by D. L. Koontz
“Remarkable.” Davis swiped a hand across his face. Andrew, meanwhile, sat quietly, head cocked with a smirk on his face.
Again, Colette bobbed her head. “In 1637—I might be off a year or two, my research was destroyed in the water—Swedish, German, Dutch and other stockholders from the Swedish kingdom formed the New Sweden Company to trade for furs and tobacco in North America. More than 600 Swedes and Finns reached what are now the mid-Atlantic states.” She swept a hand through the air. “Including Pennsylvania. But the British were gaining in numbers. In 1682 a Quaker settlement began after William Penn gained control of the territory from Charles II. Twenty-three ships carried in hundreds of Quakers. The Swedes and Finns were quickly outnumbered and required to be naturalized as English subjects. Many were promised lands elsewhere in compensation.”
Davis leaned back, folded his arms and crossed his ankles, “So this is where Andrew’s ancestors come in?”
“Bingo. His grandfather was one of the Russian-New Sweden citizens, but with allegiance to Russia. His compensating land exchange, or so he claimed, was here, in western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio.”
Brogan said, “Unexplored land at the time.”
“Correct. We know land shifted and changed hands a lot during this time as the country became settled. France started claiming land, too. The French formed New France and expanded it into western Pennsylvania. We believe Andreii’s grandfather made a pact with the French to restore what he felt was his rightful claim.”
Colette spoke in a steady stream, a quiet dignity in the way she delivered her research. “Even William Penn lost control of the land several times. Three years after one of those incidents, it was restored to him by the British, so Penn met with Czar Peter the Great during a brief trip to London. It’s quite likely they discussed any Russian holdings. That meeting gave us reason to believe that Andreii’s grandfather felt he had a legitimate claim, and may have tried to secure it through the French to pass to his descendants. Andreii’s father, then, was born in 1698 to a very young mother, and Andreii followed, in 1738, as I mentioned earlier.”
As though a signal was given, the group reacted through sighing, nodding heads, adjusting positions, and, as it appeared to Libby, generally digesting the overwhelming story physically without saying a word.
Colette clasped her hands around her knees. For the first time, Libby noticed she wore trousers and an oversized shirt exactly like—and probably the same size as—the one Zach wore. “And that takes us into a time when the French and British battled for control during the French and Indian War.”
“Part of which,” Brogan said, “Libby and I lived through.” He leaned in, resting his forearms on his thighs. “This is all making sense now. You said Andreii’s grandfather believed he held a claim to a vast amount of land and tried to secure it through the French. Meanwhile, Libby, your grandfather was granted a sizable tract through the British.”
Colette pointed her index finger at Brogan. “Exactly. The same land.”
Brogan laced his fingers and shot Colette a pensive look. “But, as we know, the British won the French and Indian War and drove the French out.”
Colette nodded. “And, in 1760 when Andreii killed Libs’ family, we think he was not only trying to get them out of the way, but perhaps trying to find documentation of the land.”
Brogan said, “Because Libby’s grandfather never filed it. Never claimed it.”
Libby looked at him. “You’re right. I remember Papa talking about it. He said his father didn’t believe one person should have so much. He agreed. Of greater concern to him was that the territory be settled by people who sought religious freedom from tyrannical government rule.”
Brogan took a deep breath. “You came home in the midst of the house burning and found your family dead.” His voice was laced in sorrow. “Andrew’s band of Indians took you. I arrived too late.”
Davis asked, “That was 1760?”
Brogan nodded. “Libby...Elise was 11. I was 17. I left, searching for her right after that. We returned five years later.”
Married. We came back married. Libby didn’t voice it. Didn’t need to. She and Brogan knew it and that’s all that mattered. She looked up to see him staring at her.
As if he could read her mind, he said, “Tiakení:teron.” Mohawk, for wife/husband.
Startled, her eyes grew, but she said nothing, prompting him to ask, “Sa’nikonhraién:tas ken?” Do you understand?
“Hen.” Yes. She bit her lower lip, trying to suppress an ardent and ill-timed smile in front of the others.
His face softened, his gaze intensified. “Konnorónhkwa.” I show you I care. I love. I am concerned.
Overcome with emotion, she uttered a joyful syllable, immediately flattening her palm over her mouth to keep her emotions silent. She darted her gaze to the others to find them shooting curious looks at her and Brogan. Andrew’s glare, however, was filled with contempt.
“Anyway,” Colette murmured, pulling her gaze off Libby, “we believe Creases...err, sorry, that’s what I used to call him...we believe Andreii thought the claim would be awarded to a Brit if Libby died. So, he instructed the Indians to take her. He probably intended to go after her later. To lay claim to the property.”
Andrew’s brows snapped together and he sneered. “Thought it would be awarded? I knew it would be given to an undeserving British imbecile.” He looked at Libby. “It was a British officer that authorized me to kill your father in the first place. Seems Papa”—he said the word mockingly—“verbalized his displeasure with how the Brits treated settlers.”
Libby bulked at Andrew’s words. “My father?” Her voice revealed fury. “What about the rest of my family? Was killing them your idea?”
Andrew’s eyes blazed. “I searched that house high and low. No deed. By then, everyone in your family had seen me. They had to die. We burned the place. You showed up at the end. I figured you might know where the deed was. But, we heard people coming so I instructed two of the Indians in the raiding party to take you. We all scattered. The idiots that took you kept going west. I started searching, but after a while, I gave up. Assumed you were dead.”
Nettled, Libby glared at him. “Nathan...Brogan found me.” She sat taller with as much dignity as she could muster and said in a cold, ridiculing voice, “He did what you could not.”
Andrew glowered at her, his eyes shimmering with outrage.
A palpable tension hung in the air.
Davis cleared his throat. “Colette, do you know more about Andrew’s travels through time?” He looked at the others. “I’m hearing much of this for the first time, too.”
Colette said, “When Elizabeth’s reign ended in 1762, Peter III ruled for such a short time, that by the time Andreii left the colonies and made the grueling trip back to Russia, Peter had been murdered. His wife Catherine II became empress. We doubt she had any idea what Andreii’s nefarious intent was, but she funded his return. Like, Elizabeth, she wanted an emissary here to establish good relations for trade. We assume Andreii saw much more opportunity. If he could change the power here, then Russia would benefit. Or, perhaps he wanted power for himself. As far as we know, neither Catherine nor Elizabeth shared that sentiment for Russia. Andreii returned here in 1763, but it gets sketchy after that. Historical records are far from complete. We found one document that suggested he was ill on the trip back. Perhaps that was the first, of many, times he took the water.”
Brogan said, “It was two years later, 1765, Morning Meadow...Libby...and I returned from living with the Mohawks. That’s when he shot her. But at the time I didn’t know it was him.”
A shiver coursed through Libby. “That’s when I came forward to 2003. That time, the water did save me from death.”
Andrew scowled. “You two were spotted returning from the wilderness. Word reached me. I had to shoot you. You could have identified me before I could find out about the deed.”
Brogan gaped at him, shook his hea
d in disgust. “After that you disappeared? I don’t remember seeing you until four years later when you joined the Black Boys and shot me.”
Andrew snorted. “I took the water several times. Traveled back and forth, learning about the future. Makings plans. And what do I learn in 1769 on one trip back? That you finally stopped mourning, enough to reunite with Anabelle. That’s right, Libby, your Prince Charming couldn’t wait to take up with Anabelle again.”
And then Brogan married Anabelle’s descendant. Libby forced that from her mind. She couldn’t think about it now. “What happened to the deed?”
Brogan said, “I destroyed it. Your father didn’t want anyone to get their hands on it.”
Davis drummed his finger on his thigh. “Then why didn’t he destroy it?”
“Things were so uncertain in those days,” Brogan said. “Land constantly changing hands. Countries vying for control. We tended to hold on to things, just in case.”
Andrew inclined his head and asked, “When did you destroy it?”
Brogan responded, “Not long before you shot me.”
Andrew looked into the air, as though he was calculating. “So between 1760 and 1768, an 8-year timeframe, it was hidden. The Treaty of Paris was signed in 1763 and the Brits got that land. So there’s a three-year span where the deed was waiting to be found.” His gaze ranged over the faces as he spoke, then slid to the exit and back.
Brogan grimaced. “And you think we’ll give you the chance to go back in time again to get it?” Andrew said nothing, so Brogan asked, “Why did you shoot me? And Richard and Anabelle?”
Andrew shrugged a shoulder. “I hadn’t intended to. I had two horses at the fort because I thought I might need a hostage. The fact that it became you played so perfectly into my hands. Later, it became necessary to kill Richard and Anabelle. One night, in a drunken stupor, I spilled the beans, as we say in the future, about shooting both of you. When I sobered up, I had no choice. Richard was easy. As a soldier, he was always out and about. It took me a while to find Anabelle alone.”
Brogan’s face reddened with fury. “The court records say Anabelle was with child when you attacked her. The child barely survived.”
Libby watched Andrew roll his eyes and look away, his demeanor suggesting he could not have cared less.
How could she have loved this man? She forced down the sickening thought that she was still married to him.
She tuned back into the conversation to hear Colette answer something Davis had asked.
“This was the first time the bureau ever dealt with such a situation. Previously we’ve had people globe-trotting from country to country to evade us, but not through time. This was much more problematic. We couldn’t figure out any other way to resolve this than to follow him closely. Day after day I tailed him. Sure enough, he finally headed here and took the water. So I followed.”
Libby bulked. “Colette, that was too much sacrifice.”
“I had to, Libs.” Colette reached out and clutched Libby’s hand.
“I am so sorry,” Libby said. “I was scared and angry when I left. I didn’t explain. I found the gifts for your mother. I assumed you’d lied.”
Colette flinched. “Yeah...that was a lie, Libs. I don’t even have a mother. The gifts were fake. Part of my role. My parents have both been dead for eight years. When we moved in together, it was so I could watch you.”
“Me?” She froze, aware the others were paying rapt attention to everything.
“We had been investigating Andrew long before you joined the bureau. During one of the few times we got into his apartment, we found a picture of you. We tracked you down. Recruited you. We wanted to pull you as close as possible. That’s why I made sure to be with you the night you met him.”
“I had no idea.”
“You kept your cell phone too close. So did he. I couldn’t do anything with those. But, our apartment was bugged, Libs. When I left, saying I was going to my mom’s, I relocated around the corner to a hotel. Unfortunately, after that La Cicia dinner date you had with Andrew, you didn’t say much of anything in the apartment.”
Libby furrowed her brow, remembering. “You’re right. I always went out on the balcony.”
“I had a bug in your purse too. But you took a different one to the restaurant. And, left it at home the rest of the time. In the end, I failed you when you and Andrew left D.C. That horrendous D.C. traffic.”
Libby tried to blink back tears that pricked at her eyes. She pushed off the bench and rubbed her forehead as she began to pace. Perhaps expending energy would help her muddled mind. The others remained quiet as though grasping her need for a moment to think.
She had sat in on interrogations before, providing interpretation when necessary. Sometimes suspects would crack from fatigue, or guilt, or when overpowered by the sheer weight of evidence against them. But, there were a few who were never tortured by guilt. For them their only regret was getting caught. She knew that look. She saw it in Andrew’s eyes now.
How could she have married this man? He’d told her his friends loved him, his family adored him. But, she’d never met any friends or family. She’d fallen in love with the man he said he was, not the man he actually was. A weary ennui overcame her and she felt the center of her heart go hard.
She came to a halt and whirled to confront him. “The calla lilies... blue is my favorite color... you were aware of all those things because you had studied me from the future, didn’t you? All those things you said and did were just lies. You knew I wouldn’t go forward in time when I took the water, didn’t you?” She shook her head and continued without giving him a chance to respond. “You were so familiar to me when we met. But it was born of a horribly bad familiarity that I didn’t comprehend. And you were so deceptive about your feelings. Why did you bring me back? Marry me? Why not just kill me?” Her questions came out with the cool crispness of an inquisition.
Andrew exhaled dramatically, dropping his chin and shoulders as though bored. “You were getting too involved in the investigation of me. Those tapes. But I wasn’t ready to carry out my plan yet. So, it was either kill you, or marry you and have you take the water. This way you’d be bound to me and more likely to cooperate. Besides, in 2016, a body is much harder to dispose of than it was long ago.”
Libby cringed and Brogan’s nostrils flared. She saw his hands fist.
Zach glared at Andrew, his eyes brimmed with contempt. “You’re twisted.”
Libby put her hands on her arms as she assessed Andrew. She didn’t see the faintest flicker of regret on his face. “You never cared about me at all, did you?”
Andrew blew out his cheeks as he studied her dispassionately. “Frankly, no.”
She suppressed a cynical retort. “Then why did you tell me to stay at the Springs? Near the water? And why lie about the nuances of taking the water?”
Davis said, “Control. To make sure he could find you when he was ready. He was weighing his odds with his thumb on the scale. Isn’t that right, Andrew?”
Andrew tensed his jaw, but said nothing. His small, black snake eyes glinted like icepicks in the lantern light.
After a moment of silence, Colette cleared her throat. “We, the bureau, had a hard time isolating and classifying this. We couldn’t call him a mole or double agent because he’s not really feeding anything of any worth to either country as far as we can tell. Nothing of significance.”
“Just providing enough,” Davis said, “to keep both countries believing he’s loyal.”
“That was our conclusion,” Colette said. “He’s not trying to change the present or the future as much as he’s trying to collect data to change the past which, in turn, will change the future. He’s trying to learn a lot about the evolution of both countries, predominantly where resources are discovered, and the development of wealth in this country. There’s quite an empire to be made in oil and steel. If he could own that particular land...if he could go back in time and change that land grant on b
ehalf of Russia or, just himself, then he could become an extremely wealthy and powerful man. Particularly because he knows how history unfolds in advance. We believe Andrew may see himself as a time-traveling revolutionary.”
Zach exhaled in frustration. “In the future, Winston Churchill describes Russia as a ‘riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.’ Just like a nesting doll,” he said glaring at Andrew. “Just like Matryoshka. And just like you.”
“This is ridiculous,” Andrew snarled.
Davis plowed a hand down his face and spoke in a hushed tone, almost as if to himself. “The coal and steel industries evolve in Pittsburgh, with plenty of railroad and river accessibility.” His voice grew louder. “Right in the middle of the territory we’re talking about. And, Ashtabula Harbor, in northeast Ohio, at one point in history, became the third largest receiving port in the world. It served as the most direct source of iron ore to feed the booming steel mills in Youngstown and Pittsburgh.” He grew quiet a moment and turned his gaze to Colette. “How many people in the future know about this?”
“Only two at the bureau,” Colette said. “Also, Hardin, and whoever Andrew was working with. Presumably Dr. Kuzmich. Hardin knows his survival depends on being quiet. The two at the bureau are rather far up the ladder.” She smiled sheepishly. “I ignored the chain of command. Went right to the top. They were astonished, to say the least. In that room, the three of us realized the possibilities of time-travel and what it could mean to national security and stability.”
Davis interjected, “People could go back in time to sway elections, invest in stocks, sabotage company empires, win lotteries. Generally commit murder, theft, and fraud, and get away with it.”
Colette’s voice took on a hesitant, sobering tone as she continued in a near-whisper. “I’ll be honest, their fears about time-travel threats were so all-consuming, I became afraid for my own life. For what I now know. So afraid, in fact, that I’m not returning to the future.”