Close Up the Sky (10 page)

"That's just
the point,” Durant responded. “No one
did
cause his death before he became emperor. You see, even if someone from the
future actually
tried
to kill
Napoleon, history tells us it didn't happen. It follows then that even if the
attempt
was
made, it wouldn't be successful. Whatever happens in the past, through either
design or accident, becomes a part of
history
as we
know it. It's a very complicated question, Matt. Almost like trying to imagine
where the universe ends."

"Yes, it is. What
about the agents? What's the danger to them?"

"We have no
control over what happens to them while they're in the field. There's no way we
can monitor their activities or provide support if they need it. All we can do
is see that they're thoroughly briefed on the nature of their mission, and
equip them as well as possible based on what history tells us about the period
in which they'll be working."

He sat down, took
a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Most of our missions are successful, but
sometimes an agent doesn't come back. We never know why. It could be that they
elect to remain where they are for some personal reason, or maybe they die from
disease or accident. Unfortunately, some have been killed. We don't always
know." He glanced at Taylor.

The eye movement
did not escape Leahy’s observation. “You don’t try to find them? I mean, if you
can send them into the past, can't you recall them the same way?"

"I'm afraid
it's not that simple. As I said, it's very complicated. After the transport is
complete, there’s no way of knowing where the agent is physically located. You
see
,
the window only opens on a limited area of space.
Recovery would be like trying to pick up a needle with a magnet. If the needle
is too far away, the magnetic flux can't reach it. The agent would have to be
in almost the exact same place where he transported through in order for us to
recall him from this end. If he's anywhere else, he has to rely on his pager to
activate the recall mechanism."

"Pager?"

"It's a
device about the size of a small cellphone. When activated, it emits a
continuous signal that instruments here at the laboratory detect and forward to
the main computer. The computer then traces the signal back to the source and
adjusts the transporter to the exact setting necessary to open a window and
transport the agent back to the present. Without a pager, our people would be
irretrievably trapped in the past. A lost or damaged pager may be one of the
reasons why some of them never return. The fact is
,
that's where you come in. We desperately need your assistance in locating one
of those agents."

Matt let out a
breath. It was finally out. It was as simple as that. They needed his help to
find a missing person. First you drop a bomb on somebody about the existence of
a time machine, then tell him you need his help in finding an agent lost
somewhere in history. Matt Leahy, time traveling detective. It sounded a little
silly, but Apache Point itself was enough to verify the seriousness of the
situation.

"You want
me
to find an agent?" he asked,
pointing to himself, an incredulous expression on his face.

"If you
agree, yes," Durant answered, almost nonchalantly.

"I'm almost
afraid to hear the answer to this question,” Leahy said, “but why me in
particular? I'm just a city detective. An organization with your kind of
resources must be able to round up at least a hundred men with better
qualifications than mine."

"Under
ordinary circumstances that might be true, but this situation is somewhat
unusual. Besides, don't be too modest. The FBI tells us you're one of the
finest detectives on the Atlanta force." Taylor and Kasdan nodded their
agreement.

The compliment did
not impress him. "What do you want me to do?"

Durant hesitated
for a moment, and then said, "Being a policeman, I'm sure you understand
the need for absolute secrecy in a project such as this. So before I go on,
I'll have to ask you for at least a partial commitment. As of this moment, you
already know more than ninety-eight percent of the people who work at Apache
Point."

"I don't
usually go into something blindfolded, Dr. Durant, but I know you wouldn't have
gone to all this trouble if you hadn't needed me badly. If there's anything I
can do, of course I'll help."

"Be sure,
Matt. Once you start, there may not be a chance to back out."

"Go." Out
the corner of his eye he saw Taylor turn her head and look at him. He raised
the coffee cup and took a sip.

"Good!"
Durant exclaimed. "Somehow I knew we could count on you. The telephone
call I said I'd return when we first came into this office was from the president.
He'll be pleased."

"
Of the United States
?" Matt choked
out, almost strangling on the coffee.

"Yes. He was
most anxious to know the status of our situation here." Durant said it as
though having a telephone conversation with the president was an everyday
event.

My God
, thought Matt,
if the president was
anxious,
as Durant put it, then the problem was more
than just a lost agent; some aspect of national security must be at stake
. He
leaned back in his chair and tried to ignore the butterflies forming in his
stomach.

Durant got up and
walked over to the star map. He gazed at it while he continued to talk. "I
said that our computers indicated that we would be able to run almost unlimited
tests with the stellarite before it was completely transformed into the new
isotope and rendered useless. With the supply of stellarite we had, we should
have been able to continue our research indefinitely. Unfortunately, something
has happened to change that."

"Change it
how?" Leahy’s tone carried a trace of suspicion.

"You saw for
yourself the level of security we maintain here. Not even the White House is so
well protected. In fact, we were so sure of our integrity that we completely
disregarded the possibility of enemy agents infiltrating the facility. Nevertheless,
it looks as though it may have happened. As far as we know, the small quantity
of stellarite in our possession is the only supply in this time period. That's
the root of our problem. Something, or someone, has almost entirely destroyed
it. As of this moment there is a strong possibility that over three hundred men
and women operating in various stages of the past may never see home
again."

Durant's statement
about the security level at Apache Point was correct. After seeing the
sophisticated equipment and manpower expended in protecting the facility, he
could testify that it would have been almost impossible for anyone to gain
unauthorized access to any of the buildings. The display of force he had
witnessed by the helicopter gunships in the desert was ample proof of that. If
simple trespassers who accidentally strayed onto the grounds were handled with
that level of force, he could imagine the reception a potential saboteur would
receive. Though he had not seen it, he knew the time transporter itself must be
under heavy guard. He wondered how anyone could have gotten near enough to
destroy it without being killed. There was only one possible answer: it had to
be someone on the inside. But confidence in his investigative skills could not
be the reason he had been summoned here. He had no expertise whatsoever in the
field of sabotage or terrorist investigations. In a very disquieting way his
instincts told him that the details of his real mission were about to unfold.

"Do you know
who did it?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Durant shook his
head. "No. The FBI has assigned a task force to the investigation, but so
far they haven't come up with anything." He put his hands over his face
and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. Leahy mentally sympathized with the old
man. The stress created by the situation had to be enormous.

"Seems to me
the number of suspects in a case like this would be limited," he said. "I'm
surprised the FBI hasn’t gotten some good leads."

"It's really
not their fault," said Taylor, taking part in the conversation for the
first time. "The project is so secret we can't give them enough
information to let them know what they're looking for."

"They don't
know about the time machine?"

Durant cleared his
throat. "We don't use that term, Matt. It would be too easy to let it slip
in conversation. The device itself is called the Chronocom."

Matt twisted the
plastic badge on his lapel up so he could see the letters across the top:
ChronSecCom.
He deciphered the acronym
immediately. It was military language for Chronocom Security Command. When it
was issued to him he had not bothered to ask what it meant. He let go of the
badge and looked at Durant.

“I don’t see how
you expect them to find your man if they’re kept in the dark about what they're
supposed to be looking for," he said with a police officer’s defensive
reasoning.

Durant held out
his hands, palms up. “You’re right, but it has to be that way. What do you
think would happen if this project ever became public knowledge? What would the
Russians or Chinese do if they knew we had such power? It could mean the
beginning of World War III. So you see we can't risk anyone knowing about the
Chronocom except the most essential personnel."

"Then I'd say
you're at square one.” Leahy shook his head. “No investigator is going to solve
a case without knowing what he's up against." At that moment a new thought
materialized in his mind. He gazed straight into Durant's eyes, attempting to
penetrate the shell of mystery surrounding the scientist. "Or is that what
you
really
want?"

"That’s the
question that brings us to the crux of the matter. We believe there is a
connection between our agent's disappearance and what happened to the
Chronocom. If we solve one, we solve the other."

"Sounds
reasonable,” Leahy agreed.

"The most
important thing is locating a new supply of stellarite,” Durant continued. “Without
it, the Chronocom will cease to function. The agents I told you about will be
trapped in time and some very important projects will be halted. We only have
enough power left to activate the transporter a few more times. After that, the
stellarite will have completely transformed itself into the inert isotope and
will become useless. We want you to find that missing man and a new supply of
stellarite." He sat down on the corner of the desk and waited for a
response.

It was Leahy’s
turn to make someone wait. He was terrified, but kept a blank face. He got up
and walked over to the grandfather clock while he collected his thoughts. Without
really seeing it, he watched the pendulum make a few strokes. The sixth sense
he had acquired from being in dangerous situations over the years urged him to
be cautious. Durant insisted that he had special qualifications for this job
and that bothered him. For some reason they expected something from him that an
entire team of FBI agents could not provide. The revelation of a time
transporter, or Chronocom as they called it, was explosive; but he suspected
the fuse was burning on an even larger bomb. Durant's reference to
some very important projects
had not
escaped him.

"I'll need
details," he finally said, turning to face them. "With
nothing
left out." The emphasis was
intended as a veiled threat.

Durant nodded
agreement. He went behind the desk, opened a drawer, and took out a manila folder.
"This is the dossier on the missing man.” He laid the folder on the desk
without opening it. "Taylor will explain some of the documents later, but
first some background information." He paused momentarily as though
organizing his thoughts,
then
continued. "The
initial supply of stellarite was discovered in the company of some other ores
we believe may have been part of a meteorite. In all likelihood it was a piece
of some unidentified celestial body that exploded eons ago and traveled to
Earth embedded in a meteor. If that's the case, it's reasonable to assume that
other meteors of similar origin followed the same trajectory and struck Earth
at about the same time, but in different locations because of the planet’s
rotation. That makes ordinary geological exploration impractical, if not
impossible. But the saving grace is that the substance emits an unusual type of
radiation. Because of that, we were able to use a specially designed satellite
to locate what we believe is another source."

He walked over to
the coffee pot and poured himself another cup before continuing. He raised the
cup in gesture. "Another bad habit," he said to Matt.

"Yes sir, I
suffer from the same habit. That and donuts." His attempt at police humor
was lost on the old man, but it earned a crooked look from Taylor.

"Anyway,
about two months ago," Durant went on, "shortly after the damage to
our current supply was discovered, our satellite picked up some faint traces of
the substance in North Africa. We immediately sent a geological team to explore
the area, but all they found were fragments, much too small for our purposes. However,
expert examination of the site determined that the fragments came from a larger
mass that had broken apart. Stellarite is extremely brittle, so it's possible
that it broke apart on impact; but we think someone digging around in the
crater may have fractured it. Not only that, but if a larger mass did exist,
they carried it away."

"What makes
you think that?" Leahy asked.

"In
appearance, stellarite resembles a murky emerald and emits a faint greenish
glow,” Durant replied. “If any of the fragments happened to be visible after
impact it would be easy for someone to see them, especially at night. Apparently
that
did
happen because the
geologists found evidence to substantiate it."