Using my size, Samantha and I merged into the mass of souls wandering the avenue. I studied the expression of those around us. They never verbally objected to our joining their numbers, but their eyes told a different story. We were not wanted, and I soon understood why. The overcrowded street had little space to offer.
Samantha glanced up at me. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” I exaggerated each syllable, pronouncing the sounds like a child learning to speak. “For-now-just-re-lax.”
“Once again, where are we going?” Her eyes grew wide. “And, how am I not able to read your thoughts?”
I smiled, a broad, shit-eating grin. “It works.”
“What do you mean?”
“I jammed my thoughts by doing multiplication tables in my head. You know, two times two is four, two times three is six, two times—”
“I know how the tables go. My God, you were talking so slow, I thought you were having a stroke. But you were still able to carry on a conversation with me at the same time. How is that even possible?”
“I know, right? Isn’t it awesome? I didn’t think I could do it.”
“And you can’t. I can pick up your every thought now. We’re going to the café.”
“I never said it was easy, but at least it can be done, for a little while anyway.”
Her breath warmed my face. “So, why are we going to the café?”
Two times two is four, two times three is six, two times—
“Brooks. Answer me.”
“Sorry,” I said, “I’m just practicing. I want to get out of this crowd so we can have a private conversation. I can barely hear myself think.”
“Very funny. I can, now that you’ve stopped that incessant number babbling. You want to discuss our previous attempts on earth. And you think by speaking in a noisy café, we won’t be overheard by Sebastian. Why don’t you trust him?”
I didn’t want to discuss this with her on the sidewalk, and I didn’t want her reading my thoughts anymore. I practiced reciting the tables in my mind.
“Not fair.”
“It-beats-you-snooping-a-round-in-my-head.”
She protested but didn’t do anything drastic to stop me. After a few moments of elbowing through the crowd, we stood in front of the same café we’d visited earlier today.
“How juvenile,” she said. “So now you’re the big man who can block my snooping around in your head.”
“Ha, so you admit it’s snooping.” Opening the door, a swarming mass of endless souls confronted us. The place was far more crowded than it had been just a two hours ago. We pushed forward, shoving our way to the bar, where six barmen positioned themselves to serve patrons. Like before, two stools sat open, as if reserved just for us.
I ordered a double bourbon for me, and a Guinness Stout for Sam. We air toasted, knocked back the alcohol, then eased the glasses onto the gleaming surface of the bar. I held up two fingers for more.
“Something’s been puzzling me,” I said raising my voice and leaning in to her. “How did you know about the bomb planted in the podium?”
She took another drink, this one long and slow. “I don’t know, I just did.”
I saw no signs of deceit in her body language and facial expression. She was being sincere, even if her lack of understanding frustrated our ability to figure out how to do it again.
“Maybe if we ask Sebastian—”
“No. I don’t want him to know that we’re talking. He seems to think it’s a bad idea, and, for the moment, I want him to keep on thinking that.”
“Why? Why are you so suspicious?”
I’m always suspicious of someone who lies to me. I began my multiplication tables.
“Hey, let me in. We’re a team, remember—don’t lock me out.”
She was right. I’d needed to trust her, which meant I needed her to trust me. “Sorry. It’s just that Sebastian thinks I should go back to earth with no memory of past attempts, like a clean slate each time. I say he’s wrong. You and I have some kind of connection—I can feel it. We have to nurture that bond, use it to our advantage. Sebastian might not understand.”
“It makes sense, but there’s something more to it than that.”
I lifted my glass. “Go on, then, Miss Greene, read my mind.”
She pursed her lips and let out a breath. “You think Sebastian spied on us today.”
“Well,” I said placing my drink back down on the bar, “in all fairness, I’m not sure it was him.”
“But you think it was. And you saw someone else, too, a woman. Why would he, or they, want our mission to fail?”
“That, my dear, is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.”
She finished off her beer in two quick swallows, set the glass down on the bar, and burped. A quick, amusing sound. “Sorry.”
“Nice one. Okay look, I’m not sure of his motives. Maybe he’s got our best interests at heart, maybe not. But since this is our last try, it’s up to you and me to get the job done. So, what do you say you tell me about the last eight attempts, and we keep it from Sebastian—agreed?”
She narrowed her eyes. “He told me his team is working to fix the communications problem. He also says they’re working on some kind of a secret weapon that might help us out.”
“Yeah, he told me the same thing. But, we can’t depend on something that might help us out. When we get back to earth, it’ll really only be just you and me. Trust me. Let’s keep this conversation between us, yeah?”
“You know, he can wander through my thoughts just as easily as I can yours.”
“Are you sure about that? It’s getting easier for me to keep you out. Let me ask you something, how good are your math skills?”
She ordered another stout and took a pull. Wiping off the foamy mustache, she smiled. “Nine divided by nine equals one. Eighteen divided by nine equals two. Twenty-seven divided by nine—”
“Division tables…impressive. All right, show-off, that’s enough.”
She laughed. “I’ll practice that as I tell you everything about the last eight times we traveled back to save the world.”
“That-a girl. Don’t leave anything out.” I ordered another bourbon.
The noise of the café covered our whispered conversation. Samantha did an excellent job of briefing me on each of our failed attempts at changing history. Sebastian said someone in Dr. Knight’s inner circle had planted the bomb, yet he didn’t offer up the guilty party’s name, so it must be speculation. Still, Samantha and I discussed a list of possible suspects.
I asked the bartender for a napkin and pen—and another round.
“I never trusted Morton Sully,” I said. “He’s always rubbed me the wrong way.”
“But, the man’s got a family, six children, and a loving wife. Besides, what’s his motive? Why would he blow up his meal ticket? Sully may be arrogant and self-important—”
“You’re being kind.”
She snickered. “I just can’t see him doing in Knight, but for sake of argument, we’ll keep his name on the list.”
“Good. How about you? Who made your top ten?”
“You’ll think I’m crazy,” Samantha said. “Maybe I am, but I’ve always wondered about Mrs. Knight.”
“Tilly? You’re kidding, right? Trouble in paradise?”
“You have heard how the good doctor can sometimes be…well, bad, yes?”
“Because he’s bisexual? He came out years ago. The man’s just practicing what he preaches, that’s all.”
“Yes, he and Tilly have an open marriage, it’s true, but it wasn’t always that way. And now that Jeremy Cranston has come along—”
“C’mon, Sam, the media plays up all of the doctor’s trysts, you know that.”
She cocked her head. “This one’s different, certainly you’ve noticed—Tilly has.”
“I’ll admit I haven’t been in the inner circle very long, but I really don’t see her as the jealous type. Besides, what about her tête-à-têtes with Julie? No, I don’t see Tilly as a murderer, especially over something like this.”
“Till death do us part…” She let the words hang, waiting for a response.
My turn to frown. “So, you think she’d bomb the Las Vegas Arena because of Jeremy Cranston? I’d sooner put his name on our list. After all, what do we really know about him?”
“Agreed, his name goes on the list, but let’s not drop hers just the same.”
“Okay, but I think it’s a dead end.”
Samantha giggled. “This is fun, isn’t it?”
“Yup, it’s all fun and games till the world blows up.”
“What a downer.” She finished her beer. A fresh one took its place.
“Okay, so let’s see who we’ve got so far.” I glanced at the napkin and read off the names we’d added, “Jeremy Cranston, Knight’s latest fling. My guy JoJo Jackson. Morton Sully, the little prick. And finally, Tilly Knight.”
“Why would you suspect JoJo? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
I hesitated, searching for the words. “I hired him last minute, just because of this job. I didn’t really have time to fully vet him, and even though he came highly recommended…” I shouldn’t suspect JoJo, but for some reason, his name kept popping up in the back of my mind. “I don’t know, I really can’t come up with a good reason to suspect him, then again…”
Samantha cleared her throat, pulling me out of my aimless thoughts. “Seems like a short list, doesn’t it?”
“Yup, it is a short list. But remember, Knight also has a boatload of outside enemies—too many for us to ever track down. Too many homophobes, too many evangelicals—too many anti-globalists. The only thing my team could do to protect him against that list was to screen all incoming attendees as best we could. Shit.”
“What is it?”
“When I think back on it, the Knight job was huge—bigger than anything my company was ready to handle. What was I thinking?” I counted off on my fingers. “First, my staff was way too small, which is why I had to hire JoJo last minute. Second, we didn’t have the proper gear, the stuff we should have had—facial recognition equipment, bomb sniffing dogs, those sorts of things. I don’t know how we ever won the bid to begin with.”
“Burns.” Samantha and I both said the same name at the same time. Gunther Burns, the man in charge of awarding contracts.
At the time, I considered myself a genius, underbidding all the other top protection firms to land the Knight’s job. I finished off the swill in the bottom of my glass. “Do you think Burns wanted my understaffed, underequipped team on the job? Fuck me.” I drank.
“Mr. Davis, it’s not like you to use the “f” bomb. She polished off her beer and let out a massive belch. “Shit, that hurt.” We both doubled over with laughter. She struggled to speak. “I have…I have never said” —another burp, another chortle— “I’ve never said that word…in my life.”
My eyes teared up at the beer trickling from her nose. I hadn’t had this much fun since before the war. My head swam as I remembered to count. “Two times…two…no, too much beer. Whoops, I mean…what?”
Samantha snickered. “Maybe we should knock off the drinks…or have another round.”
I rubbed at my eyes and took a breath. We’d be leaving for earth in about two hours. This kind of fun had to stop. I raised my hand to the bartender. “Two coffees, please.”
“Enjoy,” he said. Steam from two piping hot cups of black coffee wafted into the air.
“Here, Sam.” I nudged the coffee cup in front of her, sliding her beer glass away. “I may have said the “f” bomb, but I don’t suppose getting bombed is your thing either.”
A wry smile crept across her lips. “It isn’t yours either. Ka-boom.” Another round of laughter overtook her. “You see what I did there?”
“Yes, I did. Now drink your coffee.”
“Bombed as in drunk,” she said, “and bombed as in…well…you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
I hit the bottle pretty hard after the war, but never considered myself an alcoholic. I truly could stop drinking whenever I wanted. Being here, at the bar, with Sam was fun, but a goal came with the guzzling. Sam and I were heading into battle as a team. I needed to know how she thought, what made her tick, and I didn’t have much time.
“Thank you, Sam.”
“For what?”
“Can’t you read my mind? I’ve stopped multiplying.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not very good at this sort of thing—haven’t had much practice, I guess. This is our last chance to try and change history, to try and save a few billion souls. What I’m trying to say—”
“You’re welcome.” She gave me a sweet smile and placed her hand on my forearm. “I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to see your parents.”
“Yeah, well, rules are rules.” I swallowed the last of my coffee. “I guess they can’t just let the common people wander around Heaven, now can they? At least I know they’re okay, and that makes me feel good.”
Her smile never wavered as her eyes narrowed. “Would you like to see Heaven?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I want to take you to a place where you can literally look down into Heaven.”
“Look down into heaven?”
Samantha gave me a wink and hopped off her bar stool. “Whoa.” She held on to my arm and steadied herself. “Watch that first step. C’mon, follow me.”
I reached for my wallet. I smiled at the force of habit, then shrugged and trailed after her.