Fortune

by Craig W. Turner

  They’d been discussing Major Jonathan Garvey – the #3 option in Dexter’s secret journal – for some time. Right around the time they were intending to arrive in Colonial America, 1770, Garvey, a rising star in the British Colonial Army in Philadelphia, had received a shipment of precious stones directly from King George III, to be distributed to his officers in the Royal Army. The total amount and value were unknown because the following week Garvey’s home was burned to the ground. The incident was blamed on untended embers from the fireplace, but more than likely it was retaliation by Colonials unhappy with Garvey’s infamous order to his soldiers to stop and question any man, woman or child they felt like questioning. Efforts to find the stones had been made for over two centuries, with the biggest stash being found in 1968 when the grounds were excavated to build the housing that currently stood there.

  “Uniform or no uniform, how do you propose to get in?”

  “You and I will be bringing the Major an urgent message, and making sure that we get into the house while he reads it. The story about the stones passed down from one of the house’s servants was that Garvey was proud of his gift from the King and intended to show them off before disseminating them. Most likely they’ll be in the main living area, but we know that Garvey’s office was upstairs. We’ll make sure the message is one that sends him to his office. At that point, we’ll take the stones and meet Emeka and Abby in the rear of the house.”

  “What if there are other people in the house and you can’t just walk out with the stones?” Emeka asked. Jeff shook his head. Emeka was right – this plan was infinitely riskier than the previous ones.

  “Well, you’ll be right outside the door, fifteen steps away,” he said, smiling. “The goal will be to get in there and get the gemstones before anyone suspects anything. As far as they know, we’ll just be two normal Brits delivering a message. Happens all the time.”

  “You mentioned servants. What if they’re around?” Abby asked.

  “Colonials serving the British I’m sure would be easily appeased by a handful of gemstones. Garvey was not a well-liked man. All the accounts that we have suggest that the servants would’ve killed him themselves if it didn’t mean their own lives in exchange.”

  “And we’re assuming they never had any chance? Dexter, I don’t want to get in there and have any trouble,” Jeff said.

  The historian was shaking his head again. “I don’t anticipate any. I think we can count on Garvey to be predictable, and he’s not going to want people around. If anything happens, Emeka can take care of it. You can, right?”

  Emeka shrugged and let out a sigh. “Well, that depends on what ‘it’ is. If it’s stopping something from getting messy, yes. If it’s clearing out a house full of people, it’s probably not the best idea.”

  “If that’s what happens, then we call it recon and we regroup with even better information. Look, Jeff, I’m the most cautious out of all of us. And if I think this will work, it’ll work. I have more details, of course, that I’ll go over with you, but that’s the gist.”

  Jeff leaned forward in his chair and looked side-to-side at the rest of his team. “Are you good?” he asked, to which they both nodded. “Alright. Plan A – things go the way Dexter just described. Plan B – Emeka lays waste to the place. Plan C – we pull back and rethink it. Let’s be very lenient in deciding Plan C is the right one.”

  They nodded in unison then Dexter said, “I think we’re good. We can probably do this as soon as next week.”

  “I want to do it tomorrow,” Jeff said.

  “Why, Jeff?” Now there was frustration in his voice.

  “I want to do this job before we give the Smithsonian an answer on the Wilton gold.”

  “What about the Wilton gold?” Abby asked. They hadn’t said anything to her yet.

  “Oh, the Smithsonian offered us five million for it.”

  “Well, you’re not going to take it, are you?” she asked.

  Jeff held up his hand. “We’re thinking about it.” He noticed her look to Emeka, who shrugged as if saying, what could he do? “It’ll be important for us to know how we do at Garvey’s house in making that decision. We can hold off the guy from the Smithsonian for another day...”

  “I need two,” Dexter said. “I can’t push it any faster than that. There are details that need to be shored up.”

  They shared a stand-off stare for a moment, before Jeff relented. “Okay. Two days. But if we’re taking an extra day, I want one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Can you get Emeka a gun from the period? A musket or something? I’d feel better if he didn’t have to make up those fifteen steps if something went wrong.”

  “Probably smart,” Emeka said in agreement.

  “It might be easier just to get one there,” Dexter said. “Let me think about it.”

  “Alright,” Jeff said. “Two days. We meet at my house at 10 a.m. and we’ll drive down to Philadelphia together. Emeka, you should call the guy from the Smithsonian and tell him we need until the weekend. Dexter, can you e-mail us the full plan ASAP so we can see where we might have questions? If we need to get together tomorrow, we will, but we’ll have a couple of hours in the car the next day to strategize. Meanwhile, everyone try your costumes on to make sure they fit reasonably well.”

  Everyone got up and collected their things. Abby and Emeka left, leaving Jeff and Dexter alone. Jeff held up the uniform again. “I can’t believe I’m putting this thing on. Couldn’t we just keep going back to the ‘30s?”

  “After this, you can go wherever you want. I’m done.”

  “Oh, c’mon. Stop it.”

  “I’ve lost track of what’s driving you, Jeff. And that worries me. Consider this a last hurrah.”

  “I know, I’m pushing it,” he said. “I promise – after this one, we’ll stop and regroup and do some analysis. The Smithsonian, the girl, Erica, the gold... It’s got me all crazy.”

  “Oh good. Let’s dive into this with you ‘all crazy.’ Last one, Jeff.”

  Dexter didn’t let him answer before leaving.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jeff turned down his street and silently swore when he saw there were no spots near the house. He hated parking down the street, even when the weather was nice. It wasn’t that he minded the walk, but he found some simple comfort in being able to see his car out his own front window. He reminded himself, though, that while he had the wherewithal to move to the suburbs like Dexter, the urban life still appealed to him, even with drawbacks like this.

  He saw an opening about ten houses from his and wracked his brain to remember if there was a fire hydrant there. He didn’t think so, so he sped toward it. As he passed his house, though, he caught a glimpse of someone sitting on his front steps – but not enough of a glimpse to see who it was. Now driven by curiosity, he gunned the car toward the opening only to realize that it was, in fact, inhabited by a hydrant. He started to let loose a string of vulgarities – it was the little things in life that set him off – but a car two spots ahead pulled out and made its way down the street. He commandeered the spot.

  Hopping out of the car, he started back toward his house. His visitor, noticing him, stood and started to move in his direction, and he saw it was Dr. Danforth. He was pretty certain that she’d said she was going back to California the day before, and laughed to himself now thinking that she’d maybe just said she was leaving to rid herself of the Smithsonian guy because she wanted some alone time with Jeffrey. The other guy was way too old for her, anyway.

  “Dr. Jacobs,” she said as they met halfway between his car and house.

  He held his finger in the air, as if thinking. “Didn’t you go back to San Francisco yesterday?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I did, but I turned around and came right back.”

  He looked her over, foregoing his delusion of romantic grandeur from the moment before. “Doesn’t that sound a little crazy?”

  “Yes, it does. I
s this a good time to talk?”

  “About what?” They’d stopped on the sidewalk, facing each other.

  “About Robert Miles.”

  Jeff smiled tightly, and then without saying anything pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed Dexter’s number and waited a few rings.

  “What now?” his friend asked.

  “I need you to come over to my house, ASAP.”

  “You know, just because you’re spending the day relaxing doesn’t mean...”

  “Trust me.” He hung up. “We’ll need about ten minutes,” he told Erica. “Can I invite you inside? Get you something to drink? Did you eat?”

  “I’ve been sitting out here for a while. I could use something to drink.”

  Jeff held out his hand and ushered her back down the sidewalk toward his house. She walked about three paces in front of him and with a slight breeze blowing toward them he could smell that, despite her haste to see him, she’d taken the time to put on some scent that was fairly pleasant. They walked up the stairs. Jeff opened the door and they went inside.

  “What do you like?” Jeff asked, throwing his keys on the table near the end of the couch. “I have wine, beer, water, I think I have some juice, and I know I have one or two bottles of Yoo-Hoo in there.”

  “Given the conversation we’re about to have and your reaction so far,” she said, “I think I could use a glass of wine.”

  He smiled again. “Well then I have the perfect one – I was saving it.”

  Jeff disappeared through the dining room that he never dined in and into the kitchen. It was a workmanlike kitchen, with a short counter complete with all of the tools a scientist bachelor needed – microwave and toaster oven – and a small table where he ritualistically ate his morning cereal. He accessed a little-used cupboard, where he kept about ten bottles of wine for special occasions. Most of the wines in his collection made it to the special collection because they cost more than $100 – that was the only prerequisite. One, however, was a birthday gift from Dexter a couple of years back. It was this special bottle he pulled down from the shelf. After all, it wasn’t every day that you got to sit down for a candid conversation with a person you created.

  He pulled two wine glasses from off a rack hanging underneath the cupboard and a corkscrew from the drawer, and went back into the living room. Erica was standing in front of his workstation taking in the vastness of his technology, which was similar to that of his lab, but without the enormous standing server. Four linked computers danced with coordinated screensavers that he liked to believe kept his office/living room vibrant.

  “Is this what a scientist’s home looks like? You sit at these computers and do all your work?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” he said, placing the glasses on the table. “The equipment I need for my work is much too expensive, and for that matter, enormous, to use at home. These are just my toys.”

  “There’s a lot of machinery here.”

  “I like my toys,” he said, smiling, and then handed her the bottle. “Let me tell you about this wine. It was a gift from a friend of mine – the one I just called, in fact. This wine is one of about 100 bottles left from a winery in the Loire – I hope I’m pronouncing that correctly – region of France that was ransacked and burned to the ground by the Germans in World War II. I thought, as a historian, you’d appreciate it.”

  She handed it back to him and he pulled the corkscrew from his pocket. As he started to open it, she lunged forward. “What are you doing? I don’t want you to-” He pulled the cork from the bottle. “Why did you do that? I thought you were just showing me.”

  “No. Today’s the right day.”

  He poured a little in a glass and handed it to her. She looked at him as if he were crazy, then sighed deeply and took a sip. After a moment, she said almost reluctantly, “It’s lovely.”

  Jeff poured more into her glass and some into his own. She took her coat off and they sat on the couch kitty-corner to each other. This was certainly not a time for small talk, but he didn’t want to start getting into the meat of the conversation without Dexter here. Though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself given that (1) he was about to tell a woman she wouldn’t exist if he hadn’t created time travel; (2) he’d just, without thinking, opened a priceless 75-year-old bottle of wine; and (3) he hadn’t been alone with a woman in his house since about the time that bottle of wine was vinted. He understood he wasn’t thinking quite straight for a variety of reasons.

  “We’re likely going to take the deal from the Smithsonian,” he said, breaking the silence. He was sure that would make her happy. Maybe ease some of the tension.

  “Oh, that’s such a relief,” she said. “I would hate to see something so important to American history end up in the wrong hands. The way the media handles things these days, the meaning of it would be completely lost. Thank you for being responsible.”

  “Emeka and I talked about it, and we’re ninety-nine percent sure it’s the right thing to do. We’re going to sleep on it, then call your friend, Mr. Pierce, tomorrow.” If plans changed, he figured he’d cross that bridge later.

  “Well that’s fantastic.” She leaned forward and set her glass on the coffee table. Jeff took a sip from his own.

  “I’m sure you’ll want some of the gold for your museum, yes?”

  “Well, we hope. I think we have a deal already worked out with the Smithsonian – I’m pretty sure we’ll make it happen.”

  “Can’t Emeka and I take care of that before we make the sale?”

  She smiled and nodded. It was a cute look. He interpreted it as her trying not to let him see exactly what she was thinking, when she was probably jubilant about the gold. “I suppose you could.”

  “Tell you what we’ll do – we’ll make sure in any deal we make with the Smithsonian that there will be consideration for your museum, as well. It’s the San Francisco Gold Rush Museum, right?”

  “California Gold Rush Museum,” she said, correcting him. Of course, he knew exactly what it was, which made him wonder why he was still playing dumb when he was about to unveil everything anyway.

  Still, he kept it up. “Better write that down, just to make sure,” he said, standing and fetching a pen from his desk. He scribbled the name on a piece of paper on his desk, then returned to the couch. It killed thirty seconds while they waited.

  “Well, again, I appreciate that,” she said. “I mean, the Museum does.”

  Jeff had to imagine this trip was going well for her so far – the historical wine, the good news about the gold, and now this boon for the museum. Not bad, Dr. Jacobs, he thought. Too bad it was about to come crashing down.

  The front door opened violently and they heard heavy footsteps in the entryway.

  “Dammit, Jeff.” They could hear Dexter’s voice although he couldn’t see him yet. “This better be good. I was in the middle of broiling a steak, which is now half-cooked, and still I come running over here like a dimwit every time you call, and of course there’s nowhere to park on your entire street...” He came around the wall into the living room, still in the midst of his tirade, and stopped short.

  “Dexter, I’d like you to meet Dr. Erica Danforth,” Jeff said.

  “Oh,” was all that came out of his friend’s mouth.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  While she’d never seen him in person, Erica was well-familiar with Dexter Murphy. She’d read a great deal of his work on the Civil War, sat through three or four of his podcasts, and knew that he housed himself at Columbia. So when Jeff introduced them, there was already a familiarity for her, though there was certainly no calmness in the way he was acting. He was visibly nervous that she was there, confirming for her that she was on to something, whatever it might be. She couldn’t help her mind from attempting to interpret the possibilities, but short of some dirty conspiracy her thoughts were cluttered.

  Upon entering, Dexter noticed the open bottle of wine on the table and “invited” Jeff with a nod
of his head into the kitchen to show him “where the wine glasses were hiding.” Erica heard loud whispering for about thirty seconds, then they both came back into the living room and sat down. Dexter had no wine glass in his hand.

  “Erica, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, settling into the easy chair facing Jeff’s couches. “I’ve read a lot of your work on the Gold Rush. Great stuff.”

  “Well, it’s a passion of mine,” she said. “I’m guessing by your reaction in seeing me that Jeff shared with you that I have ancestral history there.”

  “He did, yes.”

  “And I’ve followed your work, as well. Particularly on the Civil War.”

  “Like you, I have a passion for it. Can I ask what brings you to my friend’s front steps?” He was trying to be coy, but it wasn’t coming across well.

  “I was hoping to talk with you about your friend Emeka. He seems to be getting around. I assume he is your friend? I didn’t realize you two had a connection until now, after all.” Yes, the whole time travel notion was ridiculous and, yes, she was probably about to embarrass herself, but since they were acting funny, and since Jeff had reacted to her mention of Robert Miles, she figured she’d dive right in; let them come up with the reasonable explanation and maybe she’d be more likely to get the truth.

  Dexter looked over at Jeff. “What did you guys talk about?”

  “Wine,” Jeff said, smiling at him. Erica wondered why he was so smug.

  “Let me change my question,” Dexter said, leaning forward toward her. “What do you think is going on?”

  Erica paused, wondering if time travel was really the thing she’d traveled so far to talk about. She knew it would sound even crazier when she said it out loud. “Well, I don’t know, really, and that’s why I’m here. The only idea I have... and I know it’s going to sound ludicrous…” She paused, giving herself another moment to consider backing out, then finished, “But I think you guys have found some way to travel through time.”