Millennium Crash

by James Litherland

  “It’ll probably take her longer than that to prepare for the past.”

  “Then she’ll be looking for somewhere to stay. And food.”

  Bailey must have heard something in her voice, because he turned and looked at her with concern. “You’re injured—you need good rest, proper nutrition, and medical attention.”

  Sam shook her head. “No one ever died from a sprained ankle. And I’ve picked up two dollars—we can get some food after we know where that woman is headed.”

  Bailey sighed, but he didn’t argue. “We’ll have to be careful. One of us can keep an eye on Kirin, and the other on their locator screen.”

  Sam nodded. He really would be helpful. “The one checking their watch can make sure we stay on the right side of the range. That should keep us far enough away to be less visible, too.”

  “We’d better get moving then.” He looked down at her ankle. “You don’t need to be walking on that.” He must have seen she was about to object, because he hurried on. “I’ll carry you on my back. It’ll give your ankle a rest, and the height to see the target. I can focus on getting us through the city and keep an eye on the locator screen at the same time.”

  Sam swallowed her protest. His plan did make sense, and she wanted to save insisting on her own way for when it mattered. And she did need to rest her ankle. “Alright.”

  She watched Kirin standing at the curb outside the bank as Bailey hunkered down in front of Sam so she could throw her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso. The man was hard as a rock, but this was far preferable to putting weight on her ankle. A long black car pulled up, and the driver got out to open the door for Kirin and help her with her luggage.

  Seeing this, Sam leaned her head down to whisper loud in Bailey’s ear while he still squatted. “Stay down.” Kirin slid into the back seat of the automobile, without taking any apparent notice of them. “I don’t have money for a taxi to follow her.”

  “In this traffic I doubt she’ll get that far ahead of us. But you’d better be the one to keep an eye on the locator and give me directions. I’ll make better time that way.”

  Sam nodded, even though Bailey couldn’t see it. He waited until the car had made its way past them before he stood up and started forward. She looked down over his shoulder at her watch face. Kirin was moving fast enough that soon they’d only have her general direction.

  Bailey plowed through the other pedestrians in their way with ease. Still, they’d have fallen too far behind if the hired car had carried her any real distance, instead of only a few blocks. Kirin alighted in front of an expensive hotel and lugged her suitcases in herself.

  Sam watched the familiar black hair disappear through the glass doors into the lobby and knew the woman would stay. Sam thought it was a shame she wouldn’t see how Bailey would last if they’d had to keep going. Another time.

  She leaned down so he could hear her. “Stop. I saw her go into that hotel.” She pointed. “Now we just need to find a good spot to wait.”

  He stopped and checked his own locator screen. “Not too close, not too far away and not right across from the entrance. She likely won’t head out again anytime soon, but at least we know she can’t Travel until the morning. I could take you to a clinic, then I could come back and watch.”

  Sam shook her head. “I don’t want to leave, but I am getting hungry.”

  Bailey looked around for a minute. “There’s a quiet patch of wall where I could set you down while I go grab us some food.”

  “That sounds like a great idea.” She stuffed her two dollars into his shirt pocket. “Take your time. We want to make that stretch as far as possible.”

  When they reached the spot, she slid down his back to the pavement and sat up against the brick façade. She nodded at him and he was on his way.

  Sam sighed. They might have to wait for days and no money for a room. At least it’s summer.

  Not to mention she now had an ally whose specialized knowledge and experience would help her come up with a way to catch Kirin.

  Chapter 7

  The Banker’s Tale

  June 30th, 2000 Midtown Manhattan

  ANYA stood on the sidewalk staring at the discreet exterior of the American International State Bank as her helpers clustered close around her. She didn’t think it would be a good idea for all four of them to go tramping in there together. Since she expected it to be more difficult than it should be. So far everything else had been a trial.

  She turned to Tate. “I want to take someone in with me, for support, but I want to take Turner. His presence might make things go more smoothly.”

  Tate nodded in understanding. “Indeed. Nye and I can wait out here.” He rubbed his bald pate and looked around as if wondering where.

  Anya’s gaze swept along the nearby buildings, stopping on the pizza parlor sitting across the street. Pizza couldn’t be much different in the past. “You two can wait there. Once Turner and I have finished our business, we’ll all have lunch.” She was already feeling a bit weak from lack of food and hoped they wouldn’t be kept long at the bank.

  Nye piped up, her face red with indignation and her eyes blazing behind her glasses. “Wait in a pizza parlor, but without any money? And no telling how long you’ll be in the bank while we just sit around?”

  Anya sighed. “Until we get some money, none of us can eat. What else could you do but wait?”

  “I can start doing my research. We’re right here in my field of study. I could make some preliminary notes.” Nye smiled, delivering her coup de grace. “And just sitting and doing nothing is a waste.”

  Tate looked at Anya. “That’s true. I’d rather not be idle when we could do something.”

  Anya shook her head. “We have too many problems for you to start researching now. You’d just get interrupted.”

  Turner spoke up in his clear, quiet voice. “That doesn’t mean there’s nothing productive they could be doing while we’re in the bank—which might be a long time.”

  Anya hoped to take care of her business in short order, but Turner did have a point. “Well, once we have finished with the bank—and eaten—we’ll want to start looking for a home base in the country. And find a way to leave messages for the other Travelers to help them find us. You could help by finding out some of the things we’ll need to know to do that.”

  She worried about Nye and her tendency to get sidetracked, but as long as Tate was with her, hopefully the girl wouldn’t get into too much trouble. “I think you two could start looking at least. And since information’s free, you can do that now.”

  Nye’s mouth looked a little sullen, but her eyes were shining with victory. “I guess it’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”

  Anya turned to Tate, and the two exchanged a look full of meaning. “Help Nye. And be sure to be back before the pizza’s all gone.”

  That should be enough motivation for Tate and possibly even for Nye. The girl would likely focus on her own research, but perhaps she’d end up accomplishing something related to the task at hand. Just as long as she comes back safe.

  Anya was used to taking responsibility for these people, but without the professor now to lean on for support, she worried more than ever.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” With a last warning look at Tate and Nye, Anya grabbed the handle and opened the door. Turner followed her through another door and into the bank’s lobby.

  First she noticed the incredibly clean, cool air. Then she saw the restrained but lush appointments, the quietly luxurious furniture. Anya had difficulty believing banks had been this elegant. She couldn’t wait to see what other misconceptions she would be disabused of. By the reality.

  She stepped onto the gorgeous carpet of deep reds and browns and blues and looked around for help. Turner standing tall at her shoulder should be drawing someone to them. Hopefully help.

  She spotted a security guard standing discreetly next to a potted palm, ignoring them. Then she saw a young
woman in a conservative skirt suit who was sashaying her way in their direction. Since she did not seem the type to walk like that normally, Anya presumed it was Turner’s effect on the poor woman.

  “May I be of any assistance?”

  Anya certainly hoped so. “We’re here about the Travelers’ Trust.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes and nodded her head and straightened her spine. She wore a small gold pin on her jacket that named her Verity, which was a nice name, but a difficult one to live up to. “If you could please follow me, I’ll show you where you can be comfortable while you wait.”

  She turned and led them across the lobby to an unmarked door of heavy oak. She opened it, waving them inside. Anya watched her give Turner a long, considering look. Of course, that was nothing unusual. You’re wasting your time, Verity.

  Inside, plush chairs sat arranged around a long oval table. Very nicely polished. Anya took a seat for herself and plopped into it, and Turner followed her lead. Only more gracefully.

  “This is our conference room.” The woman was standing in the doorway with her hand on the knob. “May I get you any refreshments?”

  Anya tried not to show her surprise. Then she thought of Tate and Nye, who certainly wouldn’t be so well treated, wherever they were now. She started to shake her head, but Turner spoke up first.

  “That would be lovely. We could both use some water. And maybe a little something to nibble on, if you have it.”

  The woman nodded with a slight smile on her face and closed the door behind her.

  Turner squinted at Anya. “If this takes a while, we’ll need to keep up our strength. What now?”

  Anya shook her head at him, but she wasn’t going to argue. She’d noticed a pen and a pad of paper on the table, but continued to look around the room for a long moment. She’d just have to hope no one was secretly observing them. She could at least save giving Turner any explanations until they had more privacy. In case someone were listening in, as improbable as that seemed.

  She grabbed the pad and pen and held them in her lap, then pushed a button on her watch to scroll through until she reached the resources screen. She selected the current date and hit the account key.

  The screen then displayed a twelve-digit alphanumeric code, which Anya carefully copied onto the top sheet of paper. She tore that off and folded it. Then she removed the next few sheets and stuffed them into her skirt pocket.

  She found herself grinning at Turner. “Can’t be too careful.”

  Several minutes passed before someone came, and then it wasn’t Verity with the refreshments she had promised, but a slim middle-aged man wearing a three-piece suit and tie and a deferential manner. The buildings and the clothes might’ve changed, but Anya recognized a banker when she saw one.

  The man cleared his throat. “My name is Hemmings—the branch manager. I hope you’ll excuse the precaution, but though you mentioned the Travelers’ Trust, I’d appreciate it if you could state your business more specifically.”

  Anya nodded. “I’m here for the Travelers’ Trust stipend, as an authorized recipient. I wish to set up a subsidiary account and withdraw certain funds, in accordance with the terms of the trust.”

  Hemmings nodded twice. “Yes. Well.” And he coughed. “You realize you’ll have to prove...”

  “Certainly.” Anya handed him the folded over sheet of paper. “Today’s access code.”

  The banker took the paper gingerly and nodded again. “I’ll have to confirm with our records. That could take a little while. Are you comfortable?”

  “Perfectly. Thank you.”

  The banker essayed a little bow and backed out of the conference room, closing the door as he went. Clearly he already believed they were who they purported to be. That should speed things up. Which was good since Anya was getting hungry.

  The image of a pizza pie revolved around inside her mind until the Verity woman returned. She had a tray with two bottles of water, a couple of glasses and a small bucket of ice—as well as a plate spread with crackers and an assortment of cheeses, and a small dish filled with black olives.

  She essayed a little smile at Turner. “Please enjoy this small repast. With compliments from Mr. Hemmings.”

  They waited for her to leave before saying grace and falling upon the vittles with enthusiasm. Anya spared some sympathy for Tate and Nye as the food disappeared. They both started guzzling the water, not bothering with the glasses or the ice. They keep this place as cold as a refrigerator anyway.

  Having finished what little had been provided, Anya leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Do you think they waited until they were sure who we were before bringing that?”

  Turner smiled. “We could have been anybody, so I don’t blame them if they did.”

  Anya leaned forward and folded her hands together on top of the table. “I just worry about Nye. I hope they don’t get lost out there. It’s a big city.”

  Turner rolled his eyes. “They can use their locator apps to home in on you, so they can’t get lost. Or you can track them down the same way.”

  “I know, but I had to track you all down once today. I don’t want to have to do it again. I can’t stop worrying what Nye might get it in her head to do. I fret about the others—what trouble might they be in and we wouldn’t even know?”

  “Just relax. We’ll find a way to leave them messages—it’s the only thing we can do. It’ll all work out.”

  Anya shook her head. If only it were that easy to just stop worrying. She also had to concern herself with how much cash she’d need to withdraw to take care of immediate expenses. And how they’d manage to find and acquire a base of operations in the country without legal identification, or find a way to leave those messages. But she couldn’t start solving those problems yet.

  Not without the benefit of the research Tate and Nye were supposed to be starting.

  Anya kept checking her watch and saw sixteen mintues pass before Mr. Hemmings returned with the Verity woman on his heels holding a memo pad with pen poised.

  The banker didn’t bother to sit down. “Everything checked out, Ms.—”

  “Anya.”

  Mr. Hemmings gave a small start at hearing her name but recovered quickly. “You’re the first recipient to come forward this year. The only one so far, I mean.” The banker coughed. “I only meant to inform you that, as no one else has yet come forward, currently the entire yearly stipend is available. How much of those funds will you be requiring?”

  “All of it.” Anya looked to make sure her words were being taken down. “Twenty thousand in cash, and the remainder transferred to a subsidiary account.”

  The banker blinked. He clearly wished to make a remark, but his training held. He composed himself before he spoke. “Excuse me. I don’t know your circumstances, but that’s a sizable amount of cash to carry around. If there’s some other way...”

  Anya sighed. Mr. Hemmings was fond of trailing off his sentences. “We’ll need cash on hand for expenses—food, transportation, and lodging.”

  The banker nodded while she spoke. “Yes, yes. But you won’t need to carry cash. We can get you a credit card—and once your account is established, we’ll provide you with an ATM card. Since this is a Friday, it’ll be Monday, or possibly Tuesday before we’ll have those ready. We’ll need to see some identification. And have you fill out a few forms.”

  Anya sighed. The man was going to be difficult. “No, Mr. Hemmings. Perhaps you aren’t intimately acquainted with the terms of the trust, but I most certainly am. None of that will be necessary, and we don’t want to wait for those cards.” They certainly wouldn’t be taking any line of credit, whatever the man said. “We won’t be showing you any identification or filling out any forms.”

  The man squinted. “I’m familiar with the terms of the trust, but understand that there are laws and banking regulations we have to adhere to.”

  “That prevent you from honoring your legal obligations to the trust? Your bank act
s as executor.” Anya stared calm and steady. She’d keep repeating herself if she had to.

  “We have to comply with—”

  “The terms of the trust for which you’re trustees—terms that stipulate recipients only need to provide the proper access code. And a fingerprint. For future access to the subsidiary account.”

  “Thumbprint, yes. But—”

  “The trust is a non-profit organization, and the funds are for financing research. It’s not a personal or business account.” Anya took a deep breath and said in a firm voice. “I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out how to reconcile honoring the terms of the trust with whatever other obligations you might have.”

  Mr. Hemmings sighed. “Excuse me, I’ll have to get authorization from the Head Office. And talk to our lawyer.” At least the man wasn’t going to argue any more. “And since you can’t wait for a card, may we provide the bulk of your withdrawal in travelers cheques? They can be replaced if lost or stolen.”

  Anya nodded her assent. “That would be convenient, as well as appropriate.”

  The banker turned to Verity. “Ms. Dervan, prepare eight thousand in travelers cheques when you process the withdrawal, and give them the remainder in cash. And don’t forget the thumbprint.”

  Mr. Hemmings nodded again at Anya and left. Probably to go put the responsibility for what he’d been forced to do onto someone else’s shoulders.

  Verity closed her memo pad and looked at both Anya and Turner. “As neither of you appear to have anything suitable for carrying around the amount of cash and cheques I’ll be giving you, I have a suggestion. While we have some rather utilitarian sacks, I could find you something less noticeable. Nicer.”

  Anya smiled at the woman, presumably a secretary. “I’d appreciate that, I’m sure. How about if I trust your judgment about what would be proper?”

  The woman nodded. “A nice bag. Large enough for your withdrawal, and that will go with your outfit. The cost will be deducted from your account.”

  “By the way, should we address you as Verity or Ms. Dervan?”