22

Caltech Tragedy

It was nearly nine in the morning that Saturday by the time they found themselves racing across the Caltech campus. The jet had been prepped by the time Agent Hessman was able to drag Dr. Weiss along with him, with Chief Duke already there waiting for him and Ben and Claire running up to join them. After that it was a ride in the fastest jet available, though Claire seemed amazingly relaxed through the entire trip. Something about “After flying up into space, then falling back down to Earth, this seems kinda slow and mundane.”

As they all sat in the large jet’s cargo section on the flight over, with the radio linked up to General Karlson back at the base, Agent Hessman explained his suspicions to both the general and those with him.

“After what Agent Harris suggested, I realized there’s only one reason they would have let Samantha go. Somehow they’ve mentally programmed her to carry out a mission back in our time. That’s the only way they’ve found to really change their past—to get us to do it for them.”

“But why Samantha?” a worried Dr. Weiss asked.

“Because of who’s a member of this think tank and the reason why the Russians are so interested in her—Dillon Marshal.”

“Uh-oh,” Ben remarked with a frown. “That explains the Russians, alright.”

“Not to me it doesn’t,” Dr. Weiss said with a shake of his head.

“Or to me,” came General Karlson’s voice from the radio speaker overhead.

“Dillon Marshal creates a bug that eats all the waste plastic in the oceans,” Agent Hessman explained, “only it gets out of control, with Russia in particular getting the worst of it. They’ll do anything to prevent that from having happened. I figured that seeing her uncle might help, and Miss Hill seems to have a way with people, but once we hit the ground . . .”

“There will be a military escort waiting for you when you hit the ground. Take it anywhere you need and save Miss Weiss.”

The remainder of their trip mainly consisted of Dr. Weiss expressing his worries, while Claire couldn’t help but see the overly stern expression on Agent Hessman’s face and wonder what concerns lay behind it. Their ride later from the airport involved a lot of screaming sirens, from the landing strip straight into the city of Pasadena, followed by Agent Hessman leading the charge across the Caltech campus as he called back to Dr. Weiss hobbling along behind him.

“Do you have any idea where this think tank meets?”

“Uh . . . Dabney Hall, I think. Straight ahead.”

To their left was a long reflection pool; around it and before them, grassy landscaping and cement walkways on all sides, the whole like a glade in a forest of squat one- and two-story structures given over to intellectual pursuits. The far-left end of the pool marked entry into a distinctive tall white-and-gray building stabbing like a finger up to the sky. To their right were some gardens and small ponds, but directly ahead of them, through a series of arches decorating one of the walkways, was an old two-story building that, from its architecture, could have either been one of the original campus school buildings or an aging mausoleum.

Agent Hessman bolted straight across the gardened quad, pushing past a couple of students in the way, the only one keeping up with him being Chief Duke. Chief Duke leaped ahead of him as they came to the building, taking the four slight steps up in a single bound and nearly ripping the double doors open before Agent Hessman, who then charged in.

A hallway stretched on before them. The left side sported a scattered line of doors, each labeled with someone’s name. To their immediate right a short flight of stairs curved downward, past which only a single set of doors farther on marked the expanse of the remaining length of hall.

Agent Hessman went straight for the singular set of doors on the right.

Ben and Claire came in with Dr. Weiss just in time to see Agent Hessman run through the doors to the room beyond.

“Go on ahead,” Dr. Weiss told them. “And when you see Samantha . . .”

“Don’t worry, we’ll save her,” Ben replied.

The room was an auditorium of sorts, but one with a wall of glass doors along the left side opening out onto a patio, and a fireplace at the far end. A long table was set up in the middle, several figures already seated around it with their laptops. A large flat-screen monitor rigged up on its own small stand before the middle of the side facing the fireplace displayed the apparent object of their discussion.

“Excuse me,” one of the people there said, “but this is a private meeting. You can’t just . . .”

Agent Hessman had his picture ID out in a flash as he quickly approached.

“Special Agent Lou Hessman. We’re looking for Dr. Samantha Weiss.”

“She hasn’t arrived yet,” another answered, “though she’s a little overdue. Now what is . . . ?”

“I want you all to vacate this building immediately,” Agent Hessman ordered. “Which one of you is Dillon Marshal?”

One scruffy-looking young man with light-brown hair stood up uncertainly, but before he or anyone else could speak, Agent Hessman was already giving out another command while Chief Duke went about bodily yanking protesting people out of their seats and shoving them in the direction of the patio doors.

Dillon Marshal - Inventor Plastic Eating Bug

Plastic Eating Bug

“You especially,” he ordered the young man, “just run until you see the street or a bomb shelter.”

A quick visual survey of the room showed him nothing, so it was back out the door he went, where he bumped into Ben and Claire on their way in, with Dr. Weiss a few paces behind them.

“She’s not here. But this has to be— Sam, what’s directly below this room?”

“Basement,” he answered, pointing with his cane. “Those stairs over there.”

“Has to be it, then. Chief Duke with me. Ben, if you and Claire have to, lift Sam down those stairs,” Agent Hessman said, pushing past them. “I suspect he’s going to be needed. I’m hoping the face of a loved one will snap her out of it.”

“If I have to grow wings and fly,” Dr. Weiss swore, “I will. That’s my niece!”

Agent Hessman ran down the short flight they had seen coming in, a turn and down a similar flight, with Chief Duke right alongside. The stairs led them down into a short corridor ending at an open pair of doors beyond which was another large room. This one, though, was crowded with various storage shelves, crates, and equipment, at the center and off to the far right of which they could see a light and hear the sounds of something being moved across the floor.

Agent Hessman put a finger to his lips for Chief Duke, then, as Ben and Claire appeared at the top of the second flight of stairs, motioned them down and pointed in the direction of the sounds. Carefully he crept around a turn in the storage shelves and finally into view of the lit section. Several yards away he saw a table, on top of which rested an assemblage of wires and electronics, all based around a pair of foot-high ceramic cylinders wired to one another at the top.

Putting the final touches on the contraption was Samantha. Her gaze was distant and fixed as she made the last few connections, just staring off into space as she muttered one phrase over and over again like a mantra.

“To save the future. To save the future. To save the future.”

Agent Hessman motioned Chief Duke into hiding behind the storage shelves while he straightened up and stepped into view, gently calling out, “Samantha. It’s Lou.”

She paused only briefly to look up and fix Lou with a gaze that looked like a stranger’s. “I’ve got to save the future,” she blandly stated.

“Samantha, listen. Those Russians from the future did something to mess with your head. You’ve got to fight it.”

“I’ve got to save the future.”

“Samantha, you’ve got to hear me. You recognize me, right? I’m Lou Hessman. We met at Los Alamos when your conference got crashed. Remember?”

“Hess-man,” she slowly stated.

“Yes. Those Russians brainwashed you. You can’t . . .”

“To save the future,” she repeated, at which point she went back to her work.

“Okay, try this. I’ve already been upstairs and evacuated the room. Dillon Marshal is safe. Your mission is scrubbed. Do you hear me? Your target is no longer available.”

“Sam!”

Hobbling in behind Agent Hessman came Dr. Weiss. He pushed away from Ben and Claire and set a gradual pace for his niece.

“This isn’t you, Sam. You don’t kill people; you won’t even step on a bug.”

For a moment her gaze flickered, her face filled with a look of recognition. “Uncle Sam?”

“Yes, dear, it’s me,” Dr. Weiss tearfully replied. “Now just stop what you’re doing and come to me.”

Meanwhile, Agent Hessman had slipped into the shadows, leaving the more familiar face of Dr. Weiss to awaken Samantha’s mind.

“I . . . can’t. I’ve got to save— Uncle, I think . . . I think something’s wrong.”

“I’m here for you, Sam. Your uncle.”

Two more slow steps, and for a second it looked as if his niece might break, but suddenly her face went blank and her head snapped up with a stern glare at her uncle.

“Primary target aborted. Secondary target acquired.”

At least one person there didn’t wait for Samantha to finish the motion of bringing her right hand up, didn’t wait to see the gun she now held. As Dr. Weiss gasped at the sight of his own niece about to gun him down, a large body caught him in the side with a flying tackle just as the trigger was pulled back, while somewhere behind them Ben and Claire both hit the ground. To the sharp echo of the pistol sounding off, Chief Duke tackled Dr. Weiss to the ground, the bullet missing the large Navy SEAL by inches.

The gun had barely finished firing when another body came flying out of the shadows, but this one toward Samantha. It was Agent Hessman. He tackled her away from the table, knocking the gun out of her hand as he pinned her to the ground.

“No,” Samantha said as she struggled. “I’ve got to complete the mission. I’ve got to . . .”

She suddenly stopped struggling, her face clearing and eyes blinking.

“Lou?”

Once Agent Hessman had made his tackle, Chief Duke released Dr. Weiss and picked him up to his feet as Ben and Claire got up as well to join him in surrounding the prone young woman in a small sea of concerned faces. Samantha saw first Agent Hessman and then her uncle hobbling up behind him.

“Uncle . . . Sam,” she said. “I . . . I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sam,” Dr. Weiss replied, tears in his eyes. “It wasn’t you.”

“Samantha,” Agent Hessman began, “we’ve got to keep you bound until we can figure out how to fix you up, but we will find a way.”

“I know, but I . . . I’m sorry. My God, I was about to shoot my own uncle! And, Lou . . .”

For a moment Samantha’s eyes held a look for Lou that Ben recognized as the same way that Claire looked at him. Then Samantha’s face went blank, her gaze fixed, and her body began convulsing.

“Sam!”

Chief Duke held Dr. Weiss back before he could do anything foolish, while Ben held on to Claire.

“No,” Lou stated, now shaking Samantha by the shoulders. “Stop. Ben, get a call out to our escort for an emergency evac. Samantha, come back to me!”

Chief Duke produced a palm-sized radio unit and tossed it to Ben to make the call, while a broken Dr. Weiss dropped to his knees. This left Claire to simply stare as Lou tried to control Samantha’s convulsions in a tight hug, and perhaps she was the only one to see the expression on his face and the single tear that rolled down his cheek while Samantha’s eyes rolled back in her head.