Storm Surge E-Book

Michael R. Stern

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

As Fritz Russell's summer of exploring the past with the portal comes to a close, the president recruits him for a crucial mission - stop a coup that threatens the outcome of a vital election.

With moles inside the government passing crucial information about the portal, Fritz must be cautious about how it's used, and who he can trust. With surprise visits from Ben Franklin, Winston Churchill, and Albert Einstein, Fritz attempts to prevent himself from becoming a pawn in a complex game of chess.

But can Fritz put an end to the conspiracy and prevent checkmate?

Leseprobe

Storm Surge

Quantum Touch Book 5

Michael R. Stern

Copyright (C) 2018 Michael R. Stern

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Dedication

For Linda

Without her support, none of these words would be written.

Acknowledgements

The completion of any book is a combined effort of many. Some we don't even know. But thank you is always appropriate and is never enough.

My teacher, coach, mentor and taskmaster, and friend, Amy Davis, has pushed me beyond a comfort zone to where I can confidently say that I had never dreamed of reaching.

To the team at Creativia Publishing who have expanded the Quantum Touch series to new heights.

Special thanks to Michael Kenney whose knowledge of the sea enabled me to create a part of the story with credibility.

An extra special thanks to my nephew, James Childs, Jr., for his advice and patience as he begins his career in graphic design.

I would also like to thank those of you who have read this series. I hope my effort has given you what all readers look for—engaged entertainment.

The most special thanks go to the men and women who teach our children. Too often, teachers' efforts are unnoticed and unknown, unappreciated and unrewarded. They are heroes.

Part One

Chapter 1

AFTER MIDNIGHT,Thursday, August 25

“Jim? Florian Declercq here. Sorry to call so late. Have you a moment?”

“No problem, Florian. Just sitting and reading.” The general clicked mute on the TV. “What can I do for you?”

“I've received an invitation to join a group of businessmen. You were my first thought. A man came to my Antwerp office, saying he represented someone whose interest was stirred by my company's participation in the president's development plan.” General Beech listened with pen in hand, a yellow pad on his lap. “When I asked about the group's purpose, he referred to them as 'the Caballeros.”

The pad flew, pages flapping on the way to the floor. “Florian, may I call you from my office? In say, an hour?”

* * *

IN THE DEEP of night, the White House operator told the president to pick up line two for General Beech. Turning on the bedside lamp, he said, “What's happened, Jim?” The general reported his conversation with Florian Declercq, the Belgian shipping magnate. When Beech mentioned 'the Caballeros,' he stood up. “General, where are you now?”

“At my office, Mr. President. I wanted the call recorded and secure.”

“Meet me here in half an hour.”

As the president dressed, he wrote notes on his yellow pad. The Caballeros, again. During the past year, a conspiracy of wealthy businessmen and industrial tycoons had surfaced, interfered with his administration's foreign and domestic policies, attempted assassinations and just when law enforcement had them identified, one by one, the members were killed, each in suspicious manners. Now, they're reforming. What more damage can we expect?

Chapter 2

AFTER A LONG and solitary summer, Fritz Russell had frittered away another hot August day preparing for the new school year. As he reached for the front porch light switch, the doorbell chimed. The outside light threw shadows in its forty-watt beam. A familiar face, with shoulder length hair and a full, unkempt beard stared in at him.

“Good to see you, Ash.” He held the screen door open. Not sure what to expect after two months, Fritz reserved his joy.

“I saw the light on. Then I saw the family room light go off.” Ashley remained motionless on the porch. “It's late.” He apologized with a shrug.

“Come on in. Not like I have anywhere to go.”

Ashley downed a first glass of soda and poured another. Across the kitchen table, Fritz waited to hear a story, of where Ashley had been, what he had done. But mostly, he wanted to find out what had happened that day in Palestine, two months earlier. That day had made the portal's danger real. He had saved the president once again, but Jane was killed, and Ashley was severely wounded. Shortly after, amidst his grief, Linda had taken their son and left. Ashley returned home briefly, and before Fritz had had a chance to talk with him, he too had disappeared. Ashley hadn't answered his calls or returned his messages. But here he was now, the prodigal having come home. Fritz studied his disheveled friend. So prominent only an eye-blink ago, Ashley had lost the joyful gleam in his eyes.

“I guess you want to know where I've been.”

“It's been a long summer. Tell me whatever you want. I have a few things to tell you too.” Before either could say another word, Fritz's phone rang. “Who can that be at this hour?” Fritz ran to the family room, switched on the light he had just turned off, hurried to the sunroom, and grabbed the phone just before it switched to voicemail.

“Hello?” he panted.

“Sorry, Fritz. Hope I didn't wake you.”

“Hi, Mr. President. You didn't, but I had to find my phone. Things are a little less orderly since Linda left. What's up?”

The president needed the portal. Tony Almeida was on his way to the school. When he said that he might have a break on the Caballeros, Fritz responded, “I'll see you in twenty minutes.” Returning to the kitchen, he told Ashley.

Ashley set his glass on the table. “Can I stay here? I'm not sure I want to see him yet.”

“Ash, it wasn't his fault. It was mine. You should see him and then you can decide how you really feel.”

“You're probably right, but not now. Not yet.”

ON HIS WAY to Riverboro High School, following the same route he had driven for the past decade, Fritz reflected on the year since he had found his classroom door opened the portal. Since he had discovered that he could time travel, his entire life had changed. Meeting Robert E. Lee, and the president asking him to use the portal to help make the world safer, began a series of adventures in spacetime. The mission which destroyed the Narian nuclear program had created a pattern. Quiet, then action, then quiet again. It couldn't have been quieter. Then Ashley shows up and the president calls. He tried not to hope that the next thing would be Linda coming home.

Chapter 3

HIS HEADLIGHTS STREAMED across the playing fields behind the school, where the teams would soon resume their daily practices. In two weeks, the lot would again be bustling with teachers and students. Lights from a car turning in brought Fritz back to the evening. Not evening. Morning, very early morning.

Tony parked at the door and opened the rear hatch. “Hi, Tony. Let me help you with that.” Fritz reached for the generator handle and they carried it to just outside his classroom door.

As he had so many times in the past year and a half, he placed the now-wrinkled brochure for a White House tour on his desk, took a paperclip from the drawer, and placed it on the Oval Office picture. Back in the hall, he tapped the doorknob.

“Are the planes up yet?” he asked. “It just hit me. It's been a year since you figured this out.”

Tony had calculated the mix of electricity and turbulence that opened the portal. The generator provided the power. They would wait for the turbulence from above. “Wow. We've sure been busy. They should be in place pretty soon,” Tony said.

When the expected buzz tingled Fritz's fingers, he pulled the door open.

“Hi Fritz. Hi Tony,” said the president, stepping through the portal. “You remember General Beech. Let's go in here,” he pointed to the classroom across the hall, “and I'll tell you what we're doing.” He pulled a folded page from his jacket pocket. “We're fetching Florian Declercq. He's at his office. Here's the floor plan.”

The general said, “We don't want him talking anywhere where others might hear. We've been through that before. He's been invited to join the Caballeros.”

Fritz set the portal to Belgium, and moments later, Florian Declercq entered the school hallway. The president reintroduced Fritz and Tony. Fritz said, “Nice to see you have a new wardrobe, Mr. Declercq.” Florian chuckled, remembering his last trip through the portal in his underwear.

“I've found a new tailor. In Brussels. Not as much fun as London, but safer.” He greeted his friend, General Beech, and then the president, before glancing up and down the hall. “I will never grow accustomed to this sight.”

“Florian,” said General Beech, “sorry for the cloak-and-dagger, but I didn't want to press our luck.”

“Mr. Declercq, you're aware that we've been tracking the Caballeros for quite a while,” said the president. “You might not be safe, or free to speak openly.”

“After our London adventure, I could not delay informing you. But the invitation seems innocent, the normal course of business. The gentleman explained he represented an exclusive group of men and women interested in international commercial cooperation.”

The president's glance warned Fritz not to speak. Even though chasing the elusive Caballeros had left a trail of dead bodies, Fritz held his tongue.

“Mr. Declercq, I'm sure you followed the stories of the death of Mr. Massoud, as well as other wealthy businessmen last spring. They were all members. We captured two who then succeeded in committing suicide right under our noses. The one remaining at large seems to be restocking the cupboard.”

“Florian,” said the general, “will you tell us about your meeting?”

For the next half hour, Declercq described everything he could remember. The man who had invited him sounded American, probably around forty, well-groomed, wearing an expensive suit. “I have his card.” Declercq passed an embossed business card to General Beech.

“Peter Seymour,” said the general. The unfamiliar name brought blank stares and shrugged shoulders.

“I assume he merely served as an emissary. Not one of them. Rather like a salesman for something people shy away from, like coffins. Very reserved, soft spoken, but with dead eyes.”

“Like a shark,” said Fritz. Declercq agreed. “Mr. President, we've seen that before. The guy Jim Shaw shot, the one that killed Steve Sullivan.”

The president stopped Fritz with a subtle head shake.

Declercq continued. “They are having a meeting on Saturday in New York.”

The president's focus drifted to the long distance stare Fritz had seen before. The president listened, finally asking, “Are you planning to attend?”

“I thanked Mr. Seymour for the invitation and said I would call tomorrow if my schedule permitted. Your project is keeping me quite busy, Mr. President.”

“I'd like to talk to you more about that, but at another time.”

“Please call me Florian.”

“Florian, thank you. Your attending would help us. Exchange business cards, find out who else will be involved.” The president waited, but Declercq didn't commit. “If you go, please be careful. They are dangerous, and they don't take prisoners. They'll be cautious. You'll be monitored.”

“I haven't decided to go. I have a business and a family to consider. Believe me, I would like to assist you, but I'm concerned that once I have entered that door, I won't be able to leave.”

“Florian, we can't force you,” said the general. “But if you can inform us where the meeting will be, a specific room, maybe we can stop them.”

Declercq glanced quickly at his wrist. “Jim, my morning is starting and I will be missed. Let me consider our conversation. I will call you later.”

In a snap, Declercq returned to Belgium. “Thanks, Fritz,” the president said. “We'll go now too. If we need to meet him again, can I count on you?”

“Of course.”

Fritz opened the door. The president shook his hand and whispered, “What I've told you before about your not putting yourself first. Declercq just did.” One step later, the president entered the Oval Office.

Chapter 4

TELESPHORE RICHEMARTEL sat alone in the dim of a Virginia farmhouse, sipping a one-hundred-year-old brandy, and reviewing his earlier conversation. With one last push, the pinnacle would be reached, the prize would be his. The new Caballeros were coming together. His messenger had invited new players from his list of sixteen. They would gather in New York in three days. By the time they returned home, the taps would be in place and the monitoring would begin. He had not yet met them. Nothing would be left to chance.

Chapter 5

RIVERBORO WAS THAT KIND of town. People left doors unlocked even when they weren't home. Ashley hadn't left. His car remained at the curb. Stretched out on the couch, hair covering his face, Ashley snored. The clock read 3:30. Fritz left him undisturbed.

The aroma of bacon dragged Fritz from slumber. Struggling to start his day, he buttoned his shirt as he walked into the kitchen. Ashley munched a bagel at the table, the local paper in front of him. Fritz poured his coffee. “Want some?” he asked.

“I'm fine, thanks. I bought bagels, eggs and bacon. I didn't want to wake you.” He looked at the bagel in his hand. “I missed these. Want some eggs?”

“Not right now. Coffee's not working yet.”

Ash returned to the paper. “Sorry I couldn't stay awake. Thanks for letting me crash.”

Fritz couldn't hold back. “Ash, where have you been? You didn't return my calls. I've been worried all summer.”

“I just needed time. Jane and I were supposed to be married last weekend.”

“So where did you go?”

“Everywhere. When I left, I went to see Jane's folks. I stayed for two days, but they didn't want to talk. I went to the White House to ask the president where they buried Jane.” He had almost been arrested by a White House guard who refused to call the president, even when he name-dropped secret service agents. “Finally, I called the vice president, who met me at the gate. Fritz, the vice president and the president, they were … strange. Neither one of them helped. They just looked at each other, like they wanted to tell me something, then didn't. I told them I wanted to bring her home, or at least go and visit the grave.” He sighed, tears beginning to form. “The president said he would find out and that I should call him in a couple of days. He didn't take my calls and then my phone died.”

“Why didn't you just charge it?”

“Didn't want to.”

“So what did you do?”

“I headed west. It's a beautiful country from the ground.” He didn't have a plan, so he just drove. He stopped when he felt like it. “I went to Mark Twain's house in Hannibal, bought a collection of his works.

“I haven't read Mark Twain since Huckleberry Finn. Back in high school.”

Ash continued his travelogue. “I went to the Grand Canyon.”

“Were you alone the whole time?”

“Pretty much.” He pushed onion chips around his plate. “Occasionally I picked up hitchhikers.” His story went on. As Fritz listened, other mornings and other happy Ashley stories came to mind. But this morning, Ashley had talked to him more, non-stop, than maybe ever. With his happiness at Ashley's return, he just let him talk.

“You didn't stay anywhere for long.”

“I drove almost 14,000 miles, with all the back roads. I had the top down most of the time.”

As Fritz inspected his friend's new look, he asked what made him decide to come home.

“I got tired of driving around. I haven't talked to George since I left, so if I want a job, I figured I should get in touch.”

“Did you see your class schedule on the kitchen table?”

“I haven't been home yet. I came here first.” Over the years of their friendship, Fritz had learned Ashley's quirks and habits. When Ashley sighed, he didn't want to do something. This time, he didn't want to go home. “But I guess I should go check to see if everything's okay.”

“It is. I've kept an eye out, took in the mail, cut the lawn. I've had a lot of time on my hands.”

“Fritz, where's Linda?” Sadness reappeared in his eyes.

“You took off before I could tell you. She left with TJ before you came home in June. She's with her parents. She doesn't answer my calls. I haven't seen or spoken to her all summer. I'll tell you about it later.”

“What happened last night?”

“Declercq has been asked to join the Caballeros. The president brought him here to avoid eavesdropping. We can talk about that later, too. Oh, by the way, you owe me two hundred bucks for my landscaping services.” He hoped for a normal Ashley reaction.

“Want help cleaning up?”

“I'm fine. And call your parents. I'm tired of talking to your mother.”

“Fritz, I can't believe she's gone.” He lowered his head as his eyes welled. “Living without her is going to be emptier than that Palestinian desert.” Tears disappeared into his beard.

When Ashley left, Fritz sat with a cup of coffee and pondered how the portal had turned his life upside-down. He'd become friends with the president of the United States, met foreign leaders, helped prevent nuclear war, and saved an Israeli village. He'd met Robert E. Lee, saw the Wright Brothers' first flights, been shot at by a Japanese plane at Pearl Harbor. And just before school ended for the summer, he'd met Benjamin Franklin at the Continental Congress and brought him to Riverboro for a visit. Fritz told him of his quotations, including one about the kind of government they had created. “A republic, if you can keep it.” Franklin had responded, “I said that? I like it.”

When the Riverboro Fourth of July chairman had called looking for Ashley to read the Declaration, Fritz told him that Ashley had taken a vacation, but he'd see if he could find a replacement. He journeyed back to Franklin's house in Philadelphia and asked if Franklin would like to visit and read the Declaration to a crowd more than two hundred and twenty-five years in his future. Franklin accepted and thrilled the Riverboro gathering with the most realistic impersonation they had ever seen. He walked with Fritz through the crowd, shaking hands and talking to his modern-day fans. Fritz returned him to the eighteenth century, but not until after they'd toasted with a couple of beers, downed a couple of hot dogs, and cheered an early evening fireworks display.

“Thank you for today, Mr. Russell. I must say that I've never enjoyed myself so. Perhaps you'll allow me to invite you to visit me. I will plan a surprise of my own.”

“Dr. Franklin, I would love to. When did you have in mind?” They discussed possibilities and Fritz asked if Franklin would allow him to bring a guest.

“Of course, my boy. Bring whomever you'd like.” Fritz explained the difficulty of a pinpoint time and date. “That's why it's called experimenting, Mr. Russell. I will see you soon.”

That evening, Fritz called the president.

“Really? Are you serious? That would be so cool.”

“Franklin drew a floor plan of his house. As long as the portal works, we can get there, but Tony could be stuck at the school for a while.”

“I'll warn him that might happen. I'll tell him to bring his reporter friend. What do you suggest we wear?”

“Dr. Franklin commented on the comfort of our clothing style, especially in summer. We should be casual. He has advocated for lighter clothing in the summer, and we can show him his effort paid off. But you should bring something 'presidential'. Like one of those postcards that say '44th President'.”

“Fritz, this is going to be fun. Thanks for inviting me.”

Two weeks later at the end of July, Fritz collected the president. Tony said, “Fritz, open it. I'll tape the latch to keep it active and send the planes home.”

Fritz opened the door, and through the portal saw a large Franklin stove visible from the hallway. Shortly after, Fritz returned. “I have to try again. I'm short by two days.” He moved the paperclip slightly and entered the hallway. “The more I play with the paperclips, the more we find information on how this all works. The farther back you go, the more sensitive the paperclip is to movement. I only nudged it a little. Let's see.” He walked through, looked at the two other men with Franklin, and stuck his head back to Riverboro. “Come on through.”

As the president stepped into 1776, Franklin met them. He laughed at the look of shock registering with his other guests. “Gentlemen, I've told you we would have other guests. Here they are. Mr. Russell, would you introduce us?”

“Dr. Franklin, gentlemen, I would like you to meet the President of the United States.”

One tankard hit the floor, spilling the clear liquid. “Now Thomas, look what you've done. Welcome, gentlemen. It is my pleasure to introduce my guests. May I present Mr. Thomas Jefferson and this gentleman is John Adams of Massachusetts.”

Fritz shook hands with John Adams, who looked him up and down, and looked at his hand when Fritz let go. Jefferson, more reluctant, asked if Franklin was engaged in one of his practical jokes. A twinkle in his eye, Franklin said he would explain over dinner. He began a lively conversation, both eras' representatives filled with questions. The usually quiet Jefferson remained in character, staring at the president. The president watched both of his predecessors. At a lull, Jefferson said, “So, we have a president, not a king. That means we have formed a government.”

“Mr. Jefferson,” said the president, “to retell the history, or for you, the future, would take days. The original document you three gentlemen have written has been preserved and now resides on display for all the people to see.”

“Mr. Russell invited me to read the Declaration on the occasion of their July Fourth celebration. In their time,” said Franklin. “I witnessed what Mr. Russell calls a national holiday.”

“So, we are successful?” asked Adams.

The president said, “You were. And you created the longest continuing democratic government in history. But not without fault.”

“Where did we fail?” Adams asked.

Fritz answered, “Hardly a failure, Mr. Adams. After the war for independence, which we call the American Revolution, you convened to create a format for governing, and a document resulted, the Constitution. A carefully crafted bipartisan agreement outlined a central government, with a designation of individual rights. We call them the Bill of Rights. In our almost 240 year history, only seventeen times has the original document been amended. The brilliance of the Constitution is that you anticipated change, and created a process to make adjustments. Mr. Adams, you asked where you failed. In my opinion, you omitted three important considerations.”

“What might they be?” Adams asked, in a sharp tone. An intellectual and a lawyer, Adams shunned criticism of his work, so Fritz proceeded gingerly.

“Mr. Adams, we have the advantage of hindsight and more than two hundred years' experience benefitting from your courage,” said Fritz, attempting to calm a man who could be quick to anger. “The most difficult concerned slavery. Although the slave trade ceased, new inventions and the abundance of slaves already here allowed slavery to grow and spread on its own.” The three Founding Fathers stared at him, and glanced at each other, Jefferson remaining uncomfortably quiet. Adams muttered that they had had no choice if they were to reach agreement.

“Continue, Mr. Russell,” said Franklin. “What other issues did we mistake?”

“Well, sir, you must remember that I'm reporting, not criticizing. Europeans came here and uprooted a native population. By not securing rights for them as part of your, our independence, you left a legacy, which even today, continues to be a shadow on your success.”

“Mr. Russell, please tell us what is your livelihood?” asked Franklin.

“Sir, as we have chatted about before, I teach history in a public high school. Public education for most boys and girls has become law.”

“Most?” asked Adams.

“Mr. Adams,” said the president, “the country now consists of fifty states, stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific. All have governments of their own, with issues such as how much education is required.”

“How do you govern centrally, while having fifty competing governments?” asked Jefferson. “Your world must be quite chaotic.”

The president answered, “Mr. Jefferson, the Constitution structures the federal government to include a judicial branch. Our legal system has evolved so that when disputes arise, interpretation of the law permits resolution, with the final decision resting with our Supreme Court. It has worked well, for the most part.”

“I would add that you failed to consider women as your equals. All men, and women, are created equal, Mr. Jefferson,” said Fritz.

Adams said, “Abigail said as much.”

The president laughed. “In the course of history, women have played remarkable roles in the growth of the country. Too many examples to discuss now, but women are more civic-minded in our time, and are the majority of our college graduates, and our voters. They shouldn't have been left out.”

“College graduates?” asked Adams. “What does that mean?”

“Mr. Adams, you are aware of colleges, but today we have thousands across the country. Today, American education continues with advanced study in the arts and sciences. Women are a larger percentage of degree recipients than men. They also are active participants in government, although still underrepresented in Congress.

“Women in government?” asked Jefferson.

“One of the amendments to the Constitution granted women the right to vote. Office-holding came quickly, but not in abundance, at least not yet. But we are likely to see a woman as president, maybe as soon as our next election,” said the president.

Franklin chuckled. “It seems so many things have changed since our little gathering here. As you can see, we have taken a practical approach and created quite a progressive nation.”

“Mr. President,” Jefferson said. “You are obviously a man of intelligence, yet you are a Negro. How did this happen?”

“Sir, my story is uniquely American, and could only have happened here, as a result of your work. In our time, we refer to people of my background as African-American. In fact, my father came from Africa. My mother was white. I am not a descendant of slaves, but truly a combination of Africa and America. I have served two terms as president, eight years. Like you, Mr. Adams, I am a lawyer, and in fact, taught law at a university before entering politics.”

“Most impressive. How many presidents have been elected?” asked Franklin, watching Jefferson rub his chin.

The president said, “I am the forty-fourth.” As Fritz had suggested, the president handed his official picture to the three Founding Fathers. “Every four years, since your time, a president is elected or re-elected. Although we have had some contentious campaigns, at no time has an election failed to produce a continuation in government, and only once has a president served for more than two terms.”

“Imagine,” said Franklin, “a regular, peaceful transfer of power. No king. A true government of the people. How have you done it?”

The president gestured to Fritz. “You did it. Most people accept the concept of free elections, and our duty as citizens is to maintain the tradition. Certainly, we have our disagreements, just as you have them now. Even to get the delegates to sign the Declaration required compromise.”

Adams said, “True. I see the British refusal differently from some others, but I admire their thoughtfulness and desire for redress and reconciliation. But affairs have gone beyond. Parliament is recalcitrant, and considers us second-class, though we share a common heritage. Right now, a sizeable British army and naval force occupies New York. They have left us no choice.” His voice rose as he finished. “Things were not always so.”

Jefferson said, “Mr. Adams himself served as attorney for the soldiers who shot into the crowd in Boston a few years back.”

“The Boston Massacre.” Fritz said. “You successfully defended them.” Adams nodded. At that moment, the portal opened and Tony stuck his head through. Apologizing for interrupting, he said they needed to come home.

“Gentlemen, as much as I would like to continue, duty calls.” The president shook hands with the three men who made the evening interesting, lastly Jefferson. “Mr. Jefferson, I have been an admirer for many years and I hope we can do this again. Thank you all.” He turned to where Tony's face had looked in, waved and left.

Fritz said, “Dr. Franklin, I too hope we may visit again.” He shook hands with both future, or past, presidents, and stopped. “Gentlemen, you understand that our meeting can be dangerous if it should affect the future. The picture of the president is an item he brought to show you, but I need to take them back with me.” When he reached the fluorescent rectangle, he said, “The nation owes you much for your foresight. I, for one, thank you.”

When he walked through, the president had his phone pressed to his ear.

“What happened, Tony?” Fritz asked.

“You've been gone for three hours, Fritz. The power started to fluctuate, and I can't reopen the portal without you. A storm is disrupting the connections. Just playing it safe. Who were those guys?”

“Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams.”

“Cool.”

The president hung up and joined them, a wide smile brightening his face. “Thanks for inviting me. That was amazing.”

“I have a question. We just talked to two presidents, but you didn't mention that. Why?”

“I guess I just take it for granted,” said the president. “But it's probably a good thing I didn't. They have enough to digest after our visit, and enough to worry about with a war starting.”

“I brought your pictures back,” said Fritz.

“I need to savor this for a bit. But we gave them some things to chew on. Have we told them enough that will cause them to change things?”

“They won't, or we wouldn't be here right now.” As soon as he said it, Fritz knew he was right.

Chapter 6

THURSDAY, AUGUST 25.

THE BITTER TASTE of cold coffee returned him to his unfinished task. I should tell Ash that story. He'd been so absorbed that he hadn't noticed the time. When Ashley opened the back door, the last plate went into the dishwasher.

“You still haven't cleaned up?”

“I've been thinking,” said Fritz.

Instead of an Ashley-typical snide comment, he asked. “What about?” Fritz told him about some of the trips he had taken. He described his visit to Franklin with the president, as well as watching the Alamo fall, meeting Lindbergh in Paris, pretending to be a reporter at the Potsdam conference, witnessing the connection of the railroads in Utah, and meeting FDR at Hyde Park.

“It's been a lot of fun to see those things. Sorry you couldn't join me.”

“We've both been travelling for the summer. You just didn't pay for gas.”

They grabbed sandwiches at the deli and ate at Fritz's backyard picnic table. “Ash, tell me what happened in the desert?”

Ashley put his sandwich down, licked his lips, and examined the garden. “I've had thousands of miles to relive it, Fritz. You saw the hole the sniper dug in the sand dune. Coming down I stepped in it, and fell to the bottom. When I looked up, the rifle was aimed at us. All I remember was getting hit, and Jane falling on top of me. They told me in the hospital they took out six bullets, and that my insides were shaken up a bit.”

“A bit? You were in surgery for hours.”

“Jane was hit and they told me it was bad. They wouldn't let me see her.” Tears dripped off his lashes. “When she died, they still wouldn't let me see her, to say I was sorry. If I hadn't tripped, she'd be alive.”

Fritz put his hand on Ashley's arm. “It's not your fault. The sniper shot her. He had a perfect place to hide and he found it far in advance. He dug a tunnel through a sand dune, reinforced it and then camouflaged it. From what I've determined, the Caballeros planned it. If anyone's to blame, it's me, for letting you go in. Like Linda said, I should have stopped you.”

Ash looked up, tears trapped on his beard. “You couldn't have. She was in trouble. No one but me could save her, and I failed. Again. It never stops. They all die.”

Chapter 7

THEY TALKED THROUGH the afternoon and into the evening, glad to be able to share stories and feelings that both had kept in check. When Ashley asked about Linda, Fritz said he had stopped calling. He'd called daily through July, but she'd never answered, or returned his messages. Being in such close contact with her father had seemingly driven her further away. “After all that's happened, she should be able to explain to him how important the portal has been.” He shrugged. “I only call once a week now. But I miss her and TJ.”

“Why don't you go get her? Do the caveman thing and drag her out by her hair, toss her in the car and go.”

“Her father would have me arrested. I really don't like that guy.”

“Then use the portal. I'll go with you. Give TJ to me and you grab Linda.”

“I've tossed that around, Ash. Believe me. Look, if she wants to come home, she'll come. If not, I'm sure Tim will make sure I get divorce papers delivered, sooner or later.”

Ashley changed the subject and asked if Fritz had discovered anything new about the Caballeros. Fritz said he had reviewed Jane's files, including bank transactions that had occurred around the two ship bombing attacks, the summit in Geneva and the attack on the White House.

“Did you tell anyone?”

“I told the president, but by the time I figured out what she found, the Caballeros went up in smoke. It's what Linda's father had warned. Rich guys manipulating markets.”

“She was hunting for links to Richter. None of that surprised her. She told me she had a feeling.” Jane's feelings regularly alerted everyone that something was amiss, or some action imminent. Ashley brushed his eyes and poked at the newspaper, still on the table since breakfast. “Looks like the development plan is going ahead full bore.”

“They have so much to do. The president told me that men are coming from all over the region to get work. Training schools for construction and the trades have opened, the water plants, the harbor and acres of solar farms are going up. Pipelines for water, a new electrical smart-grid. Declercq's ships are all being used. No wonder they want him in the Caballeros.” The Caballeros. Back to them again. Then his phone rang. “It's Tony,” he said. “Hi, what's up?”

“Hi Fritz. The president wants the portal. To get Declercq.”

“Now? It's four in the morning in Europe.”

“He said to call when we're ready. He told me to call you.”

“That's weird, but sure. See you in a few.” Ashley jumped up and they were out the door.

They waited a few minutes for Tony's arrival. When Tony pulled up, Natalie got out. Ashley said, “Hi Nat.”

“Oh my God, Ashley. Is that you?”

“Nope.” Fritz laughed, as the hatch opened and Tony pulled the generator out. Ashley told Fritz to get the door, and he gripped the other handle.

“You're a hot mess, Ashley,” Nat continued.

“What? You don't like my Middle Eastern disguise? I've been assigned as a spy.” Fritz couldn't help but grin at the return, in part at least, of his friend's wisecrackery.

“Uh-huh.” She followed the generator to the open door. “Looks more like you have a Halloween assignment—scaring the kids.”

“Enough, you two,” said Fritz. “Let's get the president.”

The president stopped in his tracks as he stepped through the portal, and Mel Zack had a gun pointed at Ashley before a word was said. “That's a hell of a greeting,” Ashley said.

The president squinted, and then stepped to shake his hand. “I hope you aren't planning on playing basketball like that.”

Fritz asked, “Where to?”

“Hang on a second, Fritz. General Beech is coming. He was finishing up with Florian.”

“It's almost five o'clock over there. What's happened?”

“We need him here to find out.” As the general walked into the hallway, the president asked, “Where is he, Jim?”

“I was printing it. His London office.” He passed the sheet to Fritz. “He's waiting here.”

“This looks like a closet,” said Fritz.

“It's a secure room, like a bank vault. We can talk about it when he's here,” the general said.

The portal opened, revealing a man, with tense features and angry eyes, standing in a closet. Declercq looked around, shook the president's hand, and nodded to the others until he looked at Ashley.

“What's happened, Florian?” asked the general. Declercq told them that one of his ships exploded, just outside Ashdod. The crew was safe, he said, but the ship sank, blocking the channel. “The Israelis are furious. Nothing can get in or out.”

“What were you carrying?” asked the president.

“Solar panels and wind turbines, production from your American suppliers. My largest ship.”

“No weapons or explosives?” asked Beech.

“No, Jim, none. It may take months to clear the wreckage and reopen the channel. A crane alone would be incapable of lifting those turbine blades from the water.”

“Do you have a description of the explosion?” asked Fritz, glancing at the president.

Declercq told them the ship had been anchored close to port with docking planned for sunrise. After the explosion, the crew had barely enough time to float the inflatables. “The captain said it felt like the bottom blew out, all at once.”

The president's almost imperceptible head shake warned Fritz to be silent. “It will be daylight soon, Florian. I'll call the Prime Minister. He'll have the Israeli navy on site by now, and I'll send some divers. They'll have an idea of what to look for.”

Declercq considered the comment. “What to look for? The same people did your Navy ships, too?” The president nodded and told General Beech to call Admiral Davis, get the divers set, and get the reports sent to the Oval Office.

“General, have him meet us at midnight at my office.”

The general walked into the hallway.

“Florian, I have a question. Why were you in the vault when we came to get you?”

“I often work in there. No one disturbs me, and no one can get in. I wasn't sure how long I would be here.”

“Have you decided what you're doing about your invitation?”

“I had intended to call Mr. Seymour today. I had planned to decline.”

“And now?”

“I understand why you want me to go, Mr. President. But frankly, this frightens me. Aside from the distraction, if these people are as dangerous as you have said, how safe will I be?”

“Florian, we are on the verge of major changes in the world, if we succeed. If not, I believe the world will fall on dark times which may take centuries to reverse. None of us will be safe. Our children and our grandchildren will ask why they are carrying this load when we could have ended it.” The president rubbed his head. “I have an idea, Florian. I may have a way to keep an eye on you. But you'll have to be part of them first. If you go, you'll be able to see who else is involved.” The president checked his watch. “We'll call, Jim will, in two hours. Does the room have a phone?” When Declercq said it didn't and he couldn't get reception inside, the president asked him to inform the general if he resolved to go. “When Jim calls your office, just say yes or no. He'll call you back. We'll meet here again later. Jim will tell you when. I need to go now and call the Israelis. I'll have information for you and I'll get your crew home safely.”

Fritz reset the portal and Declercq dashed through to London. The president told Fritz to get him home, but before he stepped into the Oval Office, he said, “It could be a long night. Do you mind?”

Fritz said, “I don't. Jane would say to look at videos. Those bombs could have been planted before the ship set out. And I'm guessing they were detonated by someone on shore, not by a timer.”

“Good analysis. Thanks. I'll ask Admiral Davis to get the ship's itinerary, and I'll talk to the Prime Minister about the area around the explosion. If Declercq agrees to go, we'll need him here again in about three hours. I'll call you.” He turned slightly, and said, “Welcome home, Ashley.”

When the door clicked shut, Tony began packing the generator. Ashley took one side as they walked through the silence. With a quick glance behind him, Fritz envisioned the noisy hall only a few days away. “Silly to go home,” he said. “Why don't you guys come to my place?”

“Linda's not going to be happy,” said Nat.

“She's not home,” Fritz said, in a tone with points like needles.

* * *

BACK AT THE kitchen table, Fritz said, “I feel like a gerbil on one of those wheels.”

Ashley leaned on his fists, hands beneath his beard. “I'll bet the president wants to use the portal to raid the meeting.”

“If he does that, he blows any protection I have. He can't arrest anyone, even Richter.” Fritz grimaced. “I hope Declercq has the courage to step up.”

They didn't have to wait long to find out. When the president called, he said Declercq had agreed, but needed to be on a plane to New York. “Fritz, we'll need the portal this afternoon. If I'm not mistaken, his room won't be safe.”

Nat and Tony left but Ashley lingered. Fritz told him he could stay if he wanted. Ashley said he wanted a drink and asked Fritz to join him. He grabbed the bottle of Jack, usually full and dusty, now with only enough for a couple of drinks.

“You've been busy.”

“That's about the fifth or sixth one since Linda left. I have an evening cocktail. Sometimes evening comes early.”

“Then let's kill this sucker.” Ashley plopped two glasses on the table. “We'll get more tomorrow. Thanks for staying up.”

“What's on your mind?”

“I've had two months pretty much alone. I've considered asking you to let me go back so I could stay with Jane.”

“We've been on the same track. I considered retracing my conversation with Linda's father that set her off. I can't help but think that we've overused the portal. It's taken over my life. I've considered going back to our meeting last fall, and telling the president I wouldn't help. But that would change history for sure.”

“But would it change it? Or put it back the way it was supposed to be?”

“What was supposed to be, Ash? Maybe I was supposed to find the portal, and use it like we have. You remember our visit with Lee's wife. Maybe we were supposed to tell her that people still remembered him to make the end of her life better, happier. She died not long after we visited.” He emptied his glass.

“I've never seen you drink like that,” said Ashley.

“Things are different around here now. Quiet. So quiet, I can hear every little sound.” He picked up the empty glass. “This helps me sleep. I don't wake up now when TJ cries, or when Linda goes downstairs. I don't smell lasagna at four in the morning.”

Ashley shared Fritz's solitude. In his head, he felt the wind rushing past his face during the many hours on the highways. He downed the remaining bourbon.

Chapter 8

TIME TO RELAX in the mornings would end soon. When Fritz opened the newspaper, a small article in the business section caught his eye. Jonathan Hartmann's yacht had been sold at auction for much less than its value. The story went on to report the strange death of the founder of National Data Corporation, once a Caballero, not yet solved. Fritz said aloud, “They eat their young.”

By the time Fritz had cleaned up and showered, Ashley had returned. As they headed out the door, a black Suburban pulled up behind Ashley's car. Tony waved as he crossed the lawn, and Natalie climbed from the passenger's seat.

“The president called. We need to go now,” Tony said.

Ash and Tony carried the generator to its spot in the hall. The hum of machinery nearby alerted them that they weren't alone. Fritz told them to wait in his classroom until he checked it out. A floor polisher, driven by the head of the school's maintenance, Joe Pettinelli, buffed the main corridor to the principal's office.

“Hi Joe. Just wanted warn you that I'm here.”

Turning off the machine, Joe said, “Hi Fritz. Here we go again, huh?”

“Soon enough. I'll be here for a while. Is that a problem?”

“Not for me. I did your hallway and the classrooms on Monday.”

“I'll try not to mess anything up. See you soon.”

“Hey, Fritz. Are you going to have another tournament this year? I really enjoyed it. Lots of fun.”

“When school ended, my kids said they wanted to do it again. We'll see soon if they still do. Say, do you have any drop-cloths around, or tarps?

“Nothing usable. I had to throw out what we did have. I'd get more but … the budget.”

“It's okay. George didn't get my class painted, again, so I'm going to do it myself. If I get to it, I'll just buy them. I hate how it looks. Maybe I can get him to free up some money for you.”

“That would be great. Maybe we can go over a list of stuff I could use. He might listen to you.” George McAllister, the principal, fussed constantly about school funds but continually forgot that he had another source, the president, for special projects. Fritz made a mental note to remind him.

“Sure, Joe. I'll be glad to look at it. See you later.” He returned to his classroom on newly polished granite reflecting the sunlight that found a path into the unlit hallway. As he turned the corner, Ashley's quick sidestep avoided a collision.

“Ash, open your room. We don't want to be out here.”

Fritz unlocked his desk and placed the White House brochure on the top, adjusting the paperclip. When he pulled the door open, the president, Mel Zack and General Beech left the Oval Office behind, a floor plan in the president's hand.

“He's in the room now, Fritz.” Seconds later, Declercq stepped into Riverboro High.

“You look tired, Florian. How was your trip?” asked the president.

“Not as quick as the last time I came.” His voice hinted of his tension and weariness from his flight, despite his attempted humor. A packet had been waiting so he hadn't even unpacked. He handed it to the general. The embossed outer cover was titled Forum for International Business Cooperation. Inside, an invitation announced dinner the following evening.

“Is this all? This is a lot of expense for one piece of paper.” Declercq said he'd checked and nothing more had been included.

The president handed him a phone, with a transmitter built in and turned on. “Florian, if you feel any threat, push this button, and we'll come immediately. We will have agents right outside the meeting room.”

“I need to keep my own, so I can be contacted from my office or my home.”

The general told him to say that one was business, the other personal. He handed Florian a phone number and said to add it to his speed dial.

“When this is over, we'll talk again,” said the president. “For now, stay in the hotel as much as possible. Thanks, Florian, and good luck.”

* * *

“FRITZ, I HATE to do this to you. Tomorrow night, Colonel Mitchell will be here with a couple dozen of his guys. I want to set the portal outside the room. If we can get Richter, we can end this. But I don't want the new group involved, if possible.”

“How will you find out if he's there?” asked Fritz.

“We have people on site. We haven't told Florian yet. We swept for bugs. If it's safe, we'll inform him tonight.”

“You want me here tonight then?” asked Fritz.

“No. He'll be contacted by our people in the hotel. Here's how this plays out.” As the president discussed the plan, Natalie took notes, the source documents for their upcoming evening's discussion. When he'd finished, he said, “Time for me to leave.”

“Mr. President, you've been calling Tony to set up. Why?”

“Fritz, we don't know how much they've learned, or if we're close to the end. I don't want to be in direct contact with you any more than necessary. I want you all to come out of this in one piece. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter 9

AT HIS FARMHOUSE, pacing the country kitchen, phone to his ear, Richemartel issued instructions. “At six o'clock, go to each room, and bring them the new invitation. Take them to the apartment. Do you have the men? Good. Keep them separate until they arrive. You have the cars arranged?” He listened to the questions and sighed. “No, I will not attend. My name is not to be mentioned. You will wait at the cars, all of you. Release them at nine o'clock. Take them back to the hotel. No interference. No deviation.” He hung up and lifted his martini glass in a toast to himself. “Back in business.”

* * *

“THIS IS THE MOST people at this table in months,” said Fritz. Ashley handed him the still-wrapped sandwich from their trip to the deli. “I forgot about this. Anyone want a soda, glasses are on the counter.”

Nat thumbed through her notebook. “Why is he using soldiers instead of police?” she asked.

Tony said, “Because they've already used the portal. Anyone new would have to learn.”

“And that would mean more danger for us,” said Fritz. “Like that matters anymore. I'll bet the colonel is tired of going back and forth.”

“You really have been sidelined, Fritz,” said Tony. “The colonel's been at the airport with about twenty-five guys all summer. You should see the place now. It's like an underground palace. Not like a barracks. Milt Chelten has had them working and building. They dug out a whole wing for a rec room, a media room and a library. And a duplicate of the conference room across the hall from you. The Summit room.”

Fritz said, “Well, we have until tomorrow night to kill. Do you two want to stay for dinner?”

“If you're grilling,” said Tony, “let me get some sausage and fixings. I have a special family recipe.”

The doorbell chiming interrupted their chatter. Fritz looked at blank faces and shrugged.

As he opened the door, Emily Miller stepped past. “Hi, Fritz, can I come in? You remember Joe.” Joe shook hands with his brother-in-law and carried her suitcase inside.

Fritz stood statue-still. “Is Linda with you?”

“Let's just say that I'm on a mission. I got tired of waiting for you to show up.”

“I haven't seen you in a while, Fritz. Nice house,” Joe said.

“Emily, what's going on?”

“Are you going to invite me in? Or not?”

“You're already in. And of course you're invited. But what's happened? Why are you here? How's TJ?”

When Ashley walked from the kitchen, Fritz introduced him, forgetting that he had met them both before.

“So why are you standing out here?” Ashley asked. “The party's just getting started.” He looked at Fritz, questions tattooed over his face. Fritz shrugged again. As they walked to the kitchen, Joe checked out the dining room furnishings. He tapped his mother, asking without a word what he was looking at.

“It's your grandmother's,” she said. “She wanted Linda to have the whole thing. It's ugly.” Fritz snorted. The dining room was antique and formal, Linda's favorite room. Fritz introduced Tony and Nat, as they shifted chairs to make room.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

“Do you have anything to eat?” asked Emily. “We've been driving since the middle of the night.”

“You can split a deli sandwich, or I have ham and turkey in the fridge.” He passed her his still-wrapped lunch. Emily took it and said that it would do fine.

“Get your own, Joseph,” she said.

At a now-full table, drinks poured and sandwiches being chewed, Fritz asked again why they'd come. And why had they driven all night? Joe started to talk, but his mother pushed his shoulder and told him to shut up and eat.

“Fritz Russell, I'm ashamed of you,” she began. “You've let my bitch daughter dig a hole so deep that even with her fancy MBA, she hasn't found a way to get out. And you let her spend a summer with her crazy father.” She took a bite and shook her finger at him. “If Joe hadn't come home, I'd have flown here.” She patted her son's arm. “But he offered to give me a ride.” Then she patted his face.

Fritz examined her. Was this his mother-in-law, or a clone with a personality transplant. “Emily, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I've left Tim.” Joe laughed. “You hush up. Not really but he thinks I have. And so does YOUR WIFE. I asked Joe to help me.”

Joe jumped in. “I stopped yesterday on my way to Boston. New job. By dinner, the old man and I had started arguing.”

His mother slapped the back of his head. “Don't be disrespectful. He's your father.”

“Sorry, Mom. And you're here, why?”

“That's different. Now as I was saying. I've been telling Linda to call you for weeks. But she's as stubborn as her father.”

“No kidding,” said Joe.