“What's your name, officer?”
“Jim Shaw, sir.”
“Good. Mr. Williams will give you more details. Thank you.”
While the president finished his conversation, Fritz and Tom Andrews stood by the waiting Suburbans. “Mr. President, Linda, Ashley and I will take my car and follow you. We'll have a chance to talk en route. You've put me in a difficult position.”
The president said, “You should be in my shoes.” They happily shared the joke, each knowing the other used the phrase often. The others left the house, and when Linda saw James, she greeted him with a hug.
“James! It's nice to see you again. Has your wife tried the lasagna recipe?”
“Hi, ma'am, sorry I mean Linda. Yes, we've had it a couple of times. She knows how much I like it.”
The Suburbans' doors were open and waiting. Officer Shaw stood at the driver's side of the police cruiser. Fritz signaled Ashley, took Linda's arm, and headed to his car. He backed out of the driveway, and the procession pulled away.
Fritz said, “What do you think?”
Ashley spoke first. “I'd rather go see Robert E. Lee.”
Linda said, “Fritz, I already know you're going to say it's okay. And you already know how I feel.” Her tone left no doubt. “I hope he keeps his promise, and your part will be really limited.”
“We needed to hear him out. He knows that I'll stop him if he goes too far,” Fritz said. “But unless you say absolutely not, I'll tell him I'm in. His real problem will be George. If the school is the staging point for this stuff, George could be a pain.”
Ashley leaned forward and asked, “Can I say something? When you told me the president would be coming tonight, I wondered what he would say. I didn't think he'd be so blunt. But they haven't figured it all out yet.”
“Speaking of figuring things out, how did things go with Sandy today?” Linda asked.
Fritz said, “He's burning bridges faster than the Germans blew up the ones crossing the Rhine.”
“Shut up. Let me tell it. Before we broke up, I told her I didn't think it was time yet to meet her parents. They're here this weekend. She's ignoring me.”
“And if you've broken up, what difference does that make? It sounds to me like you don't see this relationship as completely over.” Linda's hands rested on her hips, even as she sat. “Ashley, you are too old to play games, and Sandy isn't going to let you. You're not serious and never saw her as long term.”
“At least I was up front with her.”
“Ash, she's twenty-five years old and she wants to get married and have a family. She's attractive. She's smart, and she's not going to waste her time. So if you want her to stick around, it's up to you to decide what you want. I guess I'll have to get used to cooking for you again.” Then she told him their welcome sign always applied to him.
“We can't think about that now,” Ashley said. “I want to know if you've figured out what this Narian business is going to mean. I haven't got much of a clue.”
“Neither have I,” said Fritz. “Underground? Nuclear facilities? What else do we need to worry about?”
“What about the weather?” Ashley asked.
“We'll have to ask at dinner. If they want to do this soon, we better hope we have some thunderstorms.”
“Maybe they've figured something out. Tell you what. I'll sit with Dr. Barclay and talk with her about the weather.” Fritz saw the Cheshire Cat in the rearview.
“Lively dinner conversation, Ash. You'll thrill her, I'm sure,” Fritz said.
Linda said, “Weather, huh. Somehow, I'm not surprised. Hot air is your field of expertise.”
“That's a different story,” said Ashley.
Chapter 2
WHEN THE PROCESSION arrived at The Mill, George and Lois McAllister waited in the otherwise empty parking lot. Officer Shaw climbed from his cruiser and walked over to James. They spoke for a moment and shook hands. A sign on the restaurant door read CLOSED UNTIL 9 P.M. PRIVATE PARTY.
Tom led them through the main room, where the restaurant's paper placemats sat on the tables. In contrast, their private dining room had crisp linens and fancier table settings. The place had been spruced up. The polished woodwork shimmered as they passed and the waxed floor radiated a high sheen. Even the sleek silverware bounced light around the room. The restaurant staff had been working since morning, but despite the makeover, at each place setting, a placemat blazed the pub's name in lobster red. The servers stood almost at attention. Fritz chuckled at the changes. He and Linda sat across from the president and First Lady. “I'm in, Mr. President.”
The president whispered, “Thanks. Now if you'll excuse me, I need a private talk with George.” He stood, whispered something to George, and they left the room. As the appetizers arrived, they returned. Taking his seat, the president made a face that could only mean that George had done what he always did, agree but voice reluctance. The president flashed a subtle, single thumb up to Fritz.
“You know, there's still the issue of weather,” Fritz said. “The portal only opens during thunderstorms. You haven't figured out how to make them happen, have you?”
The president leaned to the secretary and asked him to tell Fritz what they had accomplished. “Dr. Barclay actually knows more about the science than I do, but I'll tell you what we think we've found,” the secretary said. They hadn't been able to create thunderstorms, he said, but using the measurements for electrical charges and sound frequencies, they had tried to duplicate the forces they thought probably opened the portal when lightning occurred. “We've been trying different combinations all summer to see if any worked.”
Fritz interrupted, “Does that mean you can recreate a thunderstorm, or does it mean you've already created a portal yourselves? You know the mix of ingredients I need. They're pretty easy to obtain. Have you tried?”
The president said, “We have tried, and if we had succeeded we wouldn't be here. We wouldn't ever have to bother you again.”
“Keep trying.” Linda said.
The secretary continued. “We think we can attach a power source to your classroom door and use planes to fly by and disturb the sound frequencies.”
“Wow,” said Ashley. “You've created a man-made thunderstorm. Without rain. Does humidity matter?”
Dr. Barclay said, “It does, and we've experimented with variations. Thanks, Mr. Gilbert.”
“Call me Ashley. I intended to ask you about the weather.” He beamed.
The president said, “Fritz, after the ambassador's rescue, we started looking for a way to get you out of the loop. Really. And we will keep trying.”
Fritz reminded the president that he still considered the portal an unknown, and even though he would try, he didn't know if he could still make it work. “I'm willing to work with you, but I haven't tried to use it since the spring. It might not work at all.”
The president nibbled his lower lip before answering. He glanced first at Linda, and then surveyed Fritz. Their eyes locked. “My first concern is your agreement. I know we're both in new territory, and we'll be learning as we go. But if we can make this work, we can stop the threat, and cage the war hawks, at least long enough to find real, meaningful solutions to problems in the Middle East. That's what I want.”
While they waited for dessert, Dr. Barclay asked Fritz if he had, at any time, thought the portal could open in good weather. He said he had once gotten a shock, but it didn't open. “Don't tell me that was you guys.” The president remembered that day in the spring. He had been looking at the Rose Garden in bloom when Tom Andrews told him. But he remained quiet.
Dr. Barclay said, “No, not us, but a crash that day at the Philadelphia airport backed up planes, and they circled for hours, until other airports could absorb them.” Linda reminded Fritz that they had talked about the crash after he told her about getting a shock. “So we studied that. And we've been playing with currents and frequencies.”
“Frequencies? Is that guy Tony involved? I don't remember his
last name.”
Dr. Barclay answered. “Tony Almeida is one of our chief engineers. He started working the frequency angle after he first came to the school.”
Conversation halted for a moment as a waiter cleared their plates. The unanticipated level of service the restaurant had discovered amused Fritz. At a spot that rarely had warm bread, the staff refilled the baskets before they had been emptied. As dessert arrived, the owner, never seen out front, came in to ask if everything was satisfactory. Ashley might have answered in different company. Instead he peeked a sideway glimpse of Dr. Barclay, who had followed the president's steps. The president walked over and thanked him, and they all heard Tony Marion say, “No, no, I insist, Mr. President.” He left, and the president sat back down.
“He wants to comp us,” he said, looking at Fritz and Linda. “We'll take care of this later. I told him you had recommended coming here. He shut the place during the dinner hour for us, and he can't even brag about our having been here. We'll handle it.”
After dessert, the president took Fritz and Linda aside. “I've asked a great deal, and you haven't asked me for anything,” he said. “I don't expect you will. But Fritz, I'm making you a special assistant to the president. I have arranged for you to receive a consulting fee each time we need to use the portal.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. We'll have another mouth to feed soon. We appreciate the help.”
Linda said, “We didn't expect anything, Mr. President. Just take care of my husband. You may need him, but so do I.”
“Mr. President, I know what you want is important. I'll do my best. But between the three of us, please don't lie to me, about any of this.”
A momentary ripple pulsed on the president's jaw. He stared at Fritz, assessing the request and the man who had asked. “That's a fair request. Straight to the point. I appreciate your candor. Fritz, Linda, I may not be able to tell you everything, but I promise I'll tell you what I can when I can.”
“I have one more suggestion, Mr. President. Before you send soldiers here, it might be a good idea to find out if Tony Almeida's system works, what Linda said before.”
“That's not what I meant, Fritz,” she said.
“I know, but I can come to your office, Mr. President. Are you available, let's say, Saturday night? Today's Wednesday. Would that give you time to get people here on Sunday, or early next week?”
The president rubbed behind his left ear. “That's a good idea. If the connection works, then we know that part is covered. Saturday?” He stared past them. “I have to check my schedule. If I'm not around, could you go somewhere else? I'll speak to the secretary on the way home and assemble the pieces that will be involved, so we'll be ready if it works.”
Fritz saw Linda's worry lines return. “If we're just testing the hookup, we could go anywhere. We just need to know when.”
“I'll contact Mr. Almeida, and someone will be in touch.”
A very chatty George talked continuously between bites, pleased by whatever the president had said. At the other end of the table, Ashley and Jane Barclay continued a vigorous discussion. The president looked at his watch, touched a button on the rim, and Tom Andrews appeared at the doorway. Conversation stopped. The scraping chairs on the glossy floor alerted the restaurant staff that they were leaving. The president shook Fritz's hand, then Linda's, and headed for the door. Mr. Marion, stationed by the front door, shook hands with them all, and thanked them for coming. When Fritz reached him, he said, “Mr. and Ms. Russell, please be my guest any time you'd like. We'll give you the best seats in the house.”
“Have a good trip back, Mr. President,” Fritz said. “I assume I'll be hearing from you soon. And thanks for dinner.” After the Suburbans pulled away, Officer Shaw waved to Fritz and Linda as they walked to their car, and he returned to duty. George and Lois stood by their car, waiting. “Our house,” Fritz said.
* * *
Everyone sat at the dining room table. Linda made coffee, and sliced a cake that Ashley had brought. Lois said, “Well, here we are again. George, what did the president want?”
“I think Fritz should start this story, Lois,” he said.
“Lois, the president wants to use the portal for national security crises and natural disasters.”
“Uh-huh. That's pretty general. Any sense what it will mean in practice?”
“The Narians have nuclear weapons,” Fritz said. He paused to let the message sink in. “He wants to use the portal to enter their facilities, gather documents and computers, and destroy everything. He wants to do it soon, and he wants to keep the Israelis on the sidelines.”
“And he brought a cute girl to keep Ashley occupied. That seems to have worked.”
Ashley looked at her, his face a little pink. “Not fair,” he said. “We were just talking. And she's not a girl. She's a very impressive woman. Her resume is amazing.”
Lois said, “Sometimes, Ashley, I wonder if anyone ever taught you the word subtle. Anyway, George, what did the president say?”
George cleared his throat. “He told me he had an important role for me and needed me on his team.” His attempt to look magisterial sent Ashley from the table. “He said he needed the portal again and that we would be doing a service for the whole world. We could prevent nuclear war and attacks on our country. He also promised to set up a fund for whatever school activities we wanted. I asked about construction of new facilities and college scholarships for some of our kids. He said sure, whatever I believe is important.”
“No wonder you look so happy,” said Linda. “That's great. Maybe you can give your teachers a raise.”
“Hmm. Sorry Linda. I didn't think of that. I'll have to ask him.”
Lois squinted and sucked in her cheeks. “George,” she asked, “did he tell you what would be involved in being on his team?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“Did you ask?”
“Well, not really.” Deflation had replaced self-importance in his eyes.
Fritz said, “Lois, it's going to be complicated. This first event will require entry into multiple sites. The teams that go in will bring out computers and maybe people. They'll be taking explosives in, I imagine. They'll have a number of vehicles in the parking lot. That's all I've been able to figure out so far. That's why the secretary of defense and the CIA director came along.”
As Fritz spoke, George looked much less happy and much more concerned. “Well, he didn't tell me all that,” he said. “How are we going to do this with school in session?”
“There's an eight-hour time difference between here and Naria.” George appeared mollified. “But we'll have to be prepared to close off the corridor and clear it out quickly. I'm thinking we need to announce a series of fire drills, to take place at different times including after school, just to get everyone alerted. They should probably start right away.” Lois listened carefully. She would be the one to put all those things into George's mental “to-do list.”
Ashley said, “Fritz, fire drills won't work. Everyone will be able to see something's going on. The kids will be outside, regardless of the weather. We need to keep the neighbors from watching.”
Lois said, “You're right, Ashley. We'll need to think about how else we can clear out your hallway, Fritz. How soon do you think this will happen?”
“Very.” Fritz exhaled. “Lois, I don't know for certain, but I think this will happen in the next week or two.”
George's face twisted as he lowered his eyebrows. “How can I get everything set that fast?”
“We don't have a choice, George. We have to start preparing right now. That's what being on the team means,” said Lois. “Remember, we'll be preventing nuclear holocaust.”
“I guess that's pretty important,” said George. “I'll put something together tomorrow.” Lois shook her head.
* * *
AFTER LOIS AND GEORGE left, Linda asked what she hadn't had the chance to earlier. “So how was the first day?”
Fritz shook his head to get back on Linda's wavelength. She had changed direction faster than a rabbit being chased. “Lin, it was the strangest start I've had since I began teaching. But most important, every class asked about having a trip.”
When Fritz finished, she asked, “How about you, Ash?”
“Now that I think about it, the kids did seem different, more receptive and not complaining about the work. It was kind of fun. No. Funner.”
“You know that's not a real word,” said Fritz.
“Yeah, but it should be.”
“It sounds to me like you have a wonderful year in store.” She smiled at them.
That look reminded Fritz of the first time he'd seen her. As a teacher in the Teach for America program in New York City, she had almost run him down on her bike as she zoomed down Fifth Avenue.
“What are you thinking?” Linda asked.
“About when I met you. How you almost killed me.”
“I wasn't even close.”
Undeterred, he finished the story.
“You have a good memory, Fritz, even if it's wrong,” Linda chuckled.
Ashley grinned at him. “You know I've heard this story before?”
Chapter 3
THE NEXT MORNING, Fritz arrived at school early. The stormy forecast had put him in a good mood. He slid his key into the desk lock, went back into the hallway, and let the door close. He touched the doorknob. Not receiving a shock, the portal wasn't open. He returned to his desk, unlocked it, and removed the key. “No lightning, no surprises.”
Still having time before classes, Fritz went to the office. George regularly beat the birds to the worm, so they would have a few minutes to talk. “Hi, George. Got a minute?”
George motioned Fritz in and said, “Close the door.” The size of a small bedroom, the office had the same blah paint job as the rest of the school. Already cluttered with piles of papers and official looking folders, Fritz asked himself if George's desk served as a barricade, or a self-imposed jail. With only one chair that someone could sit on, he questioned if the piles on the rest were for protection. The door quietly clicked shut. What sounded like a herd of buffalo crossed the sky, chasing a flash of lightning. Just what I hoped for.
Quantum Touch (Book 2): Sand Storm Page 2
