Jefferson followed. “We do not, however, wish to replace one king with another. Each colony will have a governor, chosen by the citizenry. We have also created a document for how the colonies will relate.”
“The Articles of Confederation,” said Fritz.
“Exactly,” added Franklin. “So you see, sir, we have considered not only our past and present circumstances, but are setting a foundation for the future, for you.”
The silent room pulsated with the thoughts just expressed. The self-satisfied nods all around spoke to the shared pride of the moment. Fritz rattled his pad, changing the subject. “Did you really believe you could beat the British?”
“Of course.” said Adams. Franklin nodded in agreement. “Some have called us suicidal. I think not. They are far from home. This is our home. The longer they remain, the more our cause will grow in popularity and support, as it has these past years. They will expend men and the royal treasury. Even if they should be victorious in the field of battle, they will grow tired of fighting. We will not surrender.”
Franklin added, “We may need to endure for a time, and it will be a hardship for many. But we will win.” Then he laughed. “But you know that, don't you?”
“If I may,” said Jefferson. “You, sir, have pointed to our failings, our exclusion of women and slaves in our considerations. Let me say we are circumspect. Many factors are evolving, and we must remain united.”
Adams said, “I abhor the institution. Thomas has written the same. But until we are able to confer without a war on our platter, we dare not divide the Cause.”
Nat jumped in. “Your wife disagrees with you, Mr. Adams.” He glared for a moment.
“Abigail has said that denying a place for the ladies makes us no better than the government from which we seek to unburden ourselves. We must tread carefully. I have been told that we will only proceed with the consent of the governed.” He looked to Jefferson.
“And that must include independence first,” said Jefferson. “I believe that the wisdom of the people is perhaps more pragmatic than you credit, John.”
“Perhaps you will enlighten the discussion, Mr. Russell,” Franklin suggested. Fritz looked at the president, whose look said “go ahead.”
“Gentleman, slavery is contentious for you. It will remain so. The country will fight a war over slavery. And Mr. Adams, Mrs. Adams is prescient. It will take almost one hundred and fifty years for women to gain the right to vote. I teach all this, and would love to tell you what your futures will be, but I hope I have not told you too much already.”
“Very wise, Mr. Russell,” said Franklin. “For us now, this visit is as if we were in another country. Perhaps it is best to remain so.”
Adams asked, “Can you tell me how we defeat the British?”
Fritz again looked at the president. “It's your party, Fritz.”
“You have a sense, I am sure, of what will be needed to equip and feed an army. You will need a real army, not militia. General Washington is a traditional soldier, but he will become convinced that it is more important to the country to not lose, rather than to win. He will move his army and fight battles only when advantageous or absolutely necessary. The average British soldier has seven years of training and experience. The colonials have about six months, and officers with no military background. That will change. And eventually, you will have assistance from…” he stopped to select the right word, “outside.”
“Outside. Where outside?” protested Adams.
“That, sir, will be your jobs over the next years. Suffice it to say that your efforts will reap rewards.”
“If you'll forgive me,” said the president, “perhaps we'll have future opportunities to talk, but I must return to my office. I have a meeting now that I must attend.”
Fritz reset the portal for the president's return trip. Fritz opened the door, while his guests stood at the doorway. “This room, which we call the Oval Office, is the home of American freedom, the most powerful room in the world,” said the president. “Talk to you soon, Fritz.” When the door closed, Fritz opened it again, but the gasps behind him caught him by surprise.
“Gentlemen, I'm going to connect you back. If you'd like to come in for a moment, please join me.” On the far wall facing them, two pictures looked back.
“Is that Washington?” asked Jefferson. Lowering his view, he asked, “Is this your library, Mr. Russell?” Followed by Adams, Jefferson walked to the wall of printed volumes of American history. A binding shouted his name. And right next to it, John Adams. Jefferson looked up again at the picture. “Why is George's portrait displayed this way?”
As the two former, and future, presidents stood behind Fritz, the others ambled in. Franklin walked in, smiling, with Emily's arm tucked through his. “With the beauty of hindsight, I've learned much about you both. You are witnessing the future your generation has created. George Washington's picture appears in many places. Your success produced a government. The people elected Washington as the first president.”
Franklin said, “We all have books with our names.” He pointed to the shelves. “We must have done something worthy.”
Fritz showed them how he connected to the past, and explained briefly how Franklin's discovery that lightning contained electricity had made time travel possible.
“Before we leave, Mr. Russell,” said Franklin, “may I make a suggestion for your experiment?”
“Certainly.”
“You told us about a connection from that door to your desk. But which is the catalyst? Perhaps you might exchange your desk and see if you would find a similar result.”
“Thank you. I've considered that. But I've been afraid that moving the desk might break some other connection I haven't found yet.”
“Excellent point. But there are no gains without pains, Mr. Russell.”
Fritz laughed. “That is so true, and Dr. Franklin, one of your most often repeated quotations.”
“My quotations? People remember things I have said?”
“A great many things,” said Ashley.
Before the visitors left, Franklin said he had hoped to ask the president more. Fritz reminded them they all had busy schedules, and time to contemplate what they had begun. Franklin turned to his companions, suggesting another meeting. Fritz told them he would try.
“A pleasure to see you again, my dear Emily,” Franklin said and kissed her hand.
“Come visit us again soon, Dr. Franklin. I'll cook something special for you.”
Moments later, the Founding Fathers had returned to Philadelphia and their time.
Chapter 17
Friday, Labor Day weekend
A KNOCK ON the door raised the president's head. Ms. Crispin informed him that Tom Andrews had requested to see him, without an appointment.
“He doesn't need one. Show him in.” She held the door.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Hi, Tom, what can I do for you?”
“Sir, could we step outside?”
As they headed for the South Lawn, the president waved his secret service agents to stay back. When they had moved far enough, Tom told the president that he'd picked up a conversation about America's new secret weapon. The call originated from a government phone in the State Department. Tom said he had tracked it to Virginia, but no record of the number existed. “I wanted to let you know right away, sir.”
“Where in State did it come from?”
“The Middle East people. No names were mentioned. The caller said, 'Do you know who this is?' The answer made me suspicious. 'I do.' ”
“Your father would have reacted the same way, Tom. Keep me informed.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
A BATTERED RED PICKUP, A rifle mounted inside the cab, tossed a dust cloud as it approached the Virginia farm, passing the mailbox lettered SALZMANN. Richemartel remarked as the driver climbed out wearing a straw cowboy hat, flannel shirt, and jeans, that his current attire provided b
etter camouflage than his usual T-shirts with pithy sayings.
“Let's go to the barn. Leave your phone here.” His visitor held out a package. “Bring it,” said Richemartel. Once inside and out of sight, he asked, “How many phones?”
“What you asked for. Twelve. All from different stores.”
“Good. Do you have a list of these phone numbers?”
“Each box is numbered. The numbers are in order,” the cowboy said. He passed a stapled packet of receipts to Richemartel, who took the package and opened a metal cabinet, the door in need of oil. “Tell the Asians I have another assignment for them. And,” pointing to a map, “send the Arabs here. The president scheduled a speech right on the river.”
“I'll take care of it. By the way, we found us a gambler.”
Raised eyebrows and a quick grin responded. “That's very good. Labor Day starts this campaign. It's time to bring this to a boil. I won't tolerate another four years.”
* * *
NOW THAT GEORGE would allow his experiment, Fritz sat in the backyard with his laptop and lesson folders on the picnic table. For both his ninth grade government classes and his three American history classes, he chose to start at the Continental Congress.
The newspaper, folded and unread, sat under his cup. “America's Secret Weapon” caught his attention. He turned to page 18 and saw a picture of a foggy rectangle, and standing next to the portal opening, Jane Barclay, identified as an Army major. The story talked about the pipeline groundbreaking in Palestine and how the gathering seemed to dissolve and then return. The column ended saying that the British Prime Minister had been killed.
When the screen door banged shut, Emily peeked around the corner. “I'm glad you came in. You've got a good start on a sunburn.”
He stacked his files and pads on the kitchen counter and Emily followed him to the family room. He turned on the TV, flicking from channel to channel. The newspaper picture filled the screen.
“I saw this story in the paper. No one should have this picture. The president warned all the media in June. This is a leak, probably from someone important.”
“Is that Ashley's friend?” she asked.
“Um-hmm. That's probably why he's not here. I better call him.”
Ashley rarely answered his phone, one of his quirky traits that had annoyed Fritz for years. Fritz called again when he got voicemail. Nothing again on the second try. He looked at his mother-in-law with a grimace and worried aloud that Ashley might had taken off again.
“You didn't leave a message,” she said. “Give him a chance. Call again.” This time, before the first ring finished, he answered.
“Are you okay?”
Ash's sniffle answered. “I'm fine.”
“You've been reading the paper.”
“Yup”
“Why don't you come over? We can talk.”
“Maybe later.” The call disconnected.
“Emily, I'm going to Ash's. This wasn't supposed to happen. I'll call the president later and find out what he can tell me.” The humor of his presumptuousness occurred to him, expecting that the president would tell him anything.
* * *
“Why are you here? I said I'm fine.” Ash's red eyes spoke more truth than his words.
“I want to talk to you. Someone leaked. We could all be in danger now. I want to bounce my ideas off you.”
“Why don't you just call the man?”
Fritz studied the beard and long hair. Ashley's 'wiseguy' comments remained on the surface. His smirk hadn't revived. Sadness streamed from his eyes. Concealed below the wise cracks and returning silliness, he perceived a tectonic shift, a tremor of the soul. Ash hadn't grown up. He'd grown old.
“What are you staring at?”
“Something scary.”
“You think I'm spooky? Well, I'm not the one who talks to ghosts whenever he wants. I just come along for the ride.”
“Ash, we've been dealing with this for more than a year. I need to solidify my idea of Chicago being next. I can see it as clearly as I'm seeing you right now.”
“When I saw that picture in the paper, I was there again.” From his recliner, he looked up. “When I first saw her, she took my breath away. Like she sucked the air out of your family room. With all those important people, all I could see was her.”
“I remember.” What he saw now, a brokenhearted shadow of the vibrant man Ashley had been before. The orderliness of empty replaced the living room clutter. Shelved books instead of helter-skelter piles, the worn-out couch swept clean of the files, papers, and magazines, reminded what had been erased. Even the new carpet seemed lost without its complement of confusion and hodgepodge.
“Now I can't take a breath without thinking of her, smelling her, touching her.” Tears cascaded over his beard, his pain tangible. “I couldn't have imagined how much I would hurt.” Holding out the newspaper, tapping the picture, he said, “I don't know how I'll keep going.”
“But you will. You're not alone. I'm here and I need you. Hard as it might be, we'll get through this.”
“Maybe.”
Fritz's phone buzzed, drowning Ashley's sigh. “Yes, Mr. President.”
“Hi, Fritz. I assume you've seen the picture.” The president's voice shared their frustration, but not the sadness that spilled from the recliner.
“Ashley and I were just talking about it.”
It had been sent anonymously, the president said, and the media picked it up. With no real news on a holiday weekend, the picture prodded the president to investigate Fritz's warning. “I'm worried about your omen. What makes you believe Chicago is next?”
“Pensacola showed they could do it and just walk away. A pattern stands out with the three attacks—west, east, south. North is the only one they've missed. What's in Chicago?”
“A big naval training base. Great Lakes.”
“Right. The navy again. I have a feeling.” Ashley stared at him when those words, Jane's words, shot across the coffee table.
“Not you too,” the president said.
“Yeah. Labor Day. You need to warn them. So far, everything has been explosives, including Declercq's ship. They have time today and tomorrow to set it up. I'm guessing they'll use the same group of mercenaries, the ones no one found.” Fritz hesitated, envisioning what would happen. “Any unusual work, people who are out of place. Do you have bomb-sniffing dogs? I would stop anyone not in uniform and check them out. More security, armed, everywhere. They're killers and we should expect weapons. I can almost see them.” Fritz's stream of consciousness gripped the president's attention.
“You've spent a lot of time working this through.”
“It's weird. I haven't. But I can feel the pieces coming together. And making a knot. Or a noose. This is the Caballeros again. And the leak is from inside.”
“It is. We're trying to find out who it is. Let me get back to you.”
“Just to warn you, we're back in school-mode. Teachers are in and out. We need to plan this better.”
Ashley's stare continued after Fritz disconnected. “You came up with that off the top of your head. Just like Jane.”
“It's like a checklist right in front of me. I'm sure I'm right.”
“Jane did that all the time. She could see what was going to happen. Fritz, I miss her, I really do.”
“Ash, we'll get through this together. Now get dressed.”
* * *
HE PICKED UP THE cell phone. “What?”
“Do you know who this is?”
“Yes.”
“Great Lakes is compromised. They found out.”
“Thank you.” He took a deep breath, dialed, and began to pace, waiting for his call to be answered. “Get them out. They've been discovered.” Worry lines crept up his forehead.
Chapter 18
STANDING IN THE HALL outside Fritz's classroom, the president asked General Beech to make the call. When the base commander answered, the general told him to lock his office door. Th
e commander requested not to be disturbed. Fritz pulled the door, and the president and General Beech stepped through the portal. The admiral would be included in a select group, requiring absolute secrecy and an oath to the president.
* * *
IN THE ROOM across the hall, Colonel Mitchell's team waited in full gear. Their orders were clear: find and hold anyone not in uniform, stop all civilian traffic, especially commercial vehicles. They were running out of time.
The president and the general returned from Great Lakes with maps of the base. In ten minutes, two busses would transport the team to the base from a site where the portal would not be seen. The base commander would be waiting at the main gate, while his men were gearing up to join the search.
Fritz paperclipped the first map. As Colonel Mitchell's team set up to enter, Fritz looked at the men who were facing danger. Their return looks of anticipation and respect surprised him. They had accepted the portal, and him, as part of their team. Fritz nodded as he made eye contact. “Ready?” Tony flashed a thumbs-up.
* * *
RICHEMARTEL BASKED IN the afternoon sun awaiting a report. His phone continued to beep, messages coming every few minutes. When the ring tone sounded, he stared for a moment before answering. “What?”
“The place is surrounded. Including dogs. No traffic in or out.”
“Is everything set?”
“Not everything, but enough to do damage.”
“Can you walk out?”
“Not without a problem. They're looking for us.”
“Get out now. When you're out, blow it. Tell them to hurry.”
* * *
FRITZ ASKED, “How big is this place?”
General Beech said, “Eleven hundred buildings. Sixteen hundred acres. Seven thousand men and women.”
“Geez, that's huge. We don't have nearly enough men to cover it.” A picture popped into his head. “Mr. President, they're going to blow something up.” Fritz sensed an urgency that he'd never felt before, like time had picked up speed. “The cameras at the gates. Can we get them to send us a feed of the earlier traffic?”
Storm Surge (Quantum Touch Book 5) Page 8
