He looked at her. “Yes, I am. Would you all join us tomorrow at three o’clock for Thanksgiving dinner?”
Linda looked at Fritz and shrugged. “It would be lovely, Fritz. And we don’t really have time to do it ourselves anymore.” When he agreed, she said, “We’d love to, thank you so much.” She looked at the faces around her, some confused, Ashley’s smiling. “Then we’ll be at the school at five to three. Tony, do you mind?”
“Part of the job, Linda.”
On the way home, George saw the shattered window. Lois elbowed him and put a finger to her lips.
DESSERT THE PREVIOUS evening had been set up in the Blue Room. The view of the South Lawn and Washington Monument had thrilled the Millers and Russells. They talked all Thanksgiving morning about what they had seen, and they listened as Linda and Fritz recounted the events surrounding the portal. Tim Miller continued to deny the still-too-incredible truth his senses constantly poked at him. When the doorbell rang, Mel stood at the door and two Suburbans waited at the curb.
“The president sent us. He wants to be sure you’re safe.”
The Millers and Russells, Fritz and Linda followed Mel. Ashley, Jane, Tony, and the McAllisters were in the other car. “This is so weird,” Tim said.
THE PRESIDENT welcomed his guests, but as they left the Oval Office, he pulled Fritz aside. “I have one more stop to make.” Linda joined them. “Linda, one more visit, and I think this is over.” She nodded, but the president still thought to say, “Fritz only needs to open the door.”
Mel, James, Fritz, and the president walked back into the school. “Is he there?” asked the president. James told him he was. The president handed Fritz the picture of an office building. “The circled window is where we’re headed. Here’s the floor plan. This has been hard to get. It’s a holiday.” Trying to joke, his eyes flashed his underlying anger. “Fritz, this man is the source of the attacks on you, responsible for the deaths of Tom, Ken Shack, and Steve Sullivan. He devised both the attack on me and the suicide bombing. And maybe Geneva. We also think the Eledorian attack. If you’d like, you can join us and meet him. But don’t tell Linda. At least not yet. I was tempted to bring Jim Shaw, but he’s had enough excitement, I think. I’m worried about him. Let’s make sure he has someone professional to talk to.”
“I want to come with you, Mr. President. This man almost killed James. And me. And Linda’s parents.” Fritz set the paperclip.
“Tony, are you ready?” asked the president.
“Yes, sir.”
“Mel, give Fritz the gun.” His jaw muscles rippling, he said, “I had a feeling you might want to come.”
Mel said, “It’s loaded. Here’s the safety.” Fritz tried to get the feel, recalling his afternoon with Jim Shaw.
The buzz tickled Fritz’s fingers. He grabbed the door and pulled. James rushed through the portal, Fritz and the president close behind.
“YOU.” THE MAN sat at his desk, startled by the unexpected intrusion. And by the identities of his visitors. “So the portal is still working. Too bad. It was supposed to be gone. But then, so were you.”
“You left too many fingerprints. And you did what you’ve always done. You overestimated yourself and underestimated me. ‘Bad guys never seem to be what they are.’ Remember? You have some answering to do. Geneva, killing Tom, and the policeman. The attack on me.”
“You can’t tie me to any of that.”
“Once again, you’re wrong.”
“Good work, Mr. Williams,” said the man. “So you found him, too. Now you have political enemies accusing each other. He said, she said. You arrogant prig. I’ve made sure that the important people in the world know about our disagreements and the truth about my so-called retirement. Finger-pointing has never led to a conviction.”
“I have a parade of mercenaries, all facing death sentences, who aren’t as closemouthed as you expected. Now . . . you have two choices.” A dangerous glare streamed at the man. “And I have one. James.” From an inside jacket pocket, James removed two envelopes and handed them to the man.
“Read . . . and choose,” said the president. With a quick swipe, the man grabbed the envelopes. He removed the first letter, opened it, and slid on a pair of reading glasses.
“This is comical. A confession? You expect me to sign this?” The president shrugged his indifference. The man opened the second. He laughed. But without humor. “You can’t be serious.”
“It came to me when I watched The Godfather Part II. The scene where Tom Hagan tells Frankie Pentangeli about the Romans.” His tone changed. “Now, you have your choices.” The president hadn’t shown Fritz this side of himself, but Fritz had seen the movie. “I’ll give you some time to decide. How does thirty seconds sound?” The president pushed up his left sleeve and glanced down.
Fritz watched the man, the cornered rat, eyes shifting, looking for escape. The hair on his neck tingled, a sense of the man’s evil coming at him. The man laughed again, a sound of panic.
“Time’s up.”
Sudden movement. The man ducked, reached out, and started to stand. Fritz’s thumb moved and pushed the president with his left hand, as his right one rose. A quick memory ran to his consciousness—point and squeeze. Fritz didn’t hear the explosion. As his hearing returned, the president’s voice rose above the buzz in his ears.
“James, take Fritz’s gun, wipe it, and leave the suicide note. No. Leave the other one. Give it to me. I’ll sign his name. The arrogant bastard never bothered to do more than quick initials.” Placing a hand on Fritz’s arm, he said, “Thanks, Fritz. Are you okay?”
“Funny. I didn’t even think about it. I didn’t even hear it. But I can see it now.”
“What I said about Jim? This might hit you later. Talk to someone if you need to.”
“Nice shot,” said James, putting the gun in the man’s hand and letting it drop to the floor. “Mr. President, there’s a holster right here under the desk.”
“Take his gun, James. I’m glad Mel insisted on carrying only untraceable firearms. Let’s go have some turkey, shall we?”
“THE DAMN FOOL shot himself,” said the arrogant, younger man. “The other one disappeared, but he doesn’t know about us. We’re going to need to find someone else.” His guest, sitting across from him, attired in a Savile Row blue pinstripe, frowned. “We’ll be fine. Many stand to benefit. They can be persuaded. We will need to be more judicious in choosing. Less visibility, less ego. I admit my mistakes.”
A NEWS REPORT ON Black Friday said a conspiracy had been uncovered. Former National Security Advisor James Koppler had been found dead in his office, and a letter found on his desk confessed to a list of activities, including the attempted assassination, designed to bring down the president. Among his accomplices was the deputy to the Director of Naval Intelligence. All day, the talking heads discussed the possibility that a coup d’état had been averted. The internet raged nonstop, with some disappointed that Koppler had not succeeded. The FBI noticed.
Linda and Fritz at last had an opportunity to visit with their parents, separately and together. The McAllisters stopped in to see how Linda was holding up and stayed while Jane and Ashley roasted the defrosted turkey. With all the chatter, Ashley hooted and said, “Leftovers. Turkey sandwiches. Yum.”
BEFORE BREAKFAST on Saturday, Linda told Fritz they needed to head to the hospital. He called Dr. Rosenblatt, then Ashley. Fritz took Linda, her mother, and father. Ashley and Jane brought his parents. The waiting room filled when George and Lois walked in. Ashley had called. By mid-afternoon, a beaming Fritz joined them. “It’s a boy.”
“You already knew that,” said Ashley, hugging his friend.
The baby, wrapped in a pink and blue striped blanket, was resting on Linda’s chest when a knock on the door preceded James and Lucy Williams and the president and First Lady. Jane had called them. The Russells shook hands, feeling as normal as if their neighbor stopped to visit. Tim Miller rose to be polite, still shaking hi
s head.
“Congratulations, Grandpa,” the president greeted Linda’s father. Tim finally smiled back at the man he had not voted for.
“Linda, just a little something for the baby,” said the First Lady. “But open it at home.”
The group, larger than the hospital allowed, had become noisier than the hospital preferred. A nurse entered to thin the crowd. When she saw the president, she mumbled, “Oh. Sorry for disturbing you” and ran out the door.
Lucy Williams spoke to Linda and said she was envious. “For as long as we’ve been married, James hasn’t raved about anything I’ve cooked like he does about your lasagna.” When James tried to object, Linda told her to come closer. “Next time you make it, call me. I’ll tell you my secret.”
When the baby started to cry, the president asked, “Can I hold him?” Linda passed the baby to his large, waiting hands. “What’s his name?”
“Timothy John, but it’s going to end up TJ, I’m sure.”
Dr. Rosenblatt stuck his head in, saw the crowd, said, “I’ll come back,” and then noticed the president. He shook his head and closed the door. Once again, the room filled with laughter.
Fritz, as pink as the baby and smiling, took Monday off and went with his father to buy a car. He came home with a Ford hybrid SUV, a white one. When he pulled in to the driveway, Jane waved from the front porch.
“The president wants to talk to you.” His father patted his shoulder, eyebrows raised, and went into the house. Jane handed him her phone but waited by the door.
“Hello, Mr. President,” Fritz said, not sure if he should be concerned. “What can I do for you?”
“Fritz, at this point, the question is reversed. I know how busy you’ve been, but we haven’t talked about what happened on Thanksgiving. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just bought a car. I’d had a little accident.” The president chuckled. “This one is family friendly. The house has been full, three of the four parents are doting, taking turns holding the baby. My dad and I have had a chance to talk. I haven’t had much time to think about anything. That’s probably good. I haven’t spoken to Linda or anyone else about it.”
“Jane knows. I told her.” Fritz stepped under the cover of the overhang as rain began to fall. “You know you saved my life again.”
“Maybe it’ll hit me. It was like I watched someone else. But for now, I’m fine. Thank you, sir.”
Fritz handed the phone to Jane, still wondering why the president had called. Jane stared at him.
“What?”
“I’ve been watching you for four days. You haven’t said anything about Thanksgiving or the accident or the news. That’s not normal. So I told him.”
“It’s been a little busy around here, Jane. I haven’t really had much time to think, and I have to go back to work tomorrow. I have a new baby, the tournament, a play, classes.” He glanced at the rain bouncing on the sidewalk. “I’m compartmentalizing.”
“If you need to talk, I’ll be around.”
“Thanks, Jane. I’m fine.” In his new car, he went to bring Linda and his son home. TJ. I like that.
Ashley and Jane stayed for dinner. Fritz and the grandparents had a conversation in the family room.
“What I don’t understand,” his father said, “is how you are able to be so accurate when you go, wherever you go. How does it work?’
“It took a couple of months to put the pieces together. There’s some kind of connection between my door and my desk. I’ve worked with Robert E. Lee to figure out what the paperclips actually do.”
“You worked with Lee?” Tim asked, shaking his head.
“Yeah, he’s quite a guy. He’s really curious about us. We’ve met a few times. Anyway, I proposed experimenting, and he agreed. We found out that the paperclips are pointers. Location and time, past and present. We ran some trials—I, or Ash and I, would go to visit him after moving the pointers. When the portal opens, it seems the past connects with the present. We can move pretty freely to other locations in the present, like a hole or a tunnel. The past takes a little time to match up. We haven’t figured out if we can control the time of day, but I think the paperclip might have something to do with it. I’ve been trying to read up on space anomalies, like wormholes. I think I need to take a class in quantum physics. Even explanations about the fictional physics of time travel are a foreign language.”
“Where else have you been?” his father asked.
“We saw the Triangle Fire in New York. I was in the crowd at the end of the Gettysburg Address. We met Shakespeare.”
“What about all the business with the president?”
“Tim, this is a national security issue. All I can tell you is that the portal has been useful to make the world safer.”
Jane said, “You have all sworn that you’ll keep the portal secret, sworn to the president himself.”
“Of course,” each of them said.
“We used the portal to rescue the Eledorian ambassador and his family last spring,” Jane said. “We used it to destroy Naria’s nuclear program when they weaponized it. We rescued Israeli settlers and defeated an Eledorian army attack. Fritz and Ashley saved the president in Geneva from the attack there. Not bad for a teacher in less than a school year.”
“Tim, I know we don’t agree on a lot,” Fritz said, “and that you weren’t too keen on your daughter marrying a teacher, but . . .” Before Fritz could finish, Linda came into the family room with the baby. Fritz gave her his chair. She smiled at her father.
“Interesting story, isn’t it, Daddy? Jane didn’t tell you that Fritz went to Geneva, right into the middle of the terrorists and shot one of them to save the president. Then Ash and Fritz saved an agent, shot more terrorists, and rescued more than forty diplomats and staff. You met James. He brought the diplomats out and then took them back to a safe spot in Geneva so he could lead them out of the building when the journalists and cameras were watching. All through the door to the classroom. You’ve seen the news all weekend. That man wanted to hurt us to get to the president. He had seen the portal work. Now he’s dead.”
Fritz looked at her with wide eyes. “I haven’t told you. How do you know?”
“James likes my lasagna. We traded. You didn’t say anything, but I’ve been watching you. You’ve been quiet. Usually you tell me.”
“I didn’t want to scare you. The baby, the company.”
“I love you, Fritz. I’ll never be happy about this, but I, for one,” she said looking at her father, “am proud of you. You’ve done what you did for the president and the country, not thinking about just yourself. You too, Ash.”
“This is all unbelievable,” said Tim.
LEARNING HE could delay his paternity leave until they had less help around the house, Fritz returned to classes and tournament planning. Hoping that he could reach the holidays with no further interruptions, Fritz pushed his students to cover as much as possible. He increased the amount of homework, and with it the amount of grading he had to do. The students responded with attentiveness and interest, and posed questions Fritz had never been asked. His energy increased, and he challenged his classes to learn new material, really learn, and to be increasingly analytic. Discussions were heated and lively.
ASHLEY AND JANE were in and out, Lois and George visited on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Fritz and his dad had a chance to talk when they took a walk on Saturday afternoon.
“Fritz, I know it’s been busy, and we haven’t had much chance, but I have some things I want to tell you.”
“Dad, everything is fine. When things settle down, we’ll just be on cruise control. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried. I’m proud of you. I went back and read the news stories about the things you did. Nothing made sense, nothing fit. But with the portal, it all works. I like the president, and I’m glad you have a real relationship with him. You’ve also given me a thrill I never dreamed I’d have—Thanksgiving at the White House.” He stopped, took
his son’s arm, and hugged him.
“Dad, I can’t tell you everything, I don’t think. But I can tell you that your grandson’s college education is paid for. The president is grateful to have had some help.”
“I should hope so,” said John. “But I wanted to ask you, what’s Robert E. Lee like?”
“LIN, I KNOW you won’t like it, but . . . ”
“You want to go see General Lee. I’ve been expecting you to say that.”
He muttered, “Uh-huh.”
“I have an idea. If you can, bring him to our time. We can invite him for dinner and ask the president, too. That would be interesting.”
“That would be fantastic!” A little boy feeling came rushing in.
With two weeks until Christmas break, Fritz started to work out how to make it happen. Except for occasional crying, very occasional, and Lois’s daily visit, the house had quieted. When the weather continued to be uncooperative, he called the president.
“Hi, Fritz. What’s on your mind?”
“Mr. President, I’d like to invite you and the First Lady to have dinner with Robert E. Lee.”
“Wow! That would be so cool.” Fritz heard another little boy on the other end.
“The weather’s not cooperating. I need the portal to invite him.”
The president chuckled. “So you want Tony. When?”
“How about two weeks from today?”
“That would be the twenty-third. Too close to Christmas. How about next week, the sixteenth? And maybe you and everyone could come for the Christmas party here. You could bring TJ. I have a babysitter in mind.”
“I’ll talk to Linda. Can we include Tony? Make it less of a chore for him to help yet again?”
“I’ll tell him,” the president said. Fritz could hear him smile.
THE NEXT DAY, Tony peeked through the window in Fritz’s door at the end of eighth period. Fritz waved him in. “Class, you remember Mr. Almeida. He’s here for a meeting and just stopped to say hi.” Tony waved.
Shadow Storm (Quantum Touch Book 3) Page 19
