Quantum Touch (Book 1): Storm Portal

by Michael R. Stern

“Now that you're here.”

  We walked into the kitchen as Lois was sitting down. “I'm concerned that George is misreading all this. He's so worried about the kids telling people, and he doesn't know what to say. I really am sorry to bother you; I know you're trying to figure this out too. But he can make it so much worse if he says the wrong things. And he's scared the president will do something awful.” Lois said it all in a single breath.

  I agreed but said the story was plausible and that George only needed to introduce me. “I'll take care of the rest. If I can convince the teachers, George doesn't have to worry. And I think I know how to avoid another trip.”

  “How?”

  “A different classroom. Since my door opens the portal, a different room should keep it from happening again. I'll talk to George about that later.”

  Lois sighed, “Well, he'll be glad about that.”

  “Lois, tell George that the president's a good guy and he doesn't want to make more out of this than we do,” said Linda.

  Lois replied, “I hope you're right.”

  “So do we,” said Linda, looking at me. Again, I silently agreed.

  * * *

  TOM KNOCKED AND WALKED into the Oval Office. Koppler had returned, and the First Lady was still there. She had been telling the president that the most important thing was to let Mr. Russell know what had happened, disagreeing with the national security advisor. “He's smart, and he'll try to figure it out. He wants to keep his students safe. He wants them to learn history, not witness it.”

  Waiting for a lull, Tom finally said, “We've got some conversation, Mr. President.”

  “Let's hear it.”

  The four of them listened as the Russells and Gilbert discussed the desk, paperclips, and the pile of books.

  “They think it's the desk, too,” said the president.

  “And they're not sure you're the good guy,” said the First Lady. “Call him. He needs to know he can trust you. If you need to do some tests on him, maybe you can invite them here, for dinner or something.”

  “I AM the good guy,” said the president. “I want this over with, ASAP.”

  “Mr. President,” said Mr. Koppler, “I can work with Tom and make sure it is.” The president ignored him.

  Tom said, “Sir, at the end of the recording, it seems that Mr. Russell has misplaced his phone. Possibly in the desk.”

  “Where the energy surges were, so maybe the desk has nothing to do with this,” said the president, completing Tom's thought.

  “I'm going back upstairs,” said the First Lady. “Call him,” she admonished as she left.

  “I don't think the guy is dangerous, at least not on purpose.” His comment was aimed at his national security advisor. “Ask Secretary Stevens to come in, will you?”

  When she entered, the president asked her to think about what might trigger the portal. He added that they should think about how to short circuit Mr. Russell. “Now go home and get some sleep. Tom, you and James should get some shut-eye too.” He went to his desk and picked up the phone, then put it down. He didn't want to talk to the desk in New Jersey. He walked a couple of laps around his office and then went to the door. “Lily, would you get Mr. Russell's phone number for me please?” He turned to Koppler.

  “Jim, I know what you're thinking.”

  “Mr. President, I want to bring him here, question him, maybe keep him out of play for a while. That will give me a chance to do in-depth checking on all of them.”

  “Jim, it's a small-town school. I don't want to raise suspicion.”

  “We might find other connections, Mr. President. He could be a plant, an agent. He could be a spy. Another country could have found this portal and be employing it against us.”

  The president stopped him. “I need to think about what the implications are. Jim, he's been teaching there for ten years. I saw his picture in the year book. You can't seriously think they had a special book made on the off-chance we might check for it. I think you may be short-changing Mr. Russell. If anything, we may need to protect him. So sit tight. And really, Jim, if another country were controlling this, they wouldn't have walked into this room.” The national security advisor knew he had been dismissed.

  The president returned to watching the White House grounds. He wondered what he would say. Lily Evans entered and said, “Mr. President, they don't have a home phone. But I have both Russells' cell phone numbers.”

  “Thanks, Lily.”

  * * *

  Koppler had his cell to his ear as he shut his office door. “Riverboro High School in New Jersey. Fritz Russell, a history teacher. You know what to do.” And then, “I don't care. Just do it.”

  * * *

  LINDA'S RINGTONE SANG, and we all looked up. She grabbed her purse from the counter behind her and looked at the caller ID. “The White House,” she said. “Hello? Yes hello, Mr. President.” She listened, a frown reappearing. “He can't find it. He's right here, hold on.”

  “Yes, Mr. President, good morning. No bother.”

  The president told me that there were images, but they were still analyzing them. “Mr. Russell, we don't think you're a threat, but in the wrong hands, you might stumble on something that could be a problem. That's about as candid as I can be. For me, not knowing means that I have to be concerned.” I told him we had been talking, too, and thought we might have figured out the connection.

  “The desk?” the president asked.

  “Yes, sir. We can't prove it yet, but I think that we have a strategy to keep it quiet.”

  “Good. Can you tell me?”

  “I can control the students, I think. Only three classes witnessed the portal firsthand. I'm pretty sure they'll believe me. As we discussed Friday night, I'll tell them about my friend, the special effects guy in California. I was thinking he could be from the team that worked on Star Trek special effects. That guy Tony who was here yesterday could be the guy, for instance. He seemed to know about this stuff. That way, no one else gets roped in.”

  “Great idea. I can let him know. He's got clearance, and he's smart. Of course, if you don't need to use a name, so much the better.”

  “All I remember is 'Tony', sir. I also think I can avoid the kids being involved again. The static from the doorknob activates the opening, I think. Or maybe it's a sign that the portal is open. If I feel the static and don't open the door, I can take my class to another room. George will agree to that. But beyond the doorknob, of course, we still haven't figured out how the portal is directing me to wherever.”

  “Mr. Russell, that's why we're concerned. If your travel isn't random…” The president stopped mid-sentence, but his message was clear. He continued, “I don't know what use it would be, but I'd like my medical people to do some tests to see if they can find any unusual emissions, radiation, surges, you know.”

  “That sounds pretty menacing, Mr. President.”

  “Not at all, just tests. In fact, why don't you and Ms. Russell come down here? We'll do the tests, and you can join us here for dinner. We'll be even in the hospitality department.”

  “When?” I asked. The call was making me uneasy and suspicious.

  The president paused, and I heard pages turning. “Well, we don't want to be too obvious. How about next weekend? In fact, why don't you bring Mr. Gilbert, Ms. Horton, and the McAllisters? Maybe we can solve this finally.”

  “I'll ask, Mr. President. Can I get back to you?”

  “Sure. Call this number. Enjoy your bagels.”

  He waited while I grabbed a pen and piece of paper. “Thank you, Mr. President. I'll call back later, if that's okay.”

  “That'll be fine. Have a nice day.”

  “Yeah. You too.” You have to be kidding.

  I said, “He wants to do tests on me. They think I might have some anomaly that controls the portal's opening.”

  “At the White House?” asked Ashley.

  “He didn't say.” I gave him a knowing look. Linda looked astonished.
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  Breaking the silence, Lois said, “Well, that won't make George feel better. He'll be beside himself. I'd better go.” She put on a light coat and picked up her matching green handbag.

  “Don't tell him yet, Lois.” I cautioned. “I'll call later. That way he won't know you were here.”

  “Right,” she said, as we walked to the door. “Bye, everyone.”

  Returning to the kitchen, I motioned Linda and Ashley to come out the back door. After telling them the president had mentioned bagels, I asked, “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

  “A bug?” asked Linda. “Fritz, they're smart people, and they're thinking about this just like we are. I hope it's coincidental.”

  Ashley asked, “So? What should we do?”

  “Look for it. We know we have to be careful even if we don't find it,” I said. “I guess we shouldn't be surprised. But we've already told him everything we know.”

  Linda asked, “Have we said anything that they would worry about?”

  “If the president knows about the desk, he probably knows about the paperclips too.”

  “But even if he knows, did we say anything that would worry him?” Linda repeated.

  “Only that we weren't sure we could trust him,” I said. “Could be we were right!”

  “Actually,” said Ash, “I'm kind of sorry to hear that.” Ash looked up at the birds perched on the wires overhead. They watched us, too.

  “They could be anywhere,” I said. “But I want to know if that's what we're dealing with.”

  “They were only in the dining room,” said Linda.

  “The First Lady was in the kitchen,” I reminded her. “It would be clever, someone we wouldn't suspect.”

  “You don't think?”

  “Why not?” said Ashley. “If they did bug us, she could have been the one, as easily as anyone.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “Let's check the dining room first,” said Linda.

  * * *

  THE PRESIDENT LOOKED UP. “I thought you were going home, Tom. You really should. Do I need to order you?”

  “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but the Russells suspect bugs. I stopped to check before I left. They started talking about it yesterday.”

  “How could they have guessed?”

  “You said bagels. I think they're being cautious, but if they find a device, we could have some trouble with them. And Mr. President,” Tom hesitated, “Mr. Koppler asked me to keep him informed of what Mr. Russell is doing. Thought you should know.”

  “Thanks, Tom. Right now, don't tell him anything important.”

  When the president returned to the residence, he told the First Lady that he had called. He had told Mr. Russell about the images and that he wanted to have some tests performed and invited all of them to come for dinner the next Saturday.

  “All in one conversation. A lot for Mr. Russell to take in,” said the First Lady. “And he said?”

  “He didn't seem to like it much, the test part, and said he would call later. He wanted to tell the others, I'm sure. But he was pretty forthcoming about what they did and talked about. He also thinks the desk is part of this.”

  “I told you he was a good guy. He's into something big, doesn't know how to fix it yet, and he's afraid of the president of the United States. Sounds very normal to me. It's a good thing he doesn't know how involved the NSA has become. And now he has to look forward to not just his meeting tomorrow, but tests, whatever that means. I think I might be a little worried, wouldn't you?”

  “At least if they're all here, maybe we can discuss this openly and reduce their suspicion.”

  The First Lady merely raised her eyebrows. Tom knocked. When he came in, he was crinkling his forehead.

  “Mr. President, they're looking for the bugs. They think there's only one, but they're looking at everything.”

  “How can you tell, Tom?' asked the First Lady.

  “They're not talking, they have a baseball game on very loud, and I can hear drawers opening and other non-normal sounds.” He frowned and finished his thought, “Like crawling under the table.”

  “Oh boy,” the president sighed. “I really hope they don't find them. I thought I had the trust issue under control. Thanks, Tom. Please go home, at least for a while. Your shift must be long over.”

  Tom said, “I'm fine, sir. I'll keep you informed.”

  When Tom left, the First Lady frowned at her husband, shook her head, and returned to her reading.

  * * *

  “HERE'S SOMETHING,” said Linda, pointing to a drawer in the china cabinet. “How could this have gotten here?” Stuck on the rear of a drawer was a button-like object.

  “I found something,” said Ashley from under the dining room table. He had a flashlight and said, “What does yours look like?”

  “A button.”

  “Can I have a knife or screwdriver, Fritz?” asked Ashley. “Lin, I'm glad you got the carpet. I'll be sore after this but not nearly as much as I would've been on hardwood.”

  I went to the kitchen, returned with a steak knife, and handed it to Ashley.

  “Hey Fritz, I'm looking at a button, not a cow.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I can't believe this,” said Linda. “What do they think we are? A foreign country? This is really annoying.”

  I returned with a small screwdriver. “What's annoying?”

  “That they would bug us,” said Linda, her complexion changing from pink to red. It reminded me of the last time she stayed at the beach too long. Ashley fished the button from the screw hole under the table and got up. Showing us the button, Linda said, “Same thing.” Handing both to me, I rubbed one between my fingers.

  “Well, they know we've found them. So, I guess it's time for a phone call,” I said. I felt my stomach clench, and my fists did, too.

  “I'll bet it was Tom who planted them. That's the spot where he was sitting,” said Ashley.

  “You're probably right,” I said. “Well, that takes care of going to Washington.” Then speaking to the buttons, “You really let me down, Mr. President. As much as I would have liked to visit the White House and cooperate, no way that happens now. You tell him that, secret service.”

  * * *

  TOM WAS BACK at the residence shortly after he heard this. “Mr. President, they found two of the bugs.”

  “Two?” questioned the First Lady.

  “Tom placed them yesterday when they were at the school. I've got to call him and explain.”

  “Sir, Mr. Russell said he's not coming to Washington and won't cooperate further.”

  “Thanks, Tom. This can't get worse tonight, so I am ordering you to go home.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The president looked at his wife, “Now what?” he said.

  She told him he needed to think very carefully what he was going to say and that he needed to apologize. “This changes the whole situation for them, and now he's angry, at you. Like I said, you're gonna have to make nice.”

  “I will,” said the president, picking up the phone.

  * * *

  “I DON'T KNOW how mad to be,” I said. Two squirrels ran across the back lawn. “Who knows? Next it'll be the IRS.”

  Just then, Linda's phone, sitting in front of us, rang. She looked at the screen and handed it to me.

  I answered.

  “Mr. Russell, this is the president. I know you found the bugs, and I want to apologize to you. We didn't know what we were dealing with. I hope you'll understand the security importance. I really am sorry. Just to show you I'm on the level, I checked with the security team. There's a third one, under the chair Tom sat on.”

  “A third one?” I asked, looking at the others. “Under Tom's chair? Mr. President, aside from being disappointed, I'm pissed! I did everything you asked, I was open about what we found, and you're treating me like a criminal. This all happened TO me. I've figured out as much as I can in two days, without the full power and resources of the federal government.�
�� I realized I was yelling and being more than a little disingenuous. We'd never told him about the paper clips. “At the moment, Mr. President, I don't feel much like talking to you.” I hung up.

  “You just hung up on the president,” said Ashley. “Pretty cool.”

  “Shut up, Ashley,” snapped Linda. “You need to call him back, Fritz, and apologize.”

  Embarrassed by her scolding, I said, “Well, he deserved it. Let's get the other bug out first. I guess they'll want them back.”

  “You're not serious,” said Ashley. “Give them back?”

  “Ash, they probably cost the taxpayers a bundle.”

  We went to the dining room. I turned over the chair, but I couldn't see the button. Linda spotted it tucked into a groove where the leg joined the seat. “He hid that one well,” she said.

  * * *

  “WELL, WHAT DID you expect?” said the First Lady. “He may be afraid of you, but he's not scared of you. Give him a few minutes to cool off and call him back.”

  The president grimaced. “I just stepped hard on the toes of a smart guy, a nice guy. Sometimes being president means you have to say you're sorry. What a mess,” he sighed. The phone rang, and the switchboard operator told him who was calling. “It's him.” He told the operator to put the call through.

  “Mr. President, I'm calling to apologize. I lost my temper. I assume you want your bugs back.”

  “Hold on to them for me, please, Mr. Russell,” said the president. He paused. “We'll disconnect them, I promise.”

  “I'll keep them safe—for the taxpayers.”

  “Then we'll see you on Saturday?” asked the president.

  “Mr. President, I haven't spoken to the others yet, but frankly, at this point, I'm not ready to make that trip. Not even if you lived next door,” I said sharply.

  “Then Mr. Russell, will you let me know how your meeting went?”

  “I'll give it some thought,” and with that, I hung up.

  SUNDAY CREPT TOWARD NIGHT, and I sat at the kitchen table, thinking, doing a quiet burn. I had been there most of the day. Linda studied for a while and straightened the family room. Ashley watched TV and helped her when she asked. I was in my own world, reviewing everything that had happened since the previous Friday. It had been a long couple of days.