Fate (Wilton's Gold #3) (7 page)

“I don’t know that everyone’s bought into the notion that you and the other Jeff are two different people yet,” Dexter said. “I think they’ll need to build up their level of trust first.”

“If they want Benjamin Kane stopped, they don’t have much of a choice.”

They pulled their bags to the gate and got in line to board the plane.

“Speaking of Kane,” Dexter said, “what are we going to find when we get to Florida?”

Jeff looked back at him. “I’m guessing we’ll find a man who knows nothing about anything.”

Benjamin Kane’s home in West Palm Beach was one of those estates you’d see featured on HGTV – the kind that would force you to vegetate in front of cable television in amazement on a Saturday morning, putting off doing something to improve your own less-substantial house. With Dexter driving the rental car, they’d entered Kane’s gated community past a Hispanic security guard with an exceedingly deep voice, and after a few turns had pulled in front of an enormous white building with pillars guarding the front door and nothing but water behind the house.

To Dexter, the house was fascinating even beyond its impressive size and luxury. As part of the interview process for Kane’s mission back to Depression-era New York City, he’d visited him at his condo on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, and although he hadn’t been to Kane’s home in Florida, he’d known it existed... But that house had been in Tampa, and it wasn’t of quite the same stature based on what he remembered from a Google search. Apparently, killing off your family business’ competition necessitated a move from the Gulf Coast to a larger home on Florida’s East Coast. Driving around the neighborhood with Jeff and Victoria quietly taking in their lavish surroundings, he’d tried to contemplate why the outcomes were different, but he quickly realized that he wouldn’t be able to come up with an answer. With no way to access the details of Kane’s former life, the point was moot.

Kane was expecting them. Victoria had spoken with him in the morning, and then after the briefing at the USTP they’d pressed for arrangements to meet with him as soon as they possibly could. Which turned out to be late afternoon, the earliest they could get there. Dexter hadn’t seen the need for such a rush, but Bremner had forced the issue. The USTP wanted this situation wrapped up as soon as possible, presumably so they could move on with the program.

Prior to Jeff’s “return,” and based on the failed Kane mission, Dexter had recommended a number of protocols for efficiency and safety. First and foremost, he’d suggested that each traveler be accompanied by two USTP representatives – him and someone who was actually professionally trained to handle a volatile situation should one arise. In addition, he wanted the researchers to determine if there was a way they could bring information with them on the mission – if there was indeed a way to capture any history that was in peril of being lost. The program was currently giving thought to his first request, though most were wary of trying to coordinate three people in case something happened that necessitated a speedy return. With Jeff’s departure, the program’s scientists were not quite as strong as when he’d been there, though, so his second request had seen little movement.

Dexter parked the car and the three of them walked up the stairs onto the front porch, the pillars towering above them. The windows were blocked by cherry wood shutters keeping out the Florida sun, which was already making Dexter start to sweat as soon as they’d left the air-conditioned car. He was just getting used to the colder temperatures up north. There had been some rain while they were landing, but it had cleared out and the sun was bright.

Victoria reached out and pushed the doorbell, which spurred a resounding chime inside the house. They stepped back and waited. “So, what kind of guy is Kane? Successful businessman, sure, but is he a good guy?”

Dexter laughed. “Well, he’s a murderer for starters. While that should be enough to condemn someone, I’d say no, he really wasn’t a good guy. Everything I learned about him was that he was pretty ruthless – kind of a get-to-the-top-by-any-means-necessary guy. In person, he was indifferent. I mean, he was fine. He was polite. He was impressive. But he wasn’t endearing by any stretch of the imagination.”

“I don’t know that I’d expect endearing, but he sounded very genteel on the phone,” Victoria said quietly, giving them a look to remind them whose doorbell they were ringing.

“I’m sure he did,” Dexter said.

The door opened and a young brunette in purple nursing scrubs greeted them. She showed them inside and closed the door behind them. “Mr. Kane has been expecting you,” she said.

They hadn’t expected a nurse to come to the door. “Is he okay?” Dexter asked.

“Oh yes, as ever,” she said with a sad smile. “I come see him four times a week. I’ll probably add a fifth day for the duration.”

“The duration?” Victoria asked.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said. “Mr. Kane referred to you as his friends, which he often does with business associates. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if he really does have a prior relationship with people who come to see him. Mr. Kane is dying; he wouldn’t mind my telling you.”

“Cancer?” Dexter asked before he could stop the word from leaving his mouth.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I’m sorry, do you know Mr. Kane? I’m confused as to what how much you might know or not know.”

Jeff jumped in, thankfully. “No, we haven’t met him, but we read about the cancer in the paper. Victoria spoke with Mr. Kane this morning.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting,” she said, frowning. “We’ve kept Mr. Kane’s illness very private. Maybe something leaked. Anyway, let me show you to him.” She turned and walked out of the foyer and down a long hallway toward the back of the house. They passed an expansive living room with mile-high ceilings and walls covered with enormous paintings, then on the other side a library that rivaled the one back at Dexter’s home base at Columbia University. To the right were dual stairwells leading upwards, and the corridor opened into a kitchen that made the television cooking show kitchens look like EZ Bake Ovens. They then followed the nurse through the kitchen, Dexter realizing he’d never even seen a dining room off of what had to be the main hallway, and then they were out the patio doors and into Kane’s backyard.

The yard was no less lavish and spectacular, with a covered patio that had to be 20,000 square feet, featuring an array of wicker chairs and plush couches. Beyond that was a kidney-shaped pool the size of a baseball diamond, with sharp blue water reflecting the sun, and to the left and right immaculate carpets of green Florida grass. For those who could raise their eyes above the incredible scenery, the yard stopped immediately at the water of whatever inlet they were on, with the mouth to the Atlantic and beyond just one neighbor’s yard away.

There was too much to take in, but Dexter was able to finally focus and settle his eyes on a lounge chair sitting poolside. In the chair was Benjamin Kane.

Upon further inspection, the lounge chair wasn’t really that at all – instead, it was a hospital bed disguised as a lounge chair. He could see the wheels beneath it and the thick mattress supporting Kane’s body. Kane appeared to not really be himself, either. Even from a distance, Dexter could tell that he was half the person he’d been when last he’d seen him. Whatever changes had been made to history had not been good for Kane’s health.

The nurse motioned them to follow her, then she stopped and pulled a chair over to Kane’s bedside. Jeff realized what she was doing before Dexter did and pulled two more chairs over. Kane noticed their arrival and turned his head to see them. “Gloria, honey,” he said, reaching out to her with a toothpick of an arm, “can you bring some of that lemonade you make? It’s so wonderful.”

She set the chair she was carrying down and smiled. “Sure. Some for you, sir?”

“No, no, no,” he said, waving her off with a laugh. “I had a Nestle Crunch bar about an hour ago. I’ve had my sugar allotment for the day. I’ll be up all night.”

“Mr. Kane,” she said, scolding him.

He held up his fingers. “Don’t worry. It was one of those little bite-sized ones. The kind you give out to kids on Halloween.”

“Okay, then,” she said, and went back through the kitchen doors.

Kane looked at the three of them, now sitting in their chairs. He laughed. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ll be up all night anyway.”

Collectively, they didn’t know how to take the joke, so they sat in stunned silence for a moment. Finally, Dexter forced himself to laugh. Jeff and Victoria followed suit.

“Excuse my attempt at humor,” Kane said. “I know I’m not the most pleasant sight. Unfortunately, this is what death looks like, so I try to overcome it with bad jokes and poor puns. Dr. Graham, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person. You must be Dr. Jacobs and you must be Dr. Murphy.”

Dexter and Jeff both nodded at Kane. He was so frail and weak, though in his voice you could sense the business magnate that had once lived within the wrinkly skin now covering his body. He projected himself as a wise leader who people respected and heeded, even in this deteriorated state. Dexter almost had to close his eyes to see past his drawn-in face and life-supporting oxygen tank.

He also felt he needed to close his eyes to stop himself from feeling that the cancer eating Kane’s body was justice for what he’d done. He knew it was a different Kane, but was having a terrible time separating the two of them.

“Since we got off the phone, Dr. Graham,” Kane said, “I’ve been contemplating what possible need there would be for the United States Time Program to send three of their top chiefs down to Florida on a moment’s notice, just to meet with me. It seems a bit over-the-top.”

“Mr. Kane,” Victoria said, starting, “what do you know about the USTP?”

“Very little,” he said, shaking his head. “Only what I might’ve read in the papers. I’m afraid it’s a bit over my head. I commend you for the science, but what you’re trying to accomplish seems like a terrible idea. Please don’t take that personally. At my age and in my condition, I’m allowed to be a curmudgeon.”

Victoria laughed charmingly. “I can assure you, Mr. Kane, that everything we’re doing at the USTP is very safe. The public side of the program is only to support the research.”

He pointed a decrepit finger. “Keep telling yourself that, Doctor,” he said. His arm tired immediately, visibly shaking, and he laid it down at his side. “So you can really send people back through time? That’s pretty amazing. Have any of you done it?”

They hadn’t discussed how much they would share with Kane, so Dexter was surprised when Jeff said, “Yes, Dexter and I have.”

Kane nodded and looked at Dexter. “Really?”

“Well, my responsibility at the USTP is to be a guide for the travelers,” Dexter said. “I’m a historian.”

“Makes sense. And you?” He struggled to turn back toward Jeff.

“I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing different realities,” Jeff said. Dexter looked to Victoria, who was glaring at him, but Jeff wasn’t noticing. “I’m actually the creator of the time travel device that the USTP uses. I’ve been on several missions, the most recent to the Soviet Union in 1983.”

What was he doing?

Kane played along. “What would bring you to the Soviet Union in 1983?”

Dexter waited for Victoria to jump in, but she didn’t. Instead, Jeff was left to continue, “I was there for the assassination of a Russian general without whose death the Soviet Union would not have fallen in 1991.”

“Really?” Dexter could see the look of shock on Kane’s face. He was truly intrigued. “And you killed this man?”

Jeff was shaking his head. “No. Someone else did. I was just instrumental in getting them there.”

Kane laid his head back on his pillow for a moment, gazing at the clear blue sky and grinning like an idiot. After a moment, and without looking at them, he said, “Well, this is something. I mean, your story is completely unbelievable, but it sure is something.”

“I can assure you it’s tr-” Jeff said, but was cut off by Dexter.

“Mr. Kane, we came here to ask you some questions about your company’s history,” he said, not letting Jeff get any more into his story. He’d said enough already.

“What about it?” His expression quickly went from jubilant to confused.

The nurse, Gloria, returned with three glasses of lemonade. They each thanked her and took a glass. Dexter tasted his – it was distractingly good – and set the glass down on the ground at his feet.

The lemonade had actually been
too
much of a distraction, and Kane took advantage, not allowing Dexter to answer the question. “Actually,” he said, his tone switching to a firm, but not abrasive, confidence, “I’m not going to get into any of that until you answer my original question of why you’re here. Why is the US Time Program interested in me?”

“Fair enough,” Dexter said, choosing his words carefully. “Fair enough. Mr. Kane, you’ve been involved in a time travel mishap.”

“I have?” He coughed uncomfortably. They must have been blowing what was left of his mind.

“Yes, sir. In another reality, you were a participant in the Time Program. I personally took you back to 1930 New York City, where you hit me over the head with a bottle and fled.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I would do-”

Dexter felt himself getting into a groove, and his disgust for Kane was carrying him. “In the tussle, you took my gun, and a few moments later you shot a man on the street. A man named George Mellen.”

“George Mellen,” Kane said, contemplating. “I know that name.”

“I can tell you a little bit about him,” Dexter said. “He was president of your family’s biggest competition at the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said. “I know that story. The guy was shot on Fifth Avenue. My family bought that company after World War Two.” He paused. “Wait, you’re saying that was me who killed him?”