“An interesting idea, but one that has been thought out, and deemed unfavorable.” At Ethan’s frown, Wallace lifted a finger to prevent interruption. “The fact remains that the Russians are coming, whether it’s fifteen years from now or thirty – it makes no difference when.
“Now, what we do have is a date set in stone that they travel back. This gives us an advantage, albeit a minimal one. It’s only a few short days from now. If we wait all those years for President Bock to take power we’ve already lost. As long as we know their current plans will still be on course, if we attempt to change that timeline then they might attack us at a date we can’t predict. Also keep in mind that if we wait we lose this window of opportunity due to the constraints of our current system.
“As it stands, their insertion date – or, the day that they first travel back to 1948 – doesn’t change. If we can pinpoint the exact location of their jump, we can stop them before they begin their first phase of world dominance.”
This all sounded like something from a bad James Bond movie, and he couldn’t disguise his sarcasm when he said, “What’s the guarantee this little time-space continuum thingy is even going to work?”
“Why Mr. Tannor, haven’t you figured it out yet?” Wallace gave a slight smile, the motion sending out wisps of smoke through his curled lips. “You’ve had the proof at your fingertips for a while now.”
The man tilted his chin at the black briefcase Jackman had put on the desk. Jackman opened the case and began pulling out papers from jacket folders and placing them on the desktop.
Ethan stepped forward to examine the items, keeping an eye on Jackman as he did so. He looked down at the pages. They were the same documents he’d taken from Tobias’s safe and had been studying for the past few days.
Wallace continued, “What we have here is a newspaper clipping from your uncle’s time period and a printout from yours. His parents died in a plane crash – and that was just the nudge he needed to push him into becoming our first candidate for time travel.”
Ethan’s head snapped up. “My uncle worked with you?”
“Is it so hard to believe? Tobias wasn’t comfortable or happy with his own fate. When given the tools to change things to his benefit, he jumped at the opportunity. Your uncle was an amazing individual and had the courage to take that leap without even knowing he would survive the journey.”
This just got more surreal every moment. Uncle Tobias – a time traveler? “How can I be certain all of this is true?”
“Before we had more gear from the future sent back, we used to mark all of our travelers.” Ben reached up, keeping his cigar expertly crooked between his fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt. He spread the material apart to reveal a black ‘S’ between two identical stars that had been tattooed on his chest.
Ethan stared at the design as the memory of Tobias’s own tattoo resurfaced. He’d never thought Tobias was the tattooing type, but that fact had seemed unimportant at the time. Holy shit!
Wallace refastened his shirt. “All I need to know is, do you possess the same strength that he did? Or should I continue to look into these other personnel files?” He jabbed a lanky forefinger at the briefcase.
Wow, pack your bags – we’re going on a major guilt trip! This guy knew how to put the screws to someone. First use family as a weapon, then go for broke – insinuate the target lacked balls. This tactic was laughable to Ethan; he had a military history and police career as proof of his balls to anyone who doubted. Most people were clueless that it took an amazing amount of bravery to head to work each day knowing that you might end up in a body bag with a toe tag to complete the ensemble.
“Well?” Wallace asked, impatience edging his voice. “This isn’t something that you can just get back to us on. We need your answer and we need it yesterday.”
“I’m thinking!” Ethan snapped, trying to buy a little more time before committing to something so insane.
Is this what his uncle had done – jump on board the Crazy Train without question? Ethan had always known Tobias was different, but if his uncle had really taken this leap, he was nuttier than Ethan had ever begun to imagine. His chest tightened. This might explain a lot about the suicide.
“It would appear that the bravery your uncle showed wasn’t his only good quality,” Wallace said. “He also seemed to be clairvoyant. By leaving you that information in the safe and the message on your machine, it was like he knew you would say yes to this mission.”
“How the hell did you know about that?”
Wallace grinned enigmatically and tapped his temple.
This guy’s creepy as shit. Despite Ethan’s detective prowess – which was pretty damn good – he still couldn’t get a bead on the man. It made him feel vulnerable, and this wasn’t a feeling that sat well with him.
“Are you familiar with Sun Tzu, Mr. Tannor?” Wallace cocked his head to one side, sizing Ethan up. The pause seemed to linger a beat too long and then Wallace clasped his hands behind his back and began to speak again.
“Speed is the essence of war. Take advantage of the enemy’s unpreparedness; travel by unexpected routes and strike him where he has taken no precautions.” He pulled one hand around and looked down at it, as though deeply concerned about the state of his fingernails, then rested it back into his other palm and stood staring at the floor. “He was an amazing military strategist. We have found ourselves in countless wars that have spanned centuries and the globe since this man’s existence, yet we still look to him for advice on plans of attack.
“Unfortunately, the members of The Red Hand are also familiar with Sun Tzu and will stop at nothing to see victory. So we too must adopt this course and pursue our enemies wherever they go. Even if that means we must chase them through time.”
Wallace looked up to meet Ethan’s gaze. “That means we must act now, because the failure of action, is an action of failure.”
Ethan didn’t reply to that and Wallace continued, “We had our failures along the way, when we attempted to act too soon. We were responsible for the blackout in ’77 –”
“That was you?” Ethan interrupted. “I suppose the ’79 incident here was also your fault?”
Wallace inclined his head, giving the barest hint of answer. “I was getting around to that. Yes, there were … issues that contributed to the ’79 incident. At any rate, we have fixed the kinks in the system, and the machine works.”
“But why are you using a place so far from your base in New York? Wouldn’t one of the plants closer to the city work better?”
“This location is optimal because it’s sufficiently distant from the city. New York, as you’re aware, is a prime target for the enemy. If something happened there, and our facility was lost, we would lose our capability to travel. Not to mention the human casualties if we cause another meltdown; next time we might not be able to contain the problem so easily.”
He waved a hand, dismissing that topic entirely. “Now back to you, Mr. Tannor. For obvious reasons, we can’t ask of your uncle again. But even if we could, his life has been altered to the point that he no longer fits the qualifications we need; he has served his purpose. You are the next best candidate.”
Next best? Eclipsed by a senior citizen – how awesome for me. “What you’re proposing could cause massive chaos by screwing with the past. Now, I’m not saying that good things can’t spring from the ashes of chaos.”
Ethan took a second to focus his thoughts. “You mentioned the blackout in ’77. I wasn’t on the police force then, but my partner told me how there was a rash of thefts across the counties – that tons of DJ equipment was stolen. But these crimes eventually did create a positive; the equipment was sold on the streets by these thugs to wannabe music artists and there was a surge in the hip hop industry which changed music forever.
“I pay little attention to such trivial matters, Mr. Tannor – although I do see your point.” Wallace drew a shallow breath, “So does that mean you’ve considered this missi
on?”
“Apparently you do pay little attention because I haven’t gotten to my point yet,” Ethan said.
“And that would be?” Wallace crooked an eyebrow; if he was annoyed by Ethan’s candor, it didn’t reflect.
“That the chaos in my example sprang out of events that occurred in a linear pattern. Stepping back into a pattern that has already been set could cause untold damage to our future.”
Wallace’s eyes flashed. “Our future already is damaged. Don’t you understand that?”
“This is a waste of our time, sir!” Jackman said, inserting himself into the conversation like a head-butt from left field. “What makes this guy so damn important?” He gestured at Ethan, disgust lines etched deep in his face, before turning back to Wallace. “What about that Pendergast fellow? He seemed like a good pick – this sort of thing would suit him well. There’s also Epping – or even Amberson. Hell, you know any one of us would buy stock in this job.”
“Oh my God, someone please stick me with that knock out juice again so I won’t have to hear all this bitching,” Ethan blurted out.
Jackman pinned Ethan with a hateful stare. The man’s cool, indifferent expression was gone, replaced by barely suppressed rage and a pulsing vein in his thick neck.
Ben’s voice broke through, calm and peaceful, his earlier brief display of anger having vanished. “I understand your concerns, Jackman, but if need be, we’ll exercise our other options. As it stands now, Pendergast would need more convincing. With regard to Amberson and Epping, they had their chance and created nothing but disorder.”
Jackman balked, staring at Wallace in disbelief.
“That mess was cleaned up already,” Wallace said. “Those issues are moot at this point, we have two days before the Russians make their move, but I need your services here. Your team has already been prepping, and to lose their leader now could cost them dearly.”
“If they choose an earlier date, we are fucked … sir.”
“They won’t.”
“How do you know they won’t?” Jackman’s tone was that of a pleading child, in total contrast with his appearance. Ethan had the sudden urge to laugh out loud.
“I have sources,” Wallace said quietly. “It is impossible for them to attempt the jump.”
“And you’re so fucking certain – how, exactly?”
Ethan watched this exchange with open curiosity. If Jackman was out of line, Wallace didn’t show it. It was evident theirs was not a normal military relationship – as if Ethan hadn’t already figured out nothing about these jokers was remotely normal.
“Because they’re not ready,” Wallace said patiently, as one would speak to a slow learner. “They will go when I have told you and not a day sooner. We know the when, but we don’t know the where.”
Jackman’s frustration was becoming contagious and Ethan felt worry spread through his own body, even though he still wanted to believe the story told to him moments ago was mere fantasy.
“This is starting to sound like bullshit,” Jackman said. “I don’t see why we have to sit by and –”
“Stand down.” The decibel level in Wallace’s tone was no different than earlier, but it commanded respect. Jackman’s mouth slammed shut following the order, but the bunching of his jaw muscles belied his silence.
Ethan couldn’t help but feel impressed with Wallace’s intangible aura of command over those around him. Perhaps they were all just blind disciples of a crazy man, but Ethan’s instincts told him this wasn’t the case with Jackman and his squad. Wallace’s words carried the undercurrent of truth. And then there were those videos he’d seen. Given all of that, Ethan supposed that if this man had said the world was ending tomorrow, he’d be compelled to believe.
But what if this time machine didn’t work and it was all a hoax? Still, what would be the harm in trying? There was nothing to lose. Ethan thought briefly of Art, Mary, and the kids, but reminded himself that if everything Ben Wallace had said was true, that would mean all of this business about the Russian cell was even more serious than Ethan had anticipated. And everyone’s future was at stake.
“I’ll do it,” Ethan said suddenly.
The expression on Wallace’s face tempted Ethan to start rattling off demands. The man seemed so desperate for him in particular; Ethan doubted a second choice would have been given the full-scale tour he’d just been treated to. So why not capitalize on his position? Two prostitutes, a million dollars, and maybe a line of coke to try just once before taking a giant leap into the unfucking known. But Ethan kept quiet, allowing his own words to sink in and relishing the look of unexplainable relief that washed over Wallace’s face.
“Excellent,” the man said, settling his features back into a mask of composure. “Tomorrow morning we should be finished with the remaining items on our checklist and we’ll be turning the system on. You should get some rest and a nice meal. Jackman will show you to your quarters. Tomorrow will be a long day; what comes next will change the world.”
It wasn’t until Jackman escorted Ethan from the room that he felt a sudden heaviness press down on him, carrying with it a dread unlike any he’d ever known.
***
April 24, 1986, 9:01 AM
Two hours later the doors to Wallace’s office opened again. Jackman strode in and planted himself in the spot where Ethan had stood earlier. Wallace looked up from his reading material and waited for the other man to speak.
“So why didn’t you tell him the whole truth?” Jackman stood motionless, like a stone gargoyle, as he spoke.
Wallace contemplated the question. “And what would you have me tell him? That Tobias failed and we need to send him back to clean up? That the Communist bastards have already gotten their filthy hands on that meteorite and the future is grotesque? That this mission is suicide at best and he won’t make it out alive?”
He placed the reading material aside and sat forward. “The past is hard to change, my friend; all we have is hope. Because thirty, forty, fifty years from now there is nothing but dust and death.”
“You could have told him more about Tobias’s body and the shootout at his apartment.”
Wallace flipped a dismissive hand and sat back in his seat. “And what of those two bodies?”
“Incinerated, as you instructed,” Jackman answered, his face impassive.
But Wallace knew him well enough to sense the man was troubled. “Sometimes it is necessary to lie by revealing nothing,” he said quietly.
“And you think it’s better to tell half-truths? I know what it feels like to be led astray.”
“Yes, I guess you would know a little something about that.” Wallace arched a brow. “Killing your own commander; it was justified, I agree – but look at you. There is no hope of redemption; is that why you’ve been insisting on going back yourself?”
“You know it is. No one has a happy ending coming.” Jackman paused, and his mouth formed a hard, thin line as he continued, “If I’m going to die, let it have purpose.”
“I need you to understand that running away from your past is not the answer.” Wallace stood and walked around the desk to lay a hand on Jackman’s shoulder. “Your past is over and done. It’s the future you should be worried about; the future is always unknown.”
Jackman eyed Wallace’s hand for a second but made no move to remove it. He looked back up. “I don’t have the faith you possess in this man, sir. I say we give up using him as a viable option. Just send me instead. I’m prepared.”
Ben didn’t speak for a few moments as he regarded the other man. “We’re sending the satellites tomorrow morning. And you know as well as I that the science of the Axiom is not an exact one. We run into glitches with these antiquated components every day. What guarantee do we have that it works when we send Ethan – or even the satellites, for that matter?”
Jackman hissed his frustration.
Ben took his hand off Jackman’s shoulder. “You are not as expendable as you think you are. I can
’t afford to sacrifice my most valuable asset when we’re so close. I need you here.”
“Even sending him, we know where the evidence points; that it probably won’t change anything,” Jackman argued, but he looked defeated. The debate was over and his face registered understanding.
Ben took a step back and slid a hand into his pocket. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and looked down at it almost mournfully.
Jackman’s stony eyes followed the man’s gaze. “When it comes time, will you be able to do what you must?”
Ben’s eyebrows rose in acknowledgement. He stuck the pack of smokes back in his pocket and gave a bitter smile. “Don’t I always?”
The forced silence soon became uncomfortable and Jackman left Ben to the quiet of his office.
A small piece of rock that he’d been studying earlier that morning was lying on the corner of his desk. He picked it up and twirled it delicately between his fingers. The mission would be a success – it had to be. At least that much was partially certain. Tomorrow morning the satellites would be sent back. And then it would be Tannor’s turn.
31 The Pills Have ‘I’s
April 25, 1986, 6:13 AM
Memories of Tobias infected Ethan’s dreams; from a long ago time when Tobias had helped him rebuild the Mustang. His uncle hovered over the engine block decked out in a ratty tank top and tattered jeans, thick veins navigating his thin frame as he wrestled the transmission into place, a thunk sounding when it found its home.
Tobias removed the chains that the transmission had suspended from a moment before and set them aside. “Someday she’ll be good as new and all yours,” he said with a satisfied grin, jutting his spear-headed beard at the car as he spoke and wiped his hands on the oily rag.
Ethan was busy tightening bolts Tobias had delegated, sweat trails coursing down his forearms as he strained to secure the lugs. This had been tougher than he thought, but well worth the effort, despite the pain. In a way, the process felt like he was rebuilding his life bolt by bolt as each component was repaired.