Box Set - The Time Magnet Series

by Russell Moran

  “I have a practical question,” said Wally. “Will any of our credit cards work?”

  “No,” I said, “but Ashley has all sorts of contacts so we’ll arrange for new identities. Meanwhile, don’t worry about money.”

  “That’s right,” said Bennie. “Celebrity Jack is loaded.”

  “You’re rich?” said Janice.

  “I make a living.”

  "Once we get to Norfolk I’ll meet with Ashley. Then we’ll all regroup and plan how to stop the Thanksgiving Attacks. As a Navy captain, Ashley will be in charge because it’s a Navy matter. But I’m sure we’ll have to enlist some political firepower just like we did with the FBI and CIA here in 2017. It shouldn’t be a problem. Ashley and I have a lot of credibility on the subject of time travel. My guess is that the FBI or CIA will take over and we’ll all be deputized again.”

  “So, my friends,” I said, “tomorrow we do the impossible.”

  Chapter 38

  We arrived at the wormhole site at 7 AM on July 22, a bright morning with low humidity. Because time travel is best done in privacy, we wanted to be early to avoid people. FBI Director Watson arranged for us each to have letters of authorization to be on the construction site. We stood as a group with our backs to the street. I would go first, then, by a coin flip, Wally, then Janice, followed by Bennie.

  I stepped across the grate. I felt slightly nauseous, took a deep breath, then realized I had made the trip. It’s a feeling I’ll never get used to and I hope I won’t have the opportunity again. I turned to welcome my friends. They appeared one by one, and as each came through the portal, I reached out to help them get steady. When I reached for Janice’s arm she hugged me. They each had the same feeling as me, nausea and dizziness, and an overwhelming feeling of disbelief. The field was nothing like the one we left. Now it was just a vacant lot covered with weeds. When we left 2017, the temperature was 75 degrees and the sky was sunny. Now it was overcast and chilly. I pointed to the neon sign on the building.

  11 AM October 1, 2015. The temperature was 48 degrees.

  I thought I’d pass out. I had been gone for three months. The Thanksgiving Attacks are just eight weeks away. Obviously the time differential works different in the future than it does in the past. Time went faster, and our mission was now an emergency.

  Ben, Janice and Wally just stood shivering and stared at our surroundings silently.

  “There was a skyscraper right there when we left 2017,” said Bennie, pointing east.

  We noticed that there were very few cops around. One walked by, smiled and said hello. He didn’t ask for our papers.

  I took my cell phone out of my pocket, and was happy to find that my account was current, one of the nice things about electronic auto pay. I called my secretary at the Washington Times and told her to book us a flight from New York to Norfolk. She started to ask where the hell I’d been, that everybody had been freaking out over my disappearance. I told her I’d fill her in later. She called our well-trained travel department and phoned back within five minutes to tell me that our flight would leave from JFK at 2 PM.

  Next, I called Ashley. It’s been three months. I can’t believe it.

  “Jack, honey, just talk, just let me hear your voice,” Ashley said. “Where are you?”

  “I’m catching a 2 PM flight from JFK to Norfolk. Arrival time is 2:53.”

  “Next question,” said Ashley. “Where have you been?”

  “Two years away,” I said. “Yup, it happened again. Long story, Hon, a long and weird story. I’ll meet you at the ship.”

  “No,” Ashley said. “Meet me at the apartment. I want you all to myself.”

  I could tell she was fighting back tears. Ashley has a full range of emotions just like anybody, but as a military leader she’s used to keeping her feelings in check. She’ll let go when we see each other.

  We took a cab to JFK and arrived at 12:15 PM. Next stop, Norfolk.

  Chapter 39

  We arrived in Norfolk right on time at 2:53. The travel office at the Times had booked three rooms at the Marriott near the Navy base. Ben, Janice, and Wally got out of the cab, and I continued on to meet Ashley at our apartment.

  I lost my key somewhere in 2017, so I rang the doorbell. Ashley almost tackled me as she opened the door. We held each other and didn’t speak, hugging like we didn’t want to risk drifting away. Finally, Ashley started to talk, but broke down crying.

  It wasn’t the time we were apart that gripped us, it was the uncertainty of whether we’d ever see each other again. After three months, Ashley must have tried to avoid thinking that I’d be missing forever. And after only three weeks in 2017, I constantly struggled with the uncertainty of being on the other side of a wormhole.

  Ashley held my face in her hands and stared into my eyes. Ashley has the most expressive eyes of any woman I'd ever known. She was giving me what everybody calls an Ashley Patterson Eye Job.

  “When you went missing,” said Ashley, as she put her arms around my neck, “I assumed it was a time trip, given that certain weird part of your profile Mr. Time Magnet. But as the days, weeks and months went by I started to feel something I never felt before – despair. But now you’re here in my arms where you belong.”

  “Have I mentioned that I love you,” I said.

  “It’s been a while,” Ashley said, “but it sounds great to hear it.”

  “Okay, Honey,” Ashley said, reluctantly changing the subject, “I’ve got to know what happened, but first I have to know this. I’m not exactly unfamiliar with time travel. So why didn’t you just step back on the wormhole right after you came through to the other side? From everything you’ve ever said or written about time travel, that’s the way to come back.”

  “If I did that, you and I would have eight weeks to live.”

  Ashley stared, wide eyed.

  “I need to sit down,” said Ashley. “Here, sit next to me. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

  “Okay, Sweetheart, here it is from the top. History, the history that I learned in my three weeks in 2017, tells us that on Thanksgiving Day, 2015—two months from now—five American carriers will be attacked with suitcase nuclear bombs. One of those ships will be the Abraham Lincoln. As you know, because you’ve already invited me, I’ll be with you on the ship. There will be no survivors, including you and me. In all, about 26,000 people will die on all of the ships. The other carriers were the Roosevelt, the Truman, the Vinson, and the George Washington. The event became known as the Thanksgiving Attacks, the greatest terrorist spectacular in history.”

  Ashley began to perspire. She fell back against the couch, squeezing my hand all the time, staring at me, not saying anything.

  “So what I’ve been up to for the last three weeks, or three months of 2015 time, is acting like a detective. My sole objective was to gather objective evidence that I could bring back with me so I could blow the whistle, and get people to hear it. Now I’ve got the evidence, and I’ve only got eight weeks to stop the attacks.”

  “Dear God” Said Ashley, “Dear God Almighty. Jack, tell me about the evidence.”

  “We have conclusive evidence that the attackers, the people who set the bombs, were the weapons officers on the five carriers, including Joe Monahan on the Lincoln.”

  “Joe Monahan is a murdering terrorist?” Ashley asked, almost screaming.

  “Yes,” I said, “He and the others were radicalized as teenagers at an indoctrination camp in Saudi Arabia. They have been deep moles for over twenty years. I’ll fill in more details later, but for right now, let me ask you a question, has Monahan ordered a special air conditioning unit for the ship’s magazine?”

  “Holy shit,” Ashley shouted. “Yes, yes he has. And I know of at least one other ship that ordered an air conditioner for the magazine. Ike Bollinger of the Vinson told me about it. Neither of us knew what to make of it. What are the air conditioners all about?”

  “Bomb holders,” I said.

  Ashley got
off the couch, went over to the wet bar and splashed cold water on her face. She sat back down next to me and breathed deeply.

  “God knows,” Ashley said, “I’ve handled some heavy duty stuff before, but nothing like this.”

  “Where are we in the operation, Jack, what’s our status and what’s the plan?”

  “Tomorrow morning you’re going to meet three people who were at my side during the whole investigation. All three of them came with me through the wormhole. We’ve even given ourselves a name, The Thanksgiving Gang. Their names are, Bennie Weinberg who you know very well, a guy named Wally Burton from The New York Times, and Janice Monahan, Joe Monahan’s wife.

  “Joe Monahan’s wife?” Ashley gasped.

  “Yes, and she’s not his biggest fan.”

  “Okay,” said Ashley, “I’ve got a million questions to ask, but it’s probably best for you to just fill me in on the details along with the others. You know, I expected that when I finally saw you I’d feel nothing but relief. Now I feel numb. Let me take a few deep breaths and calm down.”

  Ashley is a practitioner of deep breathing meditation, and she's gotten me into it as well. It’s especially useful when you’re under stress, and I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’ve given Ashley, a lot of stress. After a couple of minutes of deep breathing, which I joined her in, we both felt better.

  “You look exhausted, Honey,” Ashley said after her deep breathing routine. “Why don’t you take a shower and relax."

  She smiled and stroked my face. "I’ll even help you.”

  Ashley and I had some catching up to do.

  ***

  “When you make admiral are we still going to carry on like this?” I asked.

  “Twice as much,” Ashley said.

  Chapter 40

  The next morning Ashley called the ship and told Mike Cummings, her new executive office, to cover for her.

  Bennie, Janice, and Wally showed up promptly at 8:30.

  Janice shook Ashley’s hand and said, “I met you once at the officer’s club with Joe. You and Jack had just gotten married. Jack’s a lucky man and you’re a lucky woman. Maybe you guys can introduce me to an eligible bachelor who isn’t a treasonous murderer.”

  “I’ll work on it, Janice,” said Ashley as she gave her a hug.

  “Bennie,” Ashley said, “I haven’t seen you since the Naval Board of Inquiry after the California incident. Jack tells me that you’re now an official time tripper. Welcome back to 2015.”

  “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you, Ashley,” said Ben as he grasped both of Ashley’s hands. “I guess Jack told you that everybody thought you and Jack were dead. Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  We had just begun to eat the bagels I ordered when the doorbell rang. As Ashley went to the door, I noticed that she reached under her sweater and drew her gun. She held it discretely

  behind her. We could all hear the man at the door say, “I’m Special Agent Gamal Akhbar of the CIA. May I come in?”

  “Buster,” the four of us shouted. Ashley looked at us, then at the man. We surrounded Buster like a bunch of high school kids welcoming their coach.

  “We call agent Akhbar, Buster,” I explained to Ashley. “He was our team leader.”

  “He is your team leader, not was,” Buster corrected me. “Did you really think the Agency would leave this mission to a bunch of amateurs?”

  “How the hell did you get here?” asked Wally.

  “Simple,” said Buster,” I watched you all disappear into the wormhole and I followed you. When I passed through the portal and saw the month and year we’re in, I realized that we have an emergency, not just a mission. The attacks are only a few weeks away. The CIA Director went right to the White House and got an executive order putting the wormhole site off limits until the order is rescinded. The wormhole is there, if we need it.”

  “Captain,” Buster turned to Ashley, “I apologize if I seem to be taking over, but it’s my assignment.”

  “Please, Buster, if I may call you that,” Ashley said, “I think we all know that we need a professional to pull this off. Just tell us what you need.”

  “Yes, please call me Buster. May I call you Ashley?”

  “Of course.”

  Buster went out to his rented car to retrieve something. He came back with a laptop, a projector, an easel, and a flipchart. Besides having balls of brass, Buster is a master planner.

  “Okay,” Buster said, “here’s where we are, and here’s where we want to go. Our working theory is that the nuclear devices were planted in special air conditioning units that were or will be placed in the ships’ magazines. As an a/c engineer, Janice has been invaluable. Now, Ashley, let me ask you, is Monahan still on the Lincoln?”

  “Yes, he is. About the air conditioner, an alarm went off in my head when he requested it. I met with my friend Ike Bollinger, captain of the Carl Vinson. His weapons officer asked for the same thing on that ship. I didn’t go any further with it, just assuming that Monahan, like the guy on the Vinson, was being a diligent officer. Bollinger thought the same thing. I have no idea about the other ships, but it should be easy to find out. I can simply call each of the captains and ask if they had a requisition for a special a/c unit for the magazine.”

  “Do you know if the air conditioner has been delivered to the Lincoln yet?” Buster asked.

  “No, I don’t,” Ashley said. “I’ll find out right now.”

  She called Commander Mike Cummings, her executive officer. “Mike, I need you to check on something for me, and I need you to do it quietly. Not a word to anyone, especially Joe Monahan. I want you to check our requisition requests and find out if that air conditioner that Monahan wanted has been delivered. It’s all on the computer so you can just do a search.”

  Janice waved her hand.

  “Hold on Mike,” Ashley said.

  “Tell him it’s a Tomlinson Model 2000,” Janice said. “It may help his search.”

  “Mike, It’s a Tomlinson Model 2000. Remember not a word to anybody. I’ll explain when I see you.”

  Buster hooked up his laptop to the projector and flashed a PowerPoint display on the wall. Each theory was listed in sequence, from the weapons officers as suspects to the air conditioners as bomb holders.

  “The people at Langley think the air conditioners are just receptacles to hold the bombs. The thinking is that they’re suitcase bombs and will be put in the units after they’re delivered.

  The phone rang. It was Mike Cummings for Ashley.

  “No captain,” said Cummings, “no air conditioning units have been delivered to the ship, but I did find the purchase order.”

  “Thanks, Mike,” said Ashley, “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “I’ll take that as good news,” said Buster. “It will make it easier to intercept them before delivery. We can also contact the Tomlinson Company to find out when they’re due to be shipped.”

  “But understand that this is now an emergency. Trevor McMartin’s kidnapping told us something, something big. It told us that somebody was on to us, somebody who didn’t want McMartin to give us photos of the weapons officers.”

  “But that was in 2017,” Janice said. “Can’t we assume that any conspirators in this year don’t know about our meeting with Trevor, not to mention our plan?”

  “That’s all we can hope for,” said Buster. “But we also know that this conspiracy is a lot bigger than five guys. It seems simple. We arrest the five and we’re done. But it’s not that simple. First, what the hell do we arrest them for? Jack has some undated pictures placing these men in various places in the Middle East. So what? Can you imagine me presenting a photo of a guy in front of a Middle Eastern bank and saying to a judge, ‘Well obviously he’s a bad guy, judge, may I please have a warrant for his arrest?’ And if we wait until one of them commits a crime, and carrying a suitcase nuke aboard a Navy ship would qualify, how the hell do we know who makes the delivery? And further, if we wait
for whoever delivers the bombs to act, how do we know that it can’t be detonated on the spot? They’d achieve the same result, just a different location.”

  “So why don’t we just kill the bastards?” asked Janice, our born-again warrior. Wow, this woman really has anger issues about her husband.

  “Well,” said Buster, “I’m not saying the Agency would condone such an action without legal backup, but either way it wouldn’t solve the problem. It would just replace one problem with another, maybe even a bigger one. We don’t have any idea where the weapons are. If we take out the five known bad boys, whoever has the bombs may just detonate them in the middle of large cities. The Thanksgiving Attacks would simply move from sea to land. If we had time, which we don’t, we could launch a full-scale investigation of the five and eventually we’d locate the weapons. Today’s October 2. Eight weeks from now hell opens up. Bottom line, folks, we’ve got to find the goddam bombs.”

  “What about enhanced interrogation?” said Bennie. “I’ve always had mixed feelings about water boarding, but with 26,000 lives on the line, not to mention Ashley and Jack here, it starts to look like the morally correct thing to do.”

  “Okay, Jack Bauer,” said Buster, referring to America’s favorite terror stopper. “Forget the moral issue. If I thought it would solve the problem, I’d blow their fucking heads off right now. But if we apprehend them and take them out of action while we politely interrogate them, what about the bad guys they communicate with, the bad guys who actually have the bombs. They’d simply go to Plan B, and I don’t think we’d like Plan B.”

  “We have to think of this as a military operation,” said Ashley. “Beginning now, and I mean right now, we place radiological detection devices at all of the entrances to every ship. I see this as a SEAL operation. Once we detect that a person is carrying a nuke, two or three SEALs move in and separate the device from the person, before he or she has a chance to detonate it. I’m sure the firing mechanism isn’t a hair trigger or else they’d have to worry about the bomb going off in a fender bender. No, I’ve read articles about suitcase nukes. It takes some doing to arm one of these things.”