As John stumbled through the darkness of the storage shed, he could just make out the light from around the roll-up door as Jenny bumped into him. As he swept the LED beam around the empty storage room, he said,
"I don't see a locker in here."
"Only Minus sites have rescue lockers," she reminded him. "Shit, shit, shit, I can't believe it!" she cursed staring at her sat-chron.
"What? What's wrong?" John said looking at Jenny's startled face.
"It's the date. It's 2058!"
"What? Are we in Prime?" John asked.
"21 May 2058, 1033 in the morning to be exact. I'll do an influence test." Jenny dug the pad out from the pack and initiated the similarity program. "One hundred percent. We are in Prime," she said. "But we can't be here."
John was numb; the events of the last several days were taking a toll and he found it hard to believe they were now ten years in the past in Prime. He slumped to the floor.
"It seems we've proven a rook's move is possible after all," Jenny said sitting down next to him. "We've got to think this through. Some of the whiz kids think we should have destroyed the timeline as there're now two of both of us in Prime." She took a drink from the packs water bottle then passed it to him.
"Thanks, at least it's spring," he said appreciating the seasonal warmth as well as the cold water. "So we use your pad and call for help."
"That would break Chronos' contingency paradox directive. We're two years before the first transit in Prime and damn lucky we didn't transit into someone's refrigerator."
"What if we transit again?"
Jenny hesitated and then said, "We'd probably return to Minus, possibly even farther back than '46. Transiting back again, we could land back here before '58. We could be stuck in an ever-backwards transit loop. It's too dangerous."
"So we're stuck here?"
"For now, at least until we think of something."
John tried to get his head around their situation. "We can't stay in here forever," he said standing up. "Maybe we can figure out something over a good breakfast and a good cup of coffee wouldn't hurt either. I know of a café that does an all day breakfast not too far from here." He knew pragmatism was as good as any option and the café's pancakes were exceptional.
"We'll have to try to keep our contact with Prime at a minimum," she warned as she rolled up the door.
"Do pancakes count?" John asked squinting in the mid-morning sun.
Jenny frowned at Johns attempt at humor. "Hold on," she said and reached for a nearby piece of gravel from the track separating the storage units. She scribbled something with it just inside the storage space before pulling the door down.
During the walk to the café, John recounted how he and Carl had discovered it during an undergraduate field trip. Its breakfasts had become a tradition as well as Colorado's spectacular outcrops. Both were an excellent recruiting tool for the department.
The café was starting to fill up for lunch, and they found seats around a table in the rear.
A waitress set two cups on the table and poured them both coffee.
Cream as well as sugar was in ample supply on the table.
"What can I get you folks?" she asked them.
"I'll have a short stack with two eggs on top, sunny-side up and a side of spicy sausage," John ordered, not waiting for Jenny.
"I'll have a Denver omelet and a large orange juice," Jenny said unfazed.
"Pulp or no pulp, Honey?"
"Pulp, thanks."
"No problem." The waitress smiled at them and left without writing the order down.
"Now what?" John asked.
"We could mount a strategic but covert offensive," she suggested.
"We have lots of intel on the pad from Prime's recent past. It would feel good to blind side some tangos."
"Sounds like Pandora's paradox box to me." John said looking around the café as the nearby tables were filling up.
"Yeah, I know. I was just wishing out loud," she admitted. "We may have to contact our people in the Mountain, but we can't just trust anyone.
Tipping our hand and divulging a rook's move to our enemies is not a good idea."
"Surely you can trust the SecDef," John said.
Jenny nodded. "He's not the SecDef now, but contacting Tristan at State may be the best option."
"Wait a minute," John said. "Your husband would have told you of any strange meetings with a future you, right?"
"I don't know. If I told him not to tell me, he wouldn't have. He's stubborn like that," she said and pulled the pad out of the pack.
As she worked with the pad, John looked around the café, remembering students from the past. "Back to square one, I guess," he said as the server returned with their food. He watched in awe as Jenny immediately heaped Tabasco on her omelet.
After taking the first bite, Jenny returned to the pad. "There may be contingency protocols for our situation. I'll have to search—"
"Doc!"
John looked around to see Carl coming over to their table. "I can't believe it!" he said getting up and giving his friend an emotional hug.
Jenny cursed beneath her breath and started choking on her omelet.
A drink of orange juice did not seem to help. "Sorry," she managed to say between coughs, "pulp."
John looked at her with concern.
"I'm fine, really," she said clearing her throat for the last time.
John said, "Carl, this is my friend—"
"Jenny Scott," she said and gave John an uneasy look with a subtle shrug with her shoulders.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Scott." Carl said.
"Please, it's Jenny."
"You won't believe what's been happening." Carl said looking around the café then to John
"It's okay," John reassured Carl. "Jenny is a close friend."
"I'm sorry I haven't contacted you, but I've been in hiding because of all the TIA freaks." He lowered his voice slightly, "My aunt had to kill someone a few years back when they pulled a gun on my uncle. So, I've been in the mountains near here ever since. I don't usually come into town during the day, but a tooth had been killing me forever. Plus, I just wanted a good meal," he said nervously looking around again.
By now, the café's tables had filled up and the counter seating had only a couple of empty stools.
"I've been worried about you and I am just happy to see you alive,"
John said. "I can only imagine how crazy it's been."
"Good luck with that," Carl quipped. "What brings you both here?"
"It's a long story," Jenny said cutting into her omelet.
Henrys knew Lutzger was using their man in the Denver's FBI office to hack surveillance cameras along Colorado's main highways and key city cams. Lutzger was hoping for a facial recognition of several people
that they wanted to find over the last few years. And they finally got another positive identification on Watkins outside Colorado Springs over an hour ago.
Henrys could not believe it; Watkins was so close. Five years ago, Lutzger received a positive recognition of Watkins in nearby Beaver Creek, but ignored the intel. But now Henrys just had time to rendezvous with Watkins's jeep just before the city limits and to follow him into town.
Approaching the café, an out-of-place feeling crept over Henrys again making him shiver. Through the café's front window, he could see Watkins was sitting in the rear with his back to the door. It was perfect.
He was with two other people. He did not recognize the woman, but he was sure the man was that professor from Michigan.
Stealthily transferring his snub-nosed revolver from its holster to his windbreaker's pocket, he entered the café. He knew Lutzger would be pleased with the capture.
Henrys made his way through the café to their table and quickly sat down quickly next to Jenny. "Don't move and shut up," he said pointing the revolver, still in his windbreaker's pocket, at Jenny's ribs. There was no mistaking it for what it was.
"Watkins, it's nice finally to catch up with you." Henrys gloated and then leered at Jenny. "And Mackinik, too. I guess this is my lucky day."
"It's Mac-in-awe," John said. "And who are you?" he asked dryly.
Henrys ignored him. "This is how it's going down. We're walking out of here nice and calm like. No sudden moves. No talking.
Understand?"
"We understand completely." Jenny said as Henrys stood up.
John reached for his wallet and received a harsh look from Henrys.
"I'm just paying, don't want to cause trouble," John said showing the man his empty hands.
"Fine, be quick. And I'll take the pack." Henrys said grabbing the mission pack's straps.
John placed an old fifty on the table knowing there wouldn't be any change.
"Let's go," Henrys said.
He led them outside the café and around the corner to a panel van. It was at least a twenty-year-old hybrid with opaque rear and side windows.
The van's side door slid open revealing another man with an automatic pistol. He hurriedly waved them inside. His blue eyes met Jenny's, and then slammed the door behind them.
The van's cargo area was caged. The door locks and handles were missing. They were prisoners.
"Good work, huh Max." Henrys said grinning as he tossed the captured mission pack behind the driver's seat next to a large duffel bag.
He climbed onto the passenger seat and adjusted the rearview mirror to see Max and the prisoners. "Check them over and secure them," he said.
Max pointed his gun at John and Carl. "Okay you two," he said,
"move to the front and you, lady, on your belly next to the rear doors."
Henrys' phone rang. Fumbling to activate it, he answered, "Yes, sir?
Yes, we did get him and Mackinik, too. I know it was lucky. Yes. Yes.
We'll pick it up on our way. I understand. It'll be about six hours. I'll call you when we leave. Yes, of course on the other phone." Henrys tossed the phone out the window, reached around, dug a new one out of the duffel and then slipped it in his shirt pocket.
Climbing into the driver's seat, Max asked Henrys, "Everything okay?"
"Don't worry about it. We have to pick up something in Amarillo; it's on our way."
FBI agent Cody Freeman was off assignment for two years. During this time, his cover was a solitary prison term in a Colorado super
maximum-security federal facility. The cover gave him credibility with Lutzger, but in reality, he was at FBI headquarters in DC. New perceived threats had put him back under cover and Cliff Henrys had picked him up from the prison gates in Florence that morning. When they received the notification of a facial recognition on Watkins, they were less than an hour's drive from Colorado Springs.
Cody had a lot of planning to do and the drive time to Arkansas would give him that opportunity. He glanced at their prisoners in the back; except for Jenny, they looked terrified.
Two hours later, Henrys needed a break. He told Max to exit Interstate 25 at Trinidad, Colorado.
"Not exactly the Caribbean," John said to Carl with a weak grin.
"Keep it shut!" Henrys snarled over his shoulder.
They rolled to a stop at a service station just past the off ramp. Cody topped up the old hybrid's petroleum tank while Henrys took off for the restroom.
"Are you okay?" Cody asked the captives.
"We are now," Jenny replied with a wink.
"What! You know each other?" John said with disbelief.
"Cody is FBI; he partnered with Wultz for a while when I went to State."
"This is incredible," Carl said.
"I'll get you all out of this," Cody reassured them, "but we have to be smart about it, and it will take a bit of time. Jenny, I need to inform headquarters and coordinate a rescue plan. I'll let you know what's happening as best—"
"Cody wait, we're on a black op," Jenny explained. "You must contact Tristan Picare at State first. It's critical for national security," she said and then gave Cody Tristan's personal contact details.
"Not exactly mission protocol Ms. Scott," he said.
Before she could say anything else, Henrys strode through the station's doorway sliding a beer into a small brown paper sack and several Slim Jims into his shirt pocket.
"My turn," Cody told Henrys, making an excuse to call Jenny's contact at State.
"Well, don't enjoy it too long. We've got to be in Amarillo in four hours," Henrys warned. He glanced at the secured captives then peeled off a wrapper from a beef stick to go with his beer.
Tristan was stunned to hear Agent Freeman's situation report and that Jenny was with him in Colorado. It took a moment to regain his composure.
"John Mackinac and Carl Watkins, too. You are positive?" Tristan asked Cody.
"Yes, sir. I'm positive. I don't have much time. I have to contact my mission coordinator in DC to—"
"Cody, this is very important. State will coordinate a rescue. I'll clear it though all the necessary channels." Tristan knew this was definitely not standard procedure and hoped Jenny had convinced Cody it was the best way to proceed.
"Yes, sir." Cody replied
"I assume you'll be heading through Oklahoma on Interstate 40,"
Tristan said.
"Correct."
"We'll have drone recon on you shortly. Just west of Oklahoma City, make an excuse to stop the van and take Henrys out. We'll have backup close. Good luck Agent Freeman."
"Thank you, sir." Cody cut the connection.
Tristan felt a subtle shiver and took a deep breath to ease his anxiety.
The plan was not only rushed, but also fraught with risks. He leaned back
in his home office chair and closed his eyes. He quickly sat up as heard someone approaching.
"Everything okay? You don't look so good."
"Yes, I'm fine. Just a crazy morning," he said wondering just how he would circumvent the drone coverage.
"Lunch?"
Tristan signed. "I think I'll be tied up the rest of the day."
"Okay then, I'll see you later." Jenny gave him a kiss as she left.
The drive to Amarillo was uneventful and Carl even slept. They stopped at a Burger King, and Henrys ordered two combos of burgers, fries and cokes. As the kid in the drive-in window passed out the sacks of food, Jenny saw Henrys stash a drive from one of the sacks in his shirt pocket among his remaining Slim Jims.
It was four more hours before they reached the western outskirts of Oklahoma City and the town of El Reno. Henrys was still sleeping when Cody casually pressed the start switch quickly on and off, making the van hesitate slightly.
"When was the last time you had the motor serviced?" Cody asked Henrys, hoping it would be a believable excuse.
"I've about had it with this piece of junk," Henrys muttered trying to wake up fully.
Just as they were coming to the El Reno exit, Cody pressed the ignition button again. The van rapidly decelerated, and Cody maneuvered it up the ramp as it coasted to a stop.
Henrys was already cursing the van when Cody said, "I don't know why the gas engine didn't kick in. I'll check the fuel line." He got out and lifted the hood.
Jenny could hear clanking and tapping from up front.
After several minutes, Henrys had enough and got out to see exactly what was holding them up. Cody stepped back and looked for traffic;
there was none. As Henrys leaned in the power plant compartment, Cody made a measured swing with the butt of his gun to the back of Henrys'
head. He fell into a heap in front of the van.
Opening the van's side door, Cody said, "Okay, I talked to Picare and marshals should be here in a few seconds."
"Thanks Cody, I owe you," Jenny said and pulled out Mikael's mission pack from the back seat and handed it to John. She looked in the duffel and told Cody, "We'll take this, too," and slung it over her shoulder.
"You've leaving?" Cody asked in disbelief.
Searching Henrys, Jenny found the drive in his pocket and handed it to Cody. She knew Henrys was working with William Lutzger. The FBI had built a good case against them both including murder. But Lutzger was the best chance to get intel on the bigger global conspiracy so they remained out of custody.
"We have to," she replied. "Give this directly to Tristan Picare."
"You don't ask much do you?" Cody asked taking the drive.
"I'm so sorry to do this to you," Jenny said looking into his blue eyes.
"It's okay, but we're even," he said, then cautioned them, "you better get going."
"We have to hurry," Jenny said to John.
"What about me?" Carl said to no one in particular.
"Sorry Carl, the FBI needs to talk to you." Jenny lied. She did not know what else to say, and Cody needed a good reason to terminate his mission and arrest Henrys. Carl was it.
Jenny warned Carl, "Don't tell anyone about seeing us, promise? I'm sorry it has to be this way."
"Sure, but—"
"Thanks, Carl," Jenny interrupted him and kissed him on his cheek.
"Hopefully, Tristan will probably explain what he can."
As they trotted up the ramp, John called out to Carl, "And you were right about the 13-C. It is a gun barrel."
They just got to the truck stop past the top of the ramp when several black SUVs converged on the van.
Looking back at the scene, Jenny recalled that Henrys died shortly after regaining consciousness after his capture, she vaguely remembered it could have been a brain hemorrhage.
"Let's find somewhere to think. I'll fill you in on the plan," she said.
"At least you have one," John said glancing up at the drone circling overhead.
When the house in Chicago had become unsafe two years ago, Johnston moved. She liked her new cover in Cedar Rapids, Iowa even though this slice of America stood for everything she wanted to bring down.
The cause lost scientists in the past few years. Expected results were slow coming, and she felt the pressure her superiors were putting on several missions her cell was coordinating.
"Commander?"
"Yes," she said wearily. It was nearly midnight. She had been revising a citation for the Prophesy for the last couple of hours when the courier waiting for her to finish had interrupted her.
"I have a report that two of William Lutzger's people," the courier said reading from his pad. "Henrys and his driver were captured along with Dr. Carl Watkins outside Oklahoma City."
"Henrys and Watkins. You're sure?" she asked.
"Yes, without doubt."
"Henrys is dead I assume?" she asked flatly.
"Yes."
"And the driver?"
"He is in custody. Henrys picked him up from prison that morning"
"No problem there then," she said. "Watkins, huh. It's been a long time. I thought he was dead."
"There's more. A brother in Amarillo has confessed that Zaman gave him an encrypted hyperdrive to hand over Henrys on their way to Little Rock."
That stupid fool, she thought, suspecting Zaman probably tried to betray them with help from Lutzger.
"Any more good news?" she demanded.
"No Commander."
"Send for Aashif immediately and wake me when arrives." She hated the Muslim cover names her cohorts had chosen for the radical Islamic charade. She considered that particular directive idiotic. She insisted on using her real name, Victoria, but not because of some 19th century monarch; the Roman goddess of victory was her true namesake.
It was early morning when Aashif arrived. He looked anxious as she filled him in on the recent developments.
"We don't know exactly what data were captured," Johnston said as she squeezed her large body into a chair. "We'll have to wait until Zaman confesses his failure, but I bet it will be damaging. And we must assume Henrys' duty pack is now in Lutzger's hands."
She looked at Aashif. "Kill him and recover the sets."
"And Watkins?" Aashif asked.
"We can forget him. He'll be deep in Homeland Security's hands for a long time, and it was wasting resources anyway. You are to communicate our status to the Leadership and alert them that the next diversionary missions can progress."
"Yes Commander," he said, "We have Allah."
"Let's hope he favors us more in this next phase than he did in China," she said sarcastically.
It was just past sunrise, and the morning light created eerie silhouettes of Lutzger as he paced the floor in the small cabin deep in the Ozarks. The fucker, he thought, Zaman's Amarillo contact obviously couldn't be trusted.
A branch fell on the cabin's tin roof causing a bang. Lutzger stopped pacing and looked up at the old tongue and groove ceiling. "We had just got Watkins after all this time," he said. "What a brainless idea to send him of all people out West to get Max! At least he had the guts to kill himself. Just another one of Zaman's fucking grand ideas."
"I agree Billy; I never liked the idea at all."
"Cliff, shut the fuck up," Lutzger said, "We don't have much time."
Holding Plus Henrys' backup transfer set, he stared out the window at the heavy rain and sighed. He had to assume that the Feds must have the other set.