9781940740065

by Paul B. Kohler

  Peter was anxious to hear what Applegate was going to say tomorrow in the operations briefing. He had believed that once he agreed to and signed all the confidentiality documents, he would know the extent of the plan immediately. But the general still had not gone into detail about what that mission was. He had only given them enough information to begin their training. Damn, Peter hated being in the dark!

  Peter mentally shrugged and stood up. “I’ll let you two finish your homework. Tori, come get me from the study when you’re ready to flaunt your culinary prowess.” He grinned.

  “OK, Dad,” she replied, not taking her eyes off her biology worksheets. She replaced the earbuds before Peter left the kitchen.

  CHAPTER 3

  The drive into the warehouse passed in silence, and that suited Peter perfectly. After two weeks of training, and having been told only a few minor points of the mission, he was still unaware of the ultimate goal. This irritated him incessantly, and he hoped the briefing that morning would bring answers to the mysteries surrounding the operation.

  Trevor maneuvered the black Crown Victoria through the twists and turns on the hillside before he slowed to the guard shack. As he pulled up to the gate, he lowered his window and held out his credentials for inspection. After a cursory review, the guard nodded to his partner sitting inside to open the gate.

  Peter decided there was something peculiar about this particular morning. Besides not being able to sleep through to his alarm, the fog was extra thick and there was an eerie silence surrounding the area. He realized that he could not hear any birds singing or the rustle of the wind. Odd indeed. The apprehension didn’t ease with the grinding hum of Trevor’s window rising back up.

  They crossed the deserted campus and parked in the small parking lot outside of Warehouse 41. As Peter released his seat belt, Trevor asked “Same time this afternoon, Mr. Cooper?”

  “Trevor, please. It’s Peter. Hell, call me Pete if you want. Just drop the Mr. Cooper business.” For most of his adult life, Peter despised being referred to as “Mr.” He was far more casual and felt more comfortable when those around him were equally informal.

  “Uh, yes, sir. Same time . . . Pete, um Peter?”

  “Sure thing, Trevor.” Peter chuckled and shut the car door. Trevor was a strange fellow. He was polite but quiet. At least he was better company than Mark. Poor Julie. Still, Peter felt it odd that when Trevor picked him up and drove him in every morning, he would sit motionless in the car instead of accompanying Peter inside the building. Peter knew that Trevor had access to the facility, because he would see him inside not thirty minutes later. Odd indeed.

  Peter walked through the oversized entry door that led directly into the cavernous warehouse. Inside, the scene was like something lost in time. It reminded Peter of what a Hollywood movie set would look like. Several city blocks of some historic French city were built inside. When Peter arrived at the warehouse for the first time, he didn’t think it was possible to enclose such an enormous facsimile. However, upon inspection, it became apparent that the buildings were all facades—simply framed walls, supported by guy-wires and temporary bracing. They were set up like this so that he and Julie could familiarize themselves with the area he assumed would encompass their mission goal. The goal that he hoped to finally learn the full details of today.

  Peter continued through the dimly-lit scene and ducked into one of the alleyways that led to the stairway up to the second-floor mezzanine. This was where a small break room, a number of unmarked offices, and the operations center were located. The placard on the door read “Conference Room #2,” but everyone referred to it as Ops. Aside from Ops and the break room, Peter had no access.

  When Peter approached the open door to Ops, he hesitated briefly before entering, as he noticed Applegate and Mark in a heated conversation. He felt uncomfortable gawking, and although he would have loved to hear what was being said, he walked past the open door and stepped into the break room. Julie was standing at the coffee machine waiting for the brew cycle to end and didn’t notice Peter come in.

  “Good morning, Jules,” Peter said. Startled, Julie swung around and gave Peter a brief smile that quickly dissolved into a frown.

  “Hey, are you OK?” Peter asked.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a misunderstanding with that crap-weasel Mark last night.”

  “About what?” He pulled a cup from the dispenser and set it on the counter next to Julie’s.

  “Nothing really. I went to visit my stepfather, and because I didn’t tell Mark first, he was beyond pissed that he had to track me down.”

  “Hate to say it Jules, but Applegate was pretty adamant about not talking to other people before the mission. How did he find you?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know exactly. I have not been to my stepfather’s house in months, and I didn’t think they knew we were in touch. But sure enough, I wasn’t in the house for fifteen minutes before Mark nearly burst through the door. I was so embarrassed. I was just there for dinner, and it hurt that I couldn’t even tell my stepfather why I was being taken away.”

  “Did Mark say anything?”

  “Yeah, he mumbled something about me being needed in the office, or something like that. Luckily, Frank, my stepfather, knew that I had a security background and didn’t ask any questions as I was practically being dragged from his house.”

  The brew cycle was complete, and Peter poured two cups as they stood in silence.

  “Wait a minute. Was your mother home?”

  “That’s not the point, Peter. It’s just that I’m tired of all the secrecy. Why do we have to be so secretive when everything is supposed to be shifting anyway?” Julie had begun to mimic Peter’s penchant for fingered air quotes.

  “Hey, you’re preaching to the choir. I’m just as irritated by all this covert bullshit as you. Don’t you remember when we first met? You and your friend Mark were tailing me all over San Francisco for weeks.”

  “First off, Mark is NOT my friend.” She paused to stir the clumpy dry creamer into her coffee. “And second, Applegate forced me to ride along with Mark. I wanted no part of it, but it wasn’t my choice.”

  Silence again filled the room as they both moved their plastic stir sticks about their coffee cups. Peter thought about their situation and something seemed off. He understood that the general needed to keep tabs on everyone to ensure nobody talked, but how did the dim-witted guards know where they were at all times? He was about to ask Julie that very question when Applegate walked in.

  “Good morning, troops!” General Applegate exclaimed as he approached the pair. “We’re about to begin the presentation in Ops. Peter, could you give Julie and me a moment? We’ll be in shortly.”

  “Sure thing,” Peter replied, stepping past him on the way out. Peter knew what Julie was in for, and he felt sorry for her.

  Peter walked into the ops center, which was now bustling with activity. Across the room, Dr. Brett Lamb was sitting at the computer console with his sidekick, Dr. Griff Larsson. They were chatting between themselves as they both stared at the computer screen in front of them. Several assistants were scurrying about the room collecting papers and filling water glasses. Peter glanced up to the SMART Board and saw a spreadsheet with the heading “1942 Statistical Information.” It was filled with various numbers and data. As he skimmed through the information, Peter slid into a chair at the enormous conference table. A moment later one of the administrative assistants passed by, dropping fire-engine red binders in front of each chair around the table. Emblazoned across the top were the words “Operation Swallowtail.”

  Before Peter could start to peruse the information, Julie and the general walked in. Julie’s eyes were teary, but when she made eye contact with Peter, she smiled. She walked around the table and sat next to him.

  “So?” he whispered.

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  General Applegate sat at the head of the table and glanced over a
t the two scientists. “Boys? Are we ready to go?”

  “Yes, sir. We just finished updating the files. You have control,” replied Dr. Lamb.

  Both he and Dr. Larsson moved to the conference table and found chairs. The assistants milling about exited the room, closing the door behind them.

  “Good morning, everyone. Before we get started, I just want to say how great of a job you all are doing with your training. We are halfway through training and just two weeks away from mission departure. Or, To Linear Shift as the Drs. prefer to call it.”

  Hearing the reality of just how close they were to actual time travel left Peter anxious. He wondered if the others felt the same way.

  “So far you've been introduced to a bevy of 1942 factoids and received a half dozen generalized espionage training sessions. Today we will be talking about a few new and specific details regarding the mission. In general, they deal with time travel idiosyncrasies. For the most part, these are common sense matters, but they do need mentioning. First off, don't go kill any notorious historical figures or unpopular distant relatives. That should be obvious. It will cause certain paradoxes which we will not discuss.”

  Peter let out a deep breath. At least he wouldn’t have to kill anyone. One new thing learned today.

  As General Applegate paused momentarily, Peter asked, “Should we be concerned with conversing with someone from our family, supposing we happen to meet them in 1942?”

  “Please, could we hold all questions until after my initial briefing? I am positive that most everything that you might ask will be answered shortly. Right then, where was I? Oh yes—time travel. As I am not the specialist in the field, I am going to turn the presentation over to your mission companions, Drs. Lamb and Larsson.”

  Peter glanced at Julie, who was oblivious. She was intently reviewing the contents of the binder in front of her. Peter had forgotten about it when the general walked in.

  “Good morning,” began Dr. Lamb. “Inside each of your packets, you will find some information that we feel might be beneficial to our mission. The information is statistical in nature and largely relates to cost of living, both in the United States and France in 1942. You are also provided with cultural and lifestyle habits in each region. As Dr. Larsson and I will not be accompanying the two of you to France, that information is provided for your benefit only.”

  Dr. Larsson cycled through a few images, swiping his fingers across the SMART Board display, as Dr. Lamb recited some of the various data points of ordinary product values. Peter was amazed at the amount of information they were being provided about all things 1942. He was particularly surprised at the percentage increases on a few common place items. A postage stamp sold for three cents in 1942 and has increased more than 1500%. Not to mention that snail mail was hardly ever used anymore, except for spam and mortgage late notices. Milk has only increased 600% in the same time. Minimum wage was thirty cents per hour, and has increased 2600%. While interesting, what bothered Peter was the relevance to their mission.

  “Why are you showing us this? Does any of this information pertain to the actions of our mission?” he asked.

  “Not directly. This information is provided so that you will not offer to pay more than necessary for something that you may require. How peculiar would it be if you provided a five-dollar bill for purchasing a gallon of milk valued at sixty cents?”

  “Honestly, I don’t plan on buying milk while on our mission. Unless, that is, our mission is stopping world hunger. How about we get to the pertinent information on the mission instead of this irrelevant garbage?” Peter replied sarcastically.

  Both doctors looked flustered at Peter’s comment. Dr. Lamb looked at General Applegate for guidance.

  “Peter. Please allow the doctors to conclude their presentation. We will be reviewing more elements of the mission shortly. This information is critical for the success of the mission, regardless of whether you see it clearly now or not,” Applegate said sternly.

  Peter nodded, but his patience was wearing thin. The doctors continued, and Peter’s mind drifted as they droned on about various facts like who was president or prime minister or whatever the leaders of the other countries were called. He leaned back in his chair for the next 30-plus minutes. Toward the end of the presentation, Dr. Lamb arrived at the topic of money. Peter snapped to attention and leaned forward slightly.

  “Regarding currency in 1942, you will each be provided with an amount of date-specific bills to use while on the mission. This money was not easy to come by, and the value in today’s market is far greater than the face value. As an example, an uncirculated one-dollar bill from 1942 has a current value of well over $30 dollars.”

  “Why does it need to be uncirculated?” Julie inquired.

  “The money does not necessarily need to be uncirculated. There will be a mix of circulated and uncirculated cash, in dates ranging from the mid-20s through 1940. Everything you bring with you, from money and clothes to documentation and paperwork, needs to be as authentic as possible in the time to which we are traveling. We have gone to great lengths to make this mission to 1942 as authentic as possible to ensure a high chance of success.”

  As Dr. Lamb continued, Peter thought back to the conversation that he and Benny had at Herb’s. Over the past few weeks, he had recalled nearly every detail of that drunken conversation. Benny had suggested that Peter research currency values and somehow bring back something of value from 1942. The first thing Benny had in mind was rare coins. Small, portable. Peter initially thought about the penny well before Benny brought up coins, but it was their collective thought process that brought the plan together. Peter had begun to think of the idea as Operation Abraham.

  Since that night, Peter had contemplated whether or not to act upon their alcohol-induced flight of fancy. When the idea first germinated, Peter’s life was in a much different place. He was about to lose everything and his kids hated him. Now, two short weeks later, he thought he was really on track with repairing things with his kids. His bills were brought current, thanks to General Applegate, and he was working. Peter had no compelling reason to actually follow through with his plan. There was always the shift. Would the shift have an unforeseen effect that he had yet to realize? Might he come back to a completely different career? What about family; he might have married a different woman, or never had children. The possibilities were endless, and Peter preferred not to think about the consequences too much.

  Peter’s attention was returned to the meeting when General Applegate cleared his throat. He glanced up and everyone in the room was staring at him. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something?”

  “I’m not sure, Peter. Did you?” asked Applegate. “Your mind appears to be someplace else. Would you like to take a break before we continue on with the discussion of the Butterfly Effect?”

  “Um, no. I’m fine. I was just thinking . . .” Peter paused “. . . thinking about the French leg of the trip. Most everything you are discussing now is dealing with the US side of the mission.”

  “Oh, yes. The French information is there, but it’s toward the back of your binder. We will be reviewing France another day. Because it only affects you and Julie, that briefing will be only for the two of you. Please read through the information provided beforehand.”

  Applegate again looked at Dr. Lamb and nodded.

  “The Butterfly Effect. I assume that each of you are relatively familiar with the theory.” Dr. Lamb paused and looked about the faces in the room for acknowledgment. He found a steady stream of nods throughout the room until he came to Julie, who looked confused.

  “Would you mind giving us the Readers Digest version, Dr,” asked General Applegate, also noticing Julie’s obvious look of incomprehension.

  “Certainly. In essence, The Butterfly Effect is this: The flap of a butterfly's wings changed the air around it so much that a tornado broke out two continents away. That is to say that however minute your actions may be, they will have a certain domino
effect. One thing will affect another, and so on. Chaos Theory states that: A man traveled back in time to prehistoric ages and stepped on a butterfly, and the universe was entirely different when he got back.”

  “So, no killing butterflies in 1942. . .” Peter said, sarcastically.

  “The butterfly is merely a metaphor. I will point out that while on the mission, it is imperative that you leave little trace of your presence while there. Dr. Larsson, do you have anything to add?” asked Dr. Lamb

  “Yes. Unless it is absolutely necessary, try not to converse with the natives. Your mission, once it is presented to you, will include precise instructions which require no personal contact with anyone in France. We have run through the computer simulations multiple times, and with each occurrence of contact with French citizens, the results are slightly different. You should know that the purpose of this mission is to change circumstances minutely, so let’s not get carried away with making friends.”

  “Thank you both for the great presentation. Unless there are any questions, I think we are done here. Peter and Julie, you two can report to Hugh for today’s training.” General Applegate began to stand up.

  “I’ve got a couple questions.”

  Applegate sat back down “Alright, Peter. Go ahead.”

  “I was just wondering when you were actually going to tell us what our mission is. We’ve been here a few weeks now and have only been given snippets of information. I know we are going to France. I know we will be on a covert mission, but beyond that I am completely clueless as to what is supposed to happen. Hell, we’re leaving in two weeks, and I would think that Julie and I need more information on what we’re supposed to be doing.”

  Peter glanced at Julie as he said this and she silently nodded her head in agreement. Peter’s eyes returned to Applegate as he waited for a response.

  “I completely understand your concerns, Peter. We are limiting the information given to you for a reason. Because there is so much to be absorbed prior to departure, we are feeding you both just enough intel so it can be retained in a reasonable fashion. You will both be brought up to speed prior to leaving for 1942. You’ll have to trust me on this. We need you to focus on the training at hand as opposed to focusing on the end game.”