Storm Surge (Quantum Touch Book 5)

by Michael R. Stern

  “Mr. President, you should wait. No matter how you plan an escape, it'll take time to reach St. Louis.” Looking down the hall, he said, “And we shouldn't stand out here.” The president reached for Fritz's class door, but Fritz pulled him back. “Better keep the portal free.” The conference room bustled. Four soldiers monitored the electronics and an aerial view projected the attack site on the paneled wall. When the president walked in, they started to stand and salute.

  “As you were, fellas. I'm not here. I'm on my way to St. Louis. Can you see anything?”

  “No sir. Just our guys. We're trying to get feed from earlier, but nothing yet.”

  “Don't let me bother you.” He looked at the intense faces and then at Fritz. “Sorry for this, Fritz. By the way, I don't think you've met Sam Clemmons yet. He's my chief-of-staff.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Russell. I've been told a little about you.”

  “Just a little, huh? Did you enjoy the trip?”

  “The trip?”

  “From Illinois to New Jersey in one step.”

  “Oh, that. Uneventful. My kind of day.”

  “Mr. Clemmons, this is Ashley Gilbert. He teaches here. Ash, this is Sam Clemmons.”

  Fritz could feel Ashley rev up. “Nice to meet you, but based on my reading, I expected you'd be a lot older.” The president laughed.

  “Sam, Ashley is an English teacher. No escape for you today. Cairo, St. Louis, Mark Twain. And you've got a match. Ashley is an A-number-one wiseass.”

  Ashley smirked. “More than you can say. You never have sneakers when you show up. I think you're afraid of me.”

  The president shot a scowl. “You'll get your chance. But let's do it when someone's not trying to kill me.”

  “Excuses. Mr. Clemmons, all he gives me are excuses. Can you do something about that?”

  While the president monitored the mission, Fritz and Ashley stepped into the hallway. Al and Tom were chatting by the trophy case with George and Liz. The president came out and waved to them. He told Fritz they were ready in St. Louis.

  Al ran toward them, and pointed toward the outside door. Two men with tight grips on two girls were coming inside. George and Tom ran up behind Al.

  Gently tapping his arm, Fritz said, “You should leave the hall.”

  “We've been here before. Don't worry.” George screamed at the girls for not being in the auditorium. “Bring them here,” said the president. Nicole and Rachel looked at the full hallway, and together said, “Hi, Mr. President.”

  Fritz held George back and held up his hand to quiet the teachers. The president opened the door and waved them all inside.

  “Sit down, ladies.” They smiled at him. Before George could get up to speed, the president said, “I'll take this.” The president pulled up a chair and leaned against the back rest. “You're aware of who I am. Who are you?” The girls told him their names, looked at each other, and together, reached out to shake his hand. The president chuckled and shook their hands. “So why were you outside?”

  Rachel said, “We went for a walk. The auditorium was full.”

  “And noisy,” Nicole added. “So we went to get a drink.”

  “When we got back, we saw the busses and men coming into the school and…”

  “When we went to check out the busses, that's when we got caught.”

  The president rubbed behind his left ear, looking at them closely. “Wait a second. You're the Dough Twins.” Ashley nodded.

  “Mr. President, Mr. McAllister said that you'd been attacked,” Rachel said. “But you're supposed to be in Illinois.”

  “You pay attention to my schedule?”

  “Mr. R. told us to read the news in the morning to be ready for our class every day.”

  Nicole said, “You're going to St. Louis and Cincinnati today. Well, I guess you're not.”

  “I'll be in St. Louis soon.” His view shifted to Fritz. “And now I'm going to give you an oath. Please stand and raise you right hands.” The girls were dressed for the occasion, red skirts and blue and white striped blouses. “Do you swear to protect the President of the United States and all information about him and his activities, the people who work with him, and the means by which he travels?” The girls nodded agreement. “I need you to say it out loud. You're being recorded.” When they said they did, the president continued. “Your oath means you can't speak to anyone—family, friends, or teachers, except Mr. Russell.”

  “Does that mean that Mr. R is a spy?” asked Nicole.

  “We already knew that,” said Rachel. “We told him we wouldn't tell.”

  “Really?” Fritz shook his head. Ash turned red holding his breath, corralling a laugh.

  “It's kind of a long story,” said Rachel. “We figured out that none of the big news made any sense. But Mr. R went to see Robert E. Lee and the fire. And Mr. R and Mr. Gilbert were on TV at your speech in Palestine.”

  “Yeah, so we watched the news pictures and we saw you disappear in the desert when they shot at you. But we never told anyone,” Nicole said. “Really, Mr. R. We never told.”

  “And Mr. Gilbert is a spy too.” Rachel scanned the others. “Are you all spies? That's pretty cool. Is Ms. McAllister a spy too?”

  Caught in their web, the president laughed. “So Fritz, shall we show them?”

  Before Fritz could answer, a lieutenant told the president that Colonel Mitchell reported they had finished.

  “Okay girls. In the hall,” the president said.

  The classroom door they entered every day opened and soldiers walked into the corridor, mission completed, and lined up on both sides at attention for the president. The colonel walked to the president and saluted, staring at the two girls whose eyes were glued to the soldiers.

  “Put them at ease, Colonel. I've got to leave soon. Did you find anything?”

  “Besides the rocket launchers, we found Arab head scarves, and this.” He handed the president a crumpled cigarette pack, labelled with some kind of Asian lettering. “I don't recognize the package, but it's not American.”

  “Arabs and Asians together?”

  “Not likely, sir. Disguises I think. Maybe the same ones that hit Camp David.”

  Rachel asked, “Did you come here then, too? That was during your summit, Mr. President.”

  “Fritz, you obviously have taught them well.”

  “I can't take credit for that. They figured it out themselves.” Nicole nudged Rachel.

  Fritz reset the portal, carefully placing the paperclips. Rachel and Nicole watched each movement. He told them he would explain later.

  The president said, “Now girls, watch this.” Through the doorway, they could see a room, with men pointing pistols. “It's me, Bill. Put the guns away.”

  When the president left, George started his speech. “You both have detention, maybe forever.”

  “Girls, go in and sit down. We'll be there in a second,” said Fritz.

  When they were out of earshot, George said, “Those two are a problem. They have been since they started here.”

  “The president wasn't bothered by it,” Fritz said. “It would be better to welcome them into our conspiracy, don't you agree? That way we can keep eyes and ears on them. You can't scare them more than what they've seen today.”

  “You mean, just ignore it?” George asked.

  “Who's going to believe them? They've sworn an oath to the president himself. Just like all of us.”

  Ashley said, “George, they're both honor students. They figured this out on their own. I think Fritz is right.”

  “I have a feeling that we're going to see two different girls from now on,” Fritz said. “Do you want to end the lockdown now and send them home?”

  “I can't send them home. We'll do what we did before. Bathrooms and lunch, back to where they were. I'll go do it now. But Fritz, I want to talk to Nicole and Rachel before you let them go.”

  George hurried, almost running, and disappeared around the corner. A coupl
e of minutes later, his announcement caused the noise throughout the school to change from Silent Night to Seventy-Six Trombones. The teachers joined Rachel and Nicole. “Are we in trouble, Mr. R?”

  “Mr. McAllister will be right back. Then we'll talk about it.”

  Nicole said, “You all are spies. We were right, Rach. And that really was the president. I'm glad he's okay.”

  “And he means it about the oath,” Al said.

  “We know, Mr. Kennedy,” Rachel said.

  The door banged against the wall and George charged in, but with a change. Not his usual crimson.

  “All right, you two. I can't give you detention forever. But I can for the rest of the year. So why shouldn't I?” He glared at them.

  “Well, Mr. McAllister, if we have detention for the rest of the year,” Rachel began, “I'll have to tell my mother why I'm late every day. And I'm sure she'll tell Ms. McAllister.”

  George took a step back. “Checkmate, Rachel. No detention for either of you. So Fritz, shall we bring them up to date?”

  Fritz told them about each adventure and mission, and answered each question as it came.

  “Mr. R, did we really talk to Ben Franklin?” Nicole asked.

  “You did. He enjoyed talking to you.” Fritz considered telling them about bringing Winston Churchill to class. Better to be a surprise.

  Rachel asked, “Mr. R, I understand why you want this to be a secret, but could we come with you somewhere? That would be really educational.”

  Ashley looked away when Fritz glanced at him. “Rachel, haven't you had enough excitement for one day?”

  “Not really. We're just getting started.” The teachers laughed aloud, in the presence of master manipulators at work.

  “I warned you,” Ashley said.

  Nicole said, “We were talking before you came in. All those soldiers. Have any of them been hurt or killed?”

  “A serious question deserves a straight answer, Nicole. Yes, both. Even though they leave from here, they've gone into battles. Today they chased after terrorists. They never know what they'll find on the other side.”

  “I was right, Rachel. Mr. R, we decided that our next fund-raising campaign will be for wounded soldiers. They mostly looked not much older than us. We'll start on Monday. But you could all give us a head start.” She held out her hand.

  As the Dough Twins were leaving, with five ten dollar bills, Nicole said, “Mr. R, you could take us on our senior trip.”

  * * *

  A CALL INTERRUPTED his evening. He dog-eared the magazine, and answered. In the background, he could hear a female giggling. “You're an idiot. What do you want?”

  “Just to tell you the boat is in international waters, heading south. We'll dock in Manzanillo, load, and meet you in Ensenada. I'll arrange a jet from San Diego to Ensenada tomorrow. All that's left is to coordinate arrivals in San Diego. That will be set by the twentieth.”

  “How many are onboard now?” Richemartel asked.

  “Besides me, captain, three crew and the girl.”

  “I want her gone before you reach Ensenada.” He returned to his reading.

  Chapter 27

  September 28

  “DO YOU THINK we'll be all right on the boat?” asked Declercq. He studied the crisscrossed steel. The Eiffel Tower looked much taller from the ground than in the postcards.

  “We've been through our stories and all the questions we can think of,” Brie said. “We'll be fine.” She copied his gaze. “Want to go up?”

  “Not now. We should go to the airport. I'll meet you on Thursday at the hotel, or would you prefer the airport? I expect to hear from someone soon with the time to board.”

  “We're being discrete. The hotel is best. We're on our own.”

  “I hope we get instructions for when this is over.”

  “We should go home straightaway. If everything goes well, they'll be in touch within a day. They want to keep us safe.” She hoped that proved true.

  * * *

  Monday, October 3

  A COURIER LEFT a package at his Antwerp office early Monday. Florian Declercq “and guest” were invited to cruise aboard “Hackers” from Friday to Sunday. The instructions said he would be met at the hotel at 9 A.M. on Friday and transported to the yacht. No specifics about where the trip would go or who would pick him up were included. He told his secretary to book a flight to San Diego to arrive the following Thursday. He stared at the invitation, and then called General Beech.

  Chapter 28

  Thursday, October 6

  GABRIELLE SANDERSON registered and rode the elevator to the eighth floor, her room overlooking the harbor. She unpacked what she would need for the evening and the trip home on Monday. Florian would arrive later, and as they had planned, would have travelled all day. They would have a late dinner at the hotel. From her cosmetic case, she removed three cell phones, all pre-paid. One would remain in the room, one would go with her on the boat. The third she would use until they boarded. Before repacking her weekend attire, she stepped out on the balcony.

  “General, I'm here,” she said. “Florian should be here by eight.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “A little sore, but I've been on a plane for six hours. I'll be fine. I'll bet I'm better than Florian.”

  “Gabrielle, Florian is a good guy, and I hate putting you both in harm's way like this. Please be careful.”

  “General, we've worked out our stories. If I can get photos, I will. And I'll call only if it's an emergency. I just hope he can adjust to sleeping with me. He's really a gentleman.”

  “We've known all along that would be the hard part. Good luck. I'll see the president in the morning and tell him we talked.”

  Declercq called her room at eight-thirty and suggested room service. She said they should be in public in case any of their fellow travelers were at the hotel. “Florian, it's easier to meet them informally and get past the first-time awkwardness.” Talking without worrying about phone taps or hidden cameras would be easier, but she didn't say.

  “I'll meet you in the lobby in five minutes,” he said. “I'll go first.”

  The door in the next room closed. Through the peep hole she glimpsed him as he passed her door. A quick look in the mirror satisfied her, but she couldn't get used to her blue eyes.

  Reading a copy of the Wall Street Journal, Florian waited in a white leather armchair, and scanned the lobby. When the elevator bell chimed, she waved. When he returned the wave, the man behind her shouted, “Well, Florian, how've you been?” and rushed by her, pushing her out of his way. Close on his heels, she joined the men.

  “Jeff, allow me to introduce my friend, Gabrielle Sanderson. Brie, this is Jeff Hammersley. He'll be boating with us.”

  “Well, aren't you a pretty one. Very, very nice to meet you.” As if they were old friends, he draped his arm over her shoulder.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hammersley. Nice to meet you too.” She had the advantage. She had read his file, and she'd dealt with his type before. Florian remained dead-pan, but sensed his calm slipping. He took Brie's hand, pulled her out from under the hairy limb, and said, “We were heading for a bite to eat.”

  Without invitation, Hammersley said, “Well, I'll join you. I think the others are staying here too.” Florian could smell the alcohol.

  “I hope we have nice weather,” said Brie. She and Florian had agreed that discussion of weather and other innocuous topics would be their public persona.

  Hammersley said, “I checked a little bit ago. Should be smooth sailin'.”

  While they waited to be seated, Florian asked, “When did you arrive, Jeff?”

  Hammersley told them he flew in early so he could check in and be ready when his friend arrived.

  “Oh, where is she, Mr. Hammersley?”

  “Well you know how girls are. Want to make an entrance and all that stuff. Still gettin' ready.” The hostess asked them if they would be dining. “There'll be a young lady joinin' us, so giv
e us a nice table for four, sweetie. How about that one over by the window? We can take in the harbor lights.”

  Brie took Florian's arm and squeezed it to calm him. She said that they were fine with that choice. Hammersley patted her shoulder and led the way. She mouthed to Florian that it would be fine, and pressed his arm.

  Sitting alone at a small table, a waiter placed a full glass of brown liquid over ice in front of Lucas Weiss. Reading a book, he paid no attention to the new group of diners, two tables away.

  “Weiss.” Lucas jumped at the loud voice and looked up. “Join us,” Hammersley said. “Be like a party. Are you alone?” To the hostess, he said, “Honey, we're gonna need a bigger table. Let's just move these together.” Without waiting, he began to pull a table, rattling the silver and glassware.

  “Jeff, wait. Let me help,” said Florian, grabbing a glass about to fall.

  “Good catch, Florian.”

  Declercq shot a brief glance to Weiss, who took a reluctant step toward them. The handful of patrons watched the noisy entrance.

  “Sorry to disturb you, folks. We'll be settled in a sec.” Hammersley ushered Lucas Weiss to a seat. “So, where's your honey, Weiss.”

  “Nice to see you again, Hammersley, Florian.” He held out his hand to Brie. “My name is Lucas Weiss.” A demure smile on her lips, she told him her name. “I'm afraid that I travel solo.”

  “Well, lets' us sit. Missy, get us some drinks. I'll have Ole Granddad, a big one, with a couple of rocks. Tell the barkeep it's for Jeff. He'll remember me.”

  By the time drinks arrived, so had Hammersley's companion, Joetta, no last name. Tall and slim, severely bleached blonde hair, she looked like an escapee from a 1950s teen magazine. The waitress placed a pink cocktail with an umbrella in front of her.

  Brie and Florian sat facing the dining room, watching for newcomers, as well as any suspicious eyes. Unable to communicate, they listened as Hammersley rattled on about how his trucks had been attacked delivering the salvaged solar panels from Florian's ship.