“The food was delicious, Mr. Habbib. Where’d you learn to cook like that?”
“My mother taught me well, Mr. Worthy, but let us be a little more civil, shall we? My name is Jamil. Would you like more coffee?”
“Yes, please.” He held out his mug.
He’s not a bad sort, Michael thought, but I wouldn’t trust him to take our side if things turned ugly. He watched Habbib pour more coffee into Sam’s mug.
“I’m going into my bedroom to work. Call me at lunch time.” He stood, staring down at Sam. Their eyes locked as Michael tried to say, “help is on the way” without making a sound. His confidence was flagging by the time he sat at the desk in his bedroom.
A legal pad and pens were arranged on top, although he was certain they hadn’t been there earlier. Someone, probably Eric, put them here. The guy likely rummaged through my bag too, he thought. Fear pulsed down his spine. An image of the big man crushing the circuit board flashed across his mind. His first impulse was to check the suitcase, but he decided to wait until dark. He suspected there might be a hidden camera in the room. Concerned that they’d seen what he did with the cell phone last night, he decided to get to work. They wouldn’t wait long after getting the code before they would demand the phone, too.
Picking up a pen, he closed his eyes for a second, trying to see the first line of code. When he was certain of the wording, he wrote it down on the pad. The effort opened the floodgate in his memory, and more lines poured onto the page almost faster than he could write them down.
Each line of code didn’t always take up one complete line on the pad, so an hour later he had twenty pages of paper scribbled on, one-sided. He wasn’t concerned about them being able to read his scratchings. They’d be delayed some more, but he wasn’t in a hurry to hand over his work.
His fingers throbbed from the pressure of holding the pen. Flexing them, he walked to the window and opened the curtains. The red siding of the house next door was all he could see. Bright blue sky was visible if he crouched low enough, his face level with the top of the bed. He thought of escaping and grasped the sliding panel, tugging it but nothing happened. They wouldn’t be that stupid, Michael, his mind chided him. “Yeah, I know,” he said aloud. The nail head holding the window closed was just visible in the bottom rail of the frame. He wondered about asking them to open the window so he could get some air. A cold breeze assaulted his shins from under the bed as if someone had heard his thoughts and turned up the air conditioning. A grim smile crossed his face as he returned to the desk. Well, that proved there was a hidden camera in the room, but how long would they wait before they came for the phone?
The pen scribbled and danced across more pages for another hour until Walker strolled noiselessly through the bedroom door. Michael had written another half-page of code before he realized he wasn’t alone. Still holding the pen, he turned in the chair.
“I see you’ve been busy.” Walker smiled, but there was no warmth in his face.
“Yeah, I’m doing all right, but this would’ve been easier to just print from the lab computer.”
“That may be true, but my employers aren’t willing to take that risk. There’s another pad there for you, and also more pens if you need them. Lunch will be ready in…” He stretched his left arm to look at his watch. “Half an hour. Do you mind if I take what you’ve written so far? I want to start entering the code into my computer?”
The idea that Walker had a computer jolted Michael. He hadn’t thought about anyone in this country having the technology. A second thought hit him even harder. If there’s a computer nearby, my machine could communicate with his.
“You have a computer?” he asked cautiously.
“Yes, there’s one at the embassy. It isn’t up to your standards, I’m sure, but it does the job for us.”
“Why didn’t you say so sooner? I could’ve saved my fingers permanent damage from writing this out. All I need to do is call the lab and connect...oh wait, does your computer have a modem?”
“Mr. Eldridge, I can’t give you access to that computer. Foreigners aren’t allowed in the embassy for starters, and they definitely wouldn’t be granted access to secure equipment.” He’d become stiff and frowned as he spoke.
“But within minutes we’d have access to this program, and you’d have the entire code in your hands, full and complete. Take the chance, Mr. Walker. The risk will save me and my friend Sam a great deal of pain.” Michael’s heart was beating faster as he watched his captor consider the idea.
“I’ll see what I can do, but in the meantime, keep working.” He turned suddenly and left the room. Michael smiled. He’d need to call Randal first to let him know what was happening. He’d get a chance then to send a plea for help. Walker would be listening for anything unusual, but their safety depended on him being creative enough to send Randal a message.
“Lunch is ready,” Habbib bellowed from the kitchen. Michael dropped the pen, shuffled the pages he was working on into a neat pile and started toward the door. He stopped and glanced around the room to memorize where everything was situated. Eric was likely to be in again.
“I’d rather you didn’t take the finished pages just yet.” Michael entered the kitchen and told Walker. The late-afternoon sun was slanting sharply through the window over the sink. Sandwiches were stacked on a tray on the counter alongside bottles of soda and empty mugs for either coffee or tea. The meal seemed out of place for the time of day, but his stomach grumbled anyway. He placed three kinds of sandwiches on a plate and grabbed a bottle of soda before taking a seat at the table. “I’ll need to review everything to be certain the program is complete, but more importantly, if I get stuck I need the pages to find the problem.” Watching Walker’s reaction, he took a bite of a sandwich. The type of meat was a mystery but tasted fantastic to Michael.
“I understand,” Walker replied while taking food from the tray. “I’ve given some thought to you using the embassy computer, and I think there might be a way to allow you access. I’m not familiar with the technology, but as long as you give me your word that you won’t try anything foolish, I’ll get you inside.” He seemed suspicious. Michael chewed faster to keep from smiling.
“I’ll need to call the lab to confirm my identity before asking for the program, but otherwise, your computer will be communicating with mine.” The soda was cold and helped wash down the heavy bread. Sam’s mouth twitched on one side as if he was trying to smile. The man was no idiot and understood completely what Michael was planning.
Walker went into the living room and made a phone call. He seemed happier when he returned.
“We can go to the embassy at five o’clock this afternoon. The ambassador has a function then, and the rest of his staff will be gone. Is two hours enough time for you?”
“Plenty,” Michael nearly choked on a sandwich. “Five o’clock here will be what time back in the States?”
“Eight in the morning,” Sam answered.
Michael glanced at his watch. It’s three o’clock now, how am I going to let Randal know I’m being held hostage? Walker will be listening; Randal is so smart he’s stupid sometimes. I have to keep things simple but not obvious. He gulped the rest of his sandwich and took more from the tray. “These are really tasty, Jamil; what are they made of?”
“The meat on dark bread is goat, the ones you’re taking now are jellied camel brain, and the others are seasoned duck liver.”
Michael could feel his stomach roll. He glanced at Sam and Walker and saw the same reaction in them. Habbib chuckled.
“Westerners are easily fooled. One is chicken with mayo as you say, another is lamb with mint sauce while the third is minced ham with seasoning.” He chuckled again. Sam and Walker made faces as Michael gulped down more soda.
“That was cruel, Habbib,” Walker complained. “These sandwiches tasted pretty good until you had us all gagging. I’ll never look at your food again without thinking it might be some disgusting Arab delicacy.” He swallowed again.
“By the way, how are you able to eat ham? I thought Arabs couldn’t eat pork.”
“I am sorry, but that was just too easy, and you should have seen the expressions on your faces. Priceless.” He giggled and slid the plate of sandwiches toward Walker. “I’m not Muslim, Mr. Walker. I belong to what is called the Coptic Church. I’m Christian.”
“I’ve had enough, and I’ll agree with Walker.” Sam groaned. “A beer would go a long way to washing these down.” His grin was hopeful.
Habbib stood quickly and opened the fridge. Both of his hands reached inside and pulled out two brown bottles each. He closed the door with his left knee and set them in the middle of the table.
“I’ll wrap up the rest of these for tomorrow, then,” he took the plate of sandwiches off the table and set them on the counter.
Michael and Sam glanced at each other. Walker was watching Habbib. Michael mouthed his plan at Sam while keeping an eye on the British spy. Sam nodded as he opened a bottle of beer.
Two hours remaining to come up with some way to alert Randal. What would he say? He’d be suspicious of Michael calling from the other side of the world, possibly. But, after all, he was his boss, and Randal would do what he was told. Somehow, he needed to persuade his Chief Technician to send a false but convincing code. He needed time to think.
“The joke wasn’t that bad, Mr. Eldridge.”
Michael looked up and realized he’d been frowning. Forcing a smile, he replied, “No, but nothing seems as funny when you’re being held hostage.” He glared at Walker and took a swig of beer. The Englishman grinned sadly.
“True, I suppose, but we must continue to be human even in a harrowing situation such as this. As I told you when we brought you here, give us what we desire, and there will be no harm done to either of you.”
“That’s what I’m going to do this afternoon, but let me tell you something, Mr. Walker.” Michael banged the bottle on the table hard enough to shoot beer foam out the top. “If my friend is harmed, I’ll put the full weight of my company and all of my contacts around the world toward finding you and your friends. There’ll be no place to hide, no excuse will protect you, and no country will give you sanctuary. One more thing. If I don’t arrive home alive, my best friend will become the head of my company. There is a letter he’ll receive suggesting that if I die under suspicious circumstances, he’s to do all that I just said. You and your people need to consider how much grief you’re willing to put up with for my code. Do you feel safe, Walker? The people you work for have probably taken every precaution to protect their identities, which leaves you and Habbib hanging in the wind. You considered that possibility, didn’t you?”
“No need to be so angry. I’ve considered the possibilities and the people we work for. Like you, I’ve planned some contingencies in the event either Habbib or I am arrested. Trust me, we will not hang alone.” There was a snake-like coldness in his eyes as he spoke. “Your code is the only thing they want. You don’t need the program anymore, and NASA doesn’t care as long as everything works for them. Give these criminals what they want, Mr. Eldridge, and we can all go away happy.” There was sadness in his eyes as he leaned forward.
“How can I be happy knowing people are using my program to commit crimes? What if they go back in time to rob a bank and kill your parents?” Michael paused a second. “I guess they’d be stupid to do that, wouldn’t they, especially if your parents died before you were born. None of this would happen then.” He waved a hand around the kitchen. “Criminals aren’t the brightest bulbs in the world, are they? Something like that could happen, accidentally or in the heat of the moment, but the possibility exists. Who knows, maybe that’s their plan? They’ll go back in time to kill off one of their enemies, or a cop, or perhaps the President. Nobody understands what would happen if history were altered. Mr. Walker, do you and Habbib like the idea of someone else playing with your life?”
Walker looked sideways at Habbib standing by the sink. The detective’s shocked expression said he hadn’t thought their situation through. Walker was red-faced and grim as he turned back to Michael.
“They’re paying us ten million dollars to make this happen. We’ll just have to trust them to make sound decisions, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life in as much luxury and leisure as I can with my share.”
Michael couldn’t stand to be in the same room any longer and stormed down the hall to his bedroom, slamming the door. He had to think and time was getting shorter the longer he stayed to argue with Walker.
Chapter 14
Two hours later, Habbib knocked softly on the bedroom door. Michael was ready. The detective gazed at the floor, guilt written on his face. He backed up and allowed Michael to enter the hall.
Walker was fidgeting by the front door, and as soon as he saw Michael, he seemed guilty and nervous before going outside. The two men rode in silence as Walker steered through the throngs on the street to the British Embassy—thirty minutes of sheer terror. A man in a bright red uniform and shiny black cap opened the door as the car pulled to a stop at the bottom of the stairs in front of the building. He saluted Walker and then returned to his position on the bottom step. The name Beefeater came into Michael’s mind.
Michael followed the spy inside the ornate building. Cool air surrounded them as they strode through the massive oak and glass doors. Brass, or maybe gold, gleamed everywhere—fixtures, railings, doorknobs, and even on the ceiling lights. Michael wasn’t impressed. The Empire had a long history of plundering the countries they conquered. He was grateful for the air conditioning, though.
Walker turned sharply after the unattended reception desk without stopping to register and went through a door marked Private leading down a hallway. One side was glass looking out on a central quad of grass and benches. People were out there taking in the sunshine, eating, or just sitting together, smoking and talking. Michael thought about trying to attract their attention and plead his situation but decided the risk wouldn’t be worth the bloodshed.
“This way, Mr. Eldridge,” Walker called softly. He was leaning out of a doorway fifteen feet further down the hall. The Englishman glanced both ways down the passage before closing the door after Michael.
The room was paneled in rich, dark wood, probably mahogany Michael guessed, glancing around. A large two-panel window looked out on a street—definitely not the avenue in front because there weren’t any trees out there. He heard Walker clattering with something and turned.
The desk was a massive lump of oak set to one side of the room. The spy was furiously typing something, probably a password into the computer. His fingers stopped, and he stared at the monitor.
“There, you have access now. Make your call, but hurry up and don’t try anything funny, Mr. Eldridge.” He stood and stepped to the side allowing Michael to sit. A revolver appeared in Walker’s hand sometime between being seated and standing.
Michael picked up the heavy black receiver and hesitated. He knew what he was going to say to Randal, but the gun was making him nervous.
“Is there a number I need to dial to get an outside line?”
“No, now hurry up,” Walker pointed the gun, his hand trembling.
Michael dialed the long distance area code and then the number to the lab. He listened to the telephone on the other end ring three times before someone picked up.
“Randal Chesterwick here, can I help you?” the soft voice seemed cautious.
“Randal, this is Michael. I’m calling from Monaco, and I need your help.” He could see the gun out of the corner of his eye, and the barrel didn’t move. So far, so good, he thought and began to breathe easier.
“How is your trip going so far? What do you need?” the scientist’s voice became the usual gravely sound once more.
“The trip is fine, but as you know, I’m here doing research. I can remember the program for the Mars probe, but I don’t have time, so if you could just send me the file. I’m at the British consulate with access to a co
mputer.” He held his breath hoping Randal wouldn’t start to ask questions.
“Ok. Do you want me to fax you or just send as a data stream?”
“I’m going to use the modem here, so just prepare version fifty-five for electronic transfer. I’ll connect in about five minutes.” Version fifty-five was the best failure they had and started the whole process toward time shifting. There was silence on the line except for Randal breathing into his receiver. Michael heard him punching the keyboard.
“Ready on this end, but wouldn’t you rather have–” his comment was cut short.
“I’m going to connect now, and thank you, Randal. You’re the best computer programmer ever, and I appreciate all you’ve done.” Michael hung up before Randal could say any more. Without waiting another second, he dialed the numbers again changing the last one, then hearing the ringing and the modem signal. Placing the receiver in the modem cradle, he turned toward Walker.
“How long will this take?” The gun in his hand shook more than before.
“Depends,” Michael made a pouty face and shrugged. “If the line on this end and the computer are relatively speedy, then we’ll receive the program in about twenty minutes. One piece is a bit slow, and the process could take up to an hour—that’s if the signal isn’t broken in the meantime.”
The office temperature was comfortable, but beads of sweat had broken out across the spy’s forehead and upper lip, and he appeared pale and seemed frightened.
A bell sounded on the computer, making Walker flinch. Michael turned toward the monitor to find a message asking if he’d like to save the information. He punched the keyboard to say yes and then typed in a name for the file. The message disappeared, and he could faintly hear the modem beeping as the information was received.
“So far this is working, but we’ll have to wait.”
“You did well, Mr. Eldridge, but just remember until my employers have checked the program, you and your friend are not safe.” The gun disappeared inside Walker’s jacket. Michael noticed signs of dampness on the shirt underneath.
An Altered Course Page 15
