Back-Tracker

by Bob Blink

  He was settled in and ready, he hoped, to face Karin when he heard the sound of the garage opener raising the door. Moments later he heard the large BMW as she rolled into place, followed by the door working its way back down again. He stood and walked to the door that led to the garage. As he recalled, she had outdone herself in the after Christmas sales this time out.

  Janna surprised him the most. He had forgotten that she would be two months younger somehow, and two months out of thirteen made a significant difference. She had the small stuffed version of Disney’s Ariel clutched in her right fist, a toy that had been lost and forgotten in the two months hence from which he’d come, or at least his most pressing memories had.

  “What’s wrong?” Karin asked almost the minute she saw him. He didn’t know how she managed it, but she had become so attuned to him that she could almost always identify when he’d back-tracked.

  Jake grimaced. He’d hoped to have time to ease into the situation. Now that was clearly impossible.

  “Something has come up,” he admitted. “Let’s get your purchases inside, get Janna settled in, and then we can talk.”

  Karin shot him an annoyed look. Already the need to back-track was disrupting what had been a peaceful and content couple of months. He recalled the last time he’d lived through this scene, and it had ended with the two of them snuggling in bed when a tired Janna had wanted to nap. He could count on the nap, but he doubted the kind of snuggling he recalled was in the cards this time around.

  Fifteen minutes later Janna had indeed drifted off, and resting on a blanket on the floor, he and Karin sat in the study while he explained what had brought him back.

  “More than six weeks!” Karin exclaimed. “That has to be the most ever. How did it go?”

  “Pretty miserable,” Jake admitted. “I hope that I won’t have to go back much farther to resolve this thing.”

  “Two years,” moaned Karin. “I don’t think I could stand that. Knowing that you’ve lived through it all before and you’re doing a rerun.”

  Karin knew how good Jake’s memory was, so that she always felt he was half involved in any conversation when he was reliving it a second, or in some cases a third time.

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Jake agreed. But he reminded her that this guy and the people who worked for him had kidnapped her and Janna, nearly killed Zack, and had killed a number of people in the mall in his home town.

  “What if you do what he asks?” Karin asked. “I know it’s blackmail, but you would be saving someone.”

  “I have the uneasy feeling that there’s more to this than I understand at this point. Besides, two years is a lot of history. If she lives where she had died before, a lot of the past is going to change. It would be difficult to predict what the repercussions might be.”

  Jake’s usual tinkering with past events was restricted to events that had happened only a few days earlier. He couldn’t have said why, but changing a past that was so set into place seemed more of a philosophical problem than something that had happened just a day or so before.

  “Did you really cause her death?” Karin asked.

  “I can’t see how,” Jake replied. “The blast might have distracted her, but the blast when the bomb went off inside the room was directed toward the street she was traveling along. I kind of think the same result might have been expected.”

  “Perhaps this guy is blaming you for something that would have happened anyway?”

  “He might, but he can’t know. And there is no way to discuss the matter with him until I can locate him at a time where he has decided to pursue this vengeance of his.”

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

  “Tomorrow I’ll go to the newspaper where he works. I want to see if I can find him and talk to him. It will be interesting to see how he reacts.”

  “Tomorrow, not tonight?”

  “I had hoped tonight we could spend together,” Jake said. “We could order take out, and just talk. I suspect the next few days are going to keep me busy and away from home a lot.”

  “Which didn’t happen the last time around,” Karin noted correctly. “What about that FBI lady you work with? Are you planning on calling her and bringing her into this?”

  “I don’t know. At the moment, she can’t offer anything. Her future self has already tried to help to no avail. I think I want to see what I can discover before going that route.”

  Karin smiled at him. The special smile. The one she reserved for when all was right between them, and she was in agreement with his plan. Maybe it was going to be better than he feared. She appeared to understand the predicament, and while not at all happy with it, she knew that Jake was only doing what he must to protect them from a future threat.

  Jake had struggled with how to proceed. He felt the direct approach would be the most likely to yield results, but he also knew once he announced himself, Ray would be watching for him. In the end, Jake decided that he would go back to Oakland and watch the house and see if he could learn anything from Ray’s actions. As a result, the next morning, a Monday, had him making his way across the Bay Bridge in his Highlander well before dawn. He knew what traffic was like either direction, and wanted to be in place before Ray could leave.

  The neighborhood was quiet when he pulled his car alongside the curb two houses down and across the street. Unlike the afternoon when he and Laney had broken into the house across the way, there were no residents out and about this early. Jake settled in and took a sip of the coffee he had purchased at a local donut shop. He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the chocolate covered pastries, and settled in to wait.

  No lights came on to indicate someone was up and getting ready for work. A few cars left houses up and down the street, but there was no activity in the house that held Jake’s interest. Eight o’clock came and went, and there was nothing. Jake began to wonder if Ray had already moved on to another location. Nothing Carlson had uncovered in her investigation had focused on when Ray had moved on. They had all assumed it had been when he left the newspaper office or shortly thereafter.

  The wait continued. The neighborhood was now awake, but the little house that Jake was focused on remained stubbornly quiet. It wasn’t until ten o’clock when the garage door lifted up. It wasn’t driven by an automatic opener. A man had raised it manually. Jake looked carefully from behind the darkened windows of his Highlander. He was certain it was Henry Ray.

  At last!

  Jake started his own car and waited while Ray backed out the old Ford, then climbed out and closed the door of his garage, then made his way back to the car. He backed out, and they started off, Jake waiting until the other was a half block away before he started to follow. Now Jake wished that Laney were here with him. It would be easier to tail if they had two cars for the job.

  In the end it didn’t matter. Ray drove without apparent concern that someone might be following him. He drove stiffly, but with purpose. They crossed back over the Bay Bridge, followed the freeway toward the south end of town, and soon were approaching the newspaper office. Jake parked well away from the newspaper office where he could watch and not be seen. The rest of the day went like the beginning. Ray never came back outside. Even when Jake took a quick break for lunch and a pit stop, he returned to find the car in the same place. Eight o’clock that night, Ray finally emerged, and drove straight back home. Jake finally gave up and drove home. Karin was grumpy and Janna was already asleep.

  The next morning found him in the Highlander headed back to Oakland, where the process was repeated once again. Fortunately, this time he’d started later, and had barely settled in, having arrived late because of the traffic, when Ray opened the garage. It was raining when he pulled into the curb across the street from the tired old house. He’d been happy to see spring come with the clearing skies and warmer weather. Now that he was back in January, he had to wear the heavy coat again, and carry an umbrella. Most often he’d forget and leave the um
brella somewhere. At least the heavy coat made it easier to hide the Sig. He hadn’t told Karin he was carrying it, but he didn’t know exactly what was going on, and felt it wise to be somewhat prepared. While he no longer had the convenient FBI credentials Laney had brought with him, he could always back-track out of any situation that turned awkward if the unauthorized weapon became an issue. Now, with wipers clearing the drops from his windshield, he followed Ray back across the bridge, back to the newspaper office.

  Today would be different. Tomorrow was the day that Ray was supposed to leave for the last time. Jake intended to follow him when he left the facility on his final visit, but first he wanted to speak with him. He had considered before back-tracking to this time just how he would approach the receptionist and gain entry. The night he and Laney had returned from searching Ray’s house Jake had searched the internet for something he could use. Now he’d see if it would work. If not, he might need to call upon Carlson after all.

  “How can I help you?” the receptionist asked.

  Jake felt she should know him, but of course the previous visit that felt so recent in his mind from when he and Laney had come calling had never happened, nor would it ever. She looked different this time, with her hair in a much more formal style. Perhaps this was her winter look. As before, he felt that he was intruding on whatever it was she was doing on her monitor.

  “I’d like to see one of your reporters. I have a tip for him. A friend told me that I should ask to speak with a Mr. Ray.”

  She smiled happily. Here was something she could deal with. “Mr. Ray is upstairs in the composition room,” she said, pointing toward the stairs that led upwards. “He just came in a short time ago. Ask anyone upstairs and they will point him out.”

  Jake muttered his thanks, but the woman had already dismissed him from her mind. He turned and climbed the stairs he’d been up once before. Because of the previous visit, Jake knew which desk belonged to Ray, and his eyes automatically turned toward it. The reporter wasn’t there. In fact, after a quick scan of the large bay, Jake established he was nowhere in sight. In fact, there was no one present other than Agnes, who could have been working on the same project that had kept her busy six weeks from now.

  “Excuse me,” Jake said. “The receptionist below said I could find Mr. Ray up here.”

  Agnes turned and looked at him. She was wearing the same outfit, Jake was certain of it. For a moment he had the odd sensation she recognized him, but that was clearly impossible. Then the moment passed, and Agnes pulled the cigarette from between her lips. To Jake it looked as if it was burned down to the filter. She used the stub to point across the room opposite to where the reporter’s desk was located. Jake looked and saw the sign that marked the men’s room.

  “His desk is over there,” Agnes rasped, pointing toward the desk Jake already knew belonged to the reporter. “Have a seat. He’ll be out before long.”

  Jake nodded his thanks and walked over and sat down. The desk was cleaner than last time. In fact there was nothing on the surface, and only a small attaché case propped alongside the desk. Clearly Ray was packed up and ready to go. As Jake waited, a familiar face climbed the stairs and walked toward him. Fred Hickam, his blond hair now extended down his back. The longer blond hair made him seem like a different person.

  “Waiting for Henry?” Fred asked.

  “I am,” agreed Jake. “That woman said this was his desk. I guess he’s in the men’s room.”

  “Perhaps I can help you?” Hickam asked.

  “Maybe, but I was directed to speak with Mr. Ray. I have a news tip that he might want to follow up.”

  Jake could see the immediate interest in Hickam’s eyes. “Henry’s a good reporter. He’s the new guy in the office. He’s really intense and great on follow-up. Normally I’d say any tip you give him would certainly be pursued, but this is Henry’s last full day as a normal staff reporter. He’s leaving tomorrow for an extended period. He wanted to try freelancing, and has a personal project he wishes to pursue. I think I might be in a better position to help you.”

  “Help him with what?” a voice asked from behind them.

  Hickam looked up and smiled. “Hi, Henry. This guy says he has a tip on a story, but insists on speaking with you. I was telling him you are leaving soon, and perhaps he should just tell me.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Ray said. “I’ve got nothing else going at the moment. If it’s anything I can’t close off by tomorrow, I’ll pass it along.”

  Hickam shrugged and smiled at Jake, then turned and walked away. Henry Ray smiled at Jake and slid into his chair. “I’m Henry Ray. Fred’s a typical reporter. He’d go after any story, even if it required beating out his own mother. I guess he feels justified. I’ll be leaving in the morning, so he is partially correct that I might not be able to follow up on whatever leads you have. Why don’t you tell me what you have?”

  “I’m Sam Williams,” Jake said, watching Ray for any reaction. Jake had been watching the man closely through the entire exchange. Ray had looked him straight in the eye as if sizing him up, and had talked at him as if Jake were exactly who he had presented himself. Nothing indicated that Ray had ever seen Jake before or had any idea who he was. Even as Jake introduced himself with a meaningless name, the reporter had responded normally. Jake was certain it wasn’t an act. The reporter had no idea who he was.

  The reporter pulled a yellow tablet out of one of the drawers and prepared to jot down notes. “Okay Mr. Williams, what do you have for me?”

  Jake told the reporter that he’d learned one of the Mayor’s aides was going to be arrested later in the week on charges of accepting bribes from large businesses in the city. The arrest was likely to provoke a huge controversy as to whether the Mayor was in any way involved. The story was true, and would break in a rival newspaper, one of the major papers, later in the week.

  “I see,” Ray said, his interest genuine. “How did you learn of this?”

  “I’d rather not say,” Jake said, “but here are a couple of people close to the investigation you might want to check out.”

  The reporter jotted down the names, then looked up at Jake and examined him carefully.

  “Why are you bringing this to me?”

  “Personal reasons,” Jake replied, being evasive to see how the man would react.

  “This might be true,” he said finally. “There have been rumors about questionable dealings inside the Mayor’s office before, but in every case the Mayor has come out clean.” Then he peered closely at Jake. “Williams isn’t your real name, is it?”

  This was it. It was time to see how Ray reacted. Jake was convinced he didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean the reporter didn’t know about him. Depending on how this worked out, he might have to cycle back and approach this differently.

  “No, it’s not,” Jake said. “My real name is Jake Waters.”

  The reporter looked at him for several long moments. No recognition showed in his eyes. Finally, he said, “Mr. Waters. I can’t tell whether that name is any more real than the first one. You look at me as if you think I should recognize it. I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’ve never heard of you. So what is this about? Is this story real, or is there something else on your mind?”

  “The story is real. It’ll be in the Chronicle this Wednesday.”

  The reporter nodded. “But that’s not why you are here?”

  “No, it’s not,” Jake agreed. “Let me try another couple of names on you. I’m sometimes known as Stan Mathews. Other times as Bob Trask.”

  Jake was surprised at the sudden recognition that showed in the reporter’s eyes. “You! You’re the one!”

  “You’ve heard of me?” Jake asked.

  “Hints, and small pieces of information. You work with the FBI. I learned about you after the attempt on Senator Kerns more than a year ago. I was very curious how the FBI had learned of the attempt. My sister was killed that day as she drove me to the hotel for the press
conference the Senators had scheduled. The story I have been able to uncover is too far fetched to believe. There are hints and rumors that you somehow can sense the future, and working with the FBI altered the outcome of that attack. The manner in which the attack took place had a direct influence on what happened to my sister that day. You might say she would still be alive if it hadn’t happened.”

  Jake could sense that there was no anger directed toward him. The reporter was more curious, and wanted the claims verified. He stared at Jake and waited with a look of curiosity and not malice.

  “I’m sorry about your sister,” Jake replied. “I’m not certain how the events at the hotel could have affected what happened to her.”

  “The blast was extremely loud,” Ray explained. “The noise was channeled by the buildings, and she tried to see what it was. That moment of inattention caused her to swerve and drive into the back of the construction truck.”

  Jake thought about it. It was possible, he supposed. Perhaps he did share some responsibility for what had happened to the girl.

  “Is it true?” the reporter asked. “Can you tell what is going to happen and cause changes?”

  Jake hadn’t decided in advance how to answer this question. He hadn’t been able to predict how this encounter would progress. After a moment’s thought, he decided that it would be interesting to see how the other reacted.

  “I can, and in this instance I did,” Jake admitted. “In fact, I was the individual who fired on the drones and caused them to explode before they struck the Senator’s room.”

  The reporter considered this. Once again, Jake sensed no outrage or true anger. He was convinced that at this time Ray had not known about Jake Waters, nor had he made any plans to have him change the past. That had to come later.

  “How does it work?” Ray was asking.