The Rewind Files

by Claire Willett

  “But Grove didn’t want her to leave, so she didn’t. He is – was – the head of the department, plus our floor’s senior Field Agent, and Calliope is his right hand. He would fall apart without her, and he knows it. He pays her an exorbitant salary and dotes on her like family – even though he hates absolutely everyone else. It’s a complicated relationship. Not that his fondness for her isn’t genuine, but it’s definitely in his best interest to keep Calliope in a job that by rights she should have left eight years ago.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Growly and short-tempered,” I said. “Brilliant, but grumpy as a troll. Don’t rub him the wrong way. Leo is a Bellows, and a civilian, so he’ll give him a pass. He hates stupid people, and he assumes everyone younger than him fits into that category, so Calliope’s the first tech – and one of the only human beings, frankly – that he’s ever approved of.”

  “If he hates everyone so much, what makes you think he’ll stick his own neck out for your parents?”

  “He may be a grouch,” I said, “but he’s also a government man. He’s loyal. He came up through the Academy with them and he worked side-by-side with my mother for decades. He’s not as wild about me as he is about Calliope, he thinks I’m a pain in his ass – this is not a place for you to comment – ,” I added quickly, holding up my hand to silence the sarcastic retort I could see forming on his lips – “but I was his apprentice. If Leo Bellows shows up out of the blue at Sweethaven to discuss his missing family, Grove’s going to let him in.”

  “You hope.”

  “I hope.”

  Calliope came bounding down the stairs just then, her wrist Comm flashing green.

  “Leo rang in,” she said. “He’s inside. They’re ready.”

  “All right,” I said, as Carter stood up and the three of us moved to the center of the room. I took Carter’s hand and he took Calliope’s, as she slung her giant pack over her back and tapped her Comm.

  “Clear,” she said, and then we were gone.

  We emerged from the Slipstream in a large, sterile-looking white room – alone except for Leo, and a gray-haired man in the flowing white tunic and pants of a Sweethaven patient. A man I thought I’d never see again.

  “This is exactly the kind of irresponsible, idiotic behavior I have come to expect from Regina,” he grumbled, “but I’m surprised at you, Calliope. I would have hoped to find you doing a better job keeping these children out of trouble.”

  She didn’t answer, but jumped down off the platform, and in three long strides she had reached him and flung her arms around him.

  “You goddamned curmudgeon,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I’ve missed you too.”

  * * *

  As Calliope had confidently predicted, and I had cautiously hoped, Grove had immediately come running when he heard that Leo was there. The lengthy delay that had caused me to go crazy waiting for word from Leo had a very simple explanation. Sweethaven patients were not permitted to use the transport facilities without permission, but Grove – who had been stuck inside that building for a year and a half, bored to madness – knew exactly when the security guards in that hallway took their breaks.

  He had hustled Leo away to his living quarters, gotten as much of the story from him as he could while they waited, and then briskly led him to the transport lab at exactly seven minutes after three, walked in, took the scribbled piece of paper Calliope had sent with Leo, entered the coordinates she had written on it, and pulled us through.

  Once we were inside, Calliope carefully talked Grove through the process of erasing our transport coordinates from the system – so he’d be able to do it again later on his own when he jumped us out – and a few short minutes later we found ourselves seated on the floor of his room, drinking tea and telling him the whole story.

  He had followed the Bureau shutdown and the rumors of my parents’ alleged treason, but had been unable to get any more detailed information than what was being reported on the news. He was wild with curiosity about what had really happened, and it turned out that our guess had been correct – since he had never left Sweethaven, he had been left out of the investigation almost entirely.

  “A few questions at the very beginning,” he said, “and that was it. Everyone wanted to know if I knew where Katherine Bellows had gone. Everyone wanted to know how it was that my apprentice was sent on an administrative mission without my signing off on it. But once they checked the sickbay records and realized I was here – and unconscious, to boot – when you were sent to 1972, they eventually left me alone. And while I suppose it’s a relief not to be under FBI surveillance, the fact that everyone I know is being watched means no one can tell me anything.”

  “But you’re all right?” said Calliope anxiously, and he smiled at her – actually smiled, and I realized he must have been as worried about her during their long separation as she was about him.

  “You worry too much,” he said. “I’m fine. I was on bed rest for a few months, and my recovery was slow, but I’m perfectly well now. I’m only still here because I’m still on a regimen of daily infusions to build my tolerance back up so my organs can withstand Slipstream radiation again and get back out into the field.”

  “Grove,” I said uncertainly, “I don’t know if that’s—”

  “I’m too young to retire,” he said firmly. “I’m not done yet. When the Bureau gets reopened, I want to be able to go back to work.”

  “I don’t want you to overexert yourself,” said Calliope.

  “I won’t,” he promised. “Truly. I’m being careful.”

  He looked at me then, stern and appraising.

  “I never thanked you,” he said finally. “In fact, I think I yelled at you. But you were right. I saw the reports afterward. If you hadn’t pulled me out when you did, I would have been caught in the Slipstream when I tried to jump out later and I would have been killed. You did the right thing. I’m very impressed with you,” he said in a gruff voice, as though trying to conceal some emotion, and I beamed.

  “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I said.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” he retorted.

  “I don’t want to be the buzzkill here,” said Carter, finishing his tea and setting down his cup, “but we haven’t really explained to Agent Grove what we need him for.”

  “It’s perfectly obvious,” Grove said. There was just a hint of disdain in his voice, and I hid a smile, shooting Carter a glance that said, I warned you. “The Sweethaven transport lab is the only way to get you back to 1972. And you have to get those police photos.”

  “There’s way more than just the photos,” I said. “I have a whole data drive of my dad’s Gemstone research, and a wall full of other documents besides. If you can get it in front of Congressman Holmes, it might be enough to open a Congressional investigation. That’s our only chance to get the Bureau re-opened.”

  “It’s a sound plan,” he said slowly, thinking it over. “I agree with you that the photos are the clincher. They’re the only hard proof that United Enterprises was involved. Get the originals too, I don’t trust that police detective. He’s already screwed this up once.”

  He looked at Carter suddenly. “Your apartment,” he said. “Did you clear it?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Carter.

  “When you went on the run,” he said. “Did you pack up? Did you follow evac protocols?” Carter looked from him to me helplessly.

  “I . . . no, I just—I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back,” he said. “I was just looking for Reggie.”

  “So your whole apartment is full of Slipstream radiation and Bureau tech?” asked Grove incredulously. “Just sitting there, waiting to be caught? And you were an Embed, so you had a built-in cargo drop too, I’d imagine. Good God, young man, did no one brief you on emergency evacuations?”

  “I didn’t evacuate. I was force-jumped,” he repeated again, but Grove wasn’t listening.

  “He has
to clear out,” Grove said to Calliope. “Torch the apartment if you have to. What about you?” he said to me.

  “I packed up all my tech,” I said.

  “Where are your clothes?” he asked. “Everything you got from Wardrobe. Everything that came through the Slipstream with you.”

  “It’s all still at the apartment,” I said guiltily, “I just grabbed a bag and ran.”

  He heaved a disappointed sigh.

  “We’ll take care of it,” interjected Calliope reassuringly. “We’ll clear the apartments. We can’t torch Reggie’s place at the Watergate – it’s too suspicious with the break-in right next door – but we can sweep it and clean all the stuff out. The trace radiation will fade in a few days if we remove everything that came through the Slipstream.”

  “Okay,” said Carter. “So we’ll split up. I’ll go to my apartment, Reggie will go to hers, then we’ll go see Detective Barlow, grab the photos and come back.”

  “Calliope can stay here and monitor,” I said, nodding. “Leo can go back to the safe house.”

  “I’ll stay here,” said Leo. “In case she needs help.”

  “None of you can stay here,” said Grove. “It’s far too dangerous. The three of you are under investigation, you already know that, and if he” – nodding at Leo – “wasn’t already, he sure as hell will be soon, now that they know Regina slipped into and out of the building right underneath their noses. If any of you are recognized, it’s over.”

  He turned to me as if a sudden thought had struck him. “Regina, you said your mother told you that you were safe in 1972,” he said. “Did she say why?”

  “No,” I said. “She was weirdly vague about it. But insistent.”

  “Well,” he said, “I trust Katherine Bellows. I think all four of you should go. I can drop you in a hiding spot I’ve used before. You’ll work faster if you split up, and it’s safer than trying to conceal any of you here.”

  “If Calliope doesn’t stay to work the console,” said Carter, “then how will we get back?”

  “We’ll set a rendezvous point,” said Grove. “I’ll drop you in on the day after you and Regina left, and I’ll pull you back from the same coordinates at midnight that same night.”

  “How will we contact you to let you know we’re all together and ready to jump?” asked Carter.

  “You won’t,” he said. “That’s the tricky part, unfortunately. There’s no way for you to contact me without them tracing it. The next time the guards go on break, in” – he checked his watch – “forty-two minutes, I can sneak you in, jump you back to 1972, set return coordinates, and jump you back out at midnight. If you’re not all together, I can’t help you. Leo is going to have to leave the building the way he came in, which means I need to pull you back here in less than one hour, my time.”

  “Why?” Leo asked. I answered for him, the truth of our situation slowly dawning on me.

  “Shift change,” I said, and Grove nodded approvingly. “If you leave while the guards that checked you in are still on duty, they’ll just wave you through. If they switch over and it’s a new pair who don’t recognize you, you’ll get scanned again.”

  “So?”

  “So you’ll be covered in Slipstream radiation,” said Calliope, realizing. “They’ll be onto us.”

  “So no matter what,” Grove said, his voice low and serious, “be back at midnight. I can’t help you if you’re not. Leo has to leave this building through the lobby in one hour or we’re done for.”

  * * *

  “Be honest,” said Leo to me as we entered the pristine whiteness of Sweethaven’s transport lab. “What are the odds of this working?”

  “If we can all get back by midnight so he can pull us out in time to shove you out the front door?” I said. “Surprisingly, not that terrible. He only needs about three minutes to drop us in, then turn right around and pull us back and send us back to the safe house.”

  “Three minutes for him, eight hours for us,” said Leo. “God, your job’s weird.”

  “I’m sending you to Ivy City Yard,” Grove said to Calliope from the control console. “Can you navigate them all from there?”

  “I’m on it,” she said.

  “Thank you for this,” I said to him over my shoulder as I stepped onto the transport platform.

  “Don’t thank me until my part of this is done,” he said. “Thank me after Congressman Holmes gets the Bureau reopened. We’re a long way from out of the woods yet.”

  “Typical Grove,” I said. “Always finding something to be grumpy about.”

  He glowered at me from behind the console, but I could almost – almost – imagine that there was a twinkle in his eye as he did it.

  “All right,” he said. “Be back at these exact drop coordinates, at exactly midnight – all four of you – or I can’t help you.”

  “We will,” I promised. “Thank you.”

  “Good hunting,” he said, and saluted us. Leo took my hand, and then we were gone.

  Twenty-One

  Saturn

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” said Leo, looking around nervously as we stepped out of the Slipstream into darkness. I smelled dirt and metal and I could hear the far-off hum of industrial machinery.

  “I know this place,” said Calliope. “This is one of Grove’s favorite spots in the city.”

  “Where are we?” asked Carter.

  “Ivy City,” she said. “It’s a run-down industrial neighborhood in northeast Washington. We’re in a warehouse across the street from the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad’s main repair facility.”

  When our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we saw that she was right. The darkness opened up into a vast, cavernous space with the rusting shells of forgotten old train cars piled in shadowy corners.

  “Follow me,” Calliope said, and led the way to a hulking old boxcar sitting in the corner, its center doors open, and climbed in. “It’s safe,” she assured us before anyone could say what we were all thinking, and we reluctantly stepped in after her. Once we were all in, she closed the door, shutting us into pitch-blackness, until the metal box suddenly flared into brilliant light, and I saw that Calliope had pulled two adhesive lighting strips out of her bag and attached them to the wall.

  “Home sweet home,” she said, and sat down on the metal floor to rummage through her backpack.

  “Couldn’t he have sent us to a nice hotel or something?” said Leo.

  “No,” I said. “This is perfect. Grove uses this place all the time. It’s remote enough that we can leave our stuff here safely without it being found or stolen, and we can transport in and out with almost zero HIO impact. Plus, even if someone on this end is looking for us, it will be almost impossible for them to follow us here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because between this desolate graveyard of scrap metal and the Watergate Hotel,” I said, “is Union Station. And train stations are very, very easy places to lose someone in.”

  “Here’s how it will work,” explained Calliope, pulling four envelopes of cash from her pack, taken from Carstairs’ emergency supply cabinet.

  “Trains come to Ivy City Yard for maintenance all day and night. The schedules have been programmed into your handhelds. When they’re done, they leave here and go back to Union Station.”

  “You’ll get on an empty train here and ride it into the city. Then, when you’re finished and ready to come back, take a cab to the train station – switch cabs at a hotel if you think you’re being followed. Check the schedule, find the next train headed this direction, then use this cash to buy a ticket for whatever the train is on the platform next to it. Then hop inside as soon as the coast is clear.”

  “It’s perfect,” I said.

  “It’s creepy,” said Leo.

  “I’m with Leo,” said Carter. “I don’t like it. There’s only one exit and too many places to hide. If someone is tracking us, we could come back here tonight and find it crawling with U.E. agents.” />
  Calliope dug a flat metal disc out of her backpack triumphantly. She set it on the ground, tapped her Comm a few times, and a small green light on the disc began to blink.

  “You didn’t think I left all Agent Carstairs’ goodies in the safe house, did you?” she said. “This little beauty will block any scanner from picking up signs of our Slipstream radiation.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Leo.

  “They won’t be able to spot that we’re here,” Carter explained. “We’ll be hidden from their equipment.”

  “But they won’t be hidden from ours,” she said, handing each of us a wrist Comm. “Put these on.”

  “What are these?” Leo asked.

  “They’re thirty-year-old wrist Comms from Dad’s storage closet,” I answered, a huge grin dawning on my face, “and U.E. won’t be able to pick up their frequency.”

  “The beauty of planned obsolescence,” said Calliope, without looking up from her bag. “The companies that sell you tech equipment get you to buy new models every ten minutes by making your new stuff incompatible with your old stuff. Which means the only way to outsmart United Enterprises is by using technology they haven’t seen in so long their scans won’t even recognize it. This is how we’re going to communicate with each other.”

  “It’s very . . . clunky,” said Carter dubiously, examining the black plastic-and-metal wrist cuff he was now wearing.

  “Think of it as retro,” said Calliope. “I’m sure someday soon they’ll come back in style. And you only have to endure it for one day; I think you’ll survive.”

  “So what’s the plan?” asked Leo, pulling up a wooden crate and sitting next to Calliope. Carter pulled another one out of a far corner for me, and sat down on the floor beside it.

  “We split up,” I said. “In and out. Fast as we can. I’d rather have us sitting on our asses waiting here for four hours than run the risk of being late and missing the transport at midnight. We’ll get done quicker if we divide and conquer.”