“Did you learn this from Brother Raman Abdul, our spy on the Melody who goes by the infidel name Jason Thomas?”
“Yes, sir. If I may say so, the man is invaluable,” Ali said.
“I have been working with the targeting satellite. As of now, my plan is to leave the Sacred Portal exactly where it is.”
“Do I understand you correctly that you can program the satellite to place Sacred Portals wherever you wish?”
“You understand perfectly, young Ali. Allah has given me the power to rain confusion on the infidels at will. Right now, Dr. Flowers has convinced people that there is but one Sacred Portal, and all they need to do is cross over the exact position to get back to the present. Soon, the infidel will be afraid to go to sea in any ship.”
“Is it only in the ocean that you can place a Sacred Portal, Sheik Khan?” Asked Ali.
“Oh no, my young friend. Allah has given me the power, through our satellite, to place a portal anywhere on earth.” He cracked up laughing again. Soon, the infidel will be afraid to leave his house for fear of being transported to another time. The caliphate will rule from a satellite in space. When we wish the infidel to do our bidding, he will not dare to refuse. If we desire that all women have their heads and faces covered, all we need to do is command it. Collecting the Jizya, or tax, on the non-believers, will become a simple matter of demanding that it be turned over. All the vast multitudes of infidels will be dhimmis, subjects living in our lands. The glorious caliphate will rule forever. Whenever the unbelievers displease us, we will simply send them to another time.”
“One thing you never told me, Sheik Mahmood, is how were able to put the satellite into space, and how did we manufacture the elements necessary for it to create Sacred Portals?”
“A man of great wealth named Joseph Morgan. He keeps himself so secret that he did not choose a Muslim name when he converted. He uses his vast riches for the furtherance of Islam and the subjugation of the infidel. Allah has blessed me with a fertile mind, a mind capable of creating wonderful science. But it is Joseph Morgan and his money that have enabled us to achieve what we’ve done. He and his aerospace company are working on plans to launch many more satellites so that we can lay down a Sacred Portal at a moment's notice anywhere on earth.”
“What of the American scientist Bob Flowers, Sheik Mahmood? Did you not say that you had a plan for Brother Abdul to question him while they are on the ship?”
“I have given Brother Abdul a list of questions to ask Dr. Flowers. Our goal is to find out how much he knows. I gave Brother Abdul instructions to take care of Dr. Flowers before they cross the Sacred Portal.”
“Take care of him?”
“Yes, Ali. Kill him.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“What’s wrong with a guy who suddenly develops a personality, Meg?”
“It’s something out of the ordinary, Harry, way out of the ordinary. That guy, Jason Thomas, is positively weird. That’s not just my opinion. Ask around. Dr. Theresa refused to work with him because she thinks he’s a creep. People tell me that Thomas has always been quiet and never social, and they’ve been observing this bird for 10 years. Suddenly, he’s Mr. Friendly, and not just with anybody. It seems he’s become a big fan of Bob Flowers. He follows Bob wherever he goes, and constantly asks questions. Bob himself thought it was a bit weird. It seems that Thomas wants to know everything that Bob knows about the wormhole.”
“So, Bob is a whiz of a scientist,” I said. “It’s natural that he’d acquire a fan club. You’re becoming too much of a cynic, hon. But I agree, Thomas is a weird one.”
“Harry, does it bother you that such an odd bird is trailing Bob Flowers and asking him constant questions?”
“It does bother me a bit, now that you raise the question. Bob Flowers is the most important person on this ship, for obvious reasons. He’s the time travel maven. What else have you noticed about the mysterious Jason Thomas?”
“We spent 10 years with 1,000 people, first at sea, then in a community ashore,” Meg said. “Some of the people were delightful, some not. But the weirdest one of all is Jason Thomas. He is a total creep. In 10 years he hardly spoke to me, except that time when he said that all the women should wear scarves.”
Meg and I walked to the bridge to talk to Captain Lars. Bob Flowers was already there. Jason Thomas had requested permission to enter the bridge, apparently to be near Bob Flowers. Captain Lars declined his request, explaining that the bridge was getting too crowded with non-essential personnel.
“I need a nap,” Bob Flowers said. “When my brain is in overdrive, I need to take a rest. About a half-hour should do the trick.”
He had just left the bridge when Meg noticed that he was tailed by Jason Thomas. Buster had just joined us on the bridge.
“Hey, look.” Meg yelled to Buster and me. “Mystery man is on the heels of our friend Bob.”
Buster took out his pistol and chambered a round. I did the same, and so did Meg. The last thing any of us would tolerate is somebody lifting a finger against Bob Flowers, our key to the wormhole.
We ran to the elevator to take it below to Bob Flowers’ room. We pounded on his door, which he opened to let us in.
“Can’t a man take a nap?” Flowers said.
Have you seen that guy Jason Thomas?” Buster asked. “We saw him following you.”
The door swung open and Jason Thomas ran in with his gun drawn. He opened fire, the bullet hitting the television. Meg fired two rounds at the man’s midsection. Seconds later, Thomas lay dead.
Buster retrieved a room key from Thomas’ pocket. We searched his room and found a trove of radical literature and photographs of Thomas in Arab robes.
“Hey, look at this.” I held up a piece of paper showing latitude and longitude. Above the coordinates were words in Arabic.
Buster looked at the words and said, “It means Sacred Portal. The words on the bottom of the paper read, ‘page 24.’ Obviously, it’s from a book.
I called Lars on the bridge.
“Lars, Jason Thomas is dead. He pulled a gun on us and Meg took him out. Please check out this position.” I read the coordinates.
“That’s the wormhole, Harry. Where are you reading that from?” Lars said.
“A piece of paper we found in Thomas’ room,” I said. “The inscription above the coordinates is the words Sacred Portal, in Arabic. Buster translated it.”
We searched the room for every book we could find and looked at page 24.
“Here it is,” Buster said. “Lure the infidel to the Sacred Portal, where he will be lost in time and space, never to return unless he finds the spot where the Sacred Portal was located.”
“What impact does this have on our immediate plans, Bob?” Captain Lars asked.
“The words seem to support my theory. I have absolutely no idea how anyone could create a wormhole. I recommend that we keep heading for the wormhole and hope that we don’t hit another one on the way.”
***
Meg was suddenly quiet, rare for her.
“Hey, what’s wrong, hon? You’re never this quiet,” I said.
“I never killed anybody before,” Meg said. “I never even aimed a gun somebody. My dad taught me to how to shoot, but only for target practice. Shooting dinosaurs didn’t bother me, but killing Jason Thomas was different. He was a human being, not a good human being, but still, he was a living, breathing person. I can’t get his face out of my mind when I shot him. I don’t think I’ll ever get it out of my mind.”
“Meg, Jason Thomas jumped at us and opened fire. He was looking to kill people, including you and me. When I was in the Navy I took a lot of lives, and even though I was in combat, it bothered me. That’s right, it bothered me to shoot live ammo at another human being. It may surprise you to know that it upset me, but it did. What you’re feeling is normal, babe. So, listen to your captain. Maybe say a prayer for the guy, but right now I want you to give me a hug.”
Meg broke dow
n in tears, which I thought was a good thing. Let it all out, get in touch with your feelings and do all the stuff psychologists tell us to do.
***
“Brother Raman doesn’t reply.” Ali said. “He told us that he was going to take care of Dr. Flowers. Maybe Raman was apprehended.”
“Anything is possible, Ali,” Amir Moradi said. “I spoke to Sheik Khan who has decided he will let the Americans proceed to the Sacred Portal. He will deal with them after they return to 2017. Sheik Khan is concerned about using the satellite too much, for fear that it may be discovered by electronic surveillance. The infidels think that they are about to return home. Soon, they will wish they were still among the dinosaurs.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Captain, we’re a half-hour to the coordinates,” the first officer said. “You told me to remind you so you could make an announcement.”
“Good afternoon, everyone, this is Captain Ragnarssen on the bridge. We’re on track, heading to the location of the wormhole that will take us home. We’re 30 minutes from the coordinates. I will announce a countdown as we approach the position. It’s daylight, so we can expect that we’ll cruise into darkness and then emerge into daylight again—daylight in 2017.”
“Lars, I’m concerned about something,” I said. “When we show up on the other side of the wormhole, do you expect that the area will be crowded with ships and boats looking for us?”
“Good point, Harry. It’s great to have another captain to look over my shoulder. I think we’ll just need to take our chances. My guess is that the search operation has been pared back because we’ve been gone so long. But you make an excellent point. I’ll remind the passengers of that possibility.”
“Five minutes to the position, captain,” the first officer said.
“This is Captain Ragnarssen again, ladies and gentlemen. We’re five minutes from our target. Please be prepared for extreme sea conditions. We don’t know if we’re going to encounter other vessels when we emerge from the wormhole, but please be prepared for turbulence. The countdown will commence shortly.”
“Read me the countdown when we hit 10 seconds, Bob.”
“Zero minus ten, nine, eight…We’re on the target, captain.”
The daylight turned dark, and the ship began to rumble. Two minutes went by, and daylight returned, much brighter than before. The rumbling stopped.
“Right full rudder,” Captain Lars screamed at the top of his voice.
A Coast Guard cutter steamed off our port side, no more than 200 feet from us. The two ships passed by each other, avoiding a collision by no more than 50 feet. Lars looked at me.
“I think you Navy types have a phrase for what almost happened, Harry.”
“Yeah, a collision at sea will ruin your day.”
The bridge was strangely silent. The thrill of emerging from the wormhole was dampened by our near collision with the cutter. When we saw that we were safe, everyone on the bridge joined the entire ship in yelling and cheering.
“Hey, Slim, where did your gray hair go?” Meg said as she ran her fingers through my hair. I wrapped my arms around her.
“You look as beautiful now as you did millions of years ago.” I pinched her cute ass, her now-little ass.
Bob Flowers broke into a tap dance, his arthritic hip pain-free.
“Melody of the Seas, this is Captain Duane Peterson of the US Coast Guard Cutter Endurance, come in please.”
“This is Captain Lars Ragnarssen of the Melody of the Seas. Read you loud and clear, Captain Peterson. Thank God we missed each other.”
“Where the hell did you guys come from?” Peterson said.
“It’s a long story, captain, as long as 10 years. I’m happy to say you can stop looking for us. The Maltese isn’t with us, but all her passengers and crew are aboard the Melody, so you can stop looking for her as well. We’re setting our course for New York Harbor. Will you provide escort service for us?”
“I don’t have enough fuel for that trip, captain, but the American destroyer, Forrest Sherman is approaching your position. Her commanding officer, Captain Langdon, will be talking to you.”
“Harry, isn’t Langdon the man who wrote the book about you?” Meg asked.
“Yes, that’s him, hon. I’m glad he’ll be escorting us. He’s a good man and a good sailor.”
“Melody of the Seas, this is Forrest Sherman, Captain James Langdon speaking. Is that you, Lars?”
“Hello, Jim. Great to hear your voice. I guess you’ve been wondering where we’ve been. We’ve been wondering the same thing. We’re not the only ones on this trip, but have about 1,000 new guests aboard, the passengers and crew of none other than the Maltese. A guy named Harry Fenton is next to me, and he wants to say hello.”
“Hi Jim, Harry Fenton here. It’s good to know that a solid tin-can sailor is running interference for us. I look forward to seeing you in New York.”
“Harry, I cannot fucking believe that I’m talking to you,” Langdon said. “I’m jotting down notes for the next edition of The Harry Fenton Story.”
“This is Lars again, Jim. A passenger from the federal government tells me that we’re going to spend a lot of time being questioned by the FBI. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you too. A lot of people are more than mildly curious to know what happened to the Maltese and the Melody.”
Lars announced an immediate meeting in the main theater. People could barely hear him above the pandemonium. Lars asked Meg and me to join him on the dais. As we entered the theater, 11-year-old Sandy Jones passed by and said, “Hi, Captain Lars.”
“Cute kid,” Lars said. “She looks familiar.”
Meg and I cracked up. “She’s the 21-year-old babe you were flirting with a few of days ago, Lars,” Meg said.
Lars shook his head and laughed.
***
The Melody entered New York Harbor at 11 a.m. on Saturday July 15, 2017 and headed for its slip at Pier 88 on the West Side of Manhattan. It seemed that half of New York City turned out. Fire boats gushed streams of water from their hose nozzles and confetti coated the city. The Mayor of New York City was there to give Captain Lars and me the keys to the city. President Blake called to speak to us on the Melody’s bridge and invited us to the White House.
“So, we’re off to see the FBI, Honey,” Meg said.
“After living among Velociraptors, I’m ready for anything.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sarah Watson, Director of the FBI, called a meeting at the FBI New York office at 26 Federal Plaza. She invited a select group of people connected to the Maltese and Melody incidents. In attendance would be Captain Lars, Dr. Bob Flowers, Randy Borg, Buster of course, Meg, and me. Although Watson had no jurisdiction over him, Al Avila agreed to attend. Norwegian Cruise Line sent two limos to the ship to bring us all downtown.
Before the meeting began, Watson called Buster to the side.
“I can’t believe what I’m about to tell you, Buster, but we have strong evidence that a person or a group was directly involved in both incidents. Your experience was incredible enough, but this adds a layer of criminality to the mystery. I can’t mention it at the meeting, and you are to keep it under wraps. We need to lure this conspiracy into the open so we can kill it.”
“But Sarah, how the hell could somebody create a wormhole in the ocean and take hundreds of people back in time?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Watson said. “The good news is that we’ve got people on the inside. This is obviously top secret, of course. Captain Harry Fenton will work with you because we need somebody with a maritime background. I also want Meg Fenton, Harry’s wife, to work on the case. I’ve heard that she’s smart as hell and the two of them are inseparable. Buster, we’re counting on you. You’re an engineer who speaks fluent Arabic and you have the ingenuity of a hungry rat. If anybody can break this thing open, it’s you.”
“I’ll take your reference to me as a hungry rat under advisement, Madam Direct
or,” Buster said, laughing.
“Okay, it’s time for the meeting.” Watson said.
***
“Good morning everyone, and thank you for being here, even without a subpoena.”
FBI humor. We all laughed politely.
Meg and I walked up to the front of the room and handed Watson a wrapped gift. She opened it and cracked up laughing. It was a photo of Meg and me, rifles in one hand, and flashing a thumbs-up with the other. We each stood with one foot on the head of a dead Velociraptor.
“I’ll cherish this always,” Watson said. “I know just the place to hang it. Although you meant it as a joke, it really serves to illustrate one of the things we’ll discuss this morning—the ordeal you folks went through, dinosaurs and all. Let me say that neither the CIA nor the FBI considers this case closed. Before I go on, I want to acknowledge Captain Harry Fenton. My husband was a destroyer sailor and gave me a book to read about Harry. It’s an honor to have a man with your courage working with us. Whether it’s Iranian gunboats or dinosaurs, you’re a tough guy.”
The meeting went on for another two hours. Sarah Watson concentrated mainly on the experience of travelling through a wormhole.
“When I was a young agent,” Watson said, “I once got lost in a forest. As frightening as that was, it can’t compare to what you folks went through. We’ll take a short break.”
Meg leaned over and whispered in my ear.
“Harry, Sarah Watson used the words ‘working with us.’ What the hell does that mean?”
I really didn’t know what she meant. I’d find out soon enough.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The crew of the Royal Caribbean cruise ship Ocean Magic prepared to get underway from its homeport, known as Port Liberty, in Bayonne, New Jersey. Although the Ocean Magic had a capacity of 3,000 passengers, the ship would put to sea light, with only 900 passengers aboard and a crew of 250. The serious drop-off in bookings because of the Maltese and Melody incidents was the talk of the cruise ship industry. Although the missing ship incidents had happy endings, the public was still skittish about going to sea.
The Maltese Incident Page 14
