Box Set - The Time Magnet Series

by Russell Moran

  “This is a new ballgame, folks. Obviously it’s a new game for Ashley, Jack, and myself, but after what happened today, it’s a new ballgame for the country. Whether it’s 1940 or 2016, we got used to the idea of Fortress America. That idea was shattered, for the three of us anyway, on September 11, 2001; but this is different. One of America’s great strengths is its perception in the world as a force that can’t be defeated. We’ve now seen the world’s most iconic building reduced to rubble in a few minutes. Forget the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans; they will no longer give us shelter. We have an enemy on our own turf, a smart enemy. Worst part is, we don’t even know who the enemy is. We can only guess. After the terrorist attacks of 9/11, President Bush attacked Afghanistan, the country that harbored the terrorists. We had a ton of evidence that pointed to that country. It became known as the Bush Doctrine: a state that harbors terrorists is a legitimate target of American military strength. But this is different; unless we find more information about who sponsored the bombers, all we’re left with is rubble.”

  Ike had to excuse himself to take a call in another room. In five minutes, he returned.

  “Buster,” said Admiral Tanner, “I’ve just received a call from the White House. You must have made quite an impression on that guy who’s setting up the Office of Strategic Services. The White House says that you’re in charge of this operation, whatever that operation may be. From what Ashley and Jack have told me about you, I have to say I’m relieved. We need talent like yours.”

  What, exactly am I in charge of? Thought Buster.

  Chapter 51

  Leland Morris, Charge´ d’Affaires to Germany waited outside the office of Cordell Hull, Secretary of State. Hugh Wilson, the American Ambassador to Germany was recalled in 1938 after the Kristallnacht atrocity. Morris is now the highest ranking diplomat in Germany.

  “Secretary Hull will see you now, sir,” said the aide.

  “Leland, my friend, good to see you. Thank God you happened to be in Washington today. I want to speak to you about the obvious, the destruction of the Empire State Building.”

  “Frankly, Mr. Secretary, I’m baffled. We know that Hitler wants war with us, but my contacts tell me that it is way too soon. They see it as a year or more away. Also, if I may be so direct, are we sure this act was caused by Germany?”

  “No, Leland, we’re not sure. The men who were captured gave us no information that points to Germany. They were all paid handsomely for what they did. They were paid killers, not spies, as best as we can tell at the moment. Hitler has signed a non-aggression pact with Russia, but I don’t see it lasting for long. If Stalin doesn’t renew the pact, Hitler knows he’ll have a lot on his hands if he has to fight both us and Russia. Obviously, if the Empire State Building bombing was an act of Germany, it would also be an act of madness. We know that Hitler wants war with us, but Germany isn’t ready.”

  “Mr. Secretary, could it have been the act of anarchists, some rogue group that wants to harm America?”

  “We don’t know, Leland. All I know is that I received a call from President Roosevelt this morning giving me a simple order: ‘Find out who did this.’ I’m going to ask you to speculate along with me. Do you think this may have been done by some group that wants to force a war between the United States and Germany?”

  “There’s a group on Long Island, sir, not far from my summer home. They call themselves ‘The Bund.’ Besides their fanatical hatred of Jews, they’re equally enthusiastic about spreading National Socialism. I would focus attention on them, Mr. Secretary.”

  “Good advice, Leland. I know just who to call.”

  Chapter 52

  Everybody calls me Buster, which I suppose makes me sound tough. But I’m not feeling tough right now. I’m seldom at a loss for words, never at a loss for thoughts. But I have no idea what to say, or think, about the destruction of the Empire State Building. I’m a professional spook, one of the best spies in the CIA, maybe the best. But forget my professional background. It’s the other club I belong to that isn’t helping me think any clearer. I’m a time traveler, on a crazy unintentional trip here in 1940 from the year 2016. I have no idea how time travel works. My friend Jack Thurber is the expert on that, having written the definitive book on the subject. But even Jack admits that he really doesn’t understand the phenomenon, especially after the Empire State Building bombing. If there’s one thing that Jack, Ashley, and I know about time travel it’s this – when you travel to the past, you know what will happen in the future from that point on. Sounds weird, but think about it. The present time that you live in has seen history. When you trip to the past, you skip over that history, but it’s there.

  The destruction of the Empire State Building was not part of any history that I know of. How the hell can I be in the past, and a new piece of history just shows up? Does that mean that we, meaning Jack, Ashley, and I, do not really know what will happen from now on? Will Pearl Harbor happen? Will the Battle of Midway happen? We thought we had answers, answers that could help our country. But now, I look into the future and all I see is a blank wall.

  My office is on the grounds of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, thanks to Admiral Ike Tanner. It’s a good office with plenty of space and a table for meetings. But what am I supposed to be doing in this office?

  Although it’s a Sunday, in a half hour I have an appointment with General William (Wild Bill) Donovan, who will soon head the Office of Strategic Services or OSS, the organization that will become the Central Intelligence Agency or CIA, my employer. Donovan is known in the history books as “The Father of American Intelligence.”

  There was a knock on my door.

  “General Donovan is here to see you, commander,” said the petty officer of the watch.

  I felt like Donovan and I were old friends after I went through endless hours of interrogation when I landed my F-18 at the “secret” OSS airstrip. He’s one tough guy, and I grew to like him. I hate bullshit, and Donovan gave me none.

  “General Donovan, good to see you again, sir. Please have a seat.”

  “Let me review my first meeting with you,” said Donovan. “You call yourself ‘Buster’ but your real name is Gamal Akhbar, also known as George Atkins, also known by a lot of other names. I have to be honest with you, Buster. When we first met next to that Jules Verne airplane of yours, I thought you were completely insane.”

  “If I may suggest, general, don’t give that up as a possible working diagnosis.”

  Donovan roared with laughter.

  “So you’re part of an outfit called the CIA, which, according to you, is what the OSS will become. You also told me that you came from the future, 2016 to be exact. In our short session together, Buster...”

  “The interrogation lasted three days, sir.”

  Donovan laughed again.

  “Oh, yeah, I guess it did. But during our time together I came to a conclusion.”

  Donovan’s normal smiling face dropped away to a dead serious one.

  “I believe you. I can’t explain why, logically, but I know a truthful man when I meet him. You’re a tremendous asset to this country, Buster, and I don’t want you running around in possible harm’s way. You keep your ass firmly planted on this base. I’m assigning armed security for you. I have no idea who the hell I am to be giving you orders. You’re a Navy commander and you work for some outfit named the CIA, which doesn’t exist yet. So here I am giving you orders with no right to do so. Is that a problem, Buster?”

  “No, sir, it isn’t. You’re the kind of boss I like to work for, and frankly, you’re the kind of boss that I am.”

  Donovan smiled again. Like me, he’s a guy who wants to get things done.

  “You told us about your amazing exploits in 2015, saving five Navy carriers and five American cities. That’s when I started to think you were nuts. But we compared your stories to those of Admiral Patterson and Jack Thurber. Your answers were either the truth or were carefully prepared.”

  “Good w
ork, general, if you don’t mind me saying so. You’re going to make a fine spook someday.”

  “A fine what?”

  “A spook. That’s what spies are called where I come from. I’m your future, general. Welcome.”

  Donovan cracked up again. “Spook. I like that.”

  “Buster, please call me Bill. I feel like I’ve known you for a long time.”

  “Yes, sir, Bill.”

  “So, Buster, my friend, give me your thoughts on the Empire State Building.”

  “That’s what I meant when I suggested that you don’t give up on the possibility that I may be insane. I don’t know what to make of it. Time travel, which you seem to embrace at least in theory, has a few known aspects to it. One is that a traveler to the past knows the future from that point. Ashley, Jack, and I all thought we knew the entire history, and we all have good memories, especially Jack Thurber, from here in 1940 to where we came from in 2016. But that history did not include the destruction of the Empire State Building, one of the most iconic landmarks in the world. It’s still an icon in 2016. Here’s what I can tell you – it didn’t happen. But the only problem with that statement is that it did happen, yesterday. I’m clueless.”

  “Clueless?”

  “That means I don’t have a clue.”

  “So you’re a clueless spook,” said Donovan as he cracked up laughing again.

  It’s easy to like this guy.

  “Buster, I’m going to be in New York for the near future working on the Empire State Building matter. You and I will be working closely together. Admiral Tanner has found quarters for me here on the base. By the way, that’s Top Secret, including my identity.”

  “No problem, General Bill (I have a hard time calling this guy Bill). I don’t tell people what I’ve had for breakfast unless they have a need to know.”

  “Need to know?”

  “That means that you never share information with people, regardless of their security clearance unless they have a need to know. The fewer people who have access to a secret, the more likely it remains a secret. It’s a critical part of espionage and security.”

  “I think I have a lot to learn from you, Buster.”

  “At your service, General Bill.”

  Chapter 53

  Hitler flung a paperweight across the room, striking a wall and sending his German Shepherd, Blondi scurrying. Sitting across from his desk was Heinrich Himmler, head of the Gestapo.

  “What God damned fool is responsible for the Empire State Building bombing? Obviously the Americans are going to blame it on us, and we’re not ready. We are just not ready for war against the Americans. So tell me, Himmler. You’re supposed to know these things.”

  “Mein Fuehrer, I ordered an immediate investigation. As of right now we know nothing. From our sources in the United States we have learned that the Americans have discovered little about the bombers. The men are in captivity, but they are apparently paid mercenaries.”

  “Himmler, find the man or men who ordered this insanity. Finds out if they have any other idiotic plans. Then I want them shot.”

  “Ja, mein Fuehrer.”

  Chapter 54

  My name is Reiko Yamamoto. I’m married to Isoruku Yamamoto, who you may know as Admiral Yamamoto, commander of the Combined Fleet of the Japanese Empire.

  Isoruku san is a good man. I’m embarrassed that it’s public knowledge that he pays a lot of attention to a geisha named Kawai Chiyoko. Some men think it’s perfectly okay to dally with another woman, and I’m afraid that Isoruko is one of them. I think the Spanish have a good word for this nonsense: machismo. But I put up with him, because he is a good man, a true patriot, a leader with a solid character. I also love him. And despite the talk about that Kawai woman, I know he loves me. He tells me often that he loves me because I am honest with him and I’m always ready to talk. I would prefer that he loves me because I’m pretty, attentive to his desires, and exciting in bed. But love is a mysterious emotion. Sometimes you take from it what you can.

  Isoruko has no tolerance for nonsense, and that includes the idiot militarists in the Japanese Army, most particularly Hideki Tojo. Isoruko was against our crazy invasion of Manchuria, and he also opposed the ridiculous Tripartite Pact with Hitler and Mussolini. My husband has the welfare of Japan in his bones, and I love him for that. I can only imagine his opinion of this morning’s headline, the destruction of the Empire State Building.

  I hear Isoruko at the door. It’s a ritual. Moriki, our house servant, opens the door for him, takes his hat and hangs it on a post by the entrance. Then, as if on cue, he bellows my name. Yes, he bellows it. I don’t know why he does this, but it has become part of our family tradition.

  I am waiting for him in the tea room. As always, I stand to greet him and bow, showing my respect. I see that he has forgotten to give his sword and pistol to Moriki.

  “Expecting trouble, Isoruko san?”

  I then walk up to him and kiss him on the lips, something we have always done as long as we’ve been married. The handle of his sword poked me in the ribs.

  “Do you really need that thing while we have tea?”

  Isoruko laughed and removed his sword. He also removed his pistol.

  “You look troubled Isoruko san.”

  He looked me in the eyes and handed me the newspaper. The headline read, “New York’s Empire State Building Destroyed by Multiple Bomb Blasts.”

  He touched my face gently and said, in a soft voice, “War with the United States is inevitable, Reiko. Whoever the idiots were who committed this atrocity are only bringing the war closer. Americans at this moment assume that the bombs were planted by either the Nazis or by us. Because of that stupid Tripartite pact with those maniacs Hitler and Mussolini, we’ll be dragged into it no matter how much that may be against Japanese interests.”

  “Isoruko san, you and I have spent much time in America. I thought that Empire State Building was one of the most beautiful works of architecture I’d ever seen. The Americans are good people. They don’t mean us harm.”

  “They may not want to harm us,” my husband said, “but with our insane militarists turning us into the Monster of Asia, we cannot count on the Americans as friends. And now that some group, and I’m guessing it’s the Nazis, have destroyed one of America’s most beautiful buildings, things will only get worse.”

  “Isoruko, the militarists hate you. You must be careful.”

  “Reiko, I am a prisoner of history. My job is to serve the Emperor and the great Japanese homeland. We will soon be at war with the Americans, whether I like it or not. And I must fulfill my destiny.”

  “And do you think your destiny includes a victorious war against America? Do you actually think we can win such a conflict? Well? I notice that you are not answering my questions Isoruko san.”

  “Reiko, come and sit next to me. Let us have tea. Let us enjoy peace. While it lasts.”

  Chapter 55

  Jack and I had just finished a light dinner. We seldom eat heavy at night. A light meal is a good way to keep your weight under control, not that two exercise fanatics need to worry about that. Today is Friday, November 22, less than a week after the destruction of the Empire State Building. We’re still not over it. We’ll never be over it. From our time travelers’ point of view it never happened. But it did.

  We cleaned off the table and washed the dishes – I did the dishes – Jack and I take turns with the chores. We went to the library, where I had already set up the chess board. Jack loves to play Scrabble, but with his amazing memory for words he always kicks my ass. With chess, on the other hand, we’re a good match, two people who like to think a few moves ahead.

  A slight draft came from the window. It was a cold night for late November, with a temperature in the mid-30s. I put on a sweater and closed the door to the library to cut down on the draft. The library heated up shortly.

  Jack made the first move.

  “Oh, you think I’m supposed to be intimidated
by that,” I said. I love to mess with Jack’s head when we play chess. I also ran my bare foot up and down his leg. Okay, so I’m a chess cheater. When you compete with brainiac Jack, it helps to have a few advantages.

  ***

  I had just made my first move when we heard a footstep in the hallway. The library door swung open and crashed against the wall. Two men wearing masks and carrying pistols stormed into the room. One of them kicked over the beautiful mounted globe that sat near the entrance to the room, sending it bouncing along the floor. It slammed into a wall and broke in two. The next man swept his hand across the table and sent our chessboard flying.

  “Do exactly as you’re told, and you may live,” said one of the men with a distinct Middle Eastern accent.

  The second man walked over to Jack and handcuffed him behind his back. He then put a hood over Jack’s head and cinched it. The man walked behind my back and did the same to me.

  “Do precisely as I say or you both will be killed. If you understand me, say ‘yes.’ ”

  Jack and I both said “yes.” Under the circumstances we didn’t have much choice of vocabulary.

  The second man spoke, with an extremely dense Middle Eastern accent. Great, I thought. We’re supposed to follow orders exactly and I can barely understand the bastard.

  “You weel walk to door as we are guidings you. Do not make sudden movings or you will be shot and keeled. We will putting you in car.”

  As they escorted us out of the library, one of the men turned off the light in the hallway. Even though I wore a hood, I was able to make out some light. Suddenly it was pitch black.

  He opened the door, and the darkness suddenly exploded into lightness, and I do mean exploded. My God, they’ve shot Jack, I thought. There was a second explosion and I felt as if a can of lumpy soup had been thrown against my hood. I quickly realized it was somebody’s brains.