They approached the steps in front of the stone edifice, and a moment later, Peter came to a stop.
“This is where I was sitting,” he said, indicating the granite steps. He sat down, and the kids sat on each side of him in silence. “When Mom sat next to me while I sketched, I was unsure of what to say. I was shy back then, and women didn’t really go out of their way to talk to me. We sat in silence for ten or fifteen minutes before either of us spoke.”
“You have a beautiful hand,” Mary said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“You really think so?” asked Peter, embarrassed by the compliment. “They’re my own, you know.”
Mary giggled. “No, I mean your sketching is beautiful. You are very talented.”
Peter was now embarrassed at his obtuse response. He supposed he should have appreciated her compliment and just shut the hell up. “Well, thank you. Very nice of you to say. I’m Peter.”
“Hi, Peter. I’m Mary. Do you mind if I sit and watch for a while? I love architecture, and this is one of my favorite buildings in San Francisco.”
“Sure. I don’t mind.” Peter turned back to his drawing and continued to accentuate the details around the twin spires.
The memory was painstakingly vivid as he described it to Tori and Brett.
“How long did you two sit there?” asked Tori.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe an hour or so. After sitting for a while, we began to talk about ourselves and asked each other questions. At the time, it seemed quite magical. We were so comfortable talking, it was like we had known each other for years. After I finished that sketch, we went to lunch together.” Peter paused to wipe the teardrop escaping down his cheek.
“Over the next month, Mom would meet me here on the steps and I would draw. We would go to lunch when I was done and talk for hours. I was nearing the end of my last semester and had finished my cathedral studies, but I continued to come to the church to draw. It was more to see her than anything else. We had yet to go on an actual date yet, but I knew I loved her. I think she knew too, but neither of us said anything.”
Peter pulled his moistened eyes away from the front of the church and looked at Tori and Brett. They were huddled next to him, crying as they listened to their father tell the story of their mother and Grace Cathedral. Instinctively, he pulled each of them close in a big family hug. They sat on the steps for several moments in the loving embrace, appreciating each other, none of them wanting the moment to end.
Finally, Peter let go and wiped his eyes. “You guys want to go inside? The church is handsome outside, but the inside is absolutely stunning.”
Both the kids nodded in unison, and they stood and climbed the rest of the way to the entry. As they walked through the side doors, the smell of incense permeated their noses. Once inside, they rarely spoke; they just moved about the cavernous beauty. Peter led them through the nave, the sanctuary, and the choir aisle. After reading a number of placards and viewing several priceless sculptures, they returned to the front of the church, near the base of two towers.
Peter pointed out that one tower housed the stairway up. In the base of the other, called the Singing Tower, there was a bank of votive candles, and the ceiling was open all the way to the pinnacle of the spire. It was believed to provide a private area for angels to gather and celebrate. Peter walked over and dropped a twenty in the donation slot and proceeded to light three candles, one for each of them as they thought of Minnie. No tears were shed, but they were somber as they stood close to each other in the glow of the flames.
Some fifteen minutes later, they went out the north exit into the large courtyard. Just to the east was a labyrinth, and they each took turns walking their way to the center. Tori and Peter struggled, but Brett succeeded on his first try.
Peter happened to glance at his watch and noticed that it was nearly 2:00 pm. Since they still planned to visit the mint, he thought they should be on their way. He called Trevor to pick them up from Grace Cathedral, and within minutes they were on their way to the mint.
The fifteen minute drive to the mint passed in complete silence. Peter remained deep in the memory of Minnie after the emotional visit to where they first met. He wondered how the kids felt. But the silence was comforting, so he didn’t broach the subject.
When Trevor pulled up in front of the mint, Peter’s heart sank. The entire block was surrounded by a tall, chain-link fence with razor wire across the top. Trevor parked the car next to the curb on Herman as they all looked up at the barricaded building.
“Well, kiddo,” Peter said to Brett, “it looks like the tour of the mint might be out. It doesn’t look like they’re open to the public.”
In a deflated voice from the backseat, Brett said, “Oh, it’s OK, dad.” He paused momentarily “Maybe the tours are by appointment only?”
Peter never imagined security being an issue for public tours. He made it a point to do some heavy digging on the mint’s procedures over the next few days to solidify his plans for Operation Abraham.
“Yeah, maybe so. I’ll look into it next week. Sound like a plan?” Peter replied, feeling heartbroken. It was all Brett had been able to talk about after hearing about the family outing a few days ago.
“Yeah, OK.”
“Well, Trevor, I guess the Cooper family outing is done for the day. Care to drive us home?” Peter requested.
“Not a problem, Mr. Cooper. Are there any other stops you would like me to make on the way?” Trevor asked.
“Well, now that you mention it . . . kids, how about a stop for ice cream before we get home? Geno’s Gelatos sound good to you guys?”
There was a unanimous ‘Yes!’ from the backseat, and they left to cap off their day. Although he was happy to have spent the day with the kids, he was extremely sad. He didn’t know what his shifted future would hold and prayed that today wouldn’t be his final goodbye.
CHAPTER 13
Twenty-seven hours to Linear Shift
General Applegate stood at the head of the conference table, ready to address the team. “Good morning, everyone. This time tomorrow, you will all be suiting up for your trip. I want to compliment each and every one of you for a spectacular effort throughout training. Minus a few missteps along the way, I could have not asked for more dedication. Your commitment to the mission has been exemplary.”
The general moved around the table, pulled out his usual high-backed leather chair, and sat. “Now that we are close to departure, it’s time to complete your mission briefing. I have a lot of information to disseminate, so please, hold all questions until after my initial presentation.” General Applegate paused and looked at each of the four team members for acknowledgement. “Thank you. As you know, you are all going back to 1942. The precise date of arrival is July 24, 1942. The time will be 10:42 a.m. The location is our current position, where you have been training, but down several levels.”
Peter had figured as much once he visited Benny and Stella. The general had to have the time travel device somewhere, and so far neither he nor Julie had seen it. But there were many levels to this place.
Peter glanced toward Julie to see her reaction, but he could not read her. The general continued.
“Before I get too far ahead of myself, I should explain how you will be traveling.” General Applegate paused to take a drink of water. “In early ‘42, a theoretical physicist named Dr. Bernard Epson mathematically calculated equations that would allow the theory of time travel to become a reality. He also constructed the hardware to test his theories. These equations and equipment are the foundation of your trip tomorrow. At the project’s inception, the doctor was a privately-funded individual who was conducting his research alone, save for a few assistants. His research advanced to the experimentation phase later in the year, and when he began construction of the two devices, he quickly ran out of money. By mid-year he was forced to make a monumental decision: halt his project until he found additional grantors, or accept the gracious offer from t
he United States government. Fortunately, he chose to accept the government’s assistance, and his experiments continued. The devices reside here, on sublevel six beneath this building. Unfortunately for the doctor, he had a momentary lapse in judgment, and the testing resulted in his death in the fall of that year. His research and experiments were largely abandoned and classified at the time, and the level was sealed off for nearly seventy years. In early 2012, we unlocked level six, digitized all his research, and analyzed the hardware. We’ve determined the doctor’s miscalculation and have rectified his error.
“His theory of time travel primarily relies upon known locations of miniature black holes. The process, in layman’s terms, reduces you to a stream of digital data and transports you through the nearest opening using ultra-high-frequency radio waves. A device needs to be present for you to rematerialize. Dr. Epson’s fatal flaw was that he assumed the device would be functional when he sent himself forward in time. Theoretically, he would have been successful had he taken the appropriate actions before sending himself forward.”
“If the device he built has been here since 1942, could it have served as the receiving device as well?” Peter asked. The general paused, clearly annoyed at the interruption.
“Theoretically, it might have. The doctor built two separate machines—one as the transmitter and one as the receiver—and his experiments were largely successful. He was able to send himself back in time, but only by a few hours. Once he switched the polarity and tried to move forward, the doctor met his demise.”
“If the receiver was built and here, why did he fail?” Julie jumped in this time.
“It’s quite simple. He forgot to tell someone to turn the receiver on. He assumed that by simply conducting the experiments, all parties would be privy to the process in the future. Obviously, that was not the case. What he should’ve done was mail a letter to someone with authority in the future. It needn’t have been an actual person, but could have been more generic in terms of position, such as Senior Scientific Adviser, with a delivery date sometime in the decade prior to his arrival.”
Peter and Julie smirked collectively at the ridiculous brain fart of a supposed genius. Two words: Darwin award.
“I know it sounds ludicrous, but I assure you it’s true. He was mostly considered a foolish old man, wasting his talent chasing down an unachievable dream. But Dr. Epson was brilliant, with ideas generations ahead of any other scientist at the time—including Einstein. We have verified his research and are now capable of sending the team back to his receiving device at precisely 10:42 a.m. on July 24, 1942.
“If there are no further questions on the time travel portion of the mission, let’s continue on to your objective.” General Applegate paused momentarily to field any questions. “Good. Your mission in 1942 is to travel to a small village in France and destroy a memorandum. Then, simply return to San Francisco and travel back.”
“That’s it? That’s our whole mission? To go back and destroy a memo?” Peter asked, flabbergasted.
“In essence, yes. That is the entire mission. You see, the document you are eliminating has great implications regarding the success or failure of many military operations in World War II.”
“Such as?” Peter asked.
“The specific operations are not important. The memo is your objective. Succeed, and there is a high probability that the shifted present will be a much better place than it is today.”
Peter sat there feeling a little silly. Seriously, all this training and subterfuge for one memo! He was trying to assemble an even-tempered response to the general for once again withholding information. Julie broke the silence.
“General, I think your lack of willingness to share this information will inevitably jeopardize the success of this mission. Would it hurt you to finally share all pertinent information with those of us that are risking everything—our lives, present and future? We have the right to know everything if you want us to proceed. I, for one, am willing to walk away unless we are fully briefed,” Julie said, glancing at Peter for reassurance.
“I agree,” Peter said, as he nodded at Julie.
General Applegate stared at Julie for a solid minute, and then glared at Peter. “OK then.” Applegate paused for another drink of water, clearly annoyed. He began rifling through the bottom of his stack of file folders. Finding the one he was looking for, he continued.
“Operation Sledgehammer was devised by the United States and Russia in the spring of 1942. Sledgehammer was a plan to capture French seaports in the fall of that year. Both the US and the Soviets lobbied hard for the operation. However, the operation was designed to be mainly carried out by British troops because of their geographical position at the time. Churchill resisted. Because of Churchill’s reluctance to support Sledgehammer, it was ultimately labeled as not feasible and forgotten about. Churchill decided Sledgehammer’s fate solely on that memo in France. It must be destroyed so that Operation Sledgehammer can be implemented.”
“Why is it so important for Sledgehammer to succeed?” asked Peter. “We won!”
“For a number of reasons. First, the small village that you will infiltrate might not be completely destroyed. If successful, France will become a much stronger ally throughout the war.”
Julie leaned forward and asked, “What is the name of the village?”
Applegate looked down at his notes. “It’s called Oradour-sur-Glane. It’s about five hundred kilometers south of Paris.”
Peter was dumbfounded. He recalled his dinner conversation with Julie and was certain that the general had her full attention. Julie, to her credit, remained stoic.
“Our simulations indicate that World War II could possibly end a full year sooner than it did in our current timeline. Also, since Oradour-sur-Glane might never be destroyed, the German frontline may relocate to another part of the country by 1944. Beyond the war, our simulations vary quite substantially. The key is intercepting that memo and destroying it.”
The ops center radiated silence. Peter continued to look at Julie for signs of a reaction. There were none. He panned to the rest of the personnel in the room and realized that neither Dr. Lamb nor Dr. Larsson had said a word throughout the entire briefing.
“What about our two doctors?” Peter asked, indicating his two remaining companions. “What is their part of the mission?”
“They will be staying in San Francisco to correct any anomalies with the devices so that you all have a safe trip back to the present. They will have no contact outside of Dr. Epson and his assistants,” replied the general.
“What about Epson? Do we expect any resistance? Are we just going to show up through his time machine and say ‘Surprise!’”
Applegate smiled for the first time all morning. “Well, that is the sum of it. He should be elated that his devices are successful. He will be surprised at first, but we feel that he will accept the situation relatively easily. We believe he will be anxious to assist.”
“What about our mission to France? Will Epson be told?” asked Peter.
“He will be told nothing. His knowledge of your mission could disrupt the entire outcome. We have devised a cover story for why the team is traveling back to 1942 and why the two of you will be leaving for more than a month’s time.” Applegate produced two new folders from the bottom of the pile and handed them to Peter and Julie. “Everything you need to know is in there. After our briefing, go home. Read through the intel, and get some rest. Your training is complete, and all you need to do is wait until tomorrow. If you need any final information on 1942, the lab’s computers are at your disposal before you go home.”
Peter felt overwhelmed. He wanted to use the computers for a few hours of research on Operation Abraham, but he also wanted to review everything he had just received.
Julie stood suddenly and silently walked from the room.
“Are we done here, General?” asked Peter, wanting to follow.
“Yes, I think so. It’s imperative tha
t you are all here by 7:30 sharp. We’ll need to get you completely outfitted and stripped of anything modern.”
Peter stood and quickly walked out. He caught Julie before she got to the stairs.
“Jules. You OK?” asked Peter.
“I can’t believe it. I might be able to change my family’s history,” Julie said, nearly in tears.
Peter was unsure of what to say, but he knew that nothing was simply by chance on this operation. “Do you suppose the general knew about your family history and that is why he wanted you on the team?”
“I don’t follow, Peter. He knows that I have French heritage.”
“Suppose the general knew your family originated from Oradour-sur-Glane when he recruited you. Your devotion to our success would be that much stronger if you have something personal at stake.”
“If that’s the case, the general is absolutely right. If I can do anything to prevent the annihilation of that village, I will.”
Peter accepted her genuine dedication but felt at odds with how the general continued to control everyone like marionettes.
“Peter, I need to go. I want to read through this and take care of a few things before we leave tomorrow. Can I call you at home later if anything comes up?” Julie asked.
“Yeah, sure thing, Jules. I’m going to hit the computers for a while, but I’ll be home all night.”
Julie leaned in and hugged Peter tightly. “Thank you. We are going to make a great team.”
Julie pulled away and walked down the steps. Peter’s eyes followed as she walked through the village. This quaint little fictitious hamlet held more meaning than either of them ever imagined.
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