Storm Unleashed

by Michael R. Stern

  “That's a good question. The paperclips are what take me to the specific location, but I don't know how the maps, or books, or floor plans work.”

  For a moment, Eric squinted, processing the information. “The books are printed. Photographs capture images of things that contain electrical charges.” Fritz wondered if Eric had found another piece of the puzzle. “But maps and floor plans have no electrical source.”

  “Eric, I can't explain it, and believe it or not, I haven't had time, and I don't have the science background to figure it out. It's not like I can just ask. I don't even know the right questions.”

  “Maybe I can help. Do you have any of the maps or floor plans you use?”

  On another day, Fritz would have ended the conversation. Instead, he went to his desk drawer. He had kept everything in case he needed it again. He opened a folder and removed the documents. “We went here last night.”

  “South Dakota? Is that the guy who was shot?” Fritz looked up. “I have a news feed on my phone, Mr. R.”

  Fritz shook his head and smiled. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Yup. That's the guy.”

  “Where did this map come from?”

  “The internet. We printed it before we came here.”

  Eric scanned the pages. “Mr. R, your printer runs on electricity.” Eric continued slowly, as each step became clear to him. “Look here. These are GPS locations. The paperclip conducts the electricity back and forth, like Wi-Fi, from your doorknob and from wherever you're going. I think that's it. And the paper holds electrical charges, like static. You know, like a new ream of copy paper sticks together unless you fan it.”

  Fritz looked at the paper on his desk and then at Eric. “Even to a history teacher that makes sense, Eric.”

  “Mr. R, I wanted you to know I've been thinking about this. Remember last spring when you got hit by lightning?” Fritz chuckled and said that he did. “I think that the school was electrified, at least a little. I was in the locker room and I think I felt it. You're the link.” Eric looked at his teacher. “I think this has been hard on you, Mr. R. Not being able to talk about it. I know it's hard for me. And I only just found out.”

  “Thanks, Eric. You're right. And believe me, it's not going to get easier.”

  Eric reached for a floor plan from a Geneva conference room. “Mr. R, did you save the president from the attacks in Geneva?”

  In spite of himself, Fritz felt the relief of telling the story. “Yup. The day we had the lockdown. Remember?”

  “Wow. What else have you done, Mr. R? You're a hero, and nobody knows it.”

  “Thanks Eric. And no one will. It has to be that way.”

  “I get it, but I also wanted to tell you. After I met the president, I decided to go to MIT. If time-travel is real, then I want to learn as much about science as I can. So much could be done.”

  “Congratulations. Great school. And I hear you're likely to be valedictorian.”

  Ashley opened the door, startling both of them. He knew immediately what they were talking about. “Pretty interesting, huh, Eric?”

  “Hi, Mr. Gilbert. Yeah, it is. Maybe I can go with you somewhere?”

  “Eric has an hypothesis for how the portal makes the connections. I'll tell you later. You have rehearsals, and I'm going home.”

  “Let's go Eric. Time to pick your brain. Fritz, I'll see you later.”

  * * *

  THE MAN NOW KNOWN as Thomas Richter watched through the night from the house across the street as the attempt to kill the fire dragged on. Badenhof had been thorough. His house ignited and burned like the trick birthday candles that kept relighting.

  As the darkness faded, he sat motionless, hands pressed together, considering his options and, more important, what had not worked. Thomas Richter would be hunted globally. Unimportant. As was how he would leave. But he wondered how the government had reached his circle. Had Massoud caved? What had fat Marvin told them? But first, some sleep. Before he stood, two men crossed the road and climbed the hill. When the bell rang, he remained in his chair, knowing they would check windows. One walked to the front window and tried to peer into the darkness.

  “I can't see a thing,” said the agent. “These windows are like mirrors.”

  His companion said, “That's not unusual around here. Keeps the inside cooler, cuts the bill in half.”

  “Let's check around back.”

  Richter followed their trail until a shake of the locked rear doorknob sent his visitors back down the hill, no more informed than when they had arrived. When he awakened after a restful six hours, his next plan had a starting point. He opened a suitcase and withdrew a cell phone. He gave instructions. In three days, he would arrive in Sioux Falls.

  “You will tell me then what happened and why Atkinson was found on his front porch, not in Lewis and Clark Lake.”

  * * *

  WITH NO FINAL word that Thomas Richter's body had been identified, Fritz and Linda went about their days with neither speaking of their fears. Spring moved on toward graduation, Linda's and then Riverboro High's. Jane had boxed the paperwork from the dining room table, but the boxes remained in Ashley's living room. For two weeks, Jane and Ashley were invisible. The president hadn't called. Only Mary reminded them of unfinished business. The play, now deep in rehearsal, would be performed four times. What little help Fritz had provided had not been noticed. Once again, the students had done it all. Eric had enlisted Fritz's ninth graders to provide the marketing. More than half of the tickets were already sold. Even George bragged happily about all the school activities.

  But each day on his way home, Fritz used the quiet time to consider what could happen. In spite of bright flowers and the greening of his route, he failed to find cheer in his surroundings. On a Wednesday in mid-May, Jane was at the kitchen table with Linda when he walked in. Linda was biting her lips.

  “Hi, honey,” he started. “What's wrong? Hi, Jane.”

  “LW,” said Jane.

  “Loren Whitmore. Yeah, so?”

  “He's dead, Fritz. He was hanged,” said Linda. “More like someone strung him up.”

  “He was dead already,” said Jane. “In Montana. Hanging from an overpass.”

  “They still haven't identified Richter,” said Linda.

  He squinted, thought, and then said, “So only the two in jail and Richter are left?”

  “Fritz, there's something else. I'll tell you when Ash gets here.”

  Ashley arrived a few minutes later, but Fritz stayed at his desk. The banging in the kitchen furthered his resolve to remain in the sunroom. Jane came to get him. “They have composite pictures of Richter from the other two,” she said. “Fritz, he looks a little like the missing guy at the Hay-Adams.”

  Pushing food around his plate, he said, “Great. The one that got away. And he's gone again. He built an exploding house, but he's not dead. Just great.”

  “Fritz,” said Linda, “the president is sending Mary some help.”

  * * *

  BEFORE LEAVING California, Thomas Richter ceased to be, replaced by the gentleman farmer Richard Salzmann. The escape was easy. A tan Camry, parked in the garage of his escape house, was shrouded in boredom. No one would pay attention when he drove away. He laughed at the directions—go east and turn left at Nebraska. At the busiest motel he could find in Sioux City, he met his associate, a former sniper and disaffected soldier. And also his nephew. There was no small talk.

  “Atkinson was found on his front steps. Why did you leave him?”

  “He had company. A man was walking to the front door when Atkinson just appeared out of thin air. I didn't wait around.”

  Richter/Salzmann said, “The president. That's what he meant.”

  “Who?”

  “Massoud said the president has a secret weapon. Even the sheikh wouldn't talk about it.” He rubbed his face. “You'll be traveling soon. Do you know my new number?”

  “Give it to me. Where are you going?”

 
“For now, the farm. Drive. Take your time. You know where to leave the car. Bring your uniform.”

  Thomas Richter moved his base to suburban Washington, a farm in Virginia owned by a subsidiary of a company held in a trust registered in the Caymans. His plane sat in a hangar, his pilot awaiting his next trip. Thomas Richter owned nothing. Thomas Richter had never existed.

  * * *

  “MR. PRESIDENT, I THINK this trip is a huge mistake and not just for you,” said the secretary of defense.

  “Charlie, this was my plan, my idea. They accepted it. I have to go.”

  “Mr. President, you'll be in the open. Hundreds of workers we can't screen will surround you. Heavy equipment can be sabotaged, picks and shovels are handy weapons. Sand dunes are hiding places, and we can't provide even foreign military for protection.”

  “I know what the risks are, Charlie. I'll have agents with me, and they've already checked out the area.”

  “Then at least don't make the speech. Shovel the dirt and leave.”

  “By the end of the day, we will have started building two plants, and I've been told enough earth movers to trench a hundred miles will be warmed up and ready to go. We're two months into this thing, and I don't have that much time left. I'm going.”

  Able to use the Oval Office again, the president sat at his desk. In front of him was a speech about a new birth of possibilities. The ceremony would be near dawn, which he chose as a perfect symbol. The leaders would all arrive by helicopter and head to the Turkish border with Syria when the ceremony ended.

  * * *

  “HI, MR. PRESIDENT,” said Fritz. “What can I do for you?”

  “You know that I'm going to Palestine tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir. Good luck.”

  “I've kept you out of this for a while, to let you finish the school year without me. First, I want to say thanks to you and Linda for tolerating all I've done to mess up your lives. I wish I could say it was over.”

  “You and me both. I keep waiting for the other of our mutual shoes to drop.”

  “I've been thinking. I have to ask another favor. At midnight tomorrow, our time, I'll break ground for the first desalination plant. With all that's happened, I don't have a good feeling about what might occur.”

  “I know. Jane said she has a feeling. She said she told you not to go.”

  “Fritz, I'm going. I have to. But, would you consider having the portal ready, just in case?”

  “Mr. President, as much as I've been glad not to have been involved, you know I will. I don't want to, but I will. Will we have company?”

  “I've told Colonel Mitchell to get his guys ready. I'm sending a wide screen TV to the school so you can see if we need to move quickly. We expect everyone who was at the summit.”

  “I think you guys call that a target-rich environment. Why not just take the colonel with you?”

  The president said that all the leaders agreed not to have soldiers present. Even the Israelis would remain at the border. “So really, none of us will have protection. That was the idea.”

  “Has anyone at least checked for places to hide? How about setting up a perimeter to keep people away?”

  “I've sent a map of the area to Jane. It's topographical. We've identified three places where an attack could originate.”

  “Are news cameras going to be there?”

  “Only three. One for us for a pool feed. One for Europe, and one from Al-Jazeera.”

  “Mr. President, if the cameras scan the area until your speech, we can see anything unexpected. Frankly, watching you shovel dirt isn't very interesting.”

  The president chuckled. “You don't think so?”

  “If nothing happens, do you want to come back through the portal?”

  “No. I'll head to Turkey to break ground for the second plant. So, is it okay?”

  “Yeah. I hope you don't need it.”

  “Thanks, Fritz. Me too.”

  Fritz relayed the conversation to Linda. He told her that it was a precaution and with Mitchell and his men, they could move quickly. He would be safe.

  “Fritz, he has only a few more months. I really want this done. Graduation is next week. My parents will be here on Saturday. After this, I want you to tell him to wait for a while until he does anything else to save the world.” Noting the sarcasm, he hugged her, but her arms remained at her side.

  Chapter 40

  FRITZ WENT STRAIGHT to the office. Ms. Sweeney announced him and led him to George, who was scarlet already. “Don't say a word, George. I know you're upset. We've been through this before. I want you to plan for a substitute for me tomorrow. I expect it will be late, and I'm tired enough. I'm taking a day off.”

  “I talked to him last night, and I've never heard him sound worried before. Do you think something will happen?”

  “Like I told him, it's a perfect trap. I hope nothing happens. But I've been hoping that all year. Lot of good it did.”

  “I really don't want to be here. But Lois said we should. What do you think?”

  “I hope we won't have much to do. But they've learned not to come up short. If all goes well, the only thing we'll need is someone to check the bathrooms and sweep the floors.”

  HE TRIED OUT his new lecture on his first period World History class. He compared the importance of the Middle East development project to the Panama Canal, the Hoover Dam, and development of atomic energy all in one. He told his seniors in second period they were witnessing what most likely would be a critically memorable event in their lives, like curing polio, walking on the moon, taking down the Berlin Wall, and developing the internet had been for previous generations. For his American History classes, he talked about courage in the face of great challenges such as Washington setting the precedent for two terms, and Lincoln asking for “malice toward none” and charity for all. He told them about FDR's Second Bill of Rights. “If this succeeds, the president will be among those considered greatest.”

  He hit his ninth graders with homework first thing. “Discuss why you think the Middle East development plan is important. You know the president and leaders from around the world will break ground for two water desalination plants tomorrow. Progress will be gradual. By the time the first steps are completed, you will have graduated. But, if it works, you will have witnessed one of the most dramatic events of your lives.”

  “Wow, you're cookin', Mr. R,” said Ron.

  Fritz looked at his giggling class. “You know I try not to get too worked up about what's going on in the world. It changes all the time. But I've been following this story, and I'm both excited about the prospect and a little worried that they won't keep working together.”

  Susan said, “Mr. R, everyone, I think the president's speech is live around midnight. If I'm up, I'm going to watch.” Heads nodded in agreement.

  “Don't stay up too late. Tomorrow is a school day. You can record it and watch at a reasonable hour. Or see replays.”

  “Okay, Mom,” said Ron.

  * * *

  WHEN FRITZ TURNED into the lot that evening, the yellow buses were waiting. George stood by the doors.

  “Where's Lois, George?” Linda asked.

  “In Ashley's room, closing the blinds. She already did your room.” Tony was already at work down the hall. Fritz asked if Ashley had arrived. George said he hadn't, but the buses were waiting when he entered the parking lot. George pointed and said they were full. George's voice was shaky, a different kind of nervousness than Fritz expected.

  “This should be pretty easy, George,” Fritz whispered, his hand on the principal's shoulder “It's a speech and a shovel of dirt. Then they blow a whistle, and the backhoes start digging. He'll be gone in ten minutes. We're only here in case things go wrong.”

  At H hour, 10:30, the buses unloaded. Through the doors came the supplies and the medical equipment, followed by two large screen televisions. One was placed in the hall next to the extension cord, ten feet down from Fritz's classroom. The othe
r went into the converted classroom. “We're using the conference room tonight,” said Colonel Mitchell. “We still have our connections in place, including the secure comms. The second TV will pick up surveillance from a couple of sources.” Then he handed the room signs to a lieutenant, and pointed to the room they would use for the medics.

  “Colonel, are you expecting trouble? He sounded worried to me.”

  “He was adamant. He said they all agreed. But there's too little protection, only a handful of agents. Our only intel is from the plane overhead.

  “Have you got maps?”

  “Here's an aerial of the site. We marked potential spots where someone could hide. One well-placed rocket grenade and we'll have a world war.” He pointed to the photo. “That's why we erected a canopy.”

  “You have four spots picked out. Do you have more copies?”

  “Jane has them.”

  Jane was talking to Captain Dolan when Fritz interrupted. She reached into her satchel.

  A soldier poked his head from the conference room and called the colonel. They'd spotted activity on the monitor. Fritz hollered that the mission might have to start early, that something was happening. Jane and Dolan joined Fritz as the colonel hurried from the classroom, his jaw set. “Fritz, we need to go now. The AWACS picked up what appears to be infiltration. Come look.”

  Blocked from view on the ground by sand dunes, specks moved toward the leaders exiting a large helicopter. The TV cameramen set their hookups. Whatever was about to happen would be captured live.

  “Can we call them?” asked Fritz.

  “No reception anywhere nearby.”

  “Colonel, how about the Israelis?”

  “Ten miles away.”

  Dolan said, “Colonel, they have cover until the last three hundred yards. They're within range now about one thousand yards out.”

  “How much time do we have?” Fritz asked again. He looked at Dolan's new pin. “Major.”

  Dolan smiled. “Yeah, promotion. Thanks for noticing. They're coming slowly. Maybe ten minutes until they're in the open.”