Quantum Touch (Book 1): Storm Portal

by Michael R. Stern

  “It worked,” said Tom. He told the ambassador's confused family that they were safe and that he would explain everything shortly. Speaking in staccato, he quickly introduced me and walked them to Sandy's classroom. Returning to my classroom, he placed the map of the ambassador's location on my desk.

  “Do you know where he is?” I asked.

  “We think he's here,” he pointed. “The upper rooms. But we're not positive.” I placed the paperclip. “Mr. Russell, this may take a little longer. And it might get hot. So stay away from the door.” Both agents removed pistols with silencers attached. “Ready, let's go.”

  I got my friendly shock and opened the door. Across the hall, voices came from Sandy's class. I walked to the entry, and Ashley came over. The ambassador's wife was holding her children. Sandy and George were kneeling with them.

  “What's happening?” he asked.

  “They're in the portal,” With a lowered voice, I said, “they think this will be harder, maybe gunfire.” Pointing to the family, I asked, “How are they taking this?” Lightning flashed again.

  “Not sure. They're confused; who could blame them. But they'll be all right. They don't know they're in New Jersey yet.”

  Suddenly, three bent figures ran from my classroom. Gunfire exploded behind them. Tom turned and pushed the door closed. I noticed blood on Tom's pants leg.

  “Are you hit?” I asked.

  “Yes, but it's not bad, I don't think. I need to call the president.”

  The president answered instantly. Tom told him they had been successful. He handed the phone to me, as the ambassador looked at his surroundings, confused.

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “Fritz, I can't thank you enough. This is significant, but we can't let anyone know. We have to keep the ambassador hidden for a couple of days to keep you safe. No one can know. I'm not even sure we should tell them they just walked into New Jersey. You'll tell the others?”

  “Sure, Mr. President. Will you tell me how this all happened?”

  “I will, but not now. We need to get everything settled first. Thank you again.”

  “Mr. President, Tom's been shot. Should I take him to a hospital?”

  “Let me speak to him.” I handed the phone back to Tom.

  “Yes, sir. It's not bad, sir,” he said in response to the president's question. “I'll dress it here and get it looked at when we get back. Yes, sir. I will. Talk to you in a couple of hours.” Tom put the phone back in his pocket.

  “We need to leave quickly, Mr. Russell. I'm sure the president will be in touch soon.” The two agents and the ambassador walked across the hall, gathered the family, and hurried to the Suburban.

  Back in my classroom, Ashley hugged me. No one really knew what to say.

  “Are you all okay?” I asked. “I need a drink.”

  Ashley, Sandy, and George all said they were fine. Ashley explained what had happened when he thought I had been kidnapped. Then he asked, “Where did you go?”

  “I had tea with Robert E. Lee.”

  Epilogue

  WITH A PHONE to his ear, he said, “I don't care what it costs. The result will be worth it many times over. We need to mix in the Arabs, so try the Eledorians. They're already suspects. You know the rest. Get them ready. We'll know when the time is right. And this time, get it done.”

  * * *

  I WAS HAPPY to get home that day with more stories for Linda. Ashley and Sandy came for dinner. The president had called to thank me again, and explained how he had figured out the puzzle of the portal. He had played the tapes of my desk a dozen times, he said. Frame by frame, he finally saw the lock on the drawer. The key. Ben Franklin. He said the realization was so clear to him, such an obvious clue, he wasn't surprised we'd found it ourselves so soon after he had. “Fritz, between us, I'd love to talk to you about places we could go together.”

  * * *

  THE BOOK, COFFEE table-sized, sat on his lap. Sandy had gone home after their long day. In gold embossed letters, UNPREDICTABLE blazed at him. His hands covering his face, his shoulders shuddering in secret wracking anguish that no one shared, Ashley again closed his high school yearbook.

  * * *

  THE SCHOOL YEAR ended, and the seniors heard a commencement address by the president of the United States. The McAllisters, Sandy and Ashley, and Linda and I were all guests of the president for a weekend at Camp David, where we met and spoke with the ambassador and his wife. During the summer, the president announced the retirement of Jim Koppler after a long and illustrious career in service to our country.

  Summer vacation kept us busy. We went to the ballpark and “down the shore.” Linda watched the Tour de France in July, her All-Star game.

  As the riders sped downhill, I remembered our first meeting, accidental. And almost an accident. Standing on Fifth Avenue, all I saw were two wheels aimed straight for me. She swerved and missed. Not enough time for more than a quick glance at her face. She smiled and kept pedaling.

  When we met at a party later, she said she remembered my face. I had a different look on it then, she said. Panic, she recalled, chuckling.

  I asked her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee. She smiled again. And said yes. She told me about her love of bike racing and that she worked as an editor and also part-time at Bicycle Habitat in SoHo. She wanted to own a bike shop business, a chain or a franchise. But before she did, she wanted to get her MBA. Now, I don't really believe in this stuff, but by the time the evening ended, I felt like I'd known her forever. I'd never enjoyed coffee more.

  “Fritz, I need to get riding again. I miss it so much.”

  Before the summer ended, we spent one weekend on Long Beach Island with Ashley. At dinner, we discussed the role the portal played at the end of the year. In the sun, with the waves providing sound effects, I listed what we had discovered. The portal opened with a combination of thunderstorm, my desk key in the lock, paperclips pointing to a location, and a shock on the doorknob. We found that time traveled at different speeds. I still wondered if we were going back or if the portal transported the past to the present? And more than anything, we needed to determine if we were affecting the future by using the portal. My bruised face had finally returned to normal. I joined Linda and Ashley with a scar of my own. Not as long as Linda's, nor as dramatic as Ashley's, I bragged that mine was much older. We had learned that the portal was dangerous, and we all had questions as yet unanswered. I couldn't get over an eighty-year-old photo of my feet.

  “Do you think the kids were changed because we went through?” asked Ash.

  “I don't know, but maybe we'll know more in the fall.”

  Linda said, “Then I hope we have perfect weather, every day for the next ten years.”

  ONE AUGUST AFTERNOON, past the heat of the day, I went to the backyard. Linda was harvesting tomatoes. I took two from her, intending to slice them and with a little salt and pepper, cure my rumbling stomach until dinner. I showed her the file folder I had brought out.

  “What is it?”

  “My book. Well, a couple of chapters anyway.”

  “That's great. Let me pick some peppers, and I'll read it.”

  We were again invited to the White House for dinner, this time as special guests, but none of the other guests knew why. And to add to the summer's events, I got the scare of my life.

  “Fritz, I spoke to Dr. Rosenblatt a few minutes ago.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Fritz, he said he found something growing.” Her not looking me in the eye sent a shiver through me.

  “Lin, I'm here no matter, I promise. Did he say what he thought it was?”

  “He did.” She hesitated. I held my breath. “Fritz, you're going to be a father.” Then, her eyes sought mine, and I realized they put the sky to shame.

  That summer ended, as all summers do. Vacation was over, and another school year was about to begin. On the night before classes started, Linda and I sat together on the sofa in our family
room, watching the local news and weather. As the local weatherman was predicting a 70% chance of thunderstorms, my phone rang.

  Looking at Linda, I answered. “Hello, Mr. President.”

  A Last Request

  Dear Reader,

  If you have finished this book, and enjoyed the story, I have a request. Each writer wants, perhaps needs, to know that their effort has been worthwhile. Only you, the reader, can decide that. So, I'm asking you to tell the world what you think. Please leave a review, on Amazon, on Goodreads, or any social media site you choose. All writers will thank you. Certainly, I will and do.

  Michael R. Stern

  Sneak Peek

  Continue reading an excerpt from SAND STORM,

  book two of the Quantum Touch series.

  Chapter One

  “YOU'RE TELLING ME the world is a dangerous place? Me?” The man's patrician arrogance stormed the phone. “You've continued to do what you want because the world remains a dangerous place.” Standing at his window, the Washington Monument as a backdrop, he scoffed at the little people below, scurrying from place to place. As if they were important. “We need to proceed carefully,” he said in a calmer tone. “Not knowing what they know, we can't allow what we know to make us careless.”

  The man sat down behind the mahogany desk in his elegantly decorated office. Photographs of himself with the power elite of a generation covered the walls. Gray-haired, immaculately attired in a Savile Row gray pinstripe, he kicked off his shoes. The calfskin loafers breathed while his toes caressed the plush carpet.

  He switched the phone to his other ear. “I don't care what it costs. The result will be worth it many times over. We need to mix in the Arabs, so try the Eledorians. They're already suspects. You know the rest. Get them ready. We'll know when the time is right.”

  AT FOUR THIRTY, two black Suburbans pulled up in front of the Russell house. Fritz had been watching and walked outside to meet the president. More people than he had expected climbed from the cars. The First Lady had come along, as she had in the spring. The president introduced the others. Fritz said hello to Tom Andrews, head of the president's Secret Service detail and agent James Williams and then spotted Mel Zack, still in the driver's seat of the second Suburban.

  The president said, “Tom is taking the team to The Mill to get security set up for when we go to dinner. They'll be back later.” Overwhelmed in more than numbers alone, Fritz refused to let the intimidating company dictate whatever his decision needed to be.

  An attractive young woman with a mischievous look examined Ashley's car. “Nice ride,” said the president. “Ash's baby?” Fritz nodded.

  Fritz's wife, Linda, and his friend and fellow teacher, Ashley Gilbert, stepped out on the landing. Ashley stared, then coughed and cleared his throat when introduced to Dr. Jane Barclay from the Department of Homeland Security.

  “Uh oh,” Fritz whispered to Linda.

  “Yup,” she whispered back.

  FRITZ INVITED his visitors into the family room. Late afternoon sun reflected off the flat screen TV on the wall. Ashley brought extra chairs from the dining room and claimed a seat where he would be able to keep an eye on Jane Barclay. His place secure, he went to help Linda bring in the food.

  While the others found seats, Fritz and the president pulled two of the dining room chairs to the middle of the room, facing each other. “Fritz, I've brought some of the people who are most involved in protecting the country,” the president said. “They know what you did last spring. They also know about the portal. This meeting is top secret, of course.”

  Fritz nodded to each of the president's advisers. “What is it that you have in mind?”

  The president said, “You mean, what do I want?”

  “I was trying to be polite, but yeah, what do you want from me this time?”

  “Fritz, the Narians have completed their nuclear project. Forget what they say, it's a weapons program. I'm talking about an imminent nuclear threat, and they're in the starting gate. Israel is weighing its options. We're doing everything we can to hold the Israelis back, but I don't know how much longer.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Fritz, we,” he swept his hand toward his advisers, “have discussed possible scenarios where your help might be, well, helpful. I know you're hesitant, but no one else can unlock travel across time and space. No one else can open the portal. I want to fill you in on our analysis and to talk with you about how much and what kinds of things you would be willing to do.”

  “Mr. President, as I said last night, I'm a teacher. I love what I do, and I like working with the kids.” With an abrupt jolt, he absorbed a new reality: his boredom with teaching had evaporated. “If I can help, you know I will. But I still don't know all the things about the portal that might make a difference. We both know how it opens, but beyond that, I don't know what the consequences of using it might be.”

  Linda spoke up. “Mr. President, I'm afraid that using the portal might have a negative effect on all of us. It's not that I don't want Fritz to help, but I don't want him in danger. Or changing history. Or the future.” She placed a hand on her growing belly.

  “Linda, that's why we came. We think it's important, but we still want your input, and we wanted to meet in a less intimidating place than the White House.”

  “Mr. President,” said Fritz. “Tell us what you think you'll need.”

  “We've been considering some of the world's hot spots. I'm sure you know that the situation in Eledoria is still unresolved. It's quiet right now, but…” Fritz nodded.

  The CIA director said, “Mr. Russell, we have people on the ground who have infiltrated Narian research centers and given us key locations. In addition to our not wanting the Narians to get the bomb, we are concerned that nuclear material will find its way to market. We need to stop them before it does. If the Israelis move soon, we may lose the ability to control this thing.”

  “In other words,” said the president, “we can't openly attack, and we don't want Israel to do it. That could mean warfare throughout the Middle East, or worse. No one will win that fight.”

  “So let me get this straight,” said Fritz. “You need the portal so you can blow up the Narian bomb program?”

  The secretary of defense said, “It's more than that. Before we can destroy the facilities, we need to extract computers and confiscate the research they've completed. We want the program crippled well into the future.”

  Fritz looked at the president. “At least you have something easy for me.” He sighed and looked at his wife.

  Linda asked, “Are you bringing any radioactive material into the school?”

  “No,” said the president. “There's far too much. We'll leave it. We want to incapacitate the facilities, make them toxic, unable to be rebuilt.”

  Fritz asked, “And you know exactly where? I assume it's underground.”

  “We hope we have all the locations.”

  “You want me to help you do all this. Are you nuts?” Around him, his visitors sounded like a chorus of straws at the bottom of a finished milkshake, shocked he would speak like that to the president. As he scanned their faces, he questioned if any of them had ever been asked to do anything as difficult.

  The president ignored the gasps, and rather than anger him, Fritz's comment amused him. He said, “I've been called worse. Yes, Fritz, not only do I want your help, but I think we need it. And obviously we're going to need the school. There's an eight-and-a-half-hour time difference, so we should be able to accomplish everything while school is out.”

  “When are you thinking of doing this?” Linda asked.

  “Within the next couple of weeks. We don't have much of a window.”

  “So all I need to do is put the paperclips in place or take your already paper-clipped papers and open the door?” Fritz asked.

  “That's it,” said the president. “If this works, I don't think I need to tell you how much trouble you will have prevented.” />
  “And lives I can save. Yeah, I think I've heard that before,” said Fritz. “What else do you want me to do?”

  Dr. Barclay said, “If I may, Mr. President—Mr. Russell, there's nothing specific at this point. But you know what kinds of things might crop up. In addition to the nuclear issue, for example, we've detected an increase in internet noise. If we obtain actionable intelligence in places we can't easily reach, you could help us.”

  Fritz looked at Linda and then at Ashley. Ashley looked attentive, but Fritz had seen that look before. Ashley had a new woman on his radar. “It seems you've spent some time thinking about this, Mr. President.”

  “We have. Once you stumbled into my office, it didn't take long for any of us to understand where things might go. In the past few months, the portal has excited and scared me. I'm sure you know what I mean. Time travel, immediate access to the past and more valuable, the present, has created an opportunity. Fritz, I've hoped you'd accept this chance to do good. I made a pledge to make the world a safer place when I first took office. I may have nothing to do with it directly, and we can never say anything about how things get done, but who gets the credit doesn't matter if the result is a good one, does it?” A tight jaw and deepened crevices across his forehead replaced his calm demeanor. “Fritz, this isn't about my legacy or politics. But it is about my family and yours. Lots of families.”

  Fritz said, “It's a good thing this isn't our first date. You sure ask a lot. Well, at least I get dinner.” Everyone laughed, but the only real ones came from the president and Fritz. Still, Fritz's insides were doing jumping jacks.