Doorways to Infinity

by Geof Johnson

  “All pesticide-free, I assume,” Dr. Tindall said.

  “Of course,” Evelyn said. “Great selection, too. We used to buy quite a bit of it and take it back to Hendersonville with us for dinner.”

  “There are still enough farmers bringing their wares to town,” Mrs. Tully said. “The fall crop was good for most. And I have some things in the cellar here that I put up this summer.”

  “I can stop at the store on Monday mornings before I come,” Dr. Tindall said. “Um, I don’t suppose there’s an Internet connection for my laptop here.”

  “Jamie can make a mini-portal for you,” Evelyn said.

  Dr. Tindall nodded, then smiled. “Amazing, isn’t it? Who knew that staying on another world could be so convenient?”

  “We’ve had time to work out the kinks,” Connie said. “Though more keep cropping up every day.”

  Dr. Tindall turned in her seat and gazed about the room with one hand resting lightly on her cheek. “I suppose this will be a comfortable place to stay while I do my field work in Rivershire. But are you sure I will be safe?”

  “Absolutely,” Mrs. Tully said. “I have lived here all my life and have never had a problem. And you will be staying in the home of a master sorcerer. No one in their right mind would dare enter without being invited.”

  “Really? Jamie doesn’t seem threatening to me.”

  “This was the home of Renn the Sorcerer, and kindness was not one of his traits. The threat of his reputation still lingers in most people’s minds.”

  “But if you and Aiven stay for dinner, won’t you have to go home in the dark? I assume there are no streetlights here.”

  “Aiven and I have ridden home in the dark many times. It is not a problem, and the horse knows the way.”

  “They have a new carriage that Jamie recently bought,” Evelyn said, “and it’s much better than the old one. It’s aluminum, with four wheels, and it has a convertible top. It also has headlights that are powered by little generators on the axles. Though it’s bigger than the old one, it weighs less than half.”

  “Aiven said that Sugar prefers it,” Mrs. Tully said. “He and I certainly do, though the last one would have been fine if the wheel hadn’t broken.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Nancy,” Evelyn said. “It was about to fall completely apart, it was so old.”

  “It must’ve been expensive shipping the new one all the way from England,” Dr. Tindall said.

  “Jamie made a doorway and picked it up in person,” Evelyn said.

  “I keep forgetting he can do that.” Dr. Tindall stared at the fireplace for a moment before turning to Mrs. Tully and saying, “Are you sure the local people will accept me and my grad students? What if the farmers won’t let us take soil samples or no one will give blood samples?”

  “If people know you are working on Master Jamie’s behalf, they will be cooperative,” Mrs. Tully said. “He is well-respected here, and everyone knows him. You will have no difficulty.”

  “Hope you’re right. And I hope you can put up with me staying in this house.”

  “Aiven and I look forward to it.”

  * * *

  The man loitered in the lobby of the hotel room, waiting for the late-arriving guests to finish checking in. He wandered among the tall, lush plants that were set in polished brass containers arranged tastefully around the room. The rich carpet felt soft beneath the soles of his shoes. Tucked into a far corner was a woman in a long, black gown, playing classical music on a Steinway grand piano. The wall facing the street was all glass, and the other three had original artwork on broad canvases.

  He wore a six thousand dollar grey wool Gucci suit, five hundred dollar Forzieri shoes, a fifteen thousand dollar Rolex watch, and a bewildered expression. When the last customer stepped away from the counter, the man approached the clerk and cleared his throat.

  “Excuse me,” he said in a low voice. “Can you tell me where I am?”

  The clerk, a fresh-faced Asian man in a dark blue uniform, said, “You are in the Conrad Hotel.”

  “Um…what city?”

  “Hong Kong, of course.” His eyebrows pulled together and his lips pinched tightly for a moment. “Are you all right, sir?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” He put his fist over his mouth and cleared his throat again. “One more question. Who am I?”

  * * *

  Evelyn stood with Jamie as he made a doorway for Dr. Tindall to go home. The congenial professor stepped through it to her living room in Cullowhee with her empty cake plate in one hand, and she waited on the other side. “Thank you again. I had a wonderful time. All of the food was terrific, and I enjoyed meeting everyone. It was a memorable experience, to say the least.”

  “We’ll see you soon,” Evelyn said. “Stop by the school when you come to Rivershire for your research.”

  “When does your school close for the holidays?”

  “We’re going to take off the week of Christmas. If we take off longer than that, the parents will get nervous. They’ll worry that we’re closing for good, like the last school did. They had a hard enough time understanding why we wanted to close this Thursday and Friday for Thanksgiving.”

  “I guess they don’t celebrate that holiday. I suppose a lot of things are different in Rivershire.”

  “They’re not all that different,” Jamie said. “You’ll see.”

  “What can I tell my colleagues about where I’m going and what I’m doing while I’m there?”

  Jamie smiled slyly. “Tell them you’re doing government work and you’re not allowed to discuss it.”

  “Can’t argue with that, can you?” Then she waved goodbye and Jamie closed the doorway.

  After the impossible opening vanished, Evelyn said, “She seemed to fit in just fine with our odd crowd. I think you made a good choice by picking her to be part of our circle.”

  Jamie didn’t answer. He stared at the spot where the portal had been and rubbed his jaw with one thumb.

  “Don’t you think so?”

  He turned to face her. “Seems like it. It’s just…I worry that I brought her in for the wrong reasons…personal reasons, because I’ve always wanted to have a scientist around that I could talk to about this stuff. The magic and everything.”

  “She seems to accept that pretty well. Better than some of us did at first.”

  “I just hope I didn’t make a mistake. I kinda wish I hadn’t told her about everything, especially after talking with those two CIA agents. But it was too late by then. She already knew.”

  “What harm do you think would come from telling her?”

  “I dunno. Maybe I’ve told too many people now. Maybe the NSA will figure it out and send a team here to take us all into custody. That could happen, you know.”

  “And maybe leprechauns and fairies are real and we’re secretly surrounded by ghosts.”

  Jamie laughed weakly. “Yeah. Sorry. I get paranoid sometimes. Do you think she’ll get along with Mrs. Tully?”

  “They’ll be fine.” Evelyn put one hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. “You did the right thing. Dr. Tindall will be a help to you and maybe to the people of Rivershire, in some way, and that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose. I mean, that’s definitely what I want. I just don’t want to ruin our lives in the process, if I mess up and let some government agency find out about us.”

  “You won’t mess up. Do what Uncle Charlie says and listen to your instincts. What are they telling you now?”

  “To keep doing what I’m doing.”

  She patted his back. “I think that’s good advice for all of us.”

  * * *

  “The people in the town are dying,” the man said in Jamie’s dream. “The children’s bodies are stacked in the street like firewood.” He stood with another older man in the open doorway of Eddan’s tower, their faces lined with worry and their eyes pleading.

  “I’ll help you,” Jamie tried to say, but the
words wouldn’t come out.

  Instead, Jamie heard Eddan’s ancient voice. “I’m a sorcerer, not a healer.”

  “Can’t you do something?” the other supplicant said. “You are so powerful and wise and we are desperate.”

  I know of a witch, a strong one, Jamie thought, and together we can get rid of this awful plague.

  But Eddan answered instead, his tone arrogant. “It is a disease from the rats’ fleas. Your town is filthy. That is why you have so many rats.”

  “But surely one as powerful as you can help us now, before more people die.”

  “I am busy,” Eddan said. “I am going to the coast to watch the giant sabre crab hatch. It is a rare occasion, one I’ve been anticipating for years.” He put an age-spotted hand on the door handle. “Clean up your town. It is your own doing, and it is none of my business. Now excuse me, I have to pack for my journey.” He closed the door in their faces, shutting them out.

  “No!” Jamie woke with a start, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps and his skin damp with sweat. Eddan, why didn’t you help them?

  He lay back down and struggled to calm his racing heart. I haven’t had that nightmare in a while. He stared at the dark ceiling for a long time, and finally said to himself, I swear, nothing like that will ever happen to the people of Rivershire again. Not if I can help it.

  Chapter 7

  On Sunday afternoon, Jamie made a doorway for the two CIA agents in front of the school in Rivershire. “Did you have a good Thanksgiving?” Jamie said as they stepped through.

  “It was nice,” Eric said, a laptop case in one hand. “Spent a lot of time with my wife and kids. I only went to headquarters twice, and that was just for a few hours.”

  “How about you, Terry?” Jamie said. “Good weekend?”

  Terry only shrugged her answer as she gazed at their surroundings. “Looks like Earth to me.”

  “It’s not, though,” Jamie said. “You’ll have to take my word for it because I don’t have time to prove it to you.” He opened the front door for them and motioned for them to enter. “This is the school that we built. I’m kinda proud of it, but I’ll have to give you the tour later. I thought it best to meet here because no one from Earth can eavesdrop on us, and there’s plenty of seating. Everybody else is already inside waiting for you.”

  He led them to the main room, where his friends and a few of their family members were sitting at the desks that were still arranged in rows, as if they were ready for class to begin.

  Carl and John Paul stood together to one side with their arms crossed. Carl gestured with one hand to acknowledge them as they passed, but John Paul only lifted his chin, his expression as serious as ever.

  Fred, Rollie, Nova, Bryce and Melanie sat in the front, and behind them were Larry and Garrett. The two fathers were unwilling to let their kids become involved with the CIA without getting the full story firsthand. In the center of the room, sitting regally in their two cushioned chairs that Jamie had brought in for them, were Momma Sue and Mrs. Malley, Momma Sue wearing a brightly-colored loose blouse and flowing skirt and Mrs. Malley in her usual plain, dark dress. Eric’s expression turned wary when he noticed the older women, and he leaned closer to Jamie and said voice, “Who are they?”

  “They’re the two witches we told you about. Really powerful ones. We need them to hear about this, because they know more about witchcraft than anybody, and if Phillip Cage is using witch’s magic, these ladies need to be aware of it.”

  Jamie and the two agents went to the front of the room and Jamie made the introductions quickly. Eric set his laptop on a nearby desk, connected a cable to one of its ports, and plugged it into the television, which sat on its rolling cart. “Has everyone been briefed on the situation so far?” Eric asked.

  “I told them what I know,” Jamie said. “All of these people are aware of our magic, and they’re here because they may be helpful.”

  “I hope so,” Terry said. “We need all the help we can get.” She glanced around the room. “Where’s Sammi?”

  “She’s home, playing with some friends. She would get bored with this.”

  “Does that mean she’s not going to help us?”

  “She will as much as she can.”

  Terry inserted a flash drive into the laptop and opened a file. “You’re about to learn everything we know about Phillip Cage.”

  She clicked her remote, and an image appeared on the wide screen. It was a picture of a man, not as broad-shouldered as Carl but not skinny, either. His dark blond hair was short. He had an Everyman’s shape to his jaw, and his nose was plain. His eyes were neither beady nor expressive. Just normal looking, Jamie thought.

  “Dang,” Nova said. “Doesn’t look like much. He’s even straighter lookin’ than you, Agent Eric.”

  Terry put a hand over her mouth and a tiny laugh escaped from her nose, then she said, “This is Phillip Anderson Cage. Forty-two years old, born in Anniston, Alabama, of an Army father and a stay-at-home mother.”

  “Is that the most recent photo you have?” Carl asked. “He looks like he’s about thirty in that shot.”

  “We have a few more,” Eric answered. “Current pics are hard to come by. He doesn’t look much different now, though.”

  Terry pressed the remote, and a photo of a gray-haired older couple appeared. “These are his parents, Richard and Olivia. They’re retired, living in Florida, and they claim that they’ve had no contact with their son in over five years. We monitor them closely, and we’ve not seen anything to tell us otherwise. No phone calls, no emails or texts. Not even a postcard.”

  “Could he be using magic to communicate with them?” Fred said. “There are ways to do that, and you’d never know.”

  “Could be,” Eric said. “We’re hoping that you could help us with that.”

  “We can,” Momma Sue said, and Eric arched an eyebrow at her, but she didn’t elaborate.

  Terry clicked the remote a few more times in quick succession, and pictures flashed by that looked like they’d been copied from a high school yearbook —Phillip Cage with acne, wearing a black tuxedo, smiling in a head and shoulders portrait. A photo of a football team posed for a group shot. A crowd of kids in gymnasium bleachers. “Cage had a rather ordinary school career. The usual stuff, football team, baseball team, decent player, not anything special. Arrested for underage drinking once and released. Okay grades but not good enough for a college scholarship.”

  Another image appeared on the screen showing Cage as a young man, wearing camo and smiling proudly at the camera. “Right out of high school,” Terry continued, “Cage enlisted in the Army. Spent a year in sniper school and then got accepted in the Rangers, eventually making it into a special ops unit called the Delta Force.”

  John Paul scratched his chin. “Is that anything like the Navy Seals?”

  “Similar training and mission assignments, but without the marine component of the Seals. Delta Force doesn’t do the extensive scuba work and other things required of the Seals, but they’re both highly secret, specialized counter-terrorism units. They’re all elite badasses.”

  Bryce raised one hand. “Excuse me, but he doesn’t look like a badass. He doesn’t look any bigger than me.”

  “That’s a common misconception about special ops soldiers,” Eric said. “Most people think that they’re big, muscular guys with tattoos on their necks and granite jaws like Batman, but they’re not like that. They need to be average- looking, the more average the better, because they have to blend in wherever they go. It’s important not to stand out. That’s one of the things that makes Phillip Cage difficult to find, even if we know he’s in a particular area, even the same room. He looks like your normal guy. He could be a mechanic or an insurance salesman or a loan officer at a bank.”

  “He’s skilled at disguises,” Terry added. “We think he’s done at least one hit dressed as a woman.”

  “A woman?” Garrett frowned deeply. “He’d be an ugly one. Kinda man
nish-looking.”

  “Not necessarily,” Eric said. “With a good wig, a nice dress, and the right amount of makeup, he can easily pass for a woman. I’ve done it myself. It’s not hard.”

  “I don’t know if I’d admit that to a room full of strangers,” Larry said.

  “Doesn’t bother me. Part of the job.”

  Eric gestured for Terry to proceed, and she said, “Cage spent five years in the Delta Force and then abruptly retired, which is odd. We don’t know why he left.”

  “You’re the CIA,” Melanie said. “You’re supposed to know everything.”

  “Not even the President knows much about them, for security reasons. It’s to protect them and their families from retaliation by terrorists.”

  Terry clicked the remote again and the screen displayed a column of armored Humvees on a desert road. “After his career in Delta Force, Cage worked for a company called Drake Services, which was a security contractor in Iraq.”

  Bryce raised his hand again. “Is that anything like Blackwater?”

  “Yes, but they did a better job of staying out of the news. They never drew attention to themselves. It was during this time that Cage got into arms dealing. The US military was shipping and storing enormous amounts of hardware in Iraq and Afghanistan back then, and they were doing a poor job of keeping track of it. Cage and a few other unscrupulous men found it easy to bribe a few guards at the appropriate warehouses to look the other way while truckloads of valuable, modern gear vanished, including shoulder-fired missiles and other high-impact weaponry.”

  “Who did they sell this stuff too?” Bryce asked.

  “The highest bidders. It could have been paramilitary groups in central Africa or Philippine rebels or Chechen separatists. Anybody with the money.”

  “That’s when he bought and outfitted his three bases of operation in Eastern Europe.” Terry pressed the remote again and a map of Romania appeared on the TV. “The biggest one, a former monastery, is here in the mountains,” — she pointed to a spot on the screen near the border of Serbia — “there’s a smaller one on the coast, and another is just inside Hungary. All are heavily fortified and easy to defend, and he has a sizable detail of security guards at each of them. He rotates among these three bases but has no regular schedule or pattern that we know of.”