Saboteur: A Novel

by J. Travis Phelps

  “Why, if they believe in the purity of the timeline? Wouldn’t they want you to return?”

  “They fear it will annihilate everyone else in this second seam, our seam--an apocalypse they call it. Like restarting a race that’s already been run, but wiping out some of the runners completely before it begins. They are the runners of course. They do it for themselves and claim me as their hostage.”

  “So they want to kill you?”

  “Yes, they’d to bring the line to an end and sew it up forever, I gather. Probably they’d rather just study me, in a cage of course; all I can say is that they’ve forged an alliance with Charles Patterson. A settlement. He gets to keep his life and I get lose mine again, except without the glory I have earned.”

  “So you actually want to go back to the Ides of March?”

  “I choose to die on my own terms in the manner the gods intended. Is that so surprising, professor? It is my final act of contrition. I have no fear of returning to my glorious end. Any other is beneath me.”

  Downy looked down at the flashing numbers on the tape recorder. They had been talking so intently he’d almost forgotten it was there. He shuddered as he looked Taro over, noticing now the deep lines cut into his forehead, the light tint of yellow in the corner of one eye, a jagged scar running down his neckline. He looked like a warrior indeed.

  “Thank you, for letting me speak in my own defense professor. I know in spite of all you’ve seen, it’s still so hard to grasp. Alas, reality is so very thin. And our moment is nearly at an end I’m afraid. I wish there were time to say more, but I must depart. Neither of us can stay here in fact; I need you to make one more trip with me, a final trip home. It is my gift to you, for all you have done in my name.”

  Downy suddenly felt an unexpected emotion. He couldn’t explain it rationally, but he felt its underlying truth somehow. A wave of euphoria raced through his veins, but it was not the drug anymore. Could he really be talking to Julius Caesar himself?

  “I still don’t understand why Charlie would try to stop you from going back. I know Charlie he would under--”

  “Think about it, professor. The answer is almost too easy.”

  “Samara.”

  “Yes of course, he’d do anything to have her back. It’s understandable, but it cannot be. I already did what I could for her, but Charlie Patterson is playing for the wrong team.”

  “If I could just talk to him.”

  “Don’t forget he murdered her with his own bare hands professor. What happened after the fact was only an attempt on my part to save you from taking the fall.

  “So you did frame me,” he said angrily?

  “Yes, but not to convict you, to save you. Take this,” Taro said handing him a sugar cube. Taro walked inside to the counter and returned with a glass of scotch.

  “You’ll have your old life back at the end of the day,” Taro said beckoning to him to follow him back inside. He pulled open the sliding glass door, gesturing for Downy to go first.

  “You and I will just step into a small crease then.”

  And as the two men walked inside all became utter darkness around them.

  Chapter XXVI

  “We’re like fucking Butch and Sundance, look at us,” Tina yelped throwing her hair back wildly in the wind. “Wait no, Thelma and Louise.”

  Sullivan’s ragged El Camino sped down the winding roads that led to Lake Chippewa. “Remember, we aren’t doing anything but observing. Any sign of trouble and we’re banana splits, ok?”

  “You’re the fucking cops man, if there’s trouble and we need to do some cop shit, let’s do it!”

  “Seriously,” he said looking at her sideways.

  “Ok, fine.” she purred demurely. “What are we observing, Butch?”

  “That’s just it, probably nothing. Let’s just say there may be banditos, and if there are, we are going to report them to the cavalry.”

  “I can’t make the news, ok? I left work with the flu. I even fake coughed in front of my boss.”

  “You won’t make the news,” he said dryly. He smiled widely, even though he was feeling incredibly anxious.

  He rolled the car slowly to a gravely spot on a ridge still a full quarter mile from where Samara’s body had been pulled from the water. He reached for binoculars in the glove box and moved himself silently near some tall grass. Tina followed quietly behind. He could see very clearly from their position. There was nothing in the water but ripples from the breeze, occasional bugs swiping at the glassy surface.

  “Take these,” he said handing them to Tina. If any people come into view, just give me a whistle; you do know how to whistle right?”

  “Wait! Where are you going?” she said nervously.

  “Just down there,” he said pointing. “I wanna see if anybody’s watching us watch them.”

  “Fucking A. Ok, real cop shit,” she said lowering her head, feeling genuinely fearful for a moment. “Some crazy third date shit we got going on here,” she muttered as she started quietly practicing her whistle.

  He smiled to reassure her as he disappeared down the hill. He pulled a second smaller binocular from his pants and turned them toward her. He scanned in every direction, but it was completely quiet. He looked at his watch. It was 5:41 exactly. There was nothing to do but wait. Maybe they had hoped he would follow this clue and that the real action was going down elsewhere. A diversion. Damn.

  He turned his binoculars back to Tina. Through the tall grass she wasn’t aware she was being watched. She was a true specimen he thought to himself. God, why had he brought her? He shifted his view back toward the water. He would take one more close look and then they were getting the hell out of there and for good. He started to fantasize about a completely different future than he’d ever imagined. There’d be killers and criminals still, after he put down the badge and the fight would go on, so what? Tina could keep him in bed for at least the next ten years alone he reasoned. He paused for a moment. He was only a couple of hundred feet now from the edge of the lake. But already the taste of that future seemed too pure and good to be real somehow. He was having a moment of absolute clarity, but then unexpectedly his senses flew into overdrive. He could see no one, but could feel a presence; He felt like an animal in the midst of a sudden ambush. It was too quiet. He shifted his view back to her, scanning from left to right, but she was nowhere to be seen. He ran back up the hill trying not to panic, but even before he made it to her he could hear her muted attempts at a whistle as she ran into his arms--clearly in a state of panic.

  “Bandito!” she finally exclaimed, but Sullivan was calm, reassuring.

  It was only Tierney standing at the top of the hill, now walking toward them very slowly, in his suit still. What was the fucking chief doing here?

  “No, hun, not a bandito,” he said consolingly, but then he saw Rodriguez emerging from a patch beyond the trees some distance away. She had her .44 at her waist with both hands on it. Then Sheppard emerged from the opposite clearing, suddenly reaching for his firearm until he saw Rodriguez. He lowered it again when he realized who it was. “What the fuck are you guys doing here, following me?” he said.

  There was a moment where he thought he heard Tierney’s voice begin to respond, but the sound was drown out by the crackle of gunfire. He had already fast-forwarded in time to what came next and how utterly powerless he was to stop it. They had them all in one place.

  The first shot took off of the top part of Tierney’s head and he fell very slowly to the ground, still talking and gesturing it seemed to Sullivan, as if he could barely accept the interruption. The sound of the shot seemed to come after, but that was only because they were still being fired on. Sheppard was on the ground instantly too, but round after round poured into his legs and then every part of his torso. He fired pointlessly into the air, then put his arms over his face, letting out a low groan. His pistol slid limply from his hand. Sullivan yelled for Rodriguez to take cover. She was now hovering in a crouched po
sition trying desperately to locate the shooter, waving her gun wildly from left to right.

  “Get the fuck down, man,” she yelled to him, but then she seemed to walk right into the bullet, which tore through her neck, exposing a bloody gore, knocking her instantly off her feet.

  He could hear the awful gurgling as she struggled to breathe only yards away from him. He was still frozen with his arms around Tina, who had now gone completely paralytic from the shock. He grabbed her like a rolled carpet and dashed to the cover of the nearby tree, trying desperately to free his revolver from his waistband, then raced back to check Rodriguez. She was unconscious and though he could feel a pulse, it only pumped thick plumes of blood from the gaping wound in her neck. She had already gone completely blue in the face. He thought of his own mother and father, their waxen faces finally at peace in death and simply waited for his turn. He could still see no one. Tina was curled in a ball, whimpering almost silently. He’d led her to her death like a goddamned fool. He would never be able to say how sorry he was. Her life and his would end here. He waited, but no shot came. And Tina finally raised her head again.

  In an almost whisper she was repeating “Banditos, Banditos.” Then she tried to whistle.

  He stood slowly, looking all around. Too much time had passed. Then he heard the crack of a rifle. His whole body lurched and he was on his knees again. Then two more shots, but they were far away. No bullet had hit him. He yelled for Tina.

  “Are you hit,” he screamed?”

  “No more banditos. No, I wanna go home, I wanna go home,” she said very quietly, like a little girl.

  She was talking, which meant she was alive. He stood now, walking in her direction. The gunfire seemed to have stopped. They really had no cover anyway. It was the perfect spot for an ambush. But why weren’t they finishing them off?

  Then he saw another figure emerge from behind the trees. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The man wore a hat, like the ones tourists wear on safari and had his arms raised in the air.

  “I have no gun, detective. I come in peace.”

  His mind raced to place the face. It was the goddamned guy with Downy’s wife from the station, he’d thought it had been her father maybe.

  “You!” he said.

  “They are called Vestals, who killed your friends. I’m awfully sorry for them,” he said looking nervously at the bodies strewn around. “I dispatched them on the hill just there,” he said pointing. “Four of them, the worst of them, but more will come.”

  “Give me one good reason not to shoot you in the goddamn face!”

  Sullivan’s hands shook as he tried not to look at the awful carnage surrounding him.

  “I might give you many,” the man said calmly, “but let’s begin with the safe return of your friend Tackett.”

  “Where the fuck is he?”

  “I have him nearby and we can go to him, but you must trust me if you hope to live, or the beautiful young lady over there. You’ve already saved her once today by bringing her, though it was imprudent to do so to be frank. I knew I could count on your recklessness, detective.”

  He lowered his gun a bit.

  “If I wanted you dead I’d have shot you from on the ridge over there, but I don’t. I’m on a mission of rescue and I’m the closest thing to a friend you’ve got. We have little time before we have more guns on us, I’m afraid,” he said looking around nervously.

  Sullivan still held his gun tightly.

  “You don’t have to give up your weapon, but I’d appreciate you putting it away. They are foul, unpredictable things in my experience.”

  He finally lowered it.

  “Let me take you to Tackett. He is safe, I assure you, and very anxious to see you, as is someone else you will be very happy to see, I presume. Come, follow me,” the man said.

  “Wait, who are you? I don’t even know your goddamned name.”

  “Most call me Taro, that will have to do for now.”

  “Where are we going, what about them?” he said pointing to his fallen comrades.

  “They are quite finished as you can see. There is no time for reflection unfortunately. She will be killed too if she stays.”

  “Let her go,” he said pointing to Tina. “I’ll follow you alone. This, whatever all this is, has nothing to do with her.” Sullivan surveyed the awful scene before him.

  “We need to take a swim together the three of us. I need you to take off your clothes, all of them and hers. It will be easier for you if you take this,” he said producing two sugar cubes from his pocket.

  He pulled off his shirt to reveal a torso pock-marked with scars, the most prominent of which ran from his neckline all the way to the base of his rib cage. He was a man of middle age clearly, but his muscularity was that of someone much younger.

  “Come on,” he said, “they may appear any minute.”

  “We’re not taking these. Do you think I’m crazy?” Tina said finally seeming to regain some of her composure.

  “I’d be suspicious too, but without them you both die. You’re just going to have to trust me. Look, look I need it too, it will help us later,” he said in his calmest voice, slipping a cube into his own mouth. He swallowed with a gulp.

  Sullivan looked puzzled. Tina looked at him as if for an answer. He waited, staring at the cube. There was the sudden sound of voices off in the distance.

  “They’re here, we have no more time,” Taro said tersely.

  Sullivan swallowed, waiting yet again for the worst.

  “Go on,” he said to Tina.

  “Oh God, I’m going to regret this,” Tina said and they both began to run.

  “Where are we going?” he said catching up to Taro.

  “To the bottom of that lake, take off all your clothes or they will singe right into your flesh,” he said pointing. “There is something I have to show you. Something amazing.”

  Chapter XXVII

  Downy awakened suddenly and could instantly feel a warmth coursing through his veins that he recognized---the drug. He was in a small chamber now; marble busts adorned the perimeter. Holes cut through the stone ceiling shone down beams of light on their faces.

  “I come to this room often to talk to them.” Taro said pointing. “That’s old Tarquin himself, second king of Rome. By the time he was finished even his own mother wanted him dead.”

  “Where are we?” Downy said.

  His face was burning hot and he could smell himself now from the travel, like burnt meat that had nearly gone bad.

  “My private study. The Senate convenes in about an hour. I wish I could take you on the grand tour, but it will be extremely dangerous for you to stay--especially after. I thought it was an appropriate way to finish our talk. It’s disappointing, I know. You get to see a whole ten feet of Rome. Still, she is worth a look,” he said pointing across the room.

  He rose unsteadily to his feet and approached the bust in the corner.

  “Is this?”

  “Yes, that is the pharaoh herself.”

  “It’s--it’s remarkable.”

  “It was a mistake putting her in the forum. That statue was perceived as a bit of cosmopolitan preening I suppose, on my part. I only wanted people to see her as I did. I have a weakness for fine things you see. Those men out there sharpening their knives say it’s proof of my true ambitions.”

  “Are they right?”

  “I’m no king, Professor Downy. I am Caesar.”

  He traced his fingers around the soft edges of the young girl’s face. She had named herself Queen of Kings. She looked like she might speak. Her looks were anything but average.

  “She’s younger than I imagined, much more innocent.”

  “She is still but a girl, but a very clever one. I’ll never see the lines form on her face; she will stay this way for me always.” He let out a long sigh. “Maybe you should go tell them they’ll all be dead in a year’s time, those bloody senators out there,” Taro said. “I’d certainly take one last night
with her.”

  “You’re really going to do it then?” Downy said seeming to wake from a trance.

  “I want to show you something for posterity, ok professor? Please report it accurately.” Taro held up his hands in demonstration. They were steady, calm. “I could kill any ten of those men out there with my bare hands if I chose. Instead I’ll give them what they want. If it’s an orgy of blood they demand, they may have it.”

  Taro’s eyes seemed seared now in concentration. His emotions were impossible to read.

  “It’s better that you don’t see. I’ll bet you’re only just now really accepting it, taking me for who I am. It took me years. Being torn from one’s own time in the way that we have--it’s the most sinister kind of violence. Today, I shall know even more on that subject though.” Taro walked to the corner of the room where there hung a purple-bordered cloak. Downy had read about it a thousand times in his books and here he was staring at it. Caesar pulled it from the mannequin and swung it casually onto his shoulder.

  “I have one final gift to give you, professor.”

  Downy suddenly felt like a child. Here the man was then, great Caesar himself, and he could think of absolutely nothing to say to him.

  “This sword was given me by my father, whose history you know well. Venus herself bequeathed it to my family millennia ago. No mortal hand could even forge steel then. It is endowed with great power--and tragedy it seems.”

  Caesar presented the blade to him silently. It felt remarkably light in his hands.

  “Keep it safe for me in my memory and know that you have made this day possible. In a sense, we have saved the world together, you and I.” He put his arm to Downy’s shoulder and leaned in to embrace him. “God’s be with me this day, give me courage.” Caesar kept his head buried in his sleeve for a moment, then composed himself before speaking. “That passage leads to a door. Our paths must part here my friend. You cannot travel where I’m headed, and all my work will be undone if you stay.”

  He looked down at the sword in his hand.