“I need to talk to William Carey and see if the Brits have any info on Lipton and Son, but I can go today.”
“Lipton and Son?” asked the general. “What's up with them?” Both heads turned. “I have a suit from them. Got it when I was at NATO.”
“We found the name in one of Jim Koppler's suits,” the president answered.
“In all of them, Mr. President. We want to know if they remember him, General, and if they might have any info on referrals he made. Or who referred him.”
“That's the only way they make suits, Jane,” said Beech. “You need to be recommended by another client. They don't have walk-in customers. They don't have a store, only a fitting room where they also cut and sew. Their showroom is full of rolls of cloth.”
“Mr. President, I really need to talk to William if I can't just walk in. He'll need to find a reference for me. Or just tell them we want information.”
“You can't just barge in, Jane. They work by appointment only. They all look like Swiss bankers and are just as secretive about their clients. This has to be for queen and country.”
“Who referred you, General?”
“Florian Declercq. He owns a large shipping company. Moves heavy equipment. I met him when I was at NATO. We needed to get the big stuff for building roads and railroads into Eastern Europe.”
Jane was already on the phone. “Fritz, can you do me a favor? Check the lists for the initials, FD.”
“Sure, Jane. Hang on. Want to talk to Ash?” He handed Ashley the phone and went to get the lists. The initials were on both lists.
“Thanks, Fritz. Talk to you later. Mr. President, General, those initials are on the Caballeros lists.”
“Do you suspect him, Jane?” the general asked. “We've been friends for more than a decade. He's a really nice guy.”
“All we have are initials, but he fits a profile.” She stared at him and glanced at the president. “General, could you use a new suit?”
* * *
IN FRITZ'S DESK, a pad contained a list of places he wanted to visit. With storms on the way, the pad was out before he took off his jacket. Under the pad were books, already paperclipped. He stacked them.
“Where can I go and not be in a crowd?” he asked the empty room. “Kitty Hawk. The Wright Brothers. I've already been to Ford's Theater. Maybe I can just go in that back door. If I set the time, Pearl Harbor. In and out. I'd like to talk to Gandhi.” At the bottom of the open drawer, he saw a program an older friend had given him. It was for a Yankees-Red Sox game at Fenway Park. “I wonder if Ash wants to go to a real game?” He placed the program on top of the stack. Then he took off his coat and put his desk key in his pocket.
Thunder began at noon, but no buzz on the doorknob made him growl. Midway through the last period, lightning brightened the sky and his afternoon. He discussed Plessy v. Ferguson and Brown v. Board of Education with his ninth graders. He told them that in his opinion, the most important reason to vote for president was judicial appointments.
After the classroom emptied, he put the key in the lock and placed the Ford Theater book on the left side of his desk. In the hallway, a buzz tingled his fingers. He gently opened the door and walked onto a landing in an alley. A man holding a horse's reins stood outside a door, which Fritz opened as gunshots rang out. He moved to the wings of the stage as a man leapt from a box seat, collapsed on the stage shouting, “Sic semper tyrannis,” and ran toward him. As tempting as it was to stop him, Fritz stepped back as John Wilkes Booth limped by. Fritz followed him out.
Taking two steps forward, Fritz stepped back into the hallway and saw Ashley ambling toward him.
“You okay?” Ash asked. “You look weird.”
“Portal's open. I was just at Ford's Theater.”
“Are you out of your mind? The kids are still here.”
“I know, but I had to see. Wanna come?”
“Where?”
“Kitty Hawk. We won't be long. The first flight was only twelve seconds.”
Ashley shook his head. “You know, you are nuts. You've already met Wilbur. What if he remembers you? Then what? But I'll come just to keep you out of trouble.”
Fritz switched books and returned to the hall. Stepping through once again, his feet hit flat sand surrounded by dunes. Waves crashed behind them, sending salty spray into the air. He and Ashley climbed to the top of a dune and looked around in time to see a small biplane climb off the ground with a man lying prone in the middle.
“Duck,” Ashley said.
“Nah, he'll be past in a second.” Two small propellers puttered by.
“I thought you said he was up only seconds.”
“They did four flights that day. This must be the last one. He's been up almost a minute.” A gust blew sand in their faces.
“I thought Kitty Hawk was a town.”
“It's about four miles from here. We're at Kill Devil Hills.”
When they returned to the hallway, Ashley brushed his head and then his shoulders. A scattering of fine sand collected around his feet. In the classroom, he took off his shoes and tapped beach into the trash can.
“That was cool,” said Fritz. Lifting the program, he said, “Wanna go to a ball game?”
“Where?”
“Fenway.”
“Sure, why not. Who's playing?
“Yankees and Red Sox.”
“Perfect.”
They stepped through the portal. The crowd cheered as Ted Williams kicked some dirt around the batter's box. Fritz and Ashley stood in an aisle in the upper deck along the third base line. The Yankees pitcher turned to look at the outfield.
“Is that Whitey Ford?”
“Yup.” On the fifth pitch, the crack echoed through the evening, and the ball shot to right-center field for a long single. The centerfielder throwing the ball back in was Mickey Mantle.
“Let's go, Ash.”
Back again on familiar ground, Fritz smiled. He had grown up loving the Yankees. Ashley was a lifelong Red Sox fan. But Mantle, Ford, and Williams were legends before either of them was born.
Ashley said, “You know, if we didn't have so much bad stuff happening, this could be fun.”
“I know. How about one more?”
“Sure.”
Fritz set another book on the desk. He grabbed the door and stepped onto flat concrete. Sunny warmth surrounded them, but an explosion to the right jerked their heads. The high pitch of an approaching plane turned their attention from curious to terrified. Muzzle flashes surrounded them, and concrete dust rose high. They were in the direct path of hits that were yet to come. Ashley grabbed Fritz's shirt and dove through the outline behind them. They heard pings on the door as it shut.
“I thought we were going to see Babe Ruth or something. Are you crazy?”
“Pretty scary, huh? That was Pearl Harbor. Sorry, Ash. The paperclip must have been in the wrong spot.”
“Wrong spot?” Ashley yelled.
“Sssh. What if someone walks by the door?
“Wrong everything. What was that explosion?”
“I think it was the Arizona. I meant for us to be overlooking the harbor.” He looked at the book. “See, this is where I marked.” He turned the page. The clip sat directly on the runway on Ford Island with Battleship Row to their right. He showed the book to Ashley.
“Paperclip caught two pages.”
“Your head's screwed on backwards. And your shirt's ripped.”
“So are your pants.”
Fritz started to smile until he looked closer at his friend's leg. “Ash, are you okay? That's not a rip. It looks like a bullet hole.”
Ashley reached down and patted his leg, then stuck his fingers through the hole and rubbed his leg. “You're an idiot. It missed, but not by much. Wait till I tell Linda.”
“Now that's low-down. I didn't do that on purpose. C'mon, Ash, she's already starting to worry again.”
“She ought to.”
Chapter 35
“
LIN, YOU'RE NOT going to believe this. I have to prepare more class sessions.” She looked up from her computer. “I've outrun myself this year.”
“I can't talk about it now, Fritz. I have to get this book finished. I told them it would be my last until after school ends. Go do what you need to. Who knows what's going to happen next?”
She turned back to the laptop and waved him away.
At his desk, he set up new pads for each class. His World History classes had never gotten deeply into the post-World War II world. American History had never done more than skim once they got to the 1980s and the Reagan era. Work in America, his labor history class, was almost at the end of his usual plan, so he could talk about the demise of organized labor and teach some more advanced labor economics. Already so far ahead, finals had been prepared for a couple of weeks. He thought he might have to add questions to the exams.
* * *
HE STOPPED at Ashley's classroom first thing Thursday. Ashley was already at his desk and wearing his worry ruts.
“Hi. What's wrong?”
“Final game, the play, finals.”
“And Jane's not here. So what's really the matter.”
“I spoke to her a few minutes ago. She'll call later, but it sounds like she and the general are in a viper pit. The tailor set off her alarm. The general felt it too. When she asked about the history of the company, they all clammed up.”
“That's weird. People usually love to talk about their businesses.”
“I know. And they're having dinner with that friend of the general. The one Jane thinks may be a Caballero.”
“It fits the call I got from the president. They may need the portal to get into the tailor shop. You can guess how happy that made Linda. Anyway, let's get through today. Good luck. To your team. And your opponent.”
All day, classes vibrated, hallways buzzed, and teachers and students were in overdrive. Fritz congratulated each class for making him have to prepare more material to get to the end of the term.
“Mr. R,” asked Johnny Clayton after second period, “can we talk? I got into all my schools. I have two football scholarships and some serious financial aid offers.”
“Can't do it today, Johnny. How about tomorrow after school? Where do you think you want to go?”
“I couldn't believe it, Mr. R, but I got into Harvard and Princeton, Penn State, Rutgers, Nebraska, and the University of Virginia. It's a hard decision.”
“Let me think about it, and we'll talk tomorrow afternoon. Congratulations. That's a very impressive indication of your intelligence and your athletic skill.”
“Thanks, Mr. R.”
At the start of the last period, his ninth graders told him they were going to be busy, so he shouldn't teach anything. Susan had designated greeting committees for all the celebrities. By the middle of the period, traffic had begun to back up on the street. Groups of people trooped toward the school from all directions. Half his class had already disappeared, and the rest were just looking out the window. When a limo turned into the driveway, the stragglers went to watch.
“That's Ryan Howard,” said Don, pointing at the first to emerge.
“Boy, he's big,” said Judy.
“And that's Vince Velasquez. He won't be pitching for a few days, except here. And that must be Cameron Rupp. Cool.” Ted, Ron, and Emma hustled out to greet them.
The next out was an older man. “That must be Mr. Montgomery,” said Fred.
The ball players stood by the limo while Ted and Mr. Montgomery talked. Fritz watched joyful faces and the ballplayers' concentration when Ted handed them each the list of questions. Ted pointed to the classroom window, blinds now raised. The Phillies waved.
Another limousine parked behind. First out was Natalie Johnston, who saw the faces and also waved. Behind her, James Sapphire, another man, and a woman, both in suits, climbed out. Susan, Samantha, and Todd LeMaster greeted them, and they were introduced to the other limo group by Ted. Fritz smiled at the remarkable confidence that the students had developed.
The bell rang, and in a flash, Fritz was alone. He lowered the blinds, cleared his desk, and daydreamed about summer. His reverie dissolved when Ashley tore in.
“Are you okay?” Fritz asked.
“Jane just called to wish me good luck. But she said she guessed right. I'll tell you later. Let's go.”
When he entered the auditorium, an ovation greeted him. He looked around for George. The noise soared as he reached the stage. After his third attempt to quiet the crowd, the cheering subsided. Susan said she didn't know where Mr. McAllister was and wondered if they should begin. He paused a moment and decided to go ahead.
“Thank you all for coming to the championship game.” He had to wait for the first volley of cheers to die down. “We'd like to welcome all our special guests.” From the corner of his eye, he saw George step from the other side of the stage, carrying a box and followed by a man he recognized from the news. “I'd like to introduce our principal, George McAllister.”
Fritz started to leave the stage, but Susan pulled him back. George took the microphone and said, “Mr. Russell, I have a special presentation. But first, I would like to introduce the United States Secretary of Education.” A tsunami of sound flooded the room.
The secretary shook Fritz's hand and stepped to the lectern. “Thank you all for the invitation. On behalf of the president, I would like to commend you for one of the most innovative events we have seen. He sends his greetings to you all.” Once again, the roar sent the principal's hands to his ears.
George then thanked everyone and introduced the other special guests. Before he finished, he said, “Mr. Russell, this is for you.” Handing him the package, he said, “Open it.” Fritz tore through the gift wrapping. In the box, a new tee-shirt featured his picture across the front. He held it up. On the back, “Our Champion” jumped off in gleaming gold letters. Signatures of the faculty covered every bit of available fabric. From the audience, Al Kennedy shouted, “Put it on, Fritz.”
Fritz returned to the microphone. Looking first at his ninth-graders and then toward the crowd, he put the shirt over the one he had on and said, “Thanks, but the real champions are my ninth graders, who have done a remarkable job to get us to today's game. So let's get started.”
George announced that three pitchers would be on the mound for two innings each. “But first, our national anthem.” After calling out “play ball,” George introduced the two teams. Andy Slate smiled and waved. Ashley was pale, flexing his fingers and rubbing his hands together. Bill Nesbitt, the umpire, walked to the microphone and said, “Batter up.” For the final round, George had allowed stage lighting and spotlights. The coaches had flipped a coin to determine which would be the home team. Slate's Economists were up first. Each pitcher had been given a fresh list of questions, edited to eliminate those already used. Liz Chambers had changed the difficulty level when she made the list.
The first batter asked for a single, and the first pitch was “The Star Spangled Banner was written during the War of 1812. What was the original title?”
Jack took a deep breath and said, “I don't know.”
Dr. Nesbitt shook his head and said, “In Defence of Fort McHenry. One out.”
Ashley's Aristocrats followed their routine of asking for singles, but the questions were harder than they were expecting. The score after the first inning was tied at zero. Ashley stood in the shadows of the stage curtain, pacing two steps up and two back. The second inning ended with the same score. As he left the pitcher's chair, Ryan Howard waved to the cheering audience and then high-fived both teams. Cameron Rupp took the mound.
In their next at-bat, Slate's Economists scored three runs. Matt again rallied his team. So far, they had only one hit. But he had stacked the line-up, figuring that the last at-bat might make a difference. A ninth grader was up first. She singled. Rachel was next. Her question was “What was the largest construction project of the twentieth century?”
Rachel went to first base when she said, “the Panama Canal.”
Matt was next. He asked for a single. “During World War II, which meeting of the Allied leaders defined post-war Europe?”
Matt, usually confident, began to wiggle. He twisted from side to side, shrugged his shoulders, and put his hand to his chin. “Yalta.”
Dr. Nesbitt said, “Correct. Take first base.” Johnny Clayton strode to the batter's box and looked at Matt, who drew a circle in the air. Johnny asked for a home run. “Franklin D. Roosevelt served in office using a wheelchair. What famous organization did he found?”
A large grin lit Johnny's face. Everyone could tell he knew. “The American Red Cross.”
Dr. Nesbitt said, “No. March of Dimes. You're out.” Johnny stood looking, his mouth open, his face blank. Gasps came from his team. Johnny shook his head and walked to the end of the line.
The next batter, Steve Christopher had planned to start the routine again. Instead, he asked for a home run. “Winston Churchill coined the term, 'Iron Curtain'. He was replaced as prime minister by whom?”
Steve shook his head. “No idea,” he said.
“Labor won the general election, and Clement Atlee became the new prime minister,” said Dr. Nesbitt. “Two outs.”
With the bases loaded, the next batter asked for a single. He was asked which president established the Environmental Protection Agency and said, “Theodore Roosevelt.” Dr. Nesbitt said, “You're out. It was Richard Nixon.”
Ashley's team was rattled. Starting the fourth inning, with the score, 3-0, the “ohs” and “ahs” were almost as loud as the ones at the ball park.
The Economists scored twice and led 5-0. Ashley's Aristocrats scored twice. At the end of four, the score sat at 5-2.
The new pitcher entered the stage as Cameron Rupp followed Ryan Howard's example and high-fived both teams when he left. Vince Velasquez shook hands with George and Dr. Nesbitt and took the pitcher's chair. He glanced at the questions list when the next batter was called. “The Fugitive Slave Act was upheld by what Supreme Court decision?”
Storm Unleashed (Quantum Touch Book 4) Page 22
