THE CONTINENT OF ANTARCTICA, 227,000 B.C.E.
Carl Everett collapsed into the large ferns that lined the game trail. The large rabbit he had trapped was lifeless in his hand as he managed a quick peek onto the game trail he had just left. For the past seven days he ate what was left of his rations from the escape pod and had supplemented that with berries and fruits he wasn’t quite sure would poison him or not. He was looking forward to the protein the rabbit would surely give him. His appetite had returned in a most ravenous way after the effects of the over-oxygenated air had subsided to the point that his body slowly became used to the pristine air of an earlier world.
“Come on, where are you?” he asked no one. He examined the game trail but failed to see the large animal he thought he heard a few moments before. He hadn’t seen the beast but he knew it was large enough to send the smaller wildlife scurrying for cover in fright. He placed the rabbit at his feet and covered it with the soft moist earth in case the blood that was on its fur attracted whatever it was that was stalking him. He slowly laid aside the bow and arrows and then withdrew his nine-millimeter Glock from his shoulder holster. He slid the slide back an inch and saw the chambered round. He had four bullets left. He had gone through his entire arsenal in just the first five or six days of this marvelous adventure and he regretted every time he remembered the rookie mistakes in safeguarding his firepower. He had become very efficient with his knife, traps, and his bow and arrows, but soon came to realize just how much he missed his everyday conveniences such as MREs and automatic weapons.
The slow wavelike motion of the earth originated north of him where the skies were black and red. Carl grimaced as the rolling sensation struck and he actually lost his balance as the earthquake shook the area. Mount Erebus was raising her skirt for the third time that day. The great volcano was spewing forth a noxious cloud of methane that seemingly rolled down its slopes and into the dying jungle around the base. The volcano was over a thousand miles away but the effects made it seem just out of view. In the three weeks Carl had been marooned he had calculated that the earth movement occurred far more frequently since the day he had arrived. He knew instinctually that Erebus was close to blowing. The fires caused by the eruptions had burned millions of acres of jungle and were driving the wildlife out of the area.
The earth movement slowed and then dissipated in its snakelike motion toward the east. He lowered his head at the soothing relief he felt when the ground beneath his feet ceased its movement. He knew he felt like all humans did when the only thing you ever trusted in the universe was the earth under your feet. When that was compromised you would lose faith in your abilities to stay alive. He lifted his head just as some very strange ratlike creatures scurried past his feet in flight. He shook his head knowing his clawed adversary was near. He had soon learned that every species of animal alive at this time had either very large teeth or equally large claws—and they used them with great advantage. He was but a puppy in a savage world never meant for mankind.
He sniffed the air and that was when he caught the scent of the animal as it crept closer. He cocked the nine millimeter and waited.
Suddenly the green foliage parted with a crash not thirty yards to his front. His eyes widened when he saw a large flock of chickenlike rocs as they broke cover. The eleven-foot-tall birds were flightless but made up for that deficiency with their strong legs and fierce claws and beaks. The very large rooster at the head of the charge swerved to the left, quickly followed by five others. Then a hen broke cover just as a loud and fierce scream of an animal Carl had yet to see in action chased a smaller roc that exited the jungle just behind its mother. This one was followed by a second youngling. This was a red-hooded rooster that was close to full grown. It swept quickly to the right to avoid something that crashed through the jungle just behind it. The rocs as a whole started their high-pitched screams as the terror was seen for the first time. The small, useless wings of the rooster flared as four giant claws struck out just as the beast broke cover as the flock reached safety on the far side of the small clearing only fifteen yards from where Carl huddled with his forgotten lunch. The claws raked the roc on its left flank and the bird went down. Before the roc could react and recover, the giant black panther was upon it. The cat was no less than seven hundred pounds and was the first of this species Carl had seen in his three weeks here. The panther’s green emerald eyes flared with the brightness of the night stars as it placed its foreclaws on the injured bird and then screamed in triumph at its fallen prey.
For many days to come Everett could not figure out why he did what he did that day. For a reason that was now unfathomable he grew angry and decided that enough was enough. He was no longer going to allow the animal life of this screwed-up time to scare him to death. He stood and slowly stepped into the open.
“Get off of him!” he called out as he raised the nine millimeter and advanced.
The panther was taken by surprise and turned and screamed. The cry was so loud it made Carl squint and then wince as the angered cry shook the jungle around him. The smaller roc was trying desperately to gain its feet but the massive claws of the cat held it firmly in place as it spit its anger at the small man walking toward it. Everett saw the desperation in the roc’s actions as it struggled and that struggle struck a chord with him. He felt he was once more doing his job, and that job was to stop the bad guys from winning. Not for the love of the aggressive giant chickens, but because he just didn’t like the panther.
The black coat was thick and it shone within the confines of the darkened jungle with a luminescence that was surreal. The coat shimmered as the enormous muscles of the animal flexed and braced for a jump that would quickly carry it to this small threat coming at it.
“Come on, you son of a bitch. I’ll dance with ya.”
The giant cat screamed as it used the smaller body of the roc as a springboard for launching itself at the man.
Carl saw the animal was far faster than he could ever have realized. It was airborne before he could bring the pistol into action. He actually felt the onrush of air as the beast launched. He tried to fire but quickly realized he would never get the weapon up fast enough. So much for being the new sheriff in town.
The injured roc used its long neck to twist with lightning speed just as the relief of weight was off of its feathered body. The large parrotlike beak shot forward and grabbed the cat’s left hind leg just as it was free. The beast was halted in mid-jump and quickly twisted its large frame to turn and swipe at the downed roc. Everett saw the advantage that the young bird had given him. He raised the Glock and fired once, hitting the cat in the side of its head. Carl’s eyes widened when he saw the panther flinch only momentarily as the round struck its skull and ricocheted off into the jungle. The cat didn’t even scream. It just slowly turned its head to face Carl and hiss. It swiped one last time at the fallen roc, who relinquished its powerful beak after the claws slammed into its hard surface. The roc’s head was slammed into the jungle floor where it went still. The cat shook free of the now limp roc and advanced on Everett.
Carl fired the second of his four rounds and the bullet struck the panther in the right front leg. This time the bullet lodged itself in the beefy part of the forearm but didn’t slow the deliberate pace the panther kept to reach its antagonist. Its body went low to the ground in a stalking position. The rear legs bunched for a final jump. Carl fired again. This time the round hit the beast in the chest and the cat recoiled in pain but quickly recovered.
“Uh-oh,” Carl said as he knew he was down to the last bullet in the world and was afraid this one would be just as ineffective as the first three.
He aimed just as the panther sprang. The bullet hit the beast in the nose. This time there was a great spray of blood but he knew that the last bullet would not stop the great cat from its mission to shred him to pieces. The panther’s teeth were a few inches from his throat when its forward momentum came to a crashing and bone-crunching stop. Carl hit the ground and then rolled away as the full bulk of the cat came crashing down. His eyes widened when he saw the beak of the large roc had been sunk deep into the panther’s back, snapping its spine like a piece of brittle driftwood. The young rooster twisted its head until it felt the satisfying crunch of more bone and this time the cat, paralyzed, couldn’t even scream. The roc actually dragged the large panther backward until it was satisfied that the animal could no longer do it harm. The enormous clawed feet of the bird were perched triumphantly upon the shiny coat of the black panther as it raised its bloody beak to the sky and flapped its small wings as it screamed to the heavens, informing whoever was up there that the young rooster had triumphed over the great cat.
Carl finally managed to slow his heart rate as he watched the scene before him. The young roc lowered its head and nudged the now dead panther with its newly battle-scarred beak. The wound to its body was bleeding but Carl knew the giant bird would not feel it for a while. He could see the youngling was in a mood that would last until its adrenal glands emptied.
Everett took a deep breath and then rolled onto his back and looked up at the ash-laden skies above the central plain of Antarctica. That was when a giant beak flared overhead and he was suddenly looking into the yellow eyes of the large rooster that had been leading the headlong flight of the flock. The roc hissed as it opened its beak to bite Carl’s face off.
He heard the scream of the smaller rooster, and then the face and beak of the larger bird was knocked from view. Carl rolled until he was safely in the bush once again. He finally braved a look up and the sight froze him. The roc he had saved was standing over its fallen alpha male. The larger roc tried to stand but the smaller rooster had found some of its sand and angrily hissed at the patriarch of the flock. The large bird scrambled to its clawed feet and then hissed back, but Carl noticed its superior enthusiasm had vanished. With a last look at Everett, the large rooster broke and ran.
The smaller roc watched the quieting jungle for a moment and then its yellow eyes traveled to Carl. It turned its large red-feathered head to the side and examined the creature that had saved it from a horrid death. It slowly raised its small wings and flapped them three times. It continued to watch the human as it flicked its eyes left and right in its examination. Everett could see the slow drip of blood and thought that the wound was survivable. The three deeply etched claw marks on the left side of its beak bespoke of the power of the giant panther’s needlelike claws.
With one last look at Everett, the future alpha male of the flock jumped into the bush and quickly vanished, but not before it hurriedly snatched Carl’s prized rabbit from the ground.
“Hey!”
All he heard was the crashing of the large redheaded rooster as it made off with his lunch.
UPPER EAST SIDE OF MANHATTAN, NEW YORK
The knock sounded lightly upon the ornate double doors.
“Madam, I have news from Jerusalem.”
The clearing of her throat and then the eerie silence from the darkened room meant that his employer had indeed heard what he said. The man swallowed when the twin doors slowly opened. Before they swung completely open he saw the interior lights slowly fade as they were dimmed. He heard the motorized chair as it left the doorway. He stepped inside. He saw the still frame on the large-screen television of Clark Gable’s backside as he left Atlanta for the last time in the film Gone with the Wind. He saw her as she motored around her desk, shutting down the film by remote control as she did. The desk lamp was off and he could only see the outline of darkness against the drawn shades. She was silent as he stepped into the large study and then turned and pulled the doors closed behind him. His employer was patient as she waited.
“I always stop the film at this spot anyway. I can never stand to hear Vivien Leigh say those damnable words, ‘After all, tomorrow is another day!’ Such a foolish girl saying something some hack wrote in a book. Not very realistic by literary or even Hollywood standards.”
“Yes, Madam, very unrealistic,” the man said, facing her as he stood in front of the large desk. He saw her elegant hand reach for the ornate box on her desk and then she pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The smoke clouded the man’s view even further. “Our contact in Jerusalem reports that the Mossad may have leaked your file to an outside source.”
There was silence as the woman in the darkness smoked and listened. He became uncomfortable during the drawn-out silence. Finally he could see her silhouette as she placed the cigarette in an ashtray.
“I thought we hadn’t any more contacts in the government?”
“He reported out of loyalty, even though he has not been paid in over five years. He said he owed you for past services.”
“A kind euphemism for past bribes. Well, if it eases his conscience, who am I to argue?” Again she retrieved her cigarette and smoked.
“We haven’t the contacts to pursue any intelligence on who received the file. We won’t know who has it until someone comes knocking on the door.”
“The Mossad has little interest in me any longer. They couldn’t get any information from me for seventy years, so perhaps they have contracted out for their intelligence gathering.”
“You know the Mossad doesn’t contract out to anyone. I have been informed by that same asset that is so loyal to you that a General Shamni, head of the Israeli intelligence service, has been sacked by the prime minister. The rumor is he allowed an intelligence asset important to the state to flee the country.”
“Sounds like our little secret may have leaked out somehow. And all this time I thought they and others had forgotten about us.” She placed the cigarette down into the ashtray once more and then switched on the lamp that sat on the desk’s polished top.
The man saw her clearly in the light. The ornate motorized wheelchair moved and she came from around her desk. She stopped in front of the tall man. Her hair was gray and came to her shoulders and she wore a black mourning dress as she always did. The sleeves were long and her hands were as elegant as ever. He avoided looking at the crooked legs that angled to the right as she sat in her chair. Her face was lined but in the beautiful softness few ladies of her age ever possess. She reached out and took his large hand into hers.
“Alert all of our children and tell them to be aware of busybodies looking for a story.” She patted his hand and looked into his brown eyes. He nodded as he knew they hadn’t the funds to do anything outside of warning the family that they might have been discovered. They were helpless before the powers that had their information. He covered her petite hand with his own and then his eyes fell on the tattooed number on her white fleshy forearm where the sleeve failed to cover it. The tattoo had not faded with age: 674392. She smiled, removed her hand, and motored back to her desk and then smoked as she watched him. She slowly reached out and turned off the desk lamp. “I’m in the mood for a musical. All of this drama has drained me.”
“Yes, Madam,” he said as he started to turn away.
“Julien, tell the children not to be frightened by this. Remind them all they have been through worse.”
“I will, Madam,” he said as he opened the double doors and then left her study. He paused as he made sure the doors were closed as he heard the video player start once more. This time it sounded like Fred Astaire singing an opening number.
The man stepped away and then pulled up his coat’s sleeve and saw his own numbered tattoo and sighed. He lowered the sleeve and then went to make 236 phone calls.
The children of the Traveler had to be alerted.
EVENT GROUP COMPLEX, NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA
Jack waited with Niles Compton inside the conference room. They were alone for the moment.
“When and if we find who we are looking for, that’s when the expenditures of manpower and funding will be noticeable. I figure we’ll need the full one-hundred-hour grace period the president promised. I figure we’ll be stepping on the toes of more than just one agency here. We could possibly make enemies for the president without him even knowing we made them.”
“At least for a hundred hours,” Compton countered. “Look, Jack, if we get this one chance at getting Carl home I’m willing to alienate far more than just my best friend, I’m willing to put my career on the line.”
“This is the wildest long shot we’ve ever taken, a Hail Mary without much hope the ball will ever come down. But it’s the only shot we have. All other areas of investigation have run into a brick wall. Other than the alien technology we no longer have access to, we have nothing other than this Traveler story we have yet to even confirm.”
Niles took a deep breath and then fixed Jack with his one-eyed gaze. “Anya seems convinced that the Mossad believed the tale. Enough so they detained her brother after the war for further interrogation, what they euphemistically call a debrief. If a hard-nosed organization like them believe her story, then we have to give it due credence.” Niles shook his head and looked at the wall clock just as the conference room door opened and Xavier Morales and the rest of the team started to filter in. Niles slowly made his way over to the conference table.
Virginia sat and then nodded and pushed a sheaf of paperwork toward the director.
“Dr. Morales, we don’t have much time. What have you come up with?” Compton asked.
“Actually, Moira Mendelsohn was quite easily traced. She was at one time listed in Forbes magazine as one of the top-ten richest women in the world. She hasn’t been listed since 1972, but she was listed.”
“Is she still alive?” Charlie asked.
“Very much so, at least as far as the latest New York City census.”
“You mean she lives here?” Niles asked.
“Yes, sir, she immigrated to the United States in 1950 from Jerusalem where she lived right under the noses of Israeli intelligence. Her ten American companies at one time owned seventy-six electronic and light-emitting patents.” Xavier looked at his electronic pad and then looked up. “As far as Europa can tell, Miss Mendelsohn spent no less than three fortunes on philanthropic endeavors.”
“Such as?” Alice asked.
“Scholarships mostly. Grants to the poor and immigrants for educational opportunities. She’s garnered so many accolades from the New York City establishment that she’s highly thought of. But she has become reclusive in her later years.”
“Excuse me,” Master Chief Jenks interrupted. “You say she owned patents on light-emitting technology?”
Xavier spoke softly. “Europa, place the patents for Weisberg Industries on the main screen, please.”
On the large monitor Europa placed the listing of all legal patents held by the company. Jenks looked at the list and then compared it to his notes on his own electronic pad.
“Lasers and lens grinding. Those stand out. Also the power distribution nodes.” He thought a moment.
“Master Chief?” Niles said as Jenks was deep in thought.
He had read as much as he could on Einstein’s theories about time displacement and saw that what was on the patents list would be required elements to any attempt at what these maniacs would expect for an experimentation at quantum displacement. He shook his head.
“A laser system and power production technology the likes of which we have never before seen would be needed in any attempt at what you are suggesting.”
Everyone in the room got that same feeling of discovery when something uncovered made sense to their trains of investigation. They sensed they had a strong lead.
“Would this interest you, Chief?” Xavier said as Europa placed one more item on the list.
“That’s Master Chief, boy.”
“Yes, sorry, I have yet to get a feel for military etiquette.”
Jenks grumbled but looked at the item listed on the monitor.
“Industrial-grade blue diamonds. They seemed to be a vital part of whatever they were doing, and then the supply dwindled to nothing and that was the end of their collecting blue diamonds.”
Jenks looked at the new kid on the block and thought he might have something.
“That makes sense,” Jenks said, surrendering to the enthusiasm of the combined Group. As he stood and made his way to the monitor, Virginia saw what the master chief was seeing only because it was her area of expertise. “Industrial blue diamonds have become very hard to come by these days. It makes sense that these people had to come up with an alternate light source—”
“Lasers,” Virginia finished for him.
“That’s right, Slim, lasers, and specially ground lenses for those lasers.”
Niles cringed at the cavalier way Jenks spoke to his assistant director, but Virginia seemed like a schoolgirl when it came to the brutish little engineer. She was smiling as he looked at her.
“That coupled with the massive power they were obviously seeking, well, I have to admit you may have something for your ridiculous theories department.” The master chief snorted and then placed the dead cigar in his mouth and went back to his seat. Virginia winked at him and he looked away embarrassed.
“Any major holdings as far as laboratory or manufacturing concerns?” Niles asked Xavier.
“Not really. Most have been sold off as the fortunes of the company plummeted in the late seventies.”
“You mean with all of these patents the company failed?”
“Europa could find no clear-cut reasoning behind that failure except for poor management. The income the last few years has been royalty-based percentages. Still, our lady friend brings in no less than one hundred and ten million dollars a year on those royalties alone.”
“So, no manufacturing at all since?” Niles asked, intriguing Xavier to finish his assessment. He was amazed at how quickly the young genius had assimilated into the style of investigation. He suspected that Europa might be teaching him as much as he was her.
“Nineteen seventy-two as far as we can see. However”—Xavier noted one variance as he ordered Europa to place a slide onto the screen—“we did find this.”
On the screen an aerial view of a waterfront appeared. There were rows upon rows of warehouse-type buildings facing what looked like dry dock areas. The view was of an old system of buildings. Europa zoomed the satellite view until they were looking at a single building. It was long and made of redbrick. The facade was ancient and looked unkempt. On the photo they did see one curious thing. There was a guard shack just in front of the main entrance and they counted no less than five guards. That caught Jack’s attention as he now knew what set of buildings they were looking at. But Master Chief Jenks beat him to it as he had spent a good portion of his naval career in and around that old facility.
“The Brooklyn Navy Yard,” Jenks said as he examined the photo intel.
“Precisely, Chief … ur … uh, Master Chief,” Xavier corrected himself before the brutish little man did the honors. “Building one-seventeen. The absolute only property holding outside of her East Side apartment building.”
“For an old building they seem to have a lot of security,” Farbeaux said as he studied the picture. “I have had dealings in the navy yard. At all points entering the property there are posted guards, so why does this particular building need the extra protection? My bad-guy senses are intrigued.”
“I assume we can locate our Miss Mendelsohn?” Niles asked.
“She’s lived in the same building since 1955,” Xavier quickly answered.
Jack Collins stood up from his chair and nodded at the director. “Henri, you just named your own poison. Captain Mendenhall, you come with us. Commander Ryan, watch the shop since you tend to stand out in a crowd lately.”
Ryan looked over at Mendenhall, who could see he was about to explode. But he just nodded instead.
“Master Chief, since you speak both English and egghead, we may need your opinion in case we do dig up something. I would rather have a firsthand opinion than wait for you to examine pictures.”
“Lovely. I was hoping my second-language course would pay off someday.”
“And where will we be off to?” the Frenchman asked as he, too, slowly stood.
“To meet the woman they call the Traveler.”
Farbeaux slowly shook his head. “At the very least this will be interesting.”
The Event Group had a very large lead indeed.
UPPER EAST SIDE OF MANHATTAN, NEW YORK
Mendenhall paid the cabdriver an hour after landing at LaGuardia Airport. He joined Jack, Farbeaux, and Jenks as they stood before the redbrick monolith that was the Grenada Building. When away from Virginia and free of the sterile Event Group complex Jenks was free to puff away on a cigar. He glanced upward and then looked away, tossing the stub of the cigar into the gutter, which elicited a sour look from a passing woman and her snotty little white dog.
“I don’t know about you girl scouts, but my hackles have just risen.”
“Yeah, they’ve been eyeing us since the cab pulled up.” Jack looked at Henri.
“You get the feeling that someone may have been expecting company?”
“If they were, the only way it could have leaked that we were looking for the Traveler was through Anya. You don’t think she would be on both sides of the playing field, do you?” Mendenhall asked, wishing Collins would have allowed them to bring firearms, but the colonel had insisted they leave them on the Air Force Lear Jet waiting back at LaGuardia.
“No, not with what she has been through with her own people. I’ve noticed the Israelis for the most part have been very unforgiving of late for mistrust, and I believe being caught with classified intelligence, no matter how old, can make you vanish very quickly in Tel Aviv. No, that’s a woman in love.”
Jack looked at Farbeaux as he walked past the three heading toward the covered awning of the front portico. “That your expert opinion, Colonel?”
Farbeaux smiled as he caught the reference to Sarah McIntire.
“On the Israeli attitude of the equation, yes, on the love side, believe me, I’m only guessing.” He smiled with more enthusiasm when Jack paused and looked at him. “As we all are.”
Collins, like Henri seconds before, caught the innuendo. He decided to let it go. He walked to the steps and went up to the glass and wood front doors.
Jenks stopped by Farbeaux’s side.
“Someday I think you’re going to press the wrong buttons on Patton there and something bad may ensue.” Jenks eyed the Frenchman.
“Ah, you mean he has a breaking point for someone he loves? Like you and your”—he smiled even wider than before—“boat?”
“You son of a bitch, I am gonna—”
The doors opened, silencing Jenks as he watched Henri and then a curious Mendenhall take the steps. He angrily followed.
The man standing at the open door wore a black suit jacket and black turtleneck shirt underneath. His beard was closely kept and his brown eyes took in the men at the door. Jack saw his eyes wander to their waistlines and then examine them for any bulges that would mark them as armed. The man stood there, not saying a word of greeting.
“We have come to see Ms. Moira Mendelsohn,” Jack said as he sized up the large man in the doorway. He was stout and would be a hard candidate to get through.
“Madam receives absolutely no visitors, I am sorry. Leave a name and note and if she wishes to get back to you, she will. Good day.”
The door started to close but it was Henri who acted first and placed a hand on the old leaded glass of the door.
“She’ll wish to see us,” Farbeaux said as he eyed the man blocking their way.
“And this is so because?” the man asked, amused at the blond man who thought his hand could stop him from closing the door. He huffed as he took in Henri.
Collins lowered Farbeaux’s hand from the door and looked at the well-dressed man who had a weapon’s bulge near his shoulder.
“Inform Ms. Mendelsohn we wish to speak to her about her ‘doorway.’”
The man held his blank expression well. He looked unaffected at Jack’s comment but there was a noticeable difference. Three more men stepped out from behind the first. The large man turned and looked at the men who had joined him and then nodded that they could return to their duties. He stepped aside and allowed the four men to enter the foyer of the large first floor.
They saw that the entire floor, with the exception of a large desk in the middle, was completely empty. In a city like New York where living space was hard to come by, this place was a gold mine if renovated. Collins had the distinct feeling this Mendelsohn woman didn’t care much about that.
“Madam has been expecting you, or someone like you.”
The silence from the four men was stark as they waited for the man to finish.
“And why is that?” Mendenhall asked, anxious to discover why they were expected. He was also worried that the colonel might have made a mistake in not allowing them to be armed.
The man ignored Will’s question. “Suffice it to say, gentlemen, if you are here for any ill purpose, rest assured you will not leave this residence breathing.”
Henri looked at Jack, and Will had to place a hand on Master Chief Jenks’s arm as he reacted to the threat. The man did not smile, he did not frown. Jack could see that his threat was just a fact of life.
“We have no ill will toward your employer,” Collins said as he looked at the emptiness of the 150-year-old building.
“Follow me please, gentlemen.” The large man turned and went toward the old-fashioned gated lift.
“No announcement?” Henri asked as he looked around the closed space of the elevator.
For the first time the man chuckled as he lifted an ancient handle on an even older annunciator and switched the handle to 16.
“Madam knows you are here, she was just curious as to what purpose.” The lift started up with a small jolt.
“You know, elevator upgrades are a good thing in our modern world,” Will said as he subconsciously grabbed the wooden railing as the lift shook and rattled.
“Madam likes things the way they are. She is quite content.” He looked back at Mendenhall. “And our lift system is inspected every six months, so if something happens during your visit it will not be the ancient elevator that kills you.”
Jenks had had a bellyful of the two threats made thus far. He stepped toward the front of the elevator car but Jack forced him back by placing a hand on the master chief’s barrel chest.
“Virginia specifically told you to behave.” He faced Jenks. “I’ll tell her if you don’t knock it off.”
Jenks frowned and then backed away as the elevator came to a stop. The man smiled at Jenks and then stepped off the elevator. He mumbled, “I’m not afraid of her,” but not too loudly.
The long hallway was of polished wood. The floors, the walls, and the ceiling were buffed and shined as if polished only this morning. The lone desk just outside the elevator was manned by a younger gentleman in a blue suit. He was writing on a clipboard as he saw the men step from the elevator. He had his jacket unbuttoned and they could all see the Smith & Wesson nine millimeter in a shoulder holster.
“Madam is expecting you,” the guard said as he laid the clipboard down and then eyed Collins. “Gentlemen, are you armed?”
“Look, Peaches—” Jenks started to say but stopped when the double wooden doors at the end of the fifty-five-foot hallway opened, and that was when they saw the Traveler for the first time.
“If they wanted to kill me all they would have had to do is spike my weekly order of gin.” She motored the wheelchair backward and then opened the doors wider for her guests. “Come in, gentlemen, you are cutting into my motion picture time.”
Jack took a breath and followed the trail of birchwood flooring to the main penthouse apartment. The man followed the four to the door and stopped them from entering.
“Madam may take this lightly, but rest assured, gentlemen, we take her security very seriously. Also keep in mind Madam tires easily.”
“We understand,” Jack said as he turned from the serious-faced young man. “You need to get out more, Master Chief, people usually don’t travel long distances to kill an old lady for the sheer fun of it. This isn’t Los Angeles.”
Jenks walked past with a hard brush, which made the security guard smile and shake his head as he stepped inside and closed the door.
The large entranceway was dark. There was small lines of light that danced with dust particles streaming through the closed curtains. Other than that the only source of light was from the ornate wall sconces that were made sometime in the late 1800s.
“I think this whole building ought to be in one of the director’s artifact vaults,” Will said as he examined the forty-foot-high ceiling. The absence of the things that made a home was the first thing he noticed. The walls were bare of family photos and art. The rich wood paneling had nothing at all upon their shiny surface. Jack followed the hallway toward the large study. He looked inside and saw the shiny silhouette of the old woman as she placed her wheelchair behind a large desk. The others joined Jack just inside the sliding double doorway.
Henri saw that this room was different from the outer areas. Here there were pictures, old black-and-white photos ensconced in old-fashioned bubble frames. Some were of family but most were of children, two of them in particular. Jack and the others recognized a young Moira Mendelsohn as she was standing next to a small boy with the same color hair and the same soft features of Moira. There were no less than six of these pictures with only the boy and the young woman in them. The rest were old-world European pictures of family that had long since departed this life, one way or the other, in Eastern European standards of the time—especially if you were Jewish or Gypsy or any other malcontent as seen in the eyes of Nazi Germany.
“You must have very strong contacts in the Israeli government to come up with my name, gentlemen.” The old woman who looked surprisingly healthy for her eighty-seven years slowly lit a cigarette and then fixed Jack with a kind stare. She gestured to four ornate chairs that had been placed in front of the large desk.”Please, I hate people looking down at me … have a seat.”
“No, Madam Mendelsohn, we do not,” Collins said as he took his chair. “What we did have was a frightened woman searching for a man who has been lost. A very good incentive for treason, at least for some.”
“Love, while not always sane, is at most times a good reason. Gentlemen, tell me what it is you wish of me. If it’s blackmail of some kind, I’m afraid those money years are far behind me, so, what can I do for you?”
“Can you tell us about Professor Lars Thomsen?” Collins asked.
Moira Mendelsohn became silent as she puffed on her cigarette and looked the four men over. Instead of answering she pushed a button on a small device.
“Angela, please bring in some refreshment for our guests.”
Collins saw the woman study them as she smoked. She made no attempt to answer Jack’s query as she waited.
It wasn’t long before the doors were parted and a cart with many bottles on it was rolled in by a petite lady in a nice skirt and blouse.
“Gentlemen, what will you have?”
“Nothing for—” Jack started to say but Henri stopped him.
“I am a man of your own tastes, Madam, I will have a gin and tonic with a twist.” He looked at Collins, hoping Jack would catch on that this woman wanted to sit and talk. Not having a drink was an old-fashioned way of saying just hurry up and spill your secrets. Henri knew how to question people to get what he wanted. “Mr. Collins here and the others will have the same.”
The old woman nodded toward the woman and she started making ice-clinking noises. When she was done she left the cart, and the bodyguard closed the doors behind her.
“A true cold-blooded son of a bitch.”
Jack almost choked on his drink as she said the startling words.
“Excuse me?” he asked when he gained control of his coughing. Then he realized she was just answering his earlier question.
“Thomsen was a sadistic bastard who would do anything to prove his theories correct. Anything.” She took a drink of her gin and tonic and then crushed out her cigarette. “But then again you have my debrief file from the Mossad; you know what I said in 1946 about the man. It should come as no surprise that time has not healed all wounds, nor dare I say blurred the memory. It never will.” She became still as the four men saw she was deep in thought of the memory of Thomsen and his brutal displacement theories.
“As brutal as this Kraut doc was, did he ever prove what it is he was out to prove?” Jenks asked as he quickly drained his gin and tonic, burped, and then looked at the old woman. She lit another cigarette as the master chief rose and poured his own drink; this time it was forty-year-old whiskey. He returned to his seat and awaited the answer to his question.
“You know he did, at least if you read my file. That is if you believe my tale; the Israeli government did not. They filed it away as insanity brought on by years of incarceration. So, according to the powers that be, I’m insane.”
“Are you?” Henri asked, cutting directly to the point.
Moira Mendelsohn laughed out loud and placed the cigarette into a glass ashtray and then clapped her hands together. Even her bodyguard bent over to stifle a laugh.
“Absolutely, certifiably insane.” She continued to laugh until finally she had to moisten her throat. She looked at Jenks, drained her own glass, and then held it out for a refill and the bodyguard moved to supply it. He also removed Jenks’s glass and refilled it once again.
“We know it worked, Ms. Mendelsohn,” Jack said as he placed his glass on the desk and then eased back in his seat. The laughter stopped.
“Blue diamonds, patents on light-emitting technology and power amplification. Yes, we do know you did it, there and here.”
The old woman looked at Collins and then took a drag off her cigarette. She watched Jack for the longest time—long enough that he thought his abrupt declaration about her involvement had made her scared and thus she’d clam up. Jack decided to push it and nudged Henri’s leg and nodded.
“Please, tell us what it is,” Farbeaux asked as he took in the shaking fingers of the lady in the expensive wheelchair. “They wouldn’t allow you to elaborate during both your British and Israeli debriefs. Once you mentioned what Nazi science was up to their attention span waned somewhat as the Allied mission at the time was solely concentrating on the criminality of Thomsen and his experiments. Am I correct in assuming this—Traveler?”
All of them, the large bodyguard included, stopped and watched the visibly shaken woman. She tried to light another cigarette but then noticed she already had one lit sitting in the ashtray. She closed the top of her decorative cigarette box and then looked away from the men. It took a full minute but she finally turned back.
“I haven’t been called that in seventy-four years.” Her eyes were downcast as she seemed to be going back to a place she did not care for at all. That was when Will nudged Jack and they all saw the numbered tattoo on her forearm. She made no attempt to hide it when she saw them looking. “Please do not refer to me as … well, as that name. It was their name for me, their little code-induced paranoia.” She seemed to calm somewhat when she took a large swallow of her drink. The large man came to her side and leaned down close to her face. She whispered that she was all right and patted his thick arm. With a dirty look at the four visitors, the man made his way to the back of the study and waited in the shadows.
“Did his theory work?” Jenks persisted, suspecting that the truth of this historical farce would soon be disclosed by the very woman who began the rumors over seventy years before.
“Yes, six times.”
The silence that greeted her comment seemed to go on forever. The only thing that happened was a frown from the large bodyguard as he suddenly turned and left the study, closing the doors behind him. “Gentlemen, please, what is it you want of me and the Wellsian Doorway?”
“Wellsian Doorway?” Jack asked.
“Yes, their euphemism for the one and only time machine ever constructed. And, yes, it worked. Personally I believe H. G. Wells would roll over in his grave to know the Nazis had crowned their scientific achievement by naming their machine after him. But the Nazis didn’t care for much, as history tells you. As for me, I learned it firsthand.”
“Six times you traveled?” Jenks asked, still not believing.
They all saw the hesitant action of Moira as she puffed her cigarette and looked upon her questioners. It was the question posed by Jenks that made her hesitant.
“Yes, six times I traveled two years into the past. Same space, differing times.”
Jenks looked at Jack and rolled his eyes.
“Impossible,” the master chief said, not caring what Collins or the others thought. He was an engineer and if someone told you about the impossible you had to go with what you knew.
“Yes, it was impossible, until it wasn’t,” she said as she again crushed out her cigarette. “The theory has always been sound, but having the equipment, and for that equipment to be placed at the right time is the key. Without two corresponding doorways, there is no displacement. The link between time and space has to meet and you need a doorway to do that. And the doorway can only be placed in the past, or otherwise just how are you going to build a doorway in a past that has already happened?”
“In other words you’re saying that in order to time travel successfully you need to have built an identical doorway to the one you are using. Without that…?”
She looked at Jack and smiled. “You would end up anywhere but where it is you wanted to be. Even another dimension. The possibilities are endless and unfathomable.”
“You duplicated the experiments, didn’t you?” Henri asked, pushing just a little more.
Again Moira became silent as she watched the men before her.
“I sense you are not bad men.” She looked at Henri for a moment longer than the others. “Not all bad anyway,” she finished as Henri smiled and winked at the old woman. “What do you want the Wellsian Doorway for? If it’s a military application, I would just as soon blow my own brains out than to have that happen again.”
“We lost someone,” Jack said. “A friend.”
Moira listened as Jack explained for a few moments. She turned her chair away from them as she thought about their lost friend.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but your friend will forever remain lost to you.”
Before she explained both Jenks and Jack saw the flaw in what they were asking.
“We don’t have a doorway in the past for us to lock on to,” Collins rightly guessed at her answer just as his hopes deflated. Jenks was thinking another way but remained quiet.
“I am so sorry.”
Henri wasn’t in the least defeated.
“Can you tell us what it is you have hidden at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, building number one-seventeen, the one with the inordinate amount of protection?”
She smiled at Farbeaux, knowing she had pegged the man correctly. He was a cad and a bounder and she immediately liked the Frenchman.
“You are government, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but we are your government. And if we ever have an opportunity to prove this displacement correct, it would be used once and destroyed, as per orders from our director.”
She laughed heartily. She stopped and fixed Jack with a glaring look.
“Then your director must be a highly unusual man to throw away such power.”
“He is,” Jack and Will said at the same time.
“Such loyalty gives a man great power when his subordinates love him so much.” She smiled again as she lit her fourth cigarette. “Much like another man in history—he had loyal followers, too.”
“Madam, our director, how can I explain this? Well, he’s no Adolf Hitler. He can sure as hell come down on you sometimes, but he is the best man outside of this room that I have ever known,” Will said as the old woman looked at Jack, knowing the young black man was referencing not only their director, but the big man sitting right in front of her. She took up the old-fashioned phone receiver that looked as if it could be used as a lethal bludgeon and made a connection.
“Peter, yes, I will have four men stopping by this afternoon. Allow them total access to building one-seventeen, please. Full cooperation will be given. Thank you.” She hung up and then fixed Jack with her stern look. “I know how it is to lose someone who is close to you and cannot get them back. I know, I have tried on more than those six occasions you mentioned. But since you cannot make any attempt for displacement without a second doorway, I see no harm in allowing you to see it.”
“See what?” Mendenhall asked.
Moira Mendelsohn started the silent electric motor on her wheelchair and then made her way to the door, which magically opened as she gestured that their appointment time was up. She did turn and smile as she waited next to the guard. “To see what it is you came to see, gentlemen.”
The four men stood as they knew they were being asked to leave.
“And that is?” the master chief asked gruffly as he placed a cold cigar into his mouth.
“Why, my own Wellsian Doorway, of course.”
Jenks smiled as did the others with the exception of Collins. For Jack suspected that without a second doorway the mission was lost to them. But Jenks couldn’t contain his enjoyment.
“Now this I have to see.”