Now, Then, and Everywhen (Chronos Origins)

by Rysa Walker

  Angelo agreed about keeping Madi’s role in this to a strictly need-to-know basis. The only thing he was perturbed about was me letting her take the key back with her. To be honest, it wasn’t even something I’d given much thought to, possibly because my head was killing me. He said they might have a better idea what’s going on if some of the tech people could examine the key, so when I see her this afternoon, I’m going to ask if she’d be willing to let us have it.

  The other thing we agreed on was that I would not mention Saul to Katherine. Truthfully, I think the fact that Saul might be part of this is the only reason that Angelo didn’t decide to call Rich and Katherine back from Memphis and let me and Madi deal with the Lennon assassination. There’s not a whole lot they can do to help in Memphis. But if Saul is there and he’s part of this, Katherine would be a powerful witness against him with the board. And she’s unlikely to believe any evidence against him unless she sees it with her own eyes.

  TYSON

  MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE

  AUGUST 19, 1966

  “I just don’t understand why you would take that kind of risk,” Katherine says as she pushes aside her mostly uneaten breakfast. “For that matter, why would Angelo let you?”

  “Because it was the most sensible thing to do. If you couldn’t be with the marchers, there really wasn’t much either of you could have done in Montgomery.”

  Rich rolls his eyes. “You mean aside from realizing you hadn’t reported back to the hotel? That you might be bleeding out somewhere?”

  “I managed, okay? The sniper is dead, and no one at the rally was killed. Everything seems to be back on track in 1965. And it’s done. We need to focus on 1966. And we have to figure out what all of this stuff with Campbell means. Angelo is going to get some people working on that.”

  “You’re certain it was Campbell?” Katherine asks, even though they’ve viewed the stable point twice. “The lighting was horrible in that bar. And those candles on the table tinted everything, so I honestly couldn’t tell whether he was carrying a key.”

  “He’s definitely carrying a key,” Rich says. “Inside his jacket. But I’m still not one hundred percent convinced that it’s Morgen.”

  “You’ve both been in the Redwing Room more times than I have,” I say. “Are you telling me you never noticed the portrait over the fireplace?”

  “Which one?” Richard asks. “There’s like . . . a dozen portraits over the fireplace. All the glorious leaders of the glorious Objectivist Club.”

  I rub my temples. Even though the med tech cleared me for duty, my head is still tense, and arguing—even over minor stuff like this—isn’t helping. “It’s Campbell, okay? Angelo agrees with me. He managed to view the stable point for a few seconds. It kept breaking up, but he got enough of a look to compare it to the portrait, which was done when Campbell took over from his grandfather, at around age forty. The guy in the bar was a lot younger than that—maybe twenty-five—but it’s Morgen Campbell. Did you see the way he flicked the cigar? And his ring. Plus, it sounded like Campbell.”

  I’m wishing now that I’d had Madi slip that ring off the Bailey guy’s finger, although she looked ill enough at having to lift the chain over his head. And the ring would probably have vanished, anyway, just like the guy’s body did, if it was ever outside of a CHRONOS field.

  “The ring does look like his,” Katherine admits. “And I do remember the portrait you’re talking about now that you mention it. I guess I just can’t stand the idea of there being two of the pompous fool running around. But I don’t understand how he could use the key without the equipment in the jump room.”

  “The safeguards to the system apparently aren’t as ironclad as we thought,” I tell her. “Otherwise, Angelo couldn’t have given us this emergency-exit option. And Campbell’s family is disgustingly rich. Maybe they purchased some deluxe package not available to the rest of us.”

  “So all this time Campbell has been yakking about how lucky we are that we can actually travel, how he wishes he wasn’t stuck in one time, and he was actually using the damn thing when he was younger,” Rich says, with a disgusted shake of the head. “It figures.”

  “Are you going to shoot him?” Katherine asks. She doesn’t sound nearly as horrified at the idea as I would expect from someone who blanched when Angelo handed me the gun.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if it were that easy?” Rich says. “Just go shoot the stupid gox and be done with it. I doubt anyone would miss him.”

  “Saul would,” Katherine says under her breath.

  I don’t argue either point, but the truth is, Campbell’s not stupid. He’s got an ego the size of a mountain and social views I find personally abhorrent. But he’s actually well above average intelligence. On the few occasions I have actually watched him play time chess, he’s usually two or three moves ahead of his opponent. Unless he’s playing Saul. They’re pretty evenly matched. One of their games went on for thirty-seven hours.

  “I’m not supposed to shoot him unless it’s completely unavoidable. For one thing, can you imagine the double memories anyone under a CHRONOS field would be stuck with? Every one of us has interacted with him. But we do need to figure out what’s going on, how they managed to use the equipment, and so forth. Angelo even debated asking Sutter to go question Campbell—by which I mean the older version of Campbell holding court over at the OC—but there’s no way he’d keep this under wraps.”

  “Oh, Sutter would keep it secret,” Rich says, smirking. “For a while. Until it was in his best interest to blackmail you with it.”

  Katherine and I both nod, although I’m going on the basis of legend, not actual interaction with him, and I’m pretty sure both of them are, too. Sutter is head of CHRONOS security and, rumor has it, an excruciatingly by-the-book sort of guy who gets his jollies from interrogation. I don’t know what his genetic tweak is, but he has ocular implants that can spot a lie at fifty paces. He was the boogeyman that teachers threatened us with as kids. Do you want me to call Sutter? The answer was always no, followed by a noticeable change in attitude. I don’t think Sutter could actually inflict physical punishment—in fact, I never heard of anyone getting any sort of behavior modification beyond that vague Sutter threat. Which is weird, come to think of it. Rebelliousness must have been one more thing they tweaked while they were playing around with our genomes. Saul has definitely been called in a few times, but even he tries to avoid being too flagrant about flouting regulations.

  “I’m not sure Campbell would keep quiet about being questioned, though,” Rich says. “The thing that bugs me about all this is Campbell being younger. The guy in the video is at least thirty, maybe even thirty-five, years younger than Campbell is now. If his actions caused the time shift, it should have been detected at CHRONOS when he did it, before the three of us were even born. It’s got to be a clone.”

  “You’re overcomplicating things,” I say. “There’s no reason it has to be a clone. If he managed to get a key to a younger version of himself, and also arranged for the CHRONOS gene as his chosen gift, then it could just be a younger Campbell.”

  “I still think it’s a clone,” Katherine says. “He couldn’t use the key, so he cloned a version of himself that could. And now that version is involved in some sort of sick game that’s screwed up the timeline. I just hope both of them pay for this, not just the clone. I mean, there should be some sort of penalty for black-market enhancement and, for that matter, having the damn clone in the first place.”

  “There should, but I think all three of us know that’s very unlikely to happen,” Rich says. “If we manage to fix this, Campbell will probably deny all involvement and maybe spread a little cash around to make the problem go away.”

  I shake my head. “Sorry, but I still don’t think it’s a clone. Morgen Campbell could have bought the CHRONOS gene for his daughter. He didn’t. I’m not sure why he’d see a clone any differently. The man is inherently selfish. He wants the experience for himself. He�
�d be jealous of the clone getting to experience everything that he didn’t.”

  “Okay,” Katherine admits grudgingly. “That’s a valid point. So . . . maybe we just table the whole clone-or-not question. Either way, we’re dealing with a younger version of Morgen. What worries me are the others we saw wandering around.”

  I’ve already viewed the eight stable points, out of at least a hundred that they set in the Coliseum last night, where Rich and Katherine found evidence of someone with a CHRONOS key. They admitted that there could easily be more, and looking at the lights in the auditorium, it’s easy to see why they can’t be entirely sure. Once the Beatles take the stage, there’s so much movement that it’s a bit nausea inducing.

  We do know the time of the shooting, though. The last of the opening acts leaves the stage at 10:17 p.m., and the emcee goes on to announce the Beatles two minutes later. Flashbulbs begin popping so fast at that point that the stage takes on a weird strobe-light effect. Unless we manage to stop it, at 10:38 tonight, about a minute into the third song, “If I Needed Someone,” John Lennon will stumble forward, drop his guitar to the stage, and pitch forward into the pit, inches away from a line of uniformed cops standing at the fence surrounding the stage.

  I glance at my watch. It’s nearly time for me to meet Madi. “Listen, I’m going to head back to the room and look over a few things before I meet up with Meeks and his buddies. I’ll just catch a cab.”

  Katherine excuses herself for a trip to the ladies’ room while we wave down the waiter for our check. As soon as she’s out of sight, Rich leans forward. “I didn’t want to say this in front of Katherine, but I think Saul’s in this, too.” He holds out his key to transfer a stable point.

  The man I see when I pull up the stable point definitely could be Saul. He’s around the same height. There appears to be a woman with him. Both are in the section directly behind the stage. The angle is bad, and if I didn’t already suspect Saul was involved, I’d probably hold off, but . . .

  “It’s Saul.” Then I tell him what I heard Campbell say when I was stuck in the attic.

  “If Campbell is younger here,” Richard says. “Saul would be a toddler. No, I don’t think he’d even be born yet. And he’s fully grown. So that’s more evidence for the clone theory.”

  “Not really. Maybe it’s a greatest-of-all-time championship of some sort? I keep getting stuck on the age thing, too, but they’re time traveling as part of The Game. Saul could just as easily have jumped back to compete with Campbell when he was in his prime. Do you have any other stable points in that section?”

  “I checked the locations I set. Katherine created some, as well. I have those on my key, but since they were transferred, they’re not in the same order. I haven’t found anything that gives a clearer view. Katherine shouldn’t be here, though. Angelo should have pulled her out as soon as he suspected Saul was involved in this. And you should have told me.”

  “When? This is the first chance I’ve had. And you suck at keeping secrets from Katherine.”

  “The hell I do. She doesn’t know I’m in love with her.”

  I sigh, because I really don’t want to do this. He’s going to totally blame the messenger. “Rich . . . she knows. She doesn’t want to admit it to herself, but she knows.”

  As expected, he looks pissed and miserable and sad. But not surprised. Deep down, he knew that she at least suspected. “Why didn’t Angelo call her back to HQ, then? If you told him Saul was there, why—”

  “She needs to see for herself, Rich. And she’ll be the best witness against him if it comes down to that.”

  Katherine is on her way back. Rich takes one look at her, and then pushes away from the table, mumbling something about getting the valet to pull the car around.

  “What was that about?” Katherine asks. “He looks angry.”

  “Don’t know. We were talking about Campbell, and I think he’s still a little pissed about being benched on the Montgomery trip.”

  She nods. “He has a valid point. If he’s pissed at you, though, it’s mostly because he’s worried. You need to check in with us a bit more often. And yes, Tyson, we’re both well aware that we kind of suck as backup. But Rich is your best friend. It bothers him not to be of more use.”

  “You guys are doing all of the grunt work, though. Setting all those stable points. And then going through them. That has to have taken most of the night.”

  She rolls her eyes. “While you’re bashing your head open in strange attics, shooting people, disposing of the evidence, and so on. My point is we may suck as backup, but we’re what you have, and we may surprise you. Don’t get yourself killed by trying to do it all on your own. Because if this really is Campbell and he’s playing The Game, he’s going to take it seriously. And judging from those other blips of light we spotted, he’s not the only one you need to be watching out for.”

  When she’s gone, I pay the check, then head up to the stable point on the mezzanine to intercept Madi. She arrives promptly at eleven. That’s not exactly a surprise. When you have a key that will let you arrive on time no matter when you leave, it takes a conscious effort to keep someone waiting.

  “The elevator is around the corner,” I say. “If you don’t mind talking up in our room, that is.”

  “I think I can trust you.” She gives me a wry grin and pats her pocket. “And if it turns out I can’t, you already know I’m armed.”

  “That’s an excellent point.”

  Madi tucks her key inside the leather pouch as we turn toward the bank of elevators about halfway down the curved hallway. As we’re about to step inside, I spot Rich downstairs near the concierge station, looking up at me. He’s wearing a curious expression, so I wonder how long he’s been watching us. There’s no law against talking to a stranger while you wait for the elevator, but if he’s been standing there for more than about ten seconds, he could very well have seen Madi tucking her key back into the pouch.

  I give him a wave as the doors close.

  “Who was that?” she asks.

  “Richard.”

  “I thought you said they’d be gone by now.”

  “Yeah. They should have been. He and Katherine were waiting outside for the valet to bring the car around. Must have been a delay of some sort.”

  “Did you tell him about me?”

  “No. I had to tell Angelo, though.” Her shoulders sink, and I continue quickly. “I didn’t have any choice, Madi. There’s no way he’d have believed I had this random thought that they might want to check our chronotron pulses for stowaways. It’s not something I’d ever have come up with. He’s known me since I was ten, so there’s no way I could sell that story. He has a vested interest in making sure that nothing changes your development of time travel, so he’s not going to be a problem. His only concern was that you don’t need to take any risks. If something happens to you, I think there’s a decent chance we might have another timeline shift. And he agreed that Katherine and Rich need to be kept in the dark about your role in all of this, at least for now.”

  “Okay,” she says, as we exit the elevator and head down the hallway toward the room. “I guess that will have to do. Do you think Rich saw my key?”

  “Probably. He’s pretty observant.”

  “Great. I’m not used to this whole undercover thing,” Madi says. “You guys train most of your lives for this sort of stuff.”

  “True. But you’ve handled yourself pretty well so far. That’s the only reason I didn’t wind up as a mystery corpse in that attic.”

  I unlock the door. Once we’re inside, Madi pulls her communications band out of her purse and snaps it to her wrist. “I remembered to take this thing off for once, but then I go waving the damn key around,” she mumbles as she taps the wristband. “Anyway, Alex has been busy.”

  “Wait,” I say. “Do you mind if I record this for Angelo?”

  She looks hesitant, and then says, “Sure. Go ahead. If he knows anyway, I guess there’s no harm
in making sure he gets accurate information.”

  I touch the eardisk.

  “You can record video with that?” she asks.

  “Not without the lens implants.”

  “Your blue lenses?”

  “No, those are just cosmetic. The communications implants are beneath. Everyone has those, from the time you’re around eight or nine. They have to be changed out every year or so, but they work in conjunction with the eardisk. Okay, you can start.”

  She begins the recording, and I watch as her partner demonstrates some minor physical differences between the two keys, which he argues could easily be explained away as them being from different time periods. The next part, however, is far more interesting.

  “That’s bizarre,” I tell her. “And your partner there—”

  “Alex.”

  “Yeah. He’s right that the interference pattern looks similar, but . . . there could be other explanations for that. It’s been accepted science since—well, since before your time—that there are indeed parallel universes. But they spin off from actions taken in this universe. You can’t travel between them.”

  “Except,” she says, “I kind of know of someone who did that. Not purposefully. It happened because there was a time shift. She was under a key, and so was her grandmother . . . who was pregnant at the time with her mom and her aunt. So there were eventually two of her in the same timeline.”