serious.”

  “You know I was jealous of Janice when I first met her. From snippets of conversations I heard from Ben and Wally I suspected that she was after Jack, big time. He was gone for three weeks in 2017 time and three months in 2015. I can see how he may have been tempted by such an attractive woman, especially not knowing if I was still alive.”

  “Ashley, you’ve just given me an opening to tell you some things about your husband that you may not know. Janice and I have pretty much shared our lives over the last few weeks. There are no secrets between us. Now I’m going to share some things with you. When Jack showed up in 2017 claiming that he came from the past, from 2015, Janice thought he was a bit nuts. She was convinced, given the history that people knew in 2017, that you were dead, killed in the attack on the Lincoln. She thought that Jack somehow missed the sailing that day and managed to survive. Ashley, Janice was convinced that Jack was a handsome widower. According to Janice, Jack never stopped loving you or talking about you. She admitted to me that she flirted with Jack non-stop, but when she eventually learned that the past could be changed and that Jack could save your life and his, she backed off. Janice thinks the world of you, and Jack. She thinks of Jack as a friend.”

  “Frank, I love Jack and trust him, but hearing what you just said from a good friend like you means the world to me. Thank you.”

  “Captain, you’ve got an aircraft carrier to drive tomorrow, and I know you have a lot to do. You should hit the rack early tonight.”

  “Good night, and thanks again, Frank.”

  “I’m glad I could clear up any lingering doubt, Ashley. Good night.”

  Chapter 55

  Buster requested a quick meeting with Director Carlini. He brought Janice and Bennie with him in the unlikely event he forgot something.

  “The subject of this meeting,” said Buster, “is Ajax Plumbing Supply. It’s a name that Joe Monahan recalled from the hypnotic state that Dr. Ben put him in. As I briefed you earlier, Sir, that same hypnosis session narrowed the possible bomb location to Wall Street, specifically the New York Stock Exchange. Monahan remembered a van, that it was colored burgundy, and it bore the imprint Ajax Plumbing Supply.”

  “Buster, at your earlier briefing you discussed hypnosis. I’m familiar with it as a method of interrogation, but I’m also aware that it has limitations. How do we know that this Ajax company isn’t just a figment of his dreams?”

  “I’ve chased down Ajax Plumbing Supply, Mr. Director, and found some interesting stuff. The company was incorporated in New York just a month ago. I’ve interviewed a couple of people in the plumbing supply business, and they told me that these outfits usually have a whole fleet of vans and trucks because, as a supply company, they have to deliver products all over the city. Ajax Plumbing Supply has only one vehicle, a burgundy van. I’ve put out an all-points bulletin through the NYPD and the New York office of the FBI. Nothing’s turned up yet. A further check of Ajax Plumbing Supply shows that its beginning bank account balance was $15,000, nothing to be amazed at, but the source of the funding is interesting. Our friend Trevor traced the money to the Middle East. There was a wire transfer to the company’s bank account from Saudi Arabia on the day it became incorporated. The corporate records don’t show much, just a local lawyer as the ‘sole incorporator,’ a common way of starting a new corporation. But the attorney’s name is Ali Houmed. He’s been on the FBI watch list for over three years ever since he was implicated as a possible accomplice in the Shoe Bomber case. These are big dots, Mr. Director. A plumbing supply company with one van, no advertising, and a lawyer on a watch list. The only thing that can slow down our all points search is if the van is parked in a garage somewhere.”

  “Does Ajax Plumbing Supply have a telephone number?” Asked Carlini. “Why not just call them and ask for a delivery of some plumbing supplies?”

  “No phone number, Sir. It seems like this is a company that doesn’t want to do any business.”

  “Hold on,” said Janice. “Why doesn’t somebody call the attorney, Ali Houmed, and say they saw the name on recent incorporations list and ask if they’d be interested in some special plumbing supply software. I have a nephew who works in sales with a software outfit. They prospect for new business all the time by looking up new incorporations and finding the names of companies that could use their programs. Because Ajax has the simple description, Plumbing Supply, nobody would smell anything weird about a phone call like that.”

  “But what happens when attorney Houmed says, ‘my client’s not interested?’” said Bennie.

  “Good point, Ben,” said Carlini. “I’m sure that’s exactly what he’d say. These people have nothing to do with plumbing supplies, so why should he be interested in specialized software.”

  “No, I hate to say this but the only way we’re going to locate that van is through old fashioned police work. When, I don’t want to say if, some cop locates the van we need him to place a GPS tracker on it. Buster, you need to have your guys work the phones and stress with every law enforcement official how important this search is. I think we should put our concentration on lower Manhattan, because the yacht presumably dropped off one of the bombs there. Also, make sure you apply for a warrant from the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court so we can plant the tracker legally.”

  “That’s already been done, Mr. Director.”

  “Why does that not surprise me, Buster?”

  ***

  “Okay, folks, our field seems to have narrowed. We have satellite and drone surveillance of the yacht Andiamo. From Buster’s research it appears that Ajax Plumbing Supply is not a figment of Joe Monahan’s imagination. So that leaves four bombs in the yacht, plus one intended for Wall Street.”

  “Today’s October 31st. Thanksgiving is getting closer.”

  Chapter 56

  “Captain,” said the Officer of the Deck, we have a foreign warship steaming about two miles off our starboard beam. It appears to be an Iranian Alvand Class frigate. She’s accompanied by two Bayandor Class patrol frigates.”

  “Any sign of hostile intent, Lieutenant?”

  “Well, Ma’am, two miles off our beam puts them well within the 12-mile territorial limit of U.S. waters.”

  “Signal bridge, this is the captain. Send a message to that warship off our starboard beam to withdraw to a location beyond United States territorial limits immediately.”

  Ashley then called the Admiral’s bridge.

  “Admiral, this is the Captain. I’m calling to advise you that three Iranian frigates are a couple of miles off our starboard beam and are within U.S. territorial limits. You’re welcome to join me on the bridge, Sir.”

  Admiral Thompson was on the bridge within a minute.

  “This is amazingly brazen, Fran..., I mean Admiral. To invade our limits and to head straight for a Carrier Strike Force seems insane. I’m prepared to attack if they get any closer
.”

  “I concur, Captain. Launch at your discretion.” said Admiral Thompson.

  “Lieutenant, sound general quarters,” Ashley said to the OOD.

  A loud clanging, ear shattering alarm went off throughout the ship, followed by the announcement:

  GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS, ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

  Ashley called the flight officer to alert him to maneuver six F/A-18E Super Hornet fighter jets on deck and ready them for a launch.

  During the standoff, while they awaited the Iranian reply, Ashley leaned over to Admiral Thompson while she put on her helmet and said, “You know Frank, I’d love to be on the flight deck in one of those Hornets.”

  “You stay put, Ashley,” said Admiral Frank. “I haven’t driven one of these things in years. I need you here on the bridge.”

  “Signal bridge, this is the Captain. Repeat the message to our inquisitive neighbor.”

  “Aye aye, Captain.”

  “INCOMING, STARBOARD BEAM” screamed the OOD at the top of his voice as a missile shrieked toward the Lincoln. The Lincoln automatically launched 12 anti-missile rockets.

  Everyone on the bridge was gripped by a few seconds of abject horror. You only get one chance to stop an anti-ship missile headed your way. Fortunately the Lincoln’s rockets did their job and the missile exploded a few hundred yards away.

  “Launch aircraft,” Ashley said to the flight deck officer. “Attack and destroy the frigates.”

  As the first Hornet cleared the flight deck with a roar, the OOD again yelled “INCOMING, STARBOARD BEAM!”

  The missile screamed toward the Lincoln as yet another battery of anti-missile rockets deployed. This time the Lincoln wasn’t so lucky. The missile was only about 100 yards from the ship when it was exploded by a rocket, but not soon enough to prevent a cloud of shrapnel from hurtling toward the ship. Ashley watched an array of antennas topple toward the flight deck, some of it landing on a plane.