Fate (Wilton's Gold #3) (15 page)

“You say ‘we.’ Who’s we?”

“Oh, Dexter came with me.”

She was shocked. “Really? He’s never said a word.”

But Jeff was shaking his head. “The Dexter you know doesn’t know anything about it. My mission to Russia changed the circumstances of the FBI finding me, which negated in history our trip to 1849. So while it’s still in my memory, and if we were to go to 1849 right now you’d find Dexter there, from our reality now, the trip never happened.”

She looked at him for a long moment, trying to follow what he was saying, but the look on her face grew more and more confusing. “Wow,” she said. “I have an awful lot to learn about time travel.”

“It’s a bear.”

“But you don’t feel you have any insight into whether Jeff went to find this woman?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. I know it must’ve been painful for you when he left. When did you last talk to him?”

She sighed, then looked off at the awful yellow lights, thinking. “The night before he disappeared. We had dinner – went to a crab house in Baltimore – then walked down by the waterfront for a little while. I thought it was a typical date night. Some other couple walking by offered to take our picture in front of the water. I mean, it was very nice, and a little bit farther from home, but dinner and a walk was not unusual for us.”

“Did he say anything out of the ordinary?”

“Not really,” she said, shaking her head. “After he disappeared, I tried to trace the conversation back to see if there was any indication something was wrong. I remember we talked about work, which was always hard not to do, but we also talked about a weekend getaway, and were trying to decide where we’d go. I think we’d settled on driving down to Hilton Head. But the next morning, he was gone. While I didn’t see him, he’d apparently shown up for work in the morning, and then was suddenly missing. Just gone. After a few hours, the unauthorized break-in to the time lab was reported, and Jeff was seen on the security monitors entering the facility. They’ve since been secured with double locks that require simultaneous identification – you know, due to the possible dangers. But he was gone, and there was no reason, no note, and no explanation why. Then you show up the other day, and my world gets turned upside down. Although, really, it didn’t.”

“I’m sorry that happened, Victoria,” he said. “I can’t speak to what happened, but I can tell you that I don’t get attached very easily. If he left without a word, there had to be a pretty compelling reason to do so.” He thought about Fisher’s concerns about changing history and wondered if the USTP had done something to his other self. But then, Victoria wouldn’t have memory of him up until the time he left. No, the other Jeff had run.

“That’s nice of you to say. It doesn’t help, though.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t.”

She paused again, her attention turned back to him. She touched the screen on her tablet, but nothing happened. “Whatever you’re planning here, I hope that if you have any opportunity to either find Jeff or give me some closure, you’ll do what you can.”

He cocked his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Jeff, you wouldn’t be going through this without an end game,” she said. “I know you too well. The Time Program destroyed your life, using your own technology that you developed. You’re not the type to sit back and let that happen.”

He laughed and leaned back in his chair. “You can speculate all you want. I’m still trying to make heads or tails of what my life is going to be going forward.” Where was she getting her suspicions? “Are you recording me?”

She shook her head. “No. I just turned it off. I’ve been recording all this time. But if whatever you’re working on can get Jeff back to me... well, let’s just say I’m giving you a head start.”

He started to answer, but she touched the screen again. The lights slowly faded to a bright purple, and the screen behind her switched to a black-and-white photo of a purse-snatcher stealing a woman’s purse on a busy city street.

“Tell me about this one,” Victoria said, as though they hadn’t skipped a beat. “How does it make you feel?”

After putting a couple of hours in at his desk, Dexter had headed back up to the control room, and now stood in front of the monitors on the wall, watching the data flow across the screens. Like they would do with any participant in the program, they paused the on-going random data searches to run Jeff’s data. Running specific data with a center point for reference – the participant – was much faster than running non-specific searches, and generally took six to eight hours to complete.

Still, Dexter could follow along as the feedback from the search was returned by the servers. He saw a number of yellow entries dumped from the top screens to the middle screens. Those possible trouble spots would be analyzed after the first run was complete to see if any of them could be interpreted as an issue. Of course, on the screen in front of him was all data and tech language. One he noticed read 001/MAT/5C/7R/375M/A26. He hadn’t looked at the data in a long time, but he knew how to read code 001 because it was the most basic – familial relation. This wasn’t a particularly close connection, however, but the computer still chose to flag it. Quickly, before it bounced down and off the screen, he tried to run through the meaning of the codes in his head. Maternal side, fifth cousin, seven times removed, whose home in 1849 was 375 miles from Jeff’s proposed destination. He couldn’t remember what the A26 meant, but he was pretty impressed with himself for getting that far, assuming he was remembering correctly. After a moment, additional yellow entries had moved Jeff’s relative off the screen.

Despite his humbly unbelievable memory, the rest of the list was gish-gosh. His eyes picked up another entry – 074/6C/11W/25000/I7/18p. He had no clue what it meant. He remembered at some point learning that there were over 600 categories of possible connections which were analyzed. His expertise stopped at 001.

“You’re not going to sit here staring at the screen for the next six hours, are you?” Bremner asked, walking up behind him.

He shook his head. “No. I just like seeing it in action.”

“So do I,” Bremner said. “It’s like watching a wave caused by the wind in a field of wheat. Just incredible. Any special interest because it’s your friend?”

“I suppose so, yes.” The previous entry popped into his mind. A26 was age 26. “Oh, it’s age. That’s right.”

“What’s that?”

“I was reading one of the entries and couldn’t remember one of the codes. It was age. The age when Jeff’s ancestor would have been at the time of his destination.”

“I thought that was a unique choice,” Bremner said, now watching numbers on the screen with Dexter. “But then I remembered your journal and the story of Wilton’s gold.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure why he did that,” he said. “But that’s Jeff. He probably wanted to come up with something that would stump the machine, test the system. That’s how his mind works.”

As Bremner laughed, Dexter tried not to squirm. He wished Jeff had chosen a different time and destination instead of one of the possible destinations that they’d researched when Jeff had first approached him about time travel several years back. Even if he’d chosen one of the others, and not the one that had so much intrigue attached to it. The gangster who had robbed a bank in Mississippi with a baseball bat painted to look like a gun, or the British officer who was hoarding gemstones that King George III had sent him. Those would’ve been less conspicuous. But Wilton was Jeff’s favorite.

Of course, the only thing keeping Jeff from taking on the Wilton mission back in the day had been Dexter’s advice that something in the accounting of the situation in Joe Wilton’s handwritten journal seemed amiss. Wilton, trekking across the country in 1849 with everything he owned in his wagon, had written that an angel had appeared from out of the forest in the treacherous Sierra Nevada mountains and told him where to camp. The angel had clearly not been of the guardian variety, however, as the camp had been ambushed the next morning. Wilton’s gold – 60 bars of it – had been taken and a number of Wilton’s team members killed. As they’d analyzed the opportunity, Dexter had been scared off by the mention of the angel. He thought it was far too dangerous an endeavor to trust the storytelling of a man claiming to be taking direction from an angel, but still had made copious notes in his journal about it. He and Jeff had argued often about it, but those conversations ended when Dr. Bremner had shown up at Jeff’s lab carrying Jeff’s time device, the same device that had somehow found its way to the middle of the same forest in the Sierra Nevadas. Within months, literally, the USTP had been created, construction had begun on the new facility, and Jeff and Dexter had been carefully “recruited” by the U.S. government for their integral roles with the program. While Dexter had considered when the old Jeff had run that it was to 1849, there had been no talk at the USTP about the Gold Rush– until Jeff had announced his chosen destination that morning.

“Well, if that’s what he’s interested in,” Bremner said. “Who’s to stop him? Actually, it’ll be good. I like his perspective. Think about it – there’s nothing really to trace him to that time period except for your journal. Right? This will be interesting.”

“How are we going to present this to Jeff?” Dexter asked, changing the subject. “Normally, it’s for our eyes only, but he wants to see how it works. Are you going to do a presentation?”

He shrugged, which was an uncommon move for Bremner, who was consistently very precise in his delivery. “You can handle it. Or Abby. I don’t see any need to be directly involved.”

Dexter looked back to Abby, sitting at one of the terminals keypunching away. He tried to remember if she’d been aware of their initial conversations about the Wilton Heist, or if those had been just between him and Jeff. In any case, if she knew, she hadn’t said anything after he’d mentioned it. That was a long time ago, too, and she hadn’t been involved in the planning process the way he’d been with Jeff. If it had been mentioned to her, it likely would’ve passed by her without making any real impression. Though with a brain that worked like hers, always mathematically computing relationships, it was very possible that if Jeff had shared anything with her she would have made the same deductions he had.

“Alright, we’ll put something together,” he said.

“Oh, there’s a red,” Bremner said, pointing at the screen and interrupting his thoughts.

“An issue?”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t think so. I mean – what could it possibly be? Those are going to pop up from time to time. Every participant search has returned red-flagged entries.” He leaned closer to the screen, reading. “What’s the code on it? One-one-six. Abby? What’s 1-1-6?

There was a pause as Abby typed quickly on her keyboard behind them. “One-one-six is a proximity alert. It means that Jeff was somewhere within the vicinity of where he wants to travel. Not a huge deal – that’s going to happen all the time. It says M204. That’s 204 miles from the destination, which means that Jeff probably made some credit card transaction there or something. Gimme a second – I’ll check Google Maps... Yes, 200 miles is roughly San Francisco. No big surprise that Jeff would have been there for something in his life.”

“What’s the purpose of code 116?” Dexter asked. “If it’s going to be that common?”

Bremner explained. “In theory, there’s the possibility that someone could go back and leave something for themselves to pick up in the future. Probably a little more far-fetched when you’re going back as far as Jeff is suggesting, but if you were going to the ‘50s it might be more relevant.”

“Leave something like what?”

“A note or a sign, perhaps. I don’t know. There are some devious people out there. Of course, with the escort – provided they don’t get hit over the head with a bottle – it’s pretty tough to deviate from the prescribed plans.”

“Kane hitting me over the head with a bottle was pretty easy for him, which is why-” Dexter stopped speaking as another red entry hit the screen. “What’s that one?”

“Abby, what’s code 3-7-1?”

“Hold on,” she said. They heard her typing again. “Okay, got it. That one’s a little more complicated. It’s another proximity connection, but it’s not Jeff himself. It’s someone in his inner circle. Not family, though. It’s a business relationship. I’d have to dig into it to see. This one’s M98. A little bit closer, but still probably not an issue...” She typed for a minute. “Yeah – Sacramento is about a hundred miles away from Jeff’s destination. Safe bet that that’s it. Again, not uncommon for someone to be in Sacramento.”

“Inner circle?” Dexter asked. “How does the system determine that?”

“Oh, there’s any number of ways. Maybe frequency of business transactions, shared addresses, such as a roommate… Even volunteered information such as social media,” Abby said without looking up. “You know when you put apps on your phone and the app asks you for permission to share your contacts?”

“Geez.”

While Abby didn’t see a red flag, Dexter did. He’d been to Sacramento while they’d been researching the Wilton Heist. He’d landed there and then visited the California Gold Rush Museum, which was about an hour-and-a-half outside the state capital. It was so long ago that he couldn’t remember the exact details of the trip, but he was sure he hadn’t purchased anything at the Museum. Likely, he would’ve made some kind of transaction in Sacramento, though – hotel, rental car, dinner. Who could know? The question was – how would the computer link him with Jeff, if that was truly what the algorithm was interpreting?

“Abby, does it give you a time frame of the proximity alert?” he asked.

“You mean like when did it take place? Sure.” A pause. “About four years ago. I just have the year – not the exact date, but I could get it.”

“No, that’s okay,” he said. “For the purpose of making the connection, what would constitute a business transaction?” At the moment, Dexter wished he’d paid more attention to Bremner’s lectures over time – they would have come in handy now that he was trying to psycho-analyze the computer system. He would tell people he had a working knowledge of the process, but this was much deeper than he’d ever gone.

“Remember, the system is analyzing any piece of data it can get its hands on,” Bremner said. “So, any legal transaction, contract... sign a lease together, co-sign on the bank account... Credit card transactions. Any of those things will trigger the system.”

Dexter wracked his brain to see if he could remember what he might have done in Sacramento. He couldn’t. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. “That’s pretty impressive,” he said. “It’s pretty invasive, but it’s pretty impressive. Just seems like an enormous amount of data. I make credit card transactions every day, and I’m one person.”

“Yep,” Bremner said, laughing. “We know you do.”

“What?” Dexter nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to face Bremner. Was he being watched?

Bremner laughed again. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. What the American people don’t know won’t hurt them. Right?”

“That’s a very uncomfortable question. I’d rather plead ignorance.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” he said. Bremner must have interpreted the look on Dexter’s face as disconcerted, because he continued, “Remember, Dr. Murphy, that the information we’re processing is either of public record or volunteered. Credit card transactions are listed on people’s credit reports, which are accessible any time you apply for a mortgage. The data collected on you by your grocery store and department stores… You gave them the right to use it when you signed up for their discount card. Social media accounts I don’t even have to mention. All we’re doing is managing that information in a much more progressive way. I would’ve thought you’d understood that by now.” He turned to the screens again.

“Well, it gives off a very different feel when it’s your-” He caught himself starting to say “own,” thankfully, “-best friend’s data that’s being analyzed.”

He looked at Bremner studying the screens. He had a smirk on his face – he was enormously proud of the system he’d created. It would be hard not to be. If that red flag on Jeff’s record did indeed lead to some random restaurant bill Dexter had charged four years before, that was pretty damned impressive. But a lot of damage could be done with a weapon so powerful. Jeff’s conspiracy theory, as he’d enunciated just before going into his meeting with Victoria, was certainly plausible, if not suddenly probable, to Dexter’s mind. He hoped he was wrong.

Dexter took his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “Six hours, you say?” he asked. “Alright, I’m going to head out and catch up with this tomorrow.”

“He’s in the psych exam now, right?” Bremner asked. “Tomorrow he’s got the physical?”

Dexter nodded.

“Alright, let’s get some kind of presentation on this set for tomorrow afternoon. I want him through this program so we have everything back up and running as soon as we can. I’ve got four people I’m putting off calling back who want to participate in the program. Big money people. Let’s not screw around here, Dr. Murphy.”

“I’ll make sure,” Dexter said. He said goodbye to Abby and the other folks in the room before heading out the door. He made his way down the long hallway to the elevators where he’d dropped Jeff off and pressed the up button. As he waited, the followed the path of his trip to the Gold Rush Museum in his mind – it was so long ago – attempting to justify the “transactions” he might have made along the way It was futile, though. There were far too many ways to track a person’s movement – his flight’s destination, the hotel, rental car, any meals he had, etc. He felt ominously like the USTP was now less than six hours away from finding evidence linking him to Jeff’s running a year and a half ago, and frustratingly wasn’t coming up with a way to avoid it. All he could associate it with was that dark feeling a person got after mistakenly hitting “reply all” on a sensitive e-mail and having no recourse but to wait for the fall-out.