Fate (Wilton's Gold #3) Page 2

  Victoria continued, “Typically, there will be some conflicting relationships. The world is not as big a place as we all think it is. There are only so many degrees of separation for all of us. But there is an acceptable degree of manageability. For a score of 10%, say – meaning the system gives a report that there are about 10% of a billion possible relationships that have potential conflict – we are then able to separate those and evaluate the nature and the danger of the relationships, and weigh them. For example, possibly running into a second cousin three times removed would not weigh as heavily as having the opportunity to be in the vicinity of the home your great grandmother grew up in. Once we are able to determine the severity of the potential conflicts, we can eliminate those that pose no threat. For all fourteen missions, we have been able to bring the conflicts down to a circumstantial level.”

  Dexter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He swore silently and reached in to stop the alert. He’d meant to turn it off before the presentation. Victoria looked his direction. He thought it was about the phone at first, but then realized that she was done and was turning the microphone back over to him.

  He stepped to the podium. “The other fail-safe is in the actual mission. Participants are accompanied by expert staff of the USTP, and are not able to bring anything with them. No personal items, no souvenirs to have signed, no weapons. Nothing. Just them and period clothes. They get from one to three hours to enjoy their destination, and then we return. There really isn’t much room for error.” Unless the participant bashes you over the head with a bottle and takes your weapon, he thought to himself.

  A woman several rows back raised her hand. Unlike the young man, she projected her voice. “What’s the future of time travel? Like any technology, it won’t always just be for rich people. Isn’t there a worry that everyone will want to do it? And then what happens?”

  Dexter’s phone buzzed in his pocket again. It had to be important, but he knew the session was almost done. He held up a finger. “Let me clear up one misconception,” he said. “The concept that the program is only for ‘rich people’ is inaccurate. Like any technological pursuit, this one must be funded. Time travel research is unbelievably expensive, and we’re in a time when governmental budgets are strained and R&D funding isn’t what it used to be. The public component of the USTP is a creative way to facilitate private funding for the continuation of research – it’s not just a luxury perk that only the rich can enjoy, but a reasonable way to achieve scientific progress.”

  That was bunk, of course. Once the U.S. government had decided this was a priority, they’d plunked a few billion dollars into it, much of which went to the USTP facility in Northern Virginia. The privately-funded research was a nice spin, but the program was truly for elitists who had the wherewithal to participate. As well as the willingness to completely open their lives up to the evaluation.

  “The question you asked is an interesting one, because you’re right. Time travel has the potential to get out of hand very quickly. It is the intent of the USTP to control it in a manner that allows for research to take place in a safe and controlled manner.”

  “That’s impossible,” a male voice to the right of the stage said.

  “No, it’s not impossible,” Dexter said, squinting to see who the voice had come from while his phone buzzed in his pocket again. “I can assure you that we have had this very conversation at the highest security levels.”

  The detractor stood, a tall man with a long face and sculptured beard. “It is impossible. Just like the atom bomb, if we’re able to create it then someone else can, as well. Only an atom bomb leaves a mushroom cloud and a lot of carnage. With time travel, we would never know that something changed. It’s only a matter of time. No pun intended.”

  Dexter didn’t want to get into a back-and-forth with the man, especially with the incessant buzzing in his pocket. The man was actually right in his statement – in fact, it was a concept that he’d discussed often with Jeff, a conversation they never got to finish. Because their missions, their experiments, were so buttoned-up, there really was no way of knowing what would happen if someone outside of their circle got their hands on the technology and made a change that severely altered history. Or – the scarier possibility – that someone could have already done so.

  He glanced at the moderator, Dr. Chopra, Dean of the College of Sciences, who picked up his cue and started to walk in his direction. Dexter leaned in to the microphone and said, “That’s a great observation. I’m sure you can understand why I can’t go into details on the security of the system, but I can assure you that for the part that we control, which is the only known technology available to produce time travel, the security is unparalleled.”

  Dr. Chopra took the podium and thanked the audience for their attendance, which was followed by obligatory applause. Dexter shook hands with the Dean, nodded to Victoria and to Dr. Schmidt, and pulled behind the curtain on the side of the stage before people could come up to ask one-on-one questions of him, which was inevitable.

  He pulled his phone from his coat pocket and looked at the call log. Five calls from the same number, though he didn’t recognize it. Five calls and one voicemail, which he initiated. After a moment, he heard a familiar voice say, “Dr. Murphy, it’s Agent Fisher, FBI. Call me immediately.” Obediently, Dexter hung up the voicemail and called Fisher. It had probably been over a year since he’d last talked to the FBI and their point-person, Fisher. He thought the entire situation had been put to rest, but apparently not.

  After two rings, Fisher answered. “Dr. Murphy, I have news for you. Your friend is back.”

  “My friend?”

  “Dr. Jacobs.”

  Dexter left silence on the phone. Not intentionally, but more that he didn’t have anything to say in response. Jeff had been gone long enough that Dexter had mentally and emotionally closed the book on him. Given the political nature of his departure, though, no one had formally done anything to address his disappearance – meaning a funeral or other ceremony of any kind. The USTP had sold his house and placed his belongings in storage on the off-chance that he would someday come walking back into the picture. None of them ever entertained the notion that it would actually happen, though. He glanced toward Victoria, who was standing with a short line of students waiting to pick her brain, then backed further behind the curtain and out of sight. “Where’s he been?”

  “Russia.” He could hear the smirk on Fisher’s face.

  “Why Russia? How’d he get there?”

  “Well, that’s what we’re going to have to figure out. I need you at Andrews tomorrow morning at ten. Dr. Jacobs arrives from Russia at ten-thirty. It’s important that you’re there.”

  “Sure,” he said, unable to actually process what was taking place. “Anything you need.” The words barely came out.

  Fisher told him where they would meet on the base and they hung up. Dexter peeked around the curtain and saw a line of students who had obviously seen him retreat and were waiting for him to reappear. But there was no way. Not after the news he’d just been given. Russia? Why and how had Jeff Jacobs been in Russia for the last year-and-a-half?

  Rather than face the throng and their questions – many of which would be currently unanswerable based on the immediate scientific implications of Jeff’s return – Dexter slid silently into the darkness of the stage and left out the stage door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  December 11, 2018

  Dr. Jeff Jacobs sat in the backseat of a dark suburban with shaded windows, restlessly drumming his fingers against his right leg. While he didn’t sense any imminent danger, it was borderline terrifying that he was three years into the future with no sure way of getting back to his present time. He’d been on a long journey, so there should have been some comfort level associated with his homecoming. At least that’s what he’d expected. Unfortunately, it wasn’t what awaited him after his flight from Moscow.

  In the front passenger seat was his best fri
end in the world – or so he thought – Dexter Murphy. When last he’d seen Dexter, the acclaimed historian had just shepherded him through a time travel jump to the California Gold Rush to explore the mystery of how his invention, the time travel device, had ended up deep in the Sierra Nevada forest. They’d parted ways at the airport and he’d headed off to Russia. Now he’d returned to not only a different world and a different time, but a different Dexter.

  Jeff wasn’t sure where they were headed. They’d left Andrews Air Force Base about fifteen minutes before. He’d tried to follow their route, but lost track after only a few minutes. He didn’t know the area south of Washington well, so directions wouldn’t have meant much to him anyway. He leaned forward, poking his face into the front seat. “Is it much further? I’ve had a really long flight, I have no idea what’s going on, and I need some rest. I’m sure that whatever it is you have to show me will still be here tomorrow.”

  “This is important, Jeff,” Dexter said without looking back. The old Dexter would’ve looked back.

  He sighed. “Can you at least assure me that by the end of the night I’ll be somewhere with a shower and a bed?” Based on the mixed messages they’d given him since he’d landed, this request could be fulfilled in a couple of different ways. Could be in a hotel. Could be a prison cell. As things stood, it didn’t matter much to him which, as long as he got to sleep and have some time alone to decompress. It had been quite a journey.

  “Just take it easy,” the driver, Agent Fisher, said. Fisher was another enigma. Jeff had actually felt that he’d begun to form a relationship with him while planning the mission in Russia. He’d taken on the mission under Fisher’s direction. Well, more his insistence. Then, an hour ago when he landed, Fisher had accosted him. He didn’t seem to remember any of their conversations. Which was confusing. And disappointing.

  It’s not that Jeff was expecting a marching band awaiting him when he arrived back in the country, but he wouldn’t have minded a little gratitude. After all, he had risked his life and used his technology to successfully restore a reality in which the Soviet Union had fallen in 1991 and the United States was the preeminent world power. Of course it was possible that they had no idea any of that had happened, but on the plane he had been thinking of how that was at least worth a plaque or some commendation for his wall at home.

  Then, he probably didn’t have a home where he could hang a plaque, he had to imagine. His home in North Jersey would’ve been foreclosed upon long ago when he disappeared, what would have been three years ago now. No one could have known that he’d simply show up a few years later wondering where his stuff went. Not even Dexter, who would have had the best chance of understanding the intricacies of time travel, having experienced it with him. Which would account for the cold reception and unexplained trip to God-knew-where.

  Finally, Fisher pulled the truck off of the highway and down a winding road lined with tall bare trees on either side. After a few moments, they came to a manned gate where an armed soldier approached the vehicle. Fisher slipped him his paperwork and after a quick check back in the booth, the gates opened and they were on their way. Jeff noticed the guard’s eyes widen when he saw him in the back seat.

  After a few more turns, the trees opened to unveil a vast property, in the middle of which sat an enormous while building with dark windows. The building was shaped almost like an igloo in its construction, though not as round, with a three-story entryway leading to a much larger facility behind it. As they pulled into the parking lot and took a spot, Jeff noticed a brass sign on a block of granite to the right of the main doors. It read “USTP” with smaller letters underneath that he couldn’t make out from his distance.

  As they exited the vehicle, Jeff asked, “Can someone tell me where we are?” He thought he might be pushing it, but he did notice that despite his less-than-friendly greeting, he wasn’t in shackles. It hadn’t looked as promising an hour before.

  “You honestly don’t remember?” Dexter asked.

  “Dexter, I’ve never been here before in my life.” They started to walk toward the front doors, with Fisher in the lead.

  “This is the United States Time Program headquarters. It’s a program that you helped to create. You have no recollection of this?”

  Jeff shook his head, looking up at the enormous building.

  Fisher led them up the wide walkway and through the front doors. It was above average temperature for December – in the mid-40s – so despite Jeff’s clothes being in bad need of a wash, he was warm enough. When he’d haphazardly sent himself back toward the future, he hadn’t considered he’d be arriving in winter. Only because he didn’t take a moment to think about it. He hadn’t had a moment to think about it.

  They reached a security desk, where the parade stopped. As Fisher and Dexter handed over their credentials, Jeff couldn’t notice this guard staring at him, as well. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  The guard stammered. “I’m sorry, Dr. Jacobs – I just didn’t expect you to walk through that door.”

  “Is it wrong that I did?”

  Dexter slyly shook his head at him and took him by the arm, leading him past the security gates and into the larger part of the building. A spacious atrium landscaped with every indoor plant imaginable was surrounded by level after level of windowed offices. People shuffled in every direction, the majority not noticing their presence. Though one middle-aged man in khakis nodded to him. He nodded back.

  “This was my idea?” he asked.

  Dexter laughed – the first time he’d shown even the slightest break from whatever hard exterior he’d developed in the past three years. “No, the building was the government’s idea. You would’ve been more frugal.”

  Fisher and Dexter led Jeff to the far side of the atrium, past a series of non-descript doors, a small cafe, and a room labeled “Time Travel Museum,” where they disappeared through a set of black doors that required a swipe of Fisher’s identification badge. They were in a bright narrow hallway that led them to another set of doors. These required retinal scans, which they swiftly performed. Fisher looked at Jeff, waiting for him to participate. “Regardless of who you think you are, your eyes don’t change,” he said.

  Jeff shrugged and put his face up to the machine. It welcomed him through the doors. “What is this place?” he asked.

  “This is the last place anyone saw you.”

  “Look,” Jeff said, holding up his hands. “Let’s just assume that all of this time travel has really screwed things up and that we’re both telling the truth. Alright? I’ll stop with the comments about not knowing what the hell you’re talking about, and you stop treating me like a criminal.”

  “This is the laboratory that houses the time travel technology that you developed,” Dexter said, jumping in.

  “The United States Time Program, right?”

  “Yes.” Dexter led him to a large cabinet with a series of drawers and doors, opening one of the doors. He pulled out a time device that was very similar to Jeff’s original design, only this one was much more advanced. The casing was made of white and blue hard plastic, and the design was contoured to his hand. It had the feel of a smart phone with a handle.

  “Nice upgrade,” he said, examining it. “How many did you make?”

  “You’ve never seen this before?”

  “Never.”

  “We have a fleet of them – about two dozen. They’re held in a secure room, unless they’re specifically being used.”

  He handed the device back to Dexter, who replaced it. “What possible reason could there be to make so many?”

  “Not sure,” Dexter said. “It was your recommendation.”

  He laughed. “I find that hard to believe. Maybe I was getting a kickback from the manufacturer.”

  Dexter nodded, then motioned to Jeff to take a seat in one of the swivel chairs, which he did. Fisher sat in another chair and Dexter remained standing. “The USTP was set up for the purpose of scientific evaluat
ion of time travel, based upon an understanding that if we can figure it out, so can someone else. We need to be the first, we need to be on top of it, and we need to own it. Unfortunately, due to insufficient federal funding, there wasn’t the cash to implement the program – so we had to make it self-sustaining.” He stopped for a moment and held up his hands. “I don’t want to make assumptions here. You did invent time travel, right?”

  Jeff nodded.

  “Okay, good,” Dexter said. “I can skip some of this.”

  “Well, no,” Jeff said, motioning with his finger. “I’d rather you didn’t. There’s some history here that I’m missing.”

  Fisher leaned forward, jumping in. “Why don’t we start with you telling us where you’ve been.”

  Dexter held up a hand to stop him, but Jeff nodded. “Sure,” he said. “We’ll see how closely it matches your recollection. I’ve been in Russia on a mission that you put me up to.” He pointed to Fisher. “When you learned that I’d invented time travel, you connected me with the Russian woman.”

  “You and I have never met before today,” Fisher said, shaking his head.

  “How can you say that? I wouldn’t have gone on that cockamamie trip if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “Well, you’re either mistaken or you’re fabricating a story. Either way, I’m not going to allow this conversation to go on-”

  “Jeff,” Dexter said, interrupting Fisher and motioning to the room around him, “none of this would have happened without you. You and I spent a year-and-a-half building this program after the government folks came to see us. How could you not remember that?”

  Jeff pointed at Fisher. “The government folks? No, it was Agent Fisher here. He’s the one who came to us.”

  “Never happened,” Fisher said. His impatience was not subtly delivered.

  “Then who was it? How did we end up here?” Jeff looked back and forth between Dexter and Fisher.

  “It was Dr. Bremner,” Dexter said. “We met at your lab?” Dexter looked between Fisher and Jeff, clearly flustered. “Nothing?”