The Harbinger of Change

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  “So what you are saying,” Matt said sardonically, “is I have no choice.”

  “I’m saying that you better just get on board with the fact that, like it or not, you’re in this waist-deep. And no matter what you do, there will be serious repercussions. We’re the best bet you have, and the word from my employer is that if you sincerely help me escape, then he will give you his word to set you right again.”

  “Lady, when the President of the United States has the whole country looking for you, there will never be right again.”

  “Then do it for Jan, because there’s no reason to let her suffer for your predicament, and trust me Matt, the people that have us both ensnared are more powerful than you can ever imagine.”

  He sat back thinking of her words, “The people that have us ensnared.” That means she wants him to believe she’s an unwilling participant in this too. Maybe he can use that to his advantage.

  “Okay, tell me the plan and your real name.”

  5— Revelations

  Pablo was staring in a trance-like state at his phone, waiting to hear the worst. He couldn’t stop his mind from rolling down memory lane though, to a time where his life was almost normal for a while.

  At least in his last school there had been other gifted children, so he was never teased. The kids there were on a different path than those where he grew up in Otavalo. This school was a place of enlightenment, and the teachers were so dedicated, so caring. If he had one wish, it would be that he had his life back again, forget the millions, and forget the destiny to fulfill. He knew that he didn’t have much of a life back then, but it was a simple and happy one.

  His favorite teacher, Jeremy Lebuff, had been getting him to realize why they were doing things outside the normal lines with him. He had been gradually becoming aware of the Industrial Military Machine that was running the world. He then knew why they protected him so.

  As his adult mind realized now, he would have been in great peril had he been exposed; but back then he had thought it overkill to hide all his incredible achievements. He hadn’t wanted to blend in; he’d wanted to lead. How naive of me. He was just a kid then, and children shouldn’t have to know the machinations of evil men.

  Pablo looked at his phone and willed it to ring. He should have just been left alone back then, to be allowed to become whatever it was he was supposed to have become. But it was too late for that now. Wasn’t it? His enemies would soon have other opportunities to interfere or not with his life, and this time there would be serious repercussions for not leaving him alone. Back then he was just a kid.

  He reflected back upon his life again, back to when he’d had that brief moment of wonderment at all the world’s secrets, when anything was still possible. He thought back to his second year at L’École des Roches International School, thinking back to the day he was most fond of. He remembered sitting back and taking a break after his part in the play was finished for the time being. He had watched his acting class working on their parts in Le Mis for the upcoming school play. He remembered he had been taking a moment to reflect on what he had accomplished in the past year. He was often able to do that; he could reflect back on any time and remember what he was thinking at that moment. Just like no matter what song he heard, he could recall the last place he heard that song, and the time before, and the time before that. The thought strings never stopped, and there was no apparent ceiling.

  The school had been established in 1899, and Pablo had rewritten all the record books during his first six months there. He had already completed their pre-college agenda, which was a four-year agenda of History, Geography, Physics, and Chemistry. He had passed the Baccalaureate Option Internationale at the end of his first year, at the age of fifteen.

  He had also become fluent in French, Russian, German, Italian, and English by the end of that first year. Although he was fluent enough to get A’s throughout his testing, he imagined there were tons of slang words that he had no clue about, especially in English.

  The teachers and the administrators hadn’t had charts for him, so they decided not to create any. Instead, he would lead the way. They hadn’t made fanfare for him, either. They had just allowed him to be whatever he wanted to be. It was said by his teachers that he appeared to have nearly one hundred percent retention of information. It was almost unheard of, but he had done it, right in front of their faces.

  But of all the places he excelled, they had been just fodder to him compared to his true love, just something to do when he wasn’t focused on the computer lab.

  His lab teacher Mr. Lebuff had been ill prepared for what the upcoming months held for him. He had thought he was just getting another advanced student to wow him for a year, only to move on to another mentor. Little did Jeremy know, his life would never again be the same, for he had met “the student of a lifetime . . .”

  He admitted he was not inspired when they met, but that soon changed, as no one who ever met Pablo and spent time with him was ever the same. That, in and of itself, had to be some kind of sign that Pablo was anointed, as he had an impact on people wherever he went, whether they knew it or not.

  By the second week Pablo was at the school, the teachers had held a meeting where they had all agreed that his talents had to be kept under wraps. All of his tests results, and all his schoolwork needed to be kept private, because if big industry or government ever got wind of him, he would never have a chance to even grow up properly. He’d become a “lab rat” for sure.

  The incident Jeremy Lebuff witnessed that had prompted the meeting was when Pablo wrote a chess program the first week he was shown the concept of programming. The program had been of the highest caliber, and Lebuff had actually launched it as a free website.

  Pablo was able to recreate all these memories but Jeremy’s life was not the only one that was never the same after their meeting. Jeremy was one of the few people who understood his need for assimilation, and even though there had been times Lebuff was sure the information he was providing was not necessary, he provided it to feed the compulsion of the boy who knew everything.

  Jeremy had not only been a teacher. He had become Pablo’s first friend and mentor. Jeremy had soon learned how much Pablo excelled at chess, just as he did at all subjects. He had watched Pablo decimate a visiting school, a school that had several high-level players on its chess team. In fact, the same school had decimated them the year before. The fact was, Pablo had never lost a game, and that was something else he had accomplished that no one before him had ever done.

  Sitting in his office in the now, his eyes misted a little thinking of Jeremy. He wished he could reach out to him now, but he would never risk hurting the only family he had left.

  In the nearly two years he had been at L’École des Roches, he had begun to understand the world outside of Otavalo. He had developed a great grasp of what he wanted to do with his life, and he was probably the happiest person who had ever walked the planet.

  His memory returned to his favorite day again. The rehearsal had finished and he had thought he would head to the computer lab to wait for Jeremy. This was his free period and Jeremy had a classroom period with no lab. That meant that Pablo could play chess online. If he were lucky, his mentor would have the class reading and would be able to come next door to hang out for a while.

  * * *

  On that same day, U.S. weapons scientist James Haberman had sat and stared at his computer screen. He had been “patiently” waiting for his cell phone to ring. He’d taken a walk, cleaned the chateau twice, made breakfast and lunch, and was now playing chess online while he “patiently” waited. On the plus side, he had found a new site that he loved. It even had speed chess. It was quite well done and free to boot. He was undefeated and quickly moving up the ranks.

  He had been currently playing “La Oveja,” who oddly seemed to be running the Perenyi attack, considered a Grandmaster level type of attack. Hmm, I’ve seen this before; this person is running a program. Hah, he’s i
n for a rude awakening. James had moved when the phone rang, both on the chess game and literally, in person, as the ringer startled him out of being deeply buried in thought.

  It had been his doctor Jean Lamont, and he could tell it wasn’t good news. “James, the stem cells didn’t work. Worse, it’s metastasized.”

  “I see,” was all James could muster. He didn’t need the prognosis, as he knew it was “dead man walking.”

  Well that was it now, wasn’t it? Time to go back and take care of some business before he checked out. Both his parents were still alive, and that wouldn’t be easy. Even at eighty, most people expected to die before their kids. It wouldn’t be easy telling Bill the truth either, that he had pancreatic cancer instead of the breakdown he had convinced everyone he was having.

  Well, maybe he could finish his satellite project before he passed. He might have one more lasting legacy if he could finish it. He had been nearly done with the project, and it all came down to a question of the battery, which he had accidentally solved before he left. All this bad shit was not going to be fun.

  He had looked down at the screen. The Sheep, huh? Well, after La Oveja’s last move, he was sure of two things. The first was, “The Sheep” was a cheater, and the second was, he was going to lose his first game of chess in a very long time. Shit, this is not my day.

  * * *

  Whoever the cheater had been on the other side, he and his computer had not been expecting Pablo’s variation on a tried and true master’s attack. True to his instincts, the program had bought it hook, line, and sinker. Then he had slammed his enhancement on the attack, and it was just a matter of time. The poor sucker just didn’t know it . . . yet.

  His message light had lit up. Apparently, his opponent, “Dr. Sparks” wasn’t happy with the last play. It appeared he had seen the program’s error, too. No, he was actually accusing ME of running a program.

  Even though he was the world’s next great mind, he was also a teenager, so Pablo had replied, “HA HA,” in caps for emphasis. “Sorry I beat your program. There goes your perfect record—too bad, so sad,” and he had added a frowny face. It was sophomoric, but, oh so fun.

  Pablo had endured the next few minutes, which were filled with a written diatribe about people like him, how they were ruining the Internet, and how they were only hurting themselves. When the guy was done, Pablo had asked him if he felt better, and his answer was, “No.”

  Pablo had told him, “If it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t a program that beat you, it was me.”

  Sparks had doubted that and had said, “If we were playing face to face, you wouldn’t be so cocky, as your lie would soon be exposed.”

  Pablo had laughed out loud and put an, “lol” on the screen. Then he had replied, “You do just that, my name is Pablo Manuel, and I’m a student at L’École des Roches in Normandy, France.” Just then, Lebuff had come in, so he had closed the chess program, leaving the disgruntled loser to his sour grapes.

  * * *

  At that same time, in a compound in Peru, Felix’s eyes had opened a second time, and this time, his mouth hadn’t been dry: it had actually tasted good. That’s nice. He had cleared his throat and croaked, “¿Quién anda allí?”

  “I am, my brother,” was the reply that had come from nearby. He had turned and seen a middle-aged man in a khaki outfit sitting in a nearby chair. The man wore round glasses and possessed a dignified but intense look about him. He wore no facial hair, on his head was a fedora that looked like it was covering up a bald head.

  “Who are you?” Felix had croaked, still very weak.

  “I’m the man who holds your life in his hands right now. I’m also the cousin of one of the men you gunned down.”

  Felix had gulped hard and said, “What do you want with me?”

  “That, my friend, is a good question. The answer will set your future path, so choose your words wisely when I ask how many men were with you that day?”

  * * *

  Jan stared at the man before her with trepidation. His demeanor seemed to be kind and understanding, but the eyes said something else entirely. She was brought to a different part of the expansive house, quite literally, as they moved her in a special wheelchair to where she was to remain for the questioning, where a doctor stood on hand. The room had two chairs, a table, and a lot of glass walls.

  Uh oh, she thought, just like on the cop shows. Apparently her face exposed her emotion. “Don’t be alarmed Mrs. Hurst. This room has all the latest electronic devices, but it’s hardly a torture chamber. The devices here help us determine if you are being truthful or not, that’s all. So now I’m going to ask you some questions and we’re going to see where we’re at, okay, Jan?”

  Jan nodded, but she didn’t believe a word he said. This is where they waterboard people, I’m sure of it.

  The questioning was constant, the pressure intense, and Jan never seemed to have the right answer to make this asshole stop. She was beginning to feel disoriented. She started to believe that she would say anything to get out of there. Then she realized that he kept repeating the last question because she didn’t respond. What was he saying?

  “Jan, are you focused? I asked you a simple question: did you know Matt was having an affair?” He leaned in and put his face right into hers.

  Did he just say Matt was having an affair? It was all too much, the mixture of the lights, the pressure, this guy’s horrible cologne, and now this information that Matt was cheating on her? It all became too much, and before she could warn him, or do anything, the vomit was launching. She’d heard of projectile vomiting before, but until now, she didn’t believe that barf could shoot that far.

  Poor Agent whatever-the-fuck-his-name was was going to have to buy a new suit and take a bath in something other than barf. Apparently, she needed to start chewing better, because there were some sizable chunks of something in there.

  The interrogation was over for now, and they had the medic check her out and take her back to her room. Agent Barf made sure he gave her the “I’ll get you look” before she left, with a slight inward smile on her face.

  * * *

  As at his previous school, Pablo had been so far ahead of the curriculum that he really wasn’t in his history class. He had really been working on his Master’s thesis, as he had a special binder that housed his real work. Lebuff had convinced the school that even the students must not know the true Pablo yet, so he was rarely called upon in class. They had wanted him to have time to mature, time to prepare him, especially for the onslaught of attention and offers the world was going to make him.

  The teachers really hadn’t had anything left to teach him at their level, but they could mold him. They could make sure that his character was able to maintain in the world he would surely be thrown into, sooner rather than later.

  Late in the day, the school intercom had buzzed and the voice had said Pablo was needed in the computer lab. That had gotten his curiosity up. He had wondered if old Lebuff had encountered a problem he needed help with.

  Pablo had walked into the lab, where Lebuff had been talking to a white guy. The stranger had looked to be around sixty, but maybe a bit younger. There had been something about his looks that seemed labored though, making him look older. Maybe he was a heavy smoker. He had been around six feet tall, brown hair parted to the side, medium build. He had been wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and loafers. He had looked like he had been a lady killer in his younger days, with typical California beach looks, beautiful hazel eyes and perfect teeth when he smiled. But, like Pablo had thought before, something had been wrong with him. He had looked labored.

  Lebuff had introduced the guest. “Pablo, this is James Haberman. He’s an American.”

  Pablo had shaken the man’s hand, which seemed to lack strength. “Hello,” was his reply in perfect English. Lebuff looked as if he had a secret, with a ridiculous, hidden grin on his face, so Pablo naturally asked, “What’s up?”

  “James here was your
chess opponent the other day. His screen name is ‘Dr. Sparks.’”

  Pablo’s face had immediately changed to the same internal grin that Lebuff had.

  “Apparently you beat him and he came here to admonish you,” Lebuff had continued, “not only for your cheating, but to let me know that the character of one of my students is less than honorable. How do you think that makes me feel?”

  “I see,” Pablo had said.

  James spoke up, “I know this seems like a triviality Pablo, I mean, what’s the harm in running a program and having some fun, right? Well, that’s what I came to tell you Son, that ‘it is’ a big problem, because when you do something like that, you not only affect others, you are selling yourself short.” James looked at the boy in earnest, “You can become that computer if you try. Before that loss, I hadn’t lost a game of chess since I was ten. So you understand now why I’m here. I want you to see that a person can do it. You don’t need to cheat.”

  Pablo and Lebuff had to play poker here, otherwise this guy was going to think they were mocking him, as he was very impassioned and that would have been a huge insult.

  “Well, Sir, I can see you feel very strongly about this, and I want to apologize for upsetting you so. I will get rid of the program, and I’m very sorry to have ruined your streak. Do you think we can play one game before you leave? Just to start me on the right path, so I can see how far I have to go to be great like you?”

  James smiled from ear to ear, “You bet, Son, we sure can do that.” He then rubbed Pablo’s head in a way that was seemingly a sign of affection in the U.S.

  * * *

  Matt engulfed his head in his hands trying to wrap his mind around this unbelievable situation.

  “So that’s it? This whole thing is about retrieving someone’s property out of a safe?”

  “Yes,” Vera answered, “in the simplest explanation, yes. That’s exactly what this is about. Of course the sensitive nature of the information is what everyone is so concerned about. They think Al Qaeda or the Chinese are behind this. Those implications are scary for your country, I must admit, but this is not that. This is a private party retrieving private property that was not being returned, so don’t think that this is some plot to bring the U.S. down, because that is simply not true.”