Tabitha blushed again. Not often did they do things like this anymore. Their new identities as parents had really changed things. This was almost like a first date. Now, hopefully the rest of the night would go this way….
Chapter 21
Daring
Once again, Milt was meeting Jack’s “friend” Malachi at the airport. This time they’d both be taking a flight to Chicago, Illinois. They met at a coffee shop outside the traffic loop. Never had Milt attended so many meetings in coffee shops since the first foray into 2047 with Tabitha.
After much arguing over who would actually deliver the plan, Jack had researched and provided Milt with a compound that he held in a vial in his coat pocket along with a sealed syringe. In his other pocket was the antidote, also in a syringe. Because he was right handed, the antidote was on the left side, easier to reach. So the catalyst was on the right side.
He and Malachi would create a serious distraction right in front of Percival Stein, who would be flying into Chicago from MIT. He had to prevent him from getting into that taxi that would escort him to a meeting with one Samuel Masters, a renowned billionaire. Such a meeting could be the very event to set into motion the development of a weapon that could totally obliterate living matter. What other reason could they be meeting but to secure funding for such an invention? The costs would have to be astronomical.
Except that weapon would never come about, because the meeting would never happen. Milt was determined. He still couldn’t tell Tabitha the full truth of his goings on today, but she knew enough. All he had told her was that he was going to the airport and would stop Percival Stein from going to the event where he would meet Mahoney. He did not tell her how. She didn’t ask. Peter had an important doctor appointment today; he’d be getting shots. Milt felt like he should be there, yet he really had to do this.
Malachi had already been coached on everything he needed to do. He would be on the lookout; the moment he saw Stein, he would give Milt the signal, and the plan would proceed. Jack had purchased Malachi a ticket to Missouri to give them an excuse for waiting around under the guise of a young man visiting some family members. It was a bargain flight, one that he would never board, but they checked him in at the entrance of the airport anyway, and he carried a small duffel bag. They both looked like they had a valid reason to be at the airport.
A quick check of the marquee reassured Milt that the flight would be on time. Stein’s flight had experienced no trouble, and everything was running according to schedule. Malachi’s flight was scheduled to leave forty-five minutes after Percival’s flight arrived. If anyone required them to show the paperwork, their story would check out. They’d also have a legitimate reason for Malachi to miss his flight.
Milt played the fatherly uncle part again, purchasing Malachi a sweatshirt in the airport gift shop to wear underneath his flimsy jacket. They browsed the magazines and passed the time by getting a hamburger.
In fifteen minutes, Percival Stein would arrive on his flight. Milt could feel himself tremble inwardly. He fought it off, not wanting it to show. Malachi didn’t ask why Stein was important; he only asked questions about the requirements of his performance. Had this been Mahoney he was intercepting, Milt would not have accepted Malachi and required someone else. Jack seemed to be fond of him, though. He certainly was good at his job.
They both took their places outside the gate where flight 57 from Boston would land and passengers would exit the plane and enter the terminal. Malachi stood facing the gate entrance. Milt sat facing Malachi and looking away from the terminal. He had surreptitiously taken off the overcoat with the syringe in his hand, which now was under his sweat jacket. To passersby, he appeared to be resting. Malachi browsed nonchalantly through a newspaper, periodically looking up at the terminal. He had seen many pictures of Percival Stein.
Milt started sweating. It would make his act easier, but he truly was unnerved. There was no turning back. Malachi had been trained and would act swiftly. He’d come through. It would just be a little bit of discomfort. No problem, Milt told himself. No sweat, he thought, almost laughing out loud.
He wiped his brow. Malachi moved closer. “You alright, Uncle Mack?”
Milt looked up, wondering where the hell he got the idea to call him Mack. What did it matter, anyhow? The announcement was made and passengers were disembarking from Flight 57. Malachi looked up, scanning the crowd. He looked down at Milt, giving a slight wink.
“Yeah, I just feel warm.” He wiped his forehead again with a tissue. The sweat was not an act.
“Well, stand up, Mack. Maybe we should take a little walk.”
Milt reached into his sleeve and gave himself the catalyst shot. His breathing quickened. He retrieved his hand with the tissue surrounding the syringe, dropping both into the trash can next to him.
“Yeah, a walk would do me some good.” He stood up, turning to look at the crowd of people walking toward him.
“Okay, let’s go now.” Malachi had a hand on his arm. That was the cue.
Milt stumbled and fell, almost tripping a man and a woman who were coming through the gate. His face reddened; he grasped his arm.
“My jacket. In my, my, jacket,” he labored to get the words out.
“What, Uncle Mack? What do you need?”
“Sss…shhh…shot…”
“Can I be of some help?” The man leaned forward. He wore a plaid blazer and carried a briefcase.
“Please. I didn’t think this would happen. He was doing fine.” Malachi spoke with a shaky voice.
“Sir, can you tell me your name?”
“Mmmmm…” Milt struggled.
“Hang on, his medicine is in the jacket!” Malachi grabbed it. “This is my Uncle Mack. He has trouble with his heart. He just needs this….little shot here. It should be fine.”
Malachi reached in the jacket, first in the right pocket, then, remembering, reached into the left pocket and found the syringe.
“Can you get him some water?” Malachi hoped this truly was Percival. It was a bad time to feel unsure of himself. He also didn’t want the man asking more questions.
“Sure. What’s your name?”
“Brent,” Malachi answered, hoping Milt heard and understood. He administered the shot to Milt to counteract the first shot which he hoped no one had seen. He wiped his forehead, sitting him up so as not to attract more attention. He didn’t really want to stop anyone else from the flight, nor did he want to attract authorities. Luckily, there had been quite a crowd disembarking the flight.
“Is he alright?” A young woman leaned down, a concerned look on her face.
“He’ll be fine now, I just gave him his medicine. He always keeps it handy.”
Milt looked terribly dazed.
Malachi asked, “You okay, Mack?”
No sooner did Milt open his mouth than the man who should be Percival walked back again with a bottle of water.
Milt looked up, showing recognition in his face. Malachi hoped to God that Mr. Stein couldn’t see it.
“I’m Dr. Stein. Doctor, as in, a PhD in Science and Chemical Weaponry. Do I dare ask what sort of medicine that was?”
“Don’t worry, my uncle majored in Chemistry. His doctor okay’d it and everything. He looks better now.”
“Sir, what is your name?” Dr. Stein looked intently at Milt.
“I am. Joseph McDonald. But you can call me Mack.” Milt forced his words out between breaths.
Malachi silently let out a breath and a prayer. He stuck to the made-up name. That was one worry out of the way. At least the man had some of his wits about him. “Say, do you mind sitting with him while I go and make a call?”
Dr. Stein looked at his watch. “Yes, I think I have time. No problem.”
Malachi went on his way, hoping Milt really was of sound mind now, trusting that he could, with his scientific knowledge, answer any of Stein’s medical/scientific questions without giving anything away.
Now for part two of the plan, the backup part of the plan.
Stein hadn’t tripped and fallen as they had hoped. A few scrapes would have earned him some attention, and Milt and Malachi could have gotten away, only to wait at the taxi entrance to try and slow him down again if all of the attention hadn’t worked. There were many contingency plans, but this one ought to work.
The luggage carousel for Flight 57 had just started up. Malachi stood at one end, hoping to see every piece of luggage first. Several went by. A woman with a child took their bags. Two college athletes claimed their duffel bags. Malachi remembered leaving his next to Milt. No worries; it contained nothing of interest to anyone.
Finally, an expensive piece of Samsonite luggage came by, bearing the name of Percival Stein. Malachi grabbed it and carefully took off the tag. Were there anymore? Well, obviously, this was the main piece of luggage. Malachi carried the suitcase to the restroom with him. Something anyone would do if they didn’t want their luggage stolen.
There were not too many people in the restroom. When they left, he emptied out all of the contents from the suitcase and arranged them on top of the back of the toilet. A shirt fell in. There was medication. He dumped it into the toilet. Why would the man leave his meds in his checked luggage? Was he going to cause this man a health emergency? Surely Stein had the money to get his pharmacist on the phone to call in a prescription while on his travels. Files with papers in them lay underneath the clothing in the suitcase. He tore them all into pieces and placed them in a trash can, wadding up and placing several wet paper towels on top of them. He didn’t even pause to note what information they contained. That was none of his concern nor was it part of this job.
Knowing there may be security cameras watching him, Malachi walked back out of the restroom with the suitcase, hoping it did not seem obvious that it was empty. He then went into a gift shop and purchased a sizable backpack. Perhaps it would be believable that he had switched out? He left the suitcase in the shop by a magazine stand. No one noticed.
Walking back, he saw both men sitting on seats outside the terminal. Everything appeared normal. Perhaps they were going to pull this off! He handed “Uncle Mack” another bottle of water.
“You alright, Uncle Mack?”
“Stop asking me that. I’m better.”
It appeared that Stein had not asked too many questions, or if he did, there was no slip up.
“Oh, I bought this backpack, Uncle Mack. It was a really good sale. So, can we get going, or do you need some help, Uncle Mack?”
“I’ll be alright. You should not have made this man wait with me so long!” He hoped he sounded stern.
“With all due respect, dear sir, you should not be driving alone after your nephew flies out.”
“I’m going to postpone my flight,” Malachi stated.
Milt grew more impressed with this boy’s skills by the moment.
“You’ve done good.” He clapped Malachi on the back.
Malachi beamed. He was only partly acting. This proved to be the most convoluted job he had done so far, and he felt acutely aware of Milt’s true distress. He had taken a big risk.
“I’ve got to get going, myself.” Dr. Stein stood up, briefcase in hand. “Nice to meet you. I do hope you will go see your doctor as soon as this young man gets you home.”
“Don’t let him drive,” he said to Malachi, then turned to go.
“No. Oh, no. I’ll take care of it.” Malachi sat down next to Milt, his hand on his back.
“Ready?” Milt asked.
“I just made his suitcase disappear,” Malachi whispered.
“That’s my boy!” Milt coughed, and Malachi handed him the water bottle.
“Do you need a few more minutes?” He asked.
“No, let’s go. You can drive. I’m tired. Can you believe I actually sat there and had a conversation with him? Had to make him believe I didn’t need more medical help.” Milt sure hoped the results of this interaction were worth making himself sick.
“What did you talk about?” Malachi made a face.
“My job as a high school Chemistry teacher,” Milt said, chuckling. Of course, for all Malachi knew, that could be true.
At the luggage carousel, Dr. Stein remained after all other passengers had left. His suitcase never had shown up. He went to the desk to speak to the airline representative. Obviously, they had lost his luggage. This was unsatisfactory. Never did it occur to him that the man and his “nephew” had anything to do with the disappearing luggage.
Two hours later, he was still speaking with an airlines supervisor. His luggage had not turned up anywhere. A phone call to postpone his appointment was not received well; he’d been fielded by a receptionist who would only take his number and ‘relay the message.’
Red-faced, he waved his hands furiously. “There are important papers and my medicine is in there! You don’t understand. I’m supposed to be attending an important meeting, and it looks like I won’t even make it there.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” The supervisor appeared earnest. “We will provide monetary compensation.”
“Oh yes, you will, but whatever amount you offer, it could never be enough.”
#
Arriving home later that night, Milt lay down.
“Are you okay, Milt?” Tabitha put a hand to his forehead.
“No--I mean, I am just really tired.”
“Does that mean it didn’t go well today? I don’t like the look on your face.”
“Oh no, that’s not it at all. Things went amazingly well.”
“I can’t wait to hear details of your plan.”
“You know I couldn’t tell you. You would never have allowed me to go through with this.” He turned to his side. “I will tell you some other time. Honest.”
Tabitha lay next to him, stroking his hair, the worry slowly waning, as she pondered what heroic risks he had taken at the airport that day. She remained that way, silent next to him, until the baby started crying in the other room.
Chapter 22
A Tall Stranger
A week later, Percival Stein sat on park bench near the Potomac River. The anonymous caller had been precise: be there at 10 a.m. on the dot. His research was in jeopardy because of something Dr. George Mahoney had done.
Things were already heading south, he could tell. This partnership with Mahoney grew more and more questionable with each day. Increasingly, Mahoney’s moods made him believe he was working with an unstable partner. He’d blown up at the news of Stein missing the meeting with the man they hoped would become their benefactor. Since Stein was unable to reach the potential business partner for a re-scheduled meeting the day he missed the appointment, Mahoney had forbidden him from reaching out again, claiming he’d be the one to meet their potential benefactor.
Two minutes after ten, a tall, lean African-American man with a cowboy hat walked up in cowboy boots that resounded on the sidewalk. Percival knew he had to be the guy. He also knew it wasn’t too unbelievable that Mahoney might do something to jeopardize their research. This would not do.
The man sat next to him and spoke. “I appreciate your attention to this matter.” Jack Fontaine had done a good job when he hired this heavy. Martin was his name; he was ex-military and quite skilled at Ji-Jitzu. There was no way Jack would appear here, and Malachi was not ready for all of the possibilities that could arise. Mahoney could be lurking at every turn.
“What information do you have, Mr., what is your name?” Percival extended a hand.
“Never you mind. Your associate, Mahoney, he’s bad news. He’s got his eyes on this girl.” He presented a photograph of Amy Dirks.
“Okay, and the problem is?” Stein was losing patience.
“The problem is, this girl is engaged to an Art professor at University of Massachusetts in Boston. Does Mahoney seem like a man that will take no for an answer?”
Percival said nothing but shifted uncomforta
bly.
“Does he seem like the kind to back down and let someone else win, especially when it’s something he wants?”
“I don’t know where this is going.” Percival crossed his arms.
The man took out a few more photographs, one of them picturing a sketch of a weapon Mahoney had been working on, the very weapon Percival had been designed and planned.
“Where did you get this?” Percival sat forward.
The man then presented a small notebook and opened it in front of Percival. “Do you recognize this? Perhaps you’ve seen it on Mahoney?”
“Yeah, okay. Why?”
There were notes listed in the format of a schedule. Times were noted along with places. Among them, the UMass Boston coffee shop. Various restaurants and shops were also listed and a weekly visit to a laundromat. On the next page was Darrin Febus’ name and a phone number listed next to his class schedule.
“What we have here is proof of stalking.” He pointed to a page in the notebook. “Darrin is Amy Dirks’ fiancé. This man you’re doing business with, Mahoney, he’s tracking this girl’s fiancé as well as the girl. What do you think he might be planning with this invention of his?”
“What are you implying? What invention?”
“A reliable source tells me you are both collaborating on a very powerful weapon.”
Percival squirmed. “That invention is years away from becoming a physical reality,” he whispered.
“That invention, that weapon, cannot become a physical reality. Not in the hands of this man. There’s more.”
Percival looked at him in shock, wondering how he knew just what their research was heading toward.
“Yes, I am aware of just what the invention is that you and Mahoney are working on.” Martin presented a file with photocopied papers. “Mahoney was given a restraining order by this young woman while he was in college. Sabine was his roommate’s girlfriend. He said he’d ‘design a chemical that would make her unable to say no to him.’” Martin acted as if he was reading this fabricated story from the paper. “You believe me yet?”
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