Fate (Wilton's Gold #3) (5 page)

The general started to turn the conversation to Dexter, but the door at the far end of the room opened and a tall woman with long brown hair and a sharp blue blazer and skirt entered carrying a binder. She tried to slip in unnoticed, but since there was only one other woman in the room, it was impossible. Everyone stopped to look at her as she sat, so she laughed conspicuously and said, “I apologize for my tardiness. I had an appointment already scheduled. Please, don’t let me interrupt anything.”

“Actually,” Bremner said, “we were just about to have Mr. Murphy go through the circumstances of the Kane incident. Your timing is perfect.”

The woman certainly didn’t fit in with the rest of the room, especially sitting next to the curmudgeonly old general, who Jeff noticed was looking at his smart phone. She was young and vibrant, and her presence was strangely comforting.

He turned his attention away from the woman to Dexter, who was slowly shaking his head. His friend exhaled a deep sigh.

“Dr. Bremner,” the general said, “can we have five minutes?”

Everyone grunted approval and they agreed to a quick break. Jeff remained in his seat while several of the attendees excused themselves to the solitude of either the hallway or the restroom. He turned his attention back toward Dexter’s seat, but his friend was gone.

Suddenly he felt a light hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the woman who’d just entered standing beside him.

“Dr. Jacobs,” she said. “It’s good to have you back.”

Not knowing who she was, he realized she was yet another person he was going to have to explain himself to – he wished she’d been present for the first part of the meeting. Not ready to go into it again right away, though, he sighed. “It’s good to be back,” he said instead.

Whatever that meant.

For some reason, Dexter’s mind flashed back to his lunch in Manhattan with Jeff on that warm summer day, sitting on the restaurant patio while his new acquaintance Dr. Jacobs tried to talk him into joining him on a very controlled, scientifically-driven time travel mission. How he’d gotten from that lunch to fleeing from a four-star general who’d figured out that he was the only one who could provide insight into a person who no longer seemed to exist... well, of that he wasn’t quite certain. Somewhere, something had gone awry.

He knew the kinds of questions that General Carr was going to ask him, which made him exceptionally thankful that Dr. Graham had made her entrance. Her arrival reminded him of the other issue on his plate, of course, but he’d have time to deal with that.

Dexter wondered how far he’d be able to get without admitting that he knew quite a bit about Jeff’s story. While he hadn’t admitted it to his now-returned friend, Jeff – the old Jeff had indeed told him about the mission to Russia. But the story of taking Jeff and the Russian woman to the airport, traveling to 1849 and getting shot in the leg, was not something that he’d actually experienced. Dexter had documented Jeff’s story in a notebook that was safely tucked away in a bank deposit box for scientific purposes, but whatever changes Jeff had made on his mission to Russia had done away with the need for him to actually take the trip. What Jeff hadn’t shared with him was where he was headed with the time device when he ran. Dexter knew, of course, but only because he’d surmised. Since he hadn’t returned, there was no way to verify any of it, however.

Jeff had caught his eye for a moment before they’d broken the meeting, looking like he wanted to connect, but Dexter needed a few moments to transition himself. The presentation he was about to make was about his own failure – both on the research side and as a watchdog. Throughout the course of the Kane situation, there had been multiple opportunities for Dexter to put a stop to any problems. Of course, he’d said from the beginning that he had no business being the “muscle” if a traveler chose to attempt to run, so he didn’t fault himself for that piece of it. But his specific role in the Time Program was to ensure that there weren’t historical conflicts like the one caused by Benjamin Kane.

A little bit of time had passed since the Kane mission, and while Dexter was charged with coming up with a solution, he was now comfortable in knowing that his job wasn’t in jeopardy. That being said, no reliable solution had presented itself until Jeff Jacobs suddenly appeared on a plane from Russia and, now that he was back, there was the need to resurrect the entire story again. While he was glad to know his friend was safe, he’d actually hoped that he wouldn’t have to look backward and deal with it anymore. Getting hit on the head with a bottle and then hearing Kane murder someone had not been a proud moment for him.

Now he was hiding in the bathroom in his best attempt to delay the rest of the conversation. In his reports, he hadn’t been one hundred percent forthright, and he stood at the urinal going over his words to make sure he’d be reiterating the story he’d given previously. Since Kane had changed history by murdering George Mellen, there was no way of knowing – because he hadn’t had the opportunity to do the research originally – what Mellen’s life would have yielded. He could guess, of course, since the kid on the street had told him that Mellen’s company made breakfast cereal while Kane was in the milling industry. But with portions of that history wiped away, he hadn’t gone into that level of detail with the Time Program’s leadership. He’d told them he was unaware of Kane’s motives. Since the history was gone, there was no way to prove his story right or wrong anyway.

Should he give them any more information now than he’d already given them? He didn’t see any reason to. In fact, had he not come back and told them about Kane, they would have had no way of knowing what had actually happened – or that a guy named Benjamin Kane had even approached the Time Program. That damn oath he took. None of it really mattered toward finding a solution for the mishap, anyway. He’d researched Mellen’s murder in the city’s police records and found the documentation. That was the story he’d given them, and it was bad enough – Kane had gone back in time to murder someone on Dexter’s watch. All other things aside, their best solution was to stop him from carrying out his crime.

Up until Jeff’s return, though, there hadn’t been consensus that simply going back to 1930 and grabbing Kane was the way to go. No one had done anything like it, and neither the science nor the practicality of it had been explored. He’d raised the question with Jeff the night before: can you change history and then fix it? Or would you cause more problems? According to Jeff, he’d done it, but it had nearly been a disaster. No one at the USTP, Dexter included, was willing to stick their neck out on that one. The best anyone could come up with was to put stricter protocols and stronger precautions in place so that nothing like it happened again.

With Jeff back, though, and with his fantastical story about his mission to Russia, it would spur some new thinking. It already had in Dexter’s mind. If Jeff had been able to undo something as dramatic as a world history-altering miscue, they should be able to handle a rogue businessman and his self-serving focus.

The door behind Dexter opened and someone joined him in the restroom. He could feel them coming up behind him and settling into the urinal next to him. He looked over to see a wall of dark green in his peripheral vision.

It was the General Carr, of course – the last person he wanted to see. General Nelson Carr had been brought into the Time Program at a high level during its infancy, which had been a red flag for Jeff at the time. It was undeniable that the government saw military applications for Jeff’s technology, so the two of them never saw eye-to-eye. Carr had been a commanding officer in Kuwait during the Gulf War and was brought in for his leadership and sense of urgency. Dexter would admit that the USTP would not have been established so quickly without him, but he probably would’ve preferred working with someone a little more knowledgeable on the topic. Especially after Jeff was gone, and there was a leadership void on the scientific side.

Carr unzipped and went about his business. Dexter, who’d been standing there, started to put himself back together and head for the sink, but the general spoke, stopping him. “Murphy, I understand Dr. Jacobs is your friend and you have an allegiance to him,” he said, his eyes pinned on the wall in front of him. “I hope that you’ll be able to look past that and do what’s right.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m not? Or I wouldn’t?”

“He had to have told you something about where he was going.”

“If he had, I would’ve stopped him.”

Now the general turned his head. “Would you have? What about the mission to Russia? Did he mention that to you?”

Dexter shook his head as he zipped up.
Did he know something?
“No, but it doesn’t matter. Whatever changes he made on that mission altered history, so the present he returned to was different from the one he’d left. Dr. Jacobs – this Dr. Jacobs, the one here with us today – told me that I took him to the airport for the Russia mission. Never happened. The other Dr. Jacobs must’ve known that the history before he returned was irrelevant, so he never said anything about it.”

“It’s not irrelevant from a scientific standpoint.”

“General, sir, did you come into the bathroom to talk to me about time travel science?” Dexter asked. They both headed over to the sink, which made him feel less like he was being interrogated. “Look, I agree with you. It’s not irrelevant. But we can’t tell him that because he’s gone.”

Carr sighed. “Well, at least we fixed the security so that it will take two people to game the system. Instead of just one.”

Dexter glanced at him in the mirror. “It’s never too hard to recruit one person,” he said.

The general exchanged looks with him in the mirror for a moment, then smiled. “You believe all of this?” he asked.

“Believe what?”

“That Jeff Jacobs out there and the guy that ran a year-and-a-half ago are two different people with two different memories?”

Dexter finished rinsing his hands and pulled them away from the sensor. The water stopped. He held his hands under the hand dryer for a moment while the general did the same on the machine next to his. When the noise subsided, he said, “Accepting the concept that time travel is actually happening, it’s not that far-fetched. I’m not saying it doesn’t screw with your mind, but it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.”

“So he’s not putting on a show?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. He’s not that good of an actor. Believe me.”

“Well, maybe Dr. Graham can pull something out of him.”

Dr. Graham. The other wrinkle. “Should we get back out there?” he asked, ready to leave the bathroom now that his solitude had been compromised.

Carr nodded and then slapped Dexter in a hard but fatherly manner on the back, then followed him out the door.

Jeff was pleased that, for the time being, the onus was going to be off of him, though it was transitioning to his friend. He was actually looking forward to hearing what had happened to Dexter’s previous runner. He knew they needed his expertise to find a solution – if there was a solution to be found – so this was an important first step toward getting his life back.

He looked down the table at the woman who had approached him. He still hadn’t gotten her name, saving face by pretending that he knew who she was. He didn’t, actually. Had never seen her before in his life. But he immediately gathered that she was part of the Time Program team, which meant that the other Jeff would have worked with her. The conversation was short, so he didn’t really have the time to dig into anything with her. She’d been stand-offish anyway, strictly business. He thought she was simply being cordial, coming over to see him. He didn’t get the impression they were friends outside of the business of the USTP.

Though they’d hurried the conversation, they would have had a little more time had they chosen to use it. The five minute break was extended as Dexter, the man of the hour, disappeared. If Jeff knew his friend, he was holed up in the bathroom prepping his comments to make sure he was saying all the right things. Dexter was so cautious about everything. Which was one of the key attributes that Jeff had appreciated when bringing him on the team, but at times he found it could be a bit much. Though, it was possible that Jeff had developed that sentiment because he was still harboring resentment against Dexter for not letting him do the Wilton job in the first place.

In any case, he saw Dexter as in a “no lose” situation. Like him, he was the only one who had experienced the change in history. In truth, if he hadn’t come back and blabbed about everything he’d seen, they would have had no way of knowing any of it. As everyone waited, most of them back in their seats, he allowed his mind to wander, trying to trace his friend’s path into and through history. After a few moments, he was convinced he’d settled on some important concepts, including the fact that Kane’s work had negated the need to take the trip at all. In this reality, the USTP stiffs would never even have heard of Kane, much less be standing there waiting for Dexter to return with him. As Jeff saw it, Dexter could have just shown up for work the next morning like nothing had happened, and no one would have been the wiser.

Which made him wonder what exactly he’d told them. There would be –
should
be – a lot of wiggle room for him.

It also caused him to take note for his own future reference. There was wiggle room for him, as well. Possibly even enough to promote his own scientific theories.

Finally, Dexter appeared in the doorway, followed by the general, uniformed and standing tall. The few who remained standing quickly took their seats while Dexter sat in front of the laptop at the end of the table and began scrolling through some internet pages. Jeff followed his navigation on the large screen on the wall behind him. Someone dimmed the lights.

More formally than was probably necessary, Bremner re-introduced Dexter, setting the stage for his presentation. Dexter stood, the computer’s remote control in his hand, and stepped away from the screen so that everyone around the table could see it clearly.

He brought up his first slide. It was a headshot of a man labeled “Benjamin Kane” and a bulleted list of information. “I thought it would be appropriate to give you some of the background on Benjamin Kane and his time travel request,” he said, pointing for no reason at the screen with laser pointer in his hand. “Kane was a third-generation industrialist, with his family in the milling business. They’ve milled and distributed flour through the Northeast United States since World War II, and shipped grain prior to that. Kane, himself, was married to his wife, Angela, for forty-one years, and they had two boys, Simon and Sylvester. Simon, the eldest, had left the family business behind to become a fairly successful screenwriter; Sylvester was in the process of taking over the company. Kane’s retirement was imminent.”

Jeff watched him take a deep breath and look around the room. He wondered what was going through his mind. Everything seemed pretty straightforward. From Jeff’s chair, there wasn’t really much cause for Dexter to be anxious.

He continued, “Benjamin Kane was sick. He’d been told he was dying of pancreatic cancer – he had an estimated six to twelve months to live. His time travel mission was billed as a last hurrah of sorts for him. His desire was to see the Empire State Building while it was still under construction. It was a reasonable request, and not particularly abnormal considering the fourteen other requests we’d already facilitated, which included Stiletto, New Mexico, an Old Western town, in 1871; Colonial Williamsburg in 1754; and the Cardinals-Tigers World Series in 1934.”

“That the game with the big brawl?” someone asked from the shadows. Jeff couldn’t tell who’d said it.

Dexter nodded. “Game seven, yes. Medwick starts the fight and the Detroit fans throw garbage at him in the outfield. It was a great game to watch. Anyway, extensive research through the various channels set up by the Time Program, including Kane’s PCS, showed no conflict of interest for him relative to his requested time and place. It was supposed to be an easy trip – drop in, spend a half-hour walking around Fifth Avenue and taking in old New York, and then head back.

“Through family history, however, Kane must have known that a key competitor – or, more precisely, the ancestor of that key competitor – had a daily morning routine. He caught up to the man and murdered him on the street as he bought his morning paper. The man’s name was George Mellen, who I found out at the scene of the crime was well-known and was in a related industry to Kane’s family – manufacturing breakfast cereal in Brooklyn. Unfortunately, since the system hadn’t red flagged any connections between Kane and Mellen before the murder, there was no reason for me to collect data. Obviously, once I returned, there was very little information available on Mellen other than the news surrounding the famous murder. The Brooklyn Milling Company sank without his leadership, and was ultimately purchased by… Any guesses?”

“Kane,” Bremner said.

“Yes. Well, Kane’s father.”

“Wow,” said Bremner. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“No one did, sir.”

“How was Kane’s company doing at the time of the mission?” Dr. Schmidt asked from across the table.

“Actually, it was doing quite well, though, as Kane had divulged to me during our interview process, the writing was on the wall. With his impending departure and the industry very much changing to get away from old school, gravity-driven methods toward advanced manufacturing techniques, Kane Industries was in a predicament. They would either need to make heavy capital investments or risk falling behind.”

“No chance this Mellen fellow was making a move on Kane’s company?” Schmidt asked.

“It wasn’t anything he mentioned. I suppose anything’s possible. Remember, it was eighty years ago, so it wouldn’t have been George Mellen himself. Perhaps his family.” Dexter paused for a moment. “Though, again, nothing had come up in the PCS. I would think that would have been an easy one for the system to find, so without it there was no cause for concern.”

Now Jeff’s hand was in the air, thought it was probably too dark to see. “You’ll have to forgive me,” he said, “but I’m just getting up to speed on all of this. Can you go over the research and evaluation process for me? Obviously there’s a hole in the system that can’t account for passed-down accounts of family lore that might not get put into a written historical document, but I’d like to know how a person applies for a mission and gets approved. If you don’t mind me interrupting.” He looked around the table for approval, and received a few nods.

In the dim light, he couldn’t see Dexter’s facial expression, so he couldn’t know his reaction to the question. Dexter started into an answer, though. “Anyone with the wherewithal to afford a time travel mission is given thorough genealogical, associative and psychological analyses. Our system, housed here at the USTP, analyzes billions of pieces of data for historical connections between the participant and the time and location they wish to see. Each participant then undergoes a rigorous psychological exam performed by Dr. Graham.”

Jeff looked the other direction at the attractive young doctor, who kept her eyes face front. Now he knew her name, at least. Then he turned back to Dexter. “Has anyone ever been shot down?”

“No, not yet.”

“Really?” He was smiling in the dark, mainly because he knew nobody could see him. “Has anyone expressed a desire to participate in the time travel program, but... I don’t know... Needed a suggestion as to where and when to travel? Like they thought time travel was cool, but didn’t have their own idea where to go?”

“No.”

“And you said sixteen people have gone through the program?”

“Yes. Well, that’s counting Kane, who now, technically, has not gone through the program.”

He hadn’t meant to put added pressure on Dexter, but he was becoming more and more cynical about the Time Program as the conversation progressed. Really, it was his other self who seemed to have had great influence on how the program was run, but even with his scientific knowledge, he wasn’t more powerful than the almighty dollar. He’d already figured out the simple truth: if you could shell out enough cash, they’d make the trip happen.

“Dr. Jacobs,” Bremner said. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

He shook his head. “No. Just trying to get an understanding of the program. While you haven’t told me why I’m here, I’m assuming that it’s to help determine a solution for the Kane situation. Which I’m more than willing to do. In fact, having just gone through a similar scenario, I’m more than confident there’s a way. We can save the debate on the morals of doing it for after we figure out the logistics. But there are two holes in my understanding that I need them filled in order for me to make sound decisions: the intricacies of Kane’s specific story, which I’m learning now; and, two, the intricacies of the Time Program itself. That’s where I’d like to dig in. In fact, I’d like to actually go through all of the steps that someone would take to prep for a mission.”

There was a hearty laugh from the end of the table near Dexter. It was the general. “Hell, you designed most of them,” he said. Everyone else thought that was funny and joined him. Jeff strained to see, but he didn’t think Dexter was laughing.

“I don’t imagine that’s a problem,” Bremner said, looking both ways down the table. “Dexter? Victoria?” He started to give the approval, but Dr. Schmidt interrupted him.

“Before we get to that,” Schmidt said, “let’s finish up with Kane. How did he end up running, and what happened to him after?”

Dexter leaned forward and touched the screen on the tablet in front of him. A street map of midtown Manhattan appeared. The date in the corner of the image said 1930, but the layout of the streets was the same as the present. He aimed his laser pointer at the screen and a red dot danced across the grid. “Mr. Kane and I jumped back to an alley here on 34th Street, in between 5th and 6th Avenue and near the base of the Empire State Building. Before I even had a chance to take in the surroundings, Kane hit me on the head with a bottle and disappeared into the crowd on 34th. I searched for him but didn’t see him... until I heard gunshots a half block away. I ran here,” he pointed to the corner of 34th and 5th, “where I saw a man lying on the ground, having sustained gunshot wounds to the midsection. I ran to the scene, and by the time I got there he was being attended to by officers, but was dying quickly. I asked around the crowd to find out who the man was, and there were several who identified him as George Mellen, well-known for manufacturing breakfast cereal and a common visitor on 5th Avenue. Mellen passed away on the sidewalk while officers pursued Kane. Not having any knowledge of where Kane was, I decided there was nothing I could do there and that the best course of action was to return home.”

“Well, what happened to Kane?” the general asked, looking up at Dexter. “Do we know?”

“Only through research I did when I returned. Kane was apparently gunned down in a shootout with police about three blocks from the scene of the crime.” He paused to clarify. “I
say
‘shootout’ – he didn’t have much ammunition.”

“So it was a suicide mission?” Bremner asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you said Kane was sick,” Bremner continued his thought. “Dying. He must have decided the best thing he could do for his family and his company was to go back in time and change history, knowing he wouldn’t be coming back. Yes?”

Dexter laughed and shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. “Are you asking me to guess?” Bremner was staring at him, waiting for an answer, which he took to mean yes. “I suppose you could say that, but I wouldn’t want to assume anything. I suppose that, based on his actions, something along those lines is probably accurate.”

Jeff raised his hand, stuttering into his sentence like a third grader who was afraid to ask a question to which he should already know the answer. “I know this should be obvious, but how did Kane get a gun?”

“USTP protocol is for the government official accompanying the traveler to be armed,” Schmidt said.

“It was your gun?” He turned to Dexter’s silhouette, which was nodding. “I don’t remember you knowing how to use a gun.”