Storm Surge (Quantum Touch Book 5)

by Michael R. Stern

  “How much time will that give you?”

  “I need to check the generator. I can't tell from out here how he has it hooked up. We might have five or six hours.”

  “Good. I'm leaving now. If traffic isn't too heavy, I'll make it in four.”

  Ashley explained the situation to Jane and her parents. He said no one else could help. Jane apologized to her parents, but said she was going too. In ten minutes, they were on their way.

  * * *

  GEORGE AND LOIS pulled up behind the black Suburban. George's look of annoyance dissolved when he saw Tony. He unlocked the door.

  “Not again,” George sighed at the sight of the jagged glass that had been Ashley's window.

  Tony kneeled and examined the generator. “That's not the worst of it. He didn't plug the generator into the wall.” He took out his phone.

  “Hi Tony, it's Jane. Ash is driving. We're barely on our way. What news?”

  He explained that Fritz had the generator hooked up wrong. Although he'd reconnected it, the motor had stopped. “Jane, the portal is closed. Fritz didn't get out.”

  Tony called the president again. “He's gone, Mr. President. The power had shut off by the time we got in. He's inside the portal. Ashley is on his way.”

  “Thanks for calling me, Tony. When Ashley arrives, come and get me. I'll try not to be in the way, but I want to be there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  * * *

  “MONSIEUR RICHEMARTEL, welcome back.”

  “Thank you, Paul. My usual seat, sil vous plait.”

  As the dinner hour reached full stride, almost all the tables filled with late evening Parisian diners. The tourists had eaten and left. A small, linen-covered table waited empty in a dim corner.

  “May I order a drink for you, monsieur?”

  “I'll wait for a bit, Paul. I have a guest this evening. He will arrive soon. Then bring us two brandies. The usual.”

  “Oui, monsieur. Will you be dining? May I bring you a menu?”

  “Not necessary this time. When he arrives, please order foie gras for an appetizer. Then two racks of lamb and pomme frite, and your tempting vegetable dujour, whatever it is.”

  “Bien sur.”

  Richemartel leaned further back into the shadows. Once more he had escaped unnoticed by the people following his every movement.

  * * *

  ASHLEY DROVE INTO the parking lot and spotted Fritz's car parked behind the school. “Jane, call Linda. I'll go right in and see if I can figure out where he went.”

  Jane took his phone and found Linda's number. She told Linda what had happened. Linda said she had planned to come on Sunday.

  “Maybe Ash can come for you in the portal. That would be easiest. When we get everything settled, I'll call back. Do you want to come tonight?”

  Linda had a quick, definitive answer. “Yes.”

  Ashley stopped at the door and looked at his desk through the broken window. “I'm going to use the portal again,” said Ashley. “But first I want to see what he did.”

  Nine books, standing on their edges stared back. He noted the titles and with a pencil, traced their outlines on the desktop. Three on the left, three on the right, three in the center.

  What are you doing, Fritz? Jane came in and stood behind him, massaging his shoulders, as he stared at the stack of books.

  “Linda wants to come home,” she said.

  “Isn't that precious. I have to figure out where he's at.”

  “Tony said the president wants to come, too.”

  “Just what we need, another circus. Let's get this over with so I can work this out. Damn, where is he?”

  When Ashley walked from his room, Lois stopped George mid-sentence. “He wasn't playing this time, was he?”

  Ashley shook his head. “Doesn't look like it. I need to check out what he's marked, Lois. I haven't had time yet.”

  “If you open the portal, can he get back?” George asked. “Remember that time I took the keys out of his desk?”

  “I remember,” said Ashley. “We thought we'd lost him then. I've got to get the president and Linda wants to come home.”

  “She wants to come here? Now?” asked Lois. “She's going to need us to stay. She'll need us, George.”

  “That's fine with me. Ashley, I hope you can find him.” Ashley studied this very different man. Not arguing, not red in the face. Calm, even sad.

  “I hope we can. Open Fritz's room for me, please. He has Linda's parents' house in his file.

  First, Ashley fetched the president. Then, he opened the portal to the Miller house. Ash, Jane and the president went through to where Tim, Emily and Joe were waiting in the dining room, a mostly uneaten turkey decorating the middle of the table.

  “Where's Linda?” Ashley asked.

  “Upstairs, packing,” said Emily. Jane headed for the staircase.

  “So, you made it home for the holidays, Tim,” said the president, a wry grin rising to his lips.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Emily, how are you?”

  “I'm fine, Mr. President. Did you find Fritz?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Ashley, I'm coming with Linda. She'll need some help getting back to normal. Is that okay?”

  “Okay by me.”

  “Joseph, help Linda with the bags, please.”

  Tim asked, “Will you be able to get him back?”

  Ashley and the president shared a quick glance. “I need some time to see if he left any clues. Too soon to tell.”

  Linda came down with TJ, Jane and Joe carrying her luggage just behind. She hugged Ashley. “I'm so glad you're here. And I'm so glad you're okay. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “We should get going,” Ash said. “The more time that passes the harder finding him will be.”

  “Bye, Daddy. I'll talk to you.” She gave Tim a brush of a kiss on his cheek. Then she hugged her brother. “Thanks for everything, Joe.”

  Minutes later, the quiet hallway around Ashley's classroom buzzed. Ashley told everyone to go into Fritz's room while he analyzed what to do next. TJ again had a crowd to play to, his own audience. He chattered at them all.

  With everyone out of the way, Ashley returned to the problem at hand. He motioned Tony into his room. He placed the books where he had found them, and asked if Tony had any ideas. Tony looked at the books, saw that Fritz had selected some places he had been before, but others that Fritz had never visited. Tony asked if anything seemed familiar.

  “He's got Kitty Hawk. I went with him once, and he went to see Wilbur Wright by himself. He's got Churchill, but this one is during the war, before we met him. Gettysburg. That doesn't feel right to me. He's never been to see Lincoln. This book is General Longstreet's memoir of the Civil War. Maybe.” His arms at his side, his fingers straight, he squinted at his desk, trying to visualize what Fritz had done. “How much time would it take for the planes to get in place after you called?”

  “I've never timed it. These guys have done this before, so they were up pretty fast. Maybe eight or nine minutes. Why?”

  “From the time Fritz called, how long before you got here?”

  “Give or take, twenty minutes. We came pretty quick. After all you were in an accident.”

  “Yeah, so let's say eight minutes for the planes and twenty for you. That means he had at most twelve minutes to pick where to go. If he didn't know before he started.”

  “What was his rush?”

  “He knew you'd come quickly. But he needed the planes. If he intended to explore, he'd have called the president, might even have invited him to come. He would have waited for you. He staged this for another reason. And finding him is going to be hard.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “His life is a mess. I can't believe I didn't see this coming.”

  “How could you know?”

  “We think alike, Tony. Give me a few minutes. I want to look at the books.”

  One at a time
, he turned to the pages where Fritz had placed the paperclips. At Kitty Hawk, he had clipped a picture of the Wright's workshop and living quarters, a shed on the beach. The second clipped a picture of Churchill in his office at 10 Downing Street. Churchill wouldn't know him yet. Ashley set the book on the floor and reached for the closest book on the right of the desk, a book about Ben Franklin. He had seen the picture before—Franklin's Philadelphia residence. Maybe. The Battle of Gettysburg. Likely.

  Jane walked in. “Any ideas?”

  “I can rule out one so far. I've got three more to look at. This one is Lincoln. The last one is General Longstreet's memoir. Lee told us he had asked Longstreet to write this.” Ashley opened the book. No pictures, only text. “Fritz clipped where he's writing about Gettysburg. If he's trying to get back to Lee, he might use this one. But we didn't meet him at Gettysburg. Fritz waved to him, and told him about it later.” The final books were “Mein Kampf,” a book about Lee Harvey Oswald, and most puzzling of them all, Jim Koppler's memoir, “In Service to My Country.”

  “Ash, would he go to all these places?”

  “If he had the time, yeah. He set it up 'left, right, center.' But he could have stopped anywhere. And with three books on each spot, I'll need to explore and experiment with how that works. We never did more than one.” He took a deep breath. “I'm not sure he wants to be found.”

  “Linda might have some ideas.”

  “I doubt it. We can ask, but she has no idea of all the places we went. And when she left, he went wherever he wanted.”

  “Then we should ask.” The group in Fritz's classroom mirrored the gloomy look on Ashley's face. “Do you have any idea of where he went?” asked Lois. He shook his head.

  “What are you going to do?” asked George.

  “I need to get in here after I plot his possible stops. I need to read through the places he clipped in the books. Maybe he's left a clue. Linda, we need to do this together. You might see something I don't.”

  “Of course I'll help.”

  “Tony, you may need to come with me. With some of your gizmos. Maybe he left a trail.”

  “So what should we do now?” Jane asked.

  “Come to my house,” Linda said. “You're welcome to join us, Mr. President.”

  “I would be in the way right now. But I'll try to remember what Fritz might have said to me and I'll call if I have an idea.”

  “Fritz's car is out back. We should get it home,” Ashley said.

  George sat in Fritz's chair, looking sadder than anyone had ever seen him. “Ashley, did the portal change Fritz? He said I'd changed. He said you'd changed too.”

  Standing in the door, Linda said, “The portal has changed us all.”

  Chapter 14

  THE PRESIDENT SAID good night and returned to the White House, after commenting that only a year ago they'd all had Thanksgiving together. “It feels like ancient history.”

  The rest headed to what had been their regular gathering place, the Russells' house. Emily told Linda to get TJ settled. Ashley and Tony helped with her luggage. Lights that had been off for months lit the house top to bottom. As the kitchen traffic began, Emily picked up the unaddressed envelope and moved it to the other piles of mail on the counter, making room for plates and glasses.

  “He has soda, but not much else,” said Lois, searching the refrigerator. “A little ham, some cheese.” She opened the freezer. “A pizza.”

  Jane said, “This is silly. Nothing's here and nothing's open. We can go get hoagies. At least, it's food. I'll tell Ash. And he can get more soda.”

  “Let's not make this complicated,” said Lois. “How many?”

  “Eight of us,” said Emily. “Get eight Italian hoagies and be done with it. I'll go shopping first thing tomorrow.” Lois sent George to the store with Tony, while they prepared for the food.

  “This place is a mess,” Emily said. “These plates are … dusty?”

  Black Friday. Before Ashley and Jane arrived, Linda began to separate the junk mail and advertisements, and even opened the bills. She checked a couple of bills to see how old they were, and stacked trash. Then she found a blank envelope, unsealed. She set it apart from the rest.

  “Mom, do you think we'll find him?”

  Emily set the pancake batter next to the stove, and poured a cup of coffee. “I can't answer that. He knows how to hook up the portal. I didn't want to say anything last night, but I watched him for weeks. Linda, if he doesn't want to be found, you won't find him. He has the whole of history to vanish into.”

  “Ash said the same thing. I've really screwed things up.”

  “Marriage is hard enough. With all the pressures you two have had, rocky times aren't a surprise. Your father didn't help. But the portal has changed all of us, like you said.” For a moment, the recent memory returned of Ben Franklin kissing her hand.

  Linda reached across the table and took her mother's hand. “The strange thing is that, now that I'm home, I can't believe I left. I fell in love with him that night we had coffee. I can't believe I told him I didn't love him.”

  “We all say things we don't mean. Sometimes, we don't get the chance to take them back.”

  The back door opened and a grim-faced and tired couple walked in.

  “G'morning. Have you figured anything out?” Linda said, as Emily returned to the stove.

  “Not yet,” Ash said, yawning. “But the likeliest place for him would be wherever Robert E. Lee is.”

  “That was my first guess.”

  “Do you two want pancakes?” Emily asked.

  Ash surprised everyone, including Jane. “No, I'm not hungry.”

  Jane reached out to the envelope sitting alone on the corner of the table. “Did you look in here?”

  “No. Not yet. I put it aside when I cleaned the table.”

  Jane handed it to her. “A note's inside.”

  Linda pulled the paper out and read it aloud. “I assume someone will read this eventually. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Tell Linda I love her.” At the bottom, like John Hancock on the Declaration, he'd scrawled only his first name.

  Quiet crowded the kitchen. Ashley unfolded from the chair to his full height. He looked at each of them and slid an arm into his jacket.

  “Fritz promised to be my best man. It's time to go get him.”

  Sneak Peek

  Book 6 of Quantum Touch, “The Portal at the End of the Storm”

  The Portal at the End of the Storm - Chapter 1

  FRITZ

  EIGHT YEARS. All that time, I've waited. When would that day come, the day they find me? A couple of times they must have seen the heels of my shoes on the way out. I've been lucky, so far. Working off the books, working hard and keeping my head down has kept me out of trouble, or the electric chair. Not many students leave college with a back-up marketable skill, or a need to work to get through the four years. I did. The demand for short order cooks has kept me in a position to rabbit when the walls closed in. Still, I wonder what's happening in the real world, my real world.

  “Hey, Kraut, you got that order yet?”

  “Scotch-Irish on my mother's side, and hybrid English on my father's. And who are you calling a Kraut, Ms. Frankfurt.”

  “Hey, asshole. Does that work better?”

  “If it works for you.” Cindy Frankfurt has been a pain for the past year. But she pays me on time and other than regular insults, she knows, or rather suspects, that I'm not on the up and up with her. Need to know, Cindy, and you don't.

  Eight years is a long time to be gone, from family and friends, from a comfortable life, a job that I looked forward to after I found the portal, Linda's lasagna. I wonder if she ever came home. When my shift here ends, all I can look forward to is my dumpy efficiency apartment, and maybe a trip to the library. I don't buy books anymore. I don't buy much of anything. Thank God for car leases. At least, I'm not stuck with constant repairs anymore. Hiding and running has been a nuisance, but it's easier to hide in p
lain sight. I have absorbed my anonymity, both sadly and gratefully. Here, it's just me. I have no family, no roots to tap to give my life a sense of continuity. I've even heard that the Feds are looking for me. Like one of those kids on a milk carton. Will I ever find a way back?

  “Number seventeen, up.” Eggs over easy, home fries, bacon and toast. Times two. The two suits in the corner look suspiciously like law men. I've had too many brushes with the type not to know. The back door is only a few feet away. I'll be keeping an eye open in more than one direction until they're gone. I hadn't seen those two before. No extra pepper on the potatoes. No reason to make them mad.

  Cindy did her normal ballet of serving and bussing. I had to admit, she was good. A lot of banter, anything for a tip. She stopped for a moment at the window and told me they had complimented me on the perfect over-easy eggs. I glanced at the table. The guy on the far side kept his eye on me. I nodded to him and told her to tell him I said thanks and come again.

  “Tell them I make nice waffles, too.”

  She cleared the other empty tables and started the routine lunch prep. We had about an hour until the crowd would begin to trickle in. I unlocked the back door, but stayed near the service window to see what they would do. When they had finally gone, Cindy waltzed into the kitchen, and told me I had a new fan. I asked her what gave her that impression.

  “When he left, he said again, 'My compliments to the chef.' Then he asked your name.” I must have blanched because she reacted swiftly. “What's wrong?”

  “Nothing. My stomach just grumbled.” I remember a phrase from my youth that has proven true—if you can't think big, think fast. Ashley had hit the proverbial nail on the head. I lied well, and I had had many situations where lying had come in handy. But it didn't always work out.

  “Uh-huh. And I have a bridge to sell. Those guys upset you. I saw. You hardly took your eyes off them. Who are they?”

  “Never saw them before. And I hope I don't again. No one even notices a chef in a place like this unless something's wrong. They're suspicious.”