Devlin Sub Rosa: Book Three of the Devlin Quatrology
Page 7
- 27 -
June 17, 2013
11:21 a.m. local time
St. Tropez, France
“Sorry, Pam, I gotta take this.
“What's up, Amber? Really? When? Where'd we get that? No kidding? Well, we gotta get him outa there, then. No, I don't think we can use the epilepsy excuse again; his ex-bosses know that was fake, just to let him get to Hong Kong. We gotta do this totally under the radar, a full sub rosa. Who've we got in place to shepherd him? No, not them. Nope, nor him. Nope. How about – who? Arkady? Isn't he in Moscow? I thought so. Yeah, he'll do. Can he fly down to HK soon and take care of him? Good. And then we need to find someplace to hide him. Well, if all three agencies are after him, we – where? Y'know, that's not a bad idea. He can stay in the airport up there and nobody can touch him, at least not legally. Bravo, Amber; I can always count on you. And Arkady'll be right at home, can run out and get him whatever he needs and keep the contacts open with that Brit paper. And you've got our people going through all that info before he leaks it, right? Cool; keep me posted on that, okay? Good.
“How's R&D coming on the nanodrone? Yeah, the Bumblebee. Really? Check with Wes on that, willya? Great. That might be a way to get a bug into Nick's place. No, I agree; he's pretty clever, doubt we'd get much from it anyhow. And I sure don't want him to find it, no way, especially before we get it into mass production. Maybe Jill and Carie can find a way to get it in. I don't know; maybe when he's out at his dad's grave.
“One other thing, Am. Can you have someone go down to the archives and dig out the Hoover file on his dad? Yeah, same last name. I should have thought of that a long time ago. Damned QH. Anything else from Phil and Nadia or any of the others? They are? When? Good. Tell 'em to be careful; those guys've got good defense and tracking teams in the cyber division.
“Oh, Pam and I were just talking about that time in Athens when Gordy and I set you up, and how you took it when we told you. Yeah, me too. Thanks; it was a good one, almost as good as your idea on faking Anatoly's death. No, really. You're welcome.
“Anything else? Okay. Yeah, I will. Hi to Gisele and the girls.
“Amber says hi, Pam.”
- 28 -
June 21, 2013
6:03 p.m. local time
Undisclosed location
“Vell, my goal vas to go back und kill Hitler before he could come to power.”
“But how?”
“Viz a bomb, of course, Joel. I can sink of no udder vay.”
“But that would change the course of history.”
“Ja, ja, Rona, it vould. Und my parents would not have been slaughtered at Auschwitz.”
“Nor my or Joel's grandparents. No World War Two, no Manhattan Project, no nuclear bombs, no” –
“Ja, ja, true. But I haf not succeeded … yet.”
“Yet?”
“Ja, Joel; zat is schtill my goal. I haf managed to do a few sings, but der Führer schtill eludes me. I cannot make ze – ach, vat is ze vort? Gizmo? – ja, gizmo – I cannot make ze gizmo go back furzer zan 90 minuten. Ze matt vorks, ze eqvations vork, but zat gizmo stops zere. I just do not underschtand vat is wrong. Zere vas a time when I could make it go back to 1954, but now only 90 minutes. Und zere are also – ach, vat is zat vort? -- caterpillar effects? Is zat ze right phrase?”
“Butterfly effects, I think.”
“Butterfly? Vat is zat?”
“Ripple effects? Unintended consequences?”
“Ja, unintended conseqvences. Und totally unpredictable.”
“Totally?”
“Ja, ja. No vay to predict vat could happen.”
“Butterfly effects?”
“You know, Joel, like the butterfly in the Amazon flapping its wings and triggering a sandstorm in Phoenix a year later. Right, Doc?”
“Ja, ja. Zat is vun example ze chaos seorists use a lot.”
“I've never understood that, Rona.”
“Engineers never do. Right, Doc?”
“Ja, ja; zey haf such, ah, cement sinking.”
“Cement? Oh, you mean concrete thinking.”
“Concrete? Ah, concrete. Ja, so liddle imagination.”
“Not so much abstract thinking.”
“But” –
“Sorry, Joel, but it's true.”
“Yes, dear. But how did you find that the limit was 1954?
“Because I sent a bomb back und killed General Fardunkoff in Moscow in July of that year.”
“General who?”
“Fardunkoff, Nikolai Fardunkoff, the Soviet premier who killed Khrushchev, took over und started Vorld Var Sree.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Wait, what? World War Three?”
“Ja, Vorld Var Sree, the nuclear holocaust, vich started viz a strike on ze US from Cuba und killed eighty procent of ze vorld's peoples.”
“But that never happened.”
“Not now. Because I killed General Fardunkoff.”
“And changed history. Right, Doc?”
“Ja, ja, Frau Rona.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Wait! That doesn't make sense. If you changed history, how could you possibly know you had?”
“Vat?”
“You'd be living in the new history and the old one would have never happened, right?”
“Ja.”
“So Khrushchev had his confrontation with JFK over the missiles in Cuba and he backed down, right?”
“Ja, ja.”
“So no World War Three, right?”
“In zis new history, ja.”
“So if all that never happened, how could you possibly know that it did?”
“Because I lived through it, and my journals survived.”
“But if” –
“Herr Joel, you are schtuck in zat cement” –
“Concrete.”
“Sank you, Frau Rona. You are schtuck in zat concrete sinking, in ze – ach, vat is ze vort? Ach, scheiss! Like, ach, two physicians, somesing like zat.”
“Two physicians?”
“Don't look at me, Joel; no idea.”
“I got nothing.”
“Vait, vait; I sink I – scheiss! Gone – no, vait! Ah, I sink it is – ach, ja, paradox. You are schtuck in the paradox of time travel. But I haf solved zat.”
“C'mon, Doc; you're just pulling my leg.”
“I am not! I vould nefer efen touch you.”
“No, Doc, he means he thinks you're joking, trying to put one over on him.”
“Put vun ofer? I don't” –
“He means he thinks you're trying to give him a snow job.”
“Frau Rona! I vould nefer” –
“No, Doc, I just think you're lying.”
“I vould nefer give any man a – vait! You sink I am not telling ze truz? You really are schtuck. If you don't belief me, just ask Greg or Julie about ze coffee cup. Zey saw it vork, ja.”
“It's just impossible!”
“Joel” –
“And General Fardunkoff? I think you just made that up.”
“Nein, nein, Herr Joel; I promise you, I” –
“C'mon, Joel. We can just Guggle it.”
“Ja, you do zat; you vill see!”
“And I want to Guggle 'paradox of time travel,' too, Joel; maybe that'll help me understand.”
“Yeah, that'll show you it's impossible.”
“Nein, nein; it is possible und I haf done it!”
“Shut up, Doc! You” –
“Joel, Joel! Settle down. Both of you! Doc, we're gonna leave you alone for a while. Joel, let's go. Now!”
“But” –
“Now, Joel, now!”
- 29 -
June 17, 2013
12:26 p.m. local time
St. Tropez, France
“Another delicious meal, Jake. Thank you.”
“Ah, just thrown together. But glad you liked it. Want another mimosa – or maybe some ice cream?”
“Neapolitan?”
“Yeah, right; w
ith a marabou feather on top. No, sorry; all we've got is mint chocolate chip.”
“That's great. I'll get it out.”
“Okay. I'll clear the table.”
“You know, I really like living with just us, no crew, no servants.”
“Me too, Pam. Domesticity with you is wonderful.”
“Now where is – oh, got it; right behind that million-euro block.”
“So that's where I put it. Goddamned QH. Gotta get that into the account.”
“Want me to deposit it?”
“Nope. I'll have the courier take it when he comes by tomorrow.”
“Okay. Want anything on yours?”
“Hmm. Got any peanut butter?”
“Peanut butter? Really?”
“Nah, just pulling your leg.”
“Later, hon, okay?”
“Okay. Want me to run the dishwasher?”
“Is it full?”
“Not really, maybe half.”
“Let's wait till it's full.”
“Well, we've got that job in Toulon at six.”
“Oh, right.”
“So that's another day they'll sit in there getting crustier.”
“Then yeah, go ahead.”
“Okay. Where's the deter- – ah, found it. Done and running.”
“Ice cream in the hot tub?”
“I'd like that. Cool.”
“And hot.”
“That you are, Pam, that you are.”
- 30 -
September 27, 2013
8:03 a.m. local time
Bonita Beach, Florida
“Hi, Gordy. Remember me?”
“Hi, ah – oh, damn; I remember your face, but I'm embarrassed. I don't remember your name.”
“It's – I'll give you a hint. Starts with K.”
“K? Okay. Uh, Kathy?”
“Nope.”
“Karen?”
“Nope.”
“Kristin?”
“Nope.”
“Kerry?”
“Nope.”
“Karly?”
“Nope; and that'd be with a C, anyhow. Like the CEO of that big computer company.”
“Oh, right. You know, you walk like I'd imagine she would: self-confident, assertive, but not arrogant.”
“Why, thank you.”
“And that's a very nice smile.”
“And thank you again. Next guess?”
“Ah, Kendra?”
“Nope.”
“Kennedy?”
“Nope.”
“Kendall?”
“Nope.”
“Katrina?”
“Nope. But” --
“Kyla?”
-- “I can be stormy. Nope.”
“Keira?”
“Nope.”
“Kitty?”
“Nope.”
“Kylie?”
“Nope.”
“Krystal?”
“Nope.”
“Kaylee?”
“Nope.”
“Second letter? Can I buy a vowel?”
“Okay. I.”
“Kimbra?”
“Nope.”
“Kirbey?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm. You look a lot like a Kirbey I know, daughter of a good friend.”
“Nope, still not Kirbey.”
“Kinsey?”
“Nope.”
“Kirsten?”
“Nope.”
“Kiersten?”
“Nope.”
“Kizzy?”
“Nope. I'll let you off the hook; it's Kimberly.”
“Kimberly; ah. I haven't slept with you, have I?”
“What? No, no!”
“Oh, good; that'd be even more embarrassing.”
“Why would you even ask something like that?”
“Sorry; just working on a bit of dialogue for the book.”
“But why” –
“Probably have to make a whole new character to use it, though. So maybe it's not worth it, just for a chuckle. Sorry to drop it on you out of the blue like that.”
“Oh, I” –
“I didn't remember your name, but I do remember you had a pretty good sense of humor, so I thought I could give it a try and see – wait, what's so funny?”
“Sorry. You do remember that I'm gay, right?”
“Ah – you – oh, geez, no, I'd QH'd that.”
“What?”
“Sorry. QH'd, Quarterheimered, forgot.”
“Ah.”
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you're so easy to talk with. I find it's easier to talk with gay or happily married women, or women who are committed to their careers, than with single women.”
“Really?”
“Yup; none of that sexual subtext.”
“Ah, the undercurrent of sexual tension.”
“Exactly. So how are you?”
“Great; happy to be down here again.”
“Where from?”
“Cleveland.”
“Ah. And how long are you here for?”
“Just two weeks; Candi and I got in last night.”
“Candy? With a Y or an I?”
“An I.”
“So Cand-eye, not Can-dee.”
“We went through that last year.”
“Ah, right; hold on a – she's blonde, thin, pretty face, maybe about 35, right?”
“Right.”
“Ah, memory's coming back. And you're – wait, wait, don't tell me – ah, you're both artists, right?”
“Ah, bravo, Gordy.”
“Um – painting?”
“Sculpture for me, faux painting for Candi.”
“Crap; QH'd that.”
“No sweat; it's been over a year – oops, there she is; gotta run. Breakfast at Pop's. See ya.”
“Have a great one, Kimberly.”
“Thanks, Gordy; you too – oh, a quick thought. How about if some non-gay woman, when you ask if you've slept with her, comes back with 'Not yet,' and says it seductively, licking her lips and batting her eyes at you, maybe doing a not-so-subtle little butt wiggle or boob shimmy in front of you? What would you do?”
“Woah! Cool idea. Hadn't thought about that.”
“Well, now you can. Gotta run. Have a super day.”
“You, too. And hi to Candi, okay?”
“Will do. Bye.”
“Bye. Hmm. 'Not yet'? Hmm. Damn! Where's my pen?”
“Hey, Gordy, how ya doing?”
“Oh, good morning, Marie. Fine. And you?”
“Great. Whatcha working on?”
“Ah, just a bit of dialogue for the third book.”
“Cool. Need any help?”
“Naw; I got it, but thanks.”
“Okay.”
“Morning!”
“Uh, yes, it is.”
“What?”
“Yes, it is morning.”
“I was wishing you a good morning.”
“Sorry; maybe I didn't hear the 'Good.'”
“What?”
“Nothing; never mind. Have a great day.”
“I – what's – hmmf.”
“Who was that, Gordy?”
“I have no idea, Marie, but he's either got lousy diction or he's lazy. And I've always wanted to say that to somebody.”
“Say what?”
“'Yes, it is,' when they just say 'Morning' instead of 'Good morning.'”
“Ah-ha. Well, see ya later. Off to my workout with Marianne.”
“How's it going?”
“Real good; we're doing weight training now.”
“Cool. And you're looking great. I'd have a hard time telling the two of you apart if I couldn't see your heads and hair.”
“Oh, now, Gordy, flattery will get you everywhere.”
“She does have one of the best figures I've ever seen.”
“Yeah, she does. But she's a personal trainer, so that” –
; “Oh, would you tell her I'm almost out of her cards?”
“Cards?”
“Yeah. She gave me some to give to anybody who's wanting some personal training.”
“Ah. Sure; I'll tell her.”
“Thanks, Marie.”
“No problem. See ya.”
“Bye. 'Not yet.' Wonder what kind of a character I could” --
“Hey, Gordy.”
“Oh. Good morning, Louise.”
“I got my thousand points now. When do I get to go waterboarding?”
“You musta misunderstood, Louise. You don't GO waterboarding; you get waterboarded. Remember, those are masochism points” –
“Right. One per mile.”
“For walking. Three per mile for power walking, five for jogging and ten for running. And you keep your own score.”
“Yeah, Gordy, I got all that. But I only walk, and I just got to a thousand points – well, a thousand and three, actually – today. So when do I get to go waterboarding?”
“No, no, no, Louise. What I said was that when you get up to a thousand masochism points, I'll get an ex-buddy from the CIA to come out and waterboard you.”
- 31 -
June 17, 2013
2:06 p.m. local time
St. Tropez, France
“Oh, Jake, that was a wonderful dessert.”
“Better than the ice cream?”
“Oh, God, Jake, much better. Every afternoon delight with you is terrific.”
“Well, you sure got Stevie Bruce going with that underwater Suzanne. How can you hold your breath that long?”
“Oh, it wasn't that long, maybe a minute and a half at most. He's pretty responsive.”
“So was Ginny May.”
“Oh, Jake, you know she's always ready for you.”
“Lucky it's only a little over an hour's drive to Toulon.”
“So we've got all afternoon.”
“Not quite; we'll need to head out about 4:30 at the latest, in full disguise, whichever ones we choose.”
“So we've got another hour and a half.”
“Yup, about that.”
“Well, let's not waste it.”
“I'm ready.”
“Oh, good.”
- 32 -
July 16, 2013
10:16 a.m. local time
Washington, DC
“A year? Oh, that's good, Amber, 'cause we're sorta stuck here. Carie and I have been batting it all around for a month, and the only thing we think might have a chance is the Bumblebee. Yeah, I know; it's still too big. His cameras would pick it up easy. No, we've thought about that, too. We'd have to send it up at least five hundred feet and then drop it straight down in one of the blind spots, and then find an ingress, a window, a door, something. Yeah, maybe, but then they'd have to add a light and a bigger motor, and that'd put it back above four inches, at least. And we'd have to be sure he hasn't got a fire going, and he'd probably keep the flue closed when he's not using it. Yeah, and that, to keep the birds out. No, no, no, in the den. Yeah, we know, but those are way too small, like a four-inch diameter at most. The Bee couldn't get down it, probably break off the rotors. So I think we'll have to scratch that, stick with an open door or window.