Time Patrol

by Bob Mayer

  “We, the Nightstalkers,” Moms continued, “have seen many things and been many places. We don’t know the limits of science, and we don’t know the limits of the soul. If there is some life after this, or some existence on a plane we can’t even conceive of, then we know our teammate is there, in a good place. Because that is what he deserves for performing his duty without any acknowledgement and for making the ultimate sacrifice. If there is nothingness in death, then he is in his final peace and will not be troubled anymore by the nightmares of this world.”

  There was a moment of silence before Moms continued.

  “There will be no medals, no service at Arlington. Staff Sergeant Carter will be returned home to Parthenon, Arkansas, to be buried on his family farm as per his wishes. As Nada noted, we take care of our own. His family will not do without.”

  This made a few of the Nightstalkers look up at Moms, wondering if she knew their final resting place, and then accepting it was Moms. Of course she did. She also remembered their real names.

  “All we can do—” and Moms’s voice broke for a second and she glanced at Nada, who nodded and finished for her, teamwork trumping all else.

  “All we can do,” Nada said, “is keep him in our hearts.”

  “In our hearts,” the rest of the team murmured.

  There was a lingering silence inside the command post. Sirens wailed outside, people were shouting, a couple of phones in the front of the large vehicle were ringing, but there was absolute silence around the team and the body.

  Moms broke it, releasing the hands of those on either side.

  The Keep went back to her hushed phone conversation. Foreman had remained silent, head bowed, listening.

  Moms looked around, meeting the eyes of every member of the Nightstalkers, and then settled her gaze on Scout. “Why are we here? Because someone has to man the walls in the middle of the night. The walls between the innocents who go to sleep each night with only the troubles they see in their lives. Normal troubles. Who know little, if anything, of the dangers, the nightmares, surrounding our world. Who need people like us to stand watch over them. To protect them from—” Moms paused, looking down briefly at the body, “things like what we just encountered. Things most people can’t dream of, even in their worst nightmare. That is why we, the Nightstalkers, exist. We protect people from the bad.” She nodded at Scout. “Do you understand?”

  Scout swallowed. “Yes.”

  “We are here,” Moms said, “because the best of intentions can go horribly awry, and the worst of intentions can achieve exactly what it sets out to do. It is often the noblest scientific inquiry that can produce the end of us all. We are here because we are the last defense when the desire to do right turns into a wrong. We are here because mankind advances through trial and error. Because nothing man does is ever perfect. And we are ultimately here because there are things out there, beyond mankind’s current knowledge level, which man must be guarded against until we can understand those things. We must remember this.” Moms took a deep breath. “Can you live with that?” she asked Scout.

  Scout didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  Moms nodded. “We normally have a ceremony, a naming ceremony, for new members. But you received your name almost two years ago when we worked together in North Carolina.” She looked around at the team. “I assume there are no objections to Scout?”

  There were none.

  “All right then.” Moms pointed at Kirk’s body. “Roland and Mac. Please convey Sergeant Carter to Support. And we keep him in our hearts.”

  Seven-Plus Hours

  “We tracked Coyne,” Golden said, reading off one of the papers in her folder. “As part of the research for the Sanction. And then we backtracked along his trail.”

  “But nothing on New York City and the TDSW,” Neeley said.

  “Of course not,” Hannah said. “This HUB is—” She faltered for words. “I’ve never heard of it or the Time Patrol before.”

  Neeley had never seen her old friend so disturbed since they first joined forces a long time ago. It had been a desperate race for survival that had turned out to be Nero’s way of testing them and finding his own replacement—Hannah. They’d succeeded in the test, and in the process learned some bitter realities about the way of the world, especially covert environments.

  Golden nodded. “We knew we couldn’t account for six weeks in the trail prior to his leaving active duty. Unusual, but not unheard of for a Sanction target. There are quite a few compartmentalized agencies and operations that even we can’t get a light into, including this Foreman’s. There’s not even a name for it as far as we can tell. As if he himself is the agency.”

  “But even if we can’t get details, I’ve heard of all of them,” Hannah said. “Foreman was just a rumor.”

  Hannah’s job as head of the Cellar was based on knowledge. If there was a hole in that knowledge, she could not adequately analyze the situation. And when the Cellar wasn’t on top of a situation, bad things tended to happen.

  “Let’s think this through,” Neeley said. “We do know now where he was in those missing six weeks. Working security for this HUB. And we assume he gave up the location later on. But he probably gave up the site after he left the security detail and after he left active duty. So let’s start from his time after the tour.”

  Doctor Golden opened the file. “He went right back to SEAL Team Six. That’s when he put in his paperwork to leave the military since his end of enlistment was coming up and he declined to enlist despite the offer of a rather generous bonus. While the request was being processed, he was deployed to Africa.”

  “They were going to wring him dry of every op they could run him on before his ETS,” Neeley said. “He must have been a little pissed.”

  That earned her a sharp glance from Hannah.

  Doctor Golden pushed on. “He did some ops in the Horn of Africa, pirate interdiction, but was never alone. Always with his team and always on board ship. His paperwork went through and he was discharged. He returned to the States and out-processed.” Golden nodded. “He signed out of Little Creek, Virginia.

  “Then he went directly to the Far East where he engaged in the activities for which the Sanction was ostensibly for,” Golden concluded. “Particularly in Cambodia. He went from Cambodia to the Caymans. The assumption was to deposit money in an account there.”

  “Perhaps the assumption is wrong,” Neeley said.

  “Perhaps,” Hannah agreed. “We don’t have much in the file on the days he spent in the islands. Then he came directly back to the States to Coronado and began searching for his wife. That’s when you and Roland began your surveillance.”

  “The drugs and weapons smuggling I get,” Neeley said. “But the antiquities. That’s outside of a SEAL’s experience. It might be a stretch, but if we’re talking the Time Patrol and antiquities, there might be more to what he was doing in Cambodia than we thought. I think the Caymans are key too. I don’t think a SEAL is going to just suddenly set up offshore banking on his own. He met someone there.”

  “Likely,” Hannah agreed.

  “When did you get the RFS?” Neeley asked.

  “When Coyne was in the Caymans,” Hannah said.

  “Then he did something there,” Neeley said. “Something Foreman found out about and didn’t approve of, since he allowed all that time to pass until the Caymans without putting in for the Sanction.”

  “That would be logical,” Hannah said.

  “Or,” Neeley said, “he did something in Cambodia or the Caymans that Foreman wanted him to do and then Foreman was covering his tracks.”

  “You have a suspicious mind,” Golden said.

  “It’s kept me alive.” Neeley leaned back in the chair, stretching out her long legs and mud-covered boots. “According to the RFS file, we started surveillance on him in Cambodia. But there was nothing unusual noted beyond the criminal activities.”

  “Maybe something was missed,” Golden said. “I’l
l have to look at the file from a different perspective.”

  “What about the Caymans?” Neeley asked. “Was he followed there?”

  “A local asset was assigned,” Hannah said. “You saw the report in the Sanction folder: nothing unusual or of note reported.”

  “Then that report isn’t a complete one,” Neeley said. “Local assets are of varying capabilities.”

  The three women fell silent for a moment, and the only sound was the machines pumping air into the room.

  “What about motivation?” Neeley finally asked. “Why would Coyne do something that he had to know would bring a Sanction? At the airport, Roland said Coyne mentioned some things just before being Sanctioned, while under the gun. People say lots of strange things in that situation if given the chance—” She paused at the look Hannah gave her and explained. “Roland isn’t an assassin like I am. He’s a soldier. He paused momentarily, but he did complete the job.”

  “What did Coyne say?” Golden asked.

  “That he had powerful friends,” Neeley said. “Roland said Coyne used the term ‘Ratnik’ when talking about these friends. Coyne said we needed to know about them.”

  Hannah nodded toward Golden. “I’ll check into it,” the psychiatrist said, adding to her growing list.

  “He also mentioned what might be a name: Sin Fen.”

  Golden wrote it down.

  “And he mentioned Operation Red Wings,” Neeley said. “That’s the SEAL team that got attacked in the ’Stan back in 2005. All those guys on the rescue chopper got killed. Coyne was there at the FOB, but not part of either op. Why would he bring it up?”

  “Survivor guilt?” Golden suggested.

  “It’s all connected,” Neeley said. “We just have to figure out how.”

  “I’ll coordinate from here,” Hannah said. “The Keep is updating me from New York. Both of you keep me up to speed on what you learn.”

  Neeley had something else on her mind. “Why did you bring Roland in on this? It was a straightforward operation. Why have a Nightstalker along? Did you suspect something wonky about the op? That I might need Nightstalker support?”

  “You worked with Roland in South America,” Hannah said.

  Neeley leaned forward and met her old friend’s, and boss’s, gaze. “That wasn’t authorized. It was off the books and you chewed my ass about it when I got back. And you didn’t answer my question. Did you suspect something strange would happen?”

  Hannah sighed. “No.”

  “Soooo . . .” Neeley dragged the word out. “Roland was sent along to be my babysitter.”

  Neither of the other women responded.

  “So,” Neeley repeated, accepting that judgment, “who exactly is Foreman and what is he up to? That’s what we have to find out. Who or what is this Ratnik? Who or what is Sin Fen? We’ve got too many questions and not much time to answer them.”

  “And we can’t count on Foreman for answers according to the Keep,” Hannah said.

  “So we treat this as a possible Sanction on Foreman,” Neeley said. “We have to find out what Foreman knows and what he’s been doing. And the best way right now for me is backtracking through Coyne.”

  Hannah pointed to the door. “Get going.”

  “Line me up the fastest thing moving to the Caymans,” Neeley said.

  Moms turned to the rest of the team. “We’re a long way from control on this operation. We’ve barely got containment. That thing had to have been hiding in that cavern, probably up near the top—”

  “Got to look up, people,” Nada said. It was a spin-off of his famous Nada Yadas: No One Looks Up.

  “Or it came through the gate,” Doc said.

  “We don’t even know for sure it’s a gate,” Eagle pointed out.

  “What else do you think it could be?” Scout asked. “You want to call it the-thing-we’re-not-sure-is-a-gate?”

  “Okay,” Eagle allowed. “Let’s call it a gate.”

  “You.” Moms pointed at Edith. “That thing might have been down there with you for a couple of hours. You didn’t notice anything?”

  Edith shook her head. “I didn’t go in the cavern. The door was shut the entire time. I stood by the guard post and waited, as I was instructed to do. That’s all I remember about that place.”

  The Keep put down a phone and spoke. “Your support team has pulled that ‘thing’ out. They’re working on it at the triage center as we speak. We should know who or what it is shortly.”

  “What else were you instructed to do?” Moms demanded of Edith. “What else do you know?”

  Edith put a hand to her forehead. “My head hurts. I’m trying to remember. But I just can’t. It’s so strange. I know I know. But I don’t know. It makes no sense.”

  Nada was staring at her. “This loss of memory just happen? Now?”

  Edith shook her head. “I don’t know. But if I worked down there, I should remember more. A lot more, right?”

  “What do you know about this loss of memory?” Moms asked Foreman.

  He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I doubt that,” Moms said. “Can we go into that gate?”

  The rest of the team glanced at her in surprise. They had all sensed the evil field emanating from the shrinking darkness. No one had any desire to try to go into it.

  Foreman shrugged. “You can go in. Coming out is the problem. No one, as far as I know, has ever come back after going into a gate. And I’ve been tracking them for around seventy years.”

  “Let’s back up,” Moms said, trying to get this Gordian knot of information, or lack thereof, untangled. “What is the real threat here? That thing and others like it coming through the gate or the missing Time Patrol?”

  “The missing Patrol,” Foreman said.

  “Why?”

  Foreman opened his mouth to answer but was cut off as the Keep hung up the phone and joined them. “Someone has just landed who can help us with Ms. Frobish’s memory problem.”

  Nada went over to one of the windows and peered out. His face tightened as he recognized the person hustling up to the large van.

  The door to the command post opened and Frasier came in, his sunglasses on.

  “Great,” Scout muttered. “Men in Black.”

  Frasier looked about and settled his glasses’ gaze on Edith. “Ms. Frobish?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m here—”

  Frasier didn’t get the next word out before Nada had his machete against the shrink’s neck.

  “What did you do to me?” Nada demanded.

  Frasier didn’t seem perturbed. “What had to be done.” Surprisingly, he smiled, as best he could smile, which was really more a twitch. “The memory block has been done to others besides you.” He nodded toward Edith. “It was done to her, tethered to the alarm. Once that went off, the block went into place. She can remember generalities but not specifics. A security Protocol. We all understand the importance of Protocols.”

  “My wife,” Nada growled. “My child. Those are specifics, not protocols.”

  “Yes, they were,” Frasier said. “And the memory was destroying you. You were trying to kill yourself slowly with alcohol and, at times, quickly with your guns. You were a detriment to yourself and the team. You were reckless on missions, putting not only your life in danger but the lives of others. The choice was to either have you Sanctioned or to block the memories since you were considered a valuable asset. Ms. Jones chose to block you. She saved your life. It was her decision and you should be thankful for it.”

  Moms reached out and placed her hand on Nada’s arm. She pulled on it, removing the machete from Frasier’s neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nada, but we’ll deal with it later. Frasier must have been doing his job. We all did a lot of things upon Ms. Jones’s orders. Can you do your job now?”

  Nada swallowed hard, and then sheathed the machete.

  “How does this block work?” Doc asked, always on the search
for knowledge. “It has to be selective.”

  “It’s complicated,” Frasier said. “And you have to be preconditioned for it.”

  “Ah,” Doc said. “So I assume we’re all preconditioned for it.”

  “Enough.” Frasier didn’t waste any more time. He pulled a small device out of his pocket and stepped up to Edith. “It won’t hurt,” Frasier said with all the bedside charm of an axe murderer. He unreeled earbuds and told her to put them in her ears. Once she did that, he turned on the device.

  Edith grimaced, disputing Frasier’s statement.

  It lasted ten seconds, and then Frasier had her remove the pods and he put the device back in his pocket. “The block was an implanted protection initiated by the alarm in case your facility was breached and you survived and were captured. You couldn’t give up the details of what you know. But now you can tell us.”

  Edith blinked rapidly several times, and then shook her head. She took a couple of deep breaths. “All right. All right.” She pressed her hands on both sides of her narrow head. “Oh my gosh. It’s crazy. Too much but I can’t remember everything.”

  Scout placed an arm around her. “Take some deep breaths.”

  Nada stepped forward, into Frasier’s personal space. “I want my memories back. All of them. I can remember being told of my wife’s and daughter’s deaths. And I can see their faces. But not much more. I don’t know how they died. I want the details. How? When? Where?”

  Moms’s mouth dropped open in shock.

  Scout let go of Edith and hugged him. “I’m so sorry!”

  The Keep stepped up to Nada and Scout. She shoved her arms between the two. She grabbed Nada’s combat vest and looked up into his eyes, speaking in a flat, cold voice. “I am terribly sorry for your losses, team sergeant. But we have to deal with this problem. Here and now. If we don’t, there won’t ever be any dealing with anything else.”