Fate (Wilton's Gold #3) (11 page)

“Did anyone know you were investigating?”

“Some did, yes. But not everyone. Like any quickly-thrown-together governmental initiative, the left hand doesn’t necessarily know what the right is doing.”

“And you’re thinking that the visits to the same coordinates were to keep some kind of record of what was happening?”

Fisher laughed. “It sounds silly, I know. And without asking someone, perhaps the wrong person and potentially incriminating myself, I have no way of knowing what those coordinates mean. I Googled the date. There’s no historical significance I can find.”

“No one you could trust?”

“Not until now,” he said. “I figure with everything you’ve been through, you’re going to be more cautious than anyone. If I said the wrong thing to anyone else, it’d be easy enough for them to eliminate me.”

That knocked the wind out of Jeff. It was exactly the type of thing he feared would happen. He thought aloud. “There’d be no way of knowing.”

Fisher was nodding. “Exactly. Just like Dexter, being the only one who knows about Kane. Someone knows about these missions and what they were meant for. I fear they were destructive.”

Jeff stood up and strolled about ten feet from Fisher, thinking. The agent seemed to be being earnest with him, so he didn’t suspect that he was trying to lead him in a direction that would enable some sort of disciplinary action. Just the thought of someone going into the past unauthorized and alone was ominous, regardless of the intent. Clearly, from the demeanor of the USTP team, there was no suspicion of any malfeasance taking place. The thought of how easy it was for someone to act on their own intentions without anyone knowing sent a shiver down his spine. He was going to need to work with Fisher.

He turned back to him. “Just to be clear, it’s not the other me you’re talking about?”

Fisher shook his head. “No. I thought maybe it was you, but the missions continued after you left. Though, I can’t help but wonder if you left because you learned something. Because you knew as well as I did that if they decided to make sure you didn’t exist, they could do it pretty easily.”

“And the best place for me to hide would be somewhere in the past...” He leaned back on the railing. “You know, this is an awful lot of speculation. Some might even call it a conspiracy theory.”

“I know.”

“And the coordinates wouldn’t necessarily help you even if you did know what they meant. All they address is the time. They give you no indication of the place, because you actually have to take the device with you wherever you want to travel back. You would almost have to figure out who the person is and then tail them with the device to find out where they’re going – which could tell you why they’re going there. Hopefully, you’d be a little less obvious than when you tail me.”

Fisher was silent, looking right at Jeff.

“You know, don’t you? And you don’t want to tell me.”

“I said I could trust you more than anyone else. But I don’t know how much. I don’t need you going off and trying to do a misguided investigation by yourself and screwing it up. Look – if you show me you can keep this entire conversation to yourself, I’ll give you more details.”

Jeff held up his hands. “You brought all this to me, and no you’re going to leave me hanging? I don’t understand-”

Fisher stood. “Trust me. You don’t
want
to know. Not until we are absolutely, one-hundred-percent ready to act on it.”

“Is that your intent? To do something about it? I actually don’t even know your role with the Time Program right now.”

“Right now, my role is to follow you around to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Which is why I’m not telling you any more. I’ll catch up with you later.”

As he started to walk away, Jeff said, “Can you at least tell me where?”

“Not yet,” Fisher said, then walked through the mall entrance. Jeff followed him inside, but he’d disappeared into the mall’s afternoon customers.

Unable to think about shoes, but still needing them, Jeff trudged through the crowd to finish his day of shopping.

Dexter sat in his car in the parking lot of the Capitol Suites in Alexandria, tapping his thumb on his steering wheel as he listened to some song he vaguely remembered from the late ‘90s. It wasn’t Pearl Jam, but one of the other bands that had had kinda the same sound. He was pleased that he remembered about three-quarters of the words, though.

Jeff had been upgraded from his hotel into a room that would give him a little more space, and a kitchen. Dexter felt bad for him, and genuinely wished there was something more he could do, but they were both under the thumb of the USTP for the time being. Thankfully, he couldn’t see them keeping Jeff in this situation for very long because under such circumstances a person would probably go crazy, but his friend appeared to be playing ball. Pretty soon, if he knew Jeff at all, he’d tire of being in limbo and start making some demands. Or, probably the better bet, he’d try to find his own way out of the situation. If that was going to be the case, Dexter knew from experience he wouldn’t be able to stop him, but felt he had to help him make the best decisions possible. After Jeff helped him, of course.

Jeff had specifically requested some time to himself and was spending the day handling some personal affairs, but Dexter needed him right away. If Jeff was being followed, which was probably happening, their friendship was a reasonable excuse for a visit. They hadn’t had any casual time together, just the two of them. He thought Jeff might like to go to dinner – something he could defend if the Time Program folks wanted an explanation for their fraternization outside of work.

He’d spent his day stewing about the Kane verdict, and thought the government was being awfully cavalier with its interpretation of what was “right.” From his perspective, it had been a mistake to involve Kane himself. They should have simply moved forward with the plan to fix the situation. He felt the situation was akin to naming the cat that wanders into your yard and involving yourself with it, so that when it leaves you have an emotional reaction to its absence. Kane as a faceless murderer would have been easy to take care of. Kane the benign businessman with a big checkbook was a different story. Dexter couldn’t decide which version he hated more now that the current Kane had ostentatiously interfered with their project.

He still had misgivings about how Kane could possibly have known that George Mellen would be on that street corner at exactly that time, and wished he had back the access to either of their stories from before the trip took place. Dexter’s family had stories that were passed down, and none of them were so precise as to know the time of day when things happened. It was too perfect – especially because the USTP missions offered such a short window of opportunity.

The song had changed to Madonna – this one a song he knew easily – but he turned the radio down as his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was the office. The only number he actually answered instead of letting it go to voicemail.

Turned out it wasn’t simply the office, though. “Dexter,” Dr. Bremner greeted him. “Got a minute?”

“Sure,” he said. While they all worked very closely together, getting a phone call from the head of the USTP was like getting a phone call from a five-star general. It didn’t happen often.

“Look, Dexter,” Bremner said, without going into pleasantries, “I know you’re not happy with what happened today, and if I was in your shoes, I’d be upset about it, too. But the directive came down from higher than anyone in this organization, so I hope that you’ll be able to get past it. Let it go. The world is not a perfect place. Nobody blames you for what happened. We all need to move on.”

“Did you get the impression that I wasn’t moving on?” he asked.

“I just want to make sure. You’re very important to the program and to everything we have going on, and I want to make sure you know that. I can’t have one of my top people distracted. Especially by something completely out of his control.”

“You don’t have to worry. It won’t be a problem, sir,” he said, noticing a silver SUV pull into a parking spot about a hundred feet away from where he was; it was similar to the car that Jeff had rented. A moment later, he saw Jeff get out of the driver’s side and move around to the liftgate, so he exited his own car and started toward him.

“Look,” Bremner continued, “this is the very reason why we hired Dr. Graham. I encourage you to use her expertise. Schedule some time with her. Sit down and talk about what you’re feeling about this. It’ll help you get it out.”

“I can do that,” he said, not really paying attention to what he was agreeing to do. He wanted to catch Jeff before he got into the hotel.

“Actually, the conversation will probably help her as much as it’ll help you. I think she’s on to something with her thoughts earlier about time travel psychology.”

“I agree.” He was trying not to sound hurried even has he speed-walked across the parking lot.

“Neat, neat stuff.”

He watched Jeff struggle to balance everything he’d purchased in one hand while trying to close the trunk with the other. He finally succeeded, and as he turned away from the car toward the hotel, he noticed Dexter hustling toward him. He threw up his shoulders in a helpless shrug and shook his head. Dexter smiled innocently.

“One other thing I wanted to ask you,” Bremner said in Dexter’s ear. “Dr. Jacobs. Can we trust him?”

Dexter stopped short about ten feet from Jeff. “Can we what?”

“Can we trust him?”

He held up a finger to Jeff. “To do or not do what?”

Bremner laughed. “Well, to not do anything stupid. The United States government has invested an awful lot of taxpayer money in the Time Program. We can’t afford to have a cowboy with an overly-sensitive conscience on the inside, making it difficult for us to accomplish the program’s goals.”

“I can’t see him doing that,” Dexter said slowly. He could see Jeff’s faux annoyance turning into impatience.

“That’s good,” he said. “You know as well as I do the time travel missions are the face of the organization, but the research we’re doing is really the key. We’ve only scratched the surface of time travel research, but we need to continue to operate in a very controlled environment. There’s no room for error, and we are finally at a point in time where someone going rogue on us could devastate the program and derail everything we’re trying to achieve. Jacobs can be helpful, certainly, but he was a wild card even before he ran. I’m hoping this version of him has seen enough to make him a little more cautious.”

“Well, you can understand why he’d feel the responsibility.”

There was pause on the other end of the line, and then, “Yes, yes, I can understand that. And I realize that we’ve put him in a tough position that I promise you we will rectify as soon as we can. But we need to get the program back up and running as soon as possible. If Dr. Jacobs going through the process is necessary to get him up-to-speed, then I’m good with it. But we need to get moving. And I need your help to make that happen.”

“You have it,” Dexter said.

“Excellent,” he said. “I knew I could count on you. I will see you in the morning – and, please, I encourage you to call Dr. Graham.”

“I will.”
Maybe.

The line clicked off and Dexter advanced the last few steps to reach Jeff. He grabbed a handful of bags from him.

“You too? Why are you here?” Jeff asked. He wasn’t smiling.

“We need to talk.”

Jeff shook his head forcefully. “No. Look, I’m going to go absolutely batty if I can’t get two stinkin’ minutes to myself to collect my thoughts. Not even the great Dr. Victoria Graham will be able to rescue me from the type of psychosis I’m this close to. Why can’t any of you get that?”

“Since you got here, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get you back to your original time,” Dexter said, having expected that type of response from his friend. “I think I have a way to help make it happen.”

“I’ve already got that figured out.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do,” he said. “But I’m also sure that you need me. And I need your help at the same time.”

Jeff looked at him for a long moment, then sighed deeply. “C’mon, let’s put these bags in my room.”

“Your room’s probably bugged.”

“Oh yeah, I assumed that. We’ll get dinner. You’re buying.”

“You don’t have any money anyway.” He followed behind as Jeff laughed, though it wasn’t an earnest laugh. Dexter could tell he felt lost and just wanted some kind of relief.

They brought Jeff’s bags up to his room, which was much nicer than his previous temporary home. Upon entering, Jeff put his finger to his lips for Dexter to be silent, then he unloaded his new clothes, hanging the appropriate ones in the room’s closet. He retreated to the kitchen and poured a glass of water before quickly using the bathroom; then they were back outside, getting into Dexter’s car. Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a seafood restaurant on the banks of the Potomac near Mount Vernon.

The place was busy, so they took a seat on a wooden bench facing the water while they waited for a table. They hadn’t talked much in the car, Dexter wanting to be able to give his undivided attention to the conversation. The December air was cold and damp, but not intolerable, and a breeze blew the tall reeds in the marsh along the river. Had everything else in their lives not been happening, and had it been a few degrees warmer, it would’ve been quite peaceful.

Finally, after several minutes, Jeff asked, “Do you think we were tailed?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said with a big laugh. “Absolutely. Look, just to be safe, assume you’re always being tailed. I do – ever since the Kane mission. I don’t think they trust you very much.”

He laughed. “I suppose I can understand why. Though I don’t know what threat I am sitting in a restaurant having dinner. The devices are all locked up.”

“For now.”

“What do you mean?”

Dexter looked off toward the water. He couldn’t wait. “I want to go after Kane.”

“I know you do, but you can’t. You shouldn’t.”

“Think about it, though,” he said, his voice rising in excitement as he started into his sales pitch. “If I can get my hands on one of the devices, I can do it and be back without anyone even knowing.”

“Except that you’ll have a device with an extra trip on it, and battery usage to account for,” Jeff said. “I’ve already thought of this. And now I understand they’ve incorporated the coordinate tracking system right into the device?”

“How’d you know that?”

“I had a run-in with my favorite FBI agent today. He told me.”

“Who? Agent Fisher?” Jeff nodded. “He followed you when you were shopping? I was wondering why you said, ‘You too?’ when you saw me. So he approached you? You talked? About what?”

Jeff shook his head. “About nothing in particular. He was just making sure I was on the up-and-up.”

“Are you?”

“There are lots of ways to interpret what ‘on the up-and-up’ means, but right now, yes.”

Dexter heard the host call his name and they re-entered the restaurant. They were fortunate and got a table on the patio, which was covered with a temporary glass enclosure for the season. Their server, a young Italian man with a hint of a New York accent that brought Dexter back to when he and Jeff had first become friends, took their drink order and left to fetch them a bottle of wine. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. They had the same vantage point as they had from the waiting area, only here they were shielded from the breeze. The last remnants of dusk were disappearing, and he’d read that the above average temperatures the past few days were about to go away. “This is nice,” he said. It was. He hoped it was helping Jeff feel relaxed.

“Who was on the phone with you in the parking lot?” Jeff asked once they were alone again, causing Dexter to laugh. “You were talking about me. I know it.”

“It was Bremner.”

“Ah, that’s what I thought. I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to do. He must have an awful lot to lose.”

“Well, he is the head of the program.”

The waiter returned with their bottle of wine and went through the rigmarole of showing Dexter the bottle, pouring him a sample, and then pouring them each full glasses. They ordered a plate of oysters as an appetizer, then sent the man off as they looked through the menu. After a moment, they both set their menus on the table.

“So, tell me your big scheme,” Jeff said, sipping from his glass.

“Well, we’ve been authorized to take you through the time travel process starting tomorrow,” Dexter said. He’d been rehearsing the speech in his head all day, and didn’t let Jeff’s sarcasm derail him. “Tomorrow morning we’ll plug your information into the computer and get a PCS – a potential conflict score. Have you thought about your destination yet?”

“Does it really matter?”

“I guess not, really.”

“Well, you know what? Let’s blow the machine out of the water. Let’s say we’re going to send me back to my original time.”

“I don’t know...” Dexter said. “They’re not going to go for that.”

Jeff held up his hands. “Let’s say it’s a test case. You’ve probably only tried the program with logically sound data. Right? You’ve never put in your... grandfather’s house in the ‘50s? Just to see how the computer would react? You should.”