The Traveler (20 page)

“You
are
government, aren't you?”

“Yes, but we are
your
government. And if we ever have an opportunity to prove this displacement correct, it would be used once and destroyed, as per orders from our director.”

She laughed heartily. She stopped and fixed Jack with a glaring look.

“Then your director must be a highly unusual man to throw away such power.”

“He is,” Jack and Will said at the same time.

“Such loyalty gives a man great power when his subordinates love him so much.” She smiled again as she lit her fourth cigarette. “Much like another man in history—he had loyal followers, too.”

“Madam, our director, how can I explain this? Well, he's no Adolf Hitler. He can sure as hell come down on you sometimes, but he is the best man outside of this room that I have ever known,” Will said as the old woman looked at Jack, knowing the young black man was referencing not only their director, but the big man sitting right in front of her. She took up the old-fashioned phone receiver that looked as if it could be used as a lethal bludgeon and made a connection.

“Peter, yes, I will have four men stopping by this afternoon. Allow them total access to building one-seventeen, please. Full cooperation will be given. Thank you.” She hung up and then fixed Jack with her stern look. “I know how it is to lose someone who is close to you and cannot get them back. I know, I have tried on more than those six occasions you mentioned. But since you cannot make any attempt for displacement without a second doorway, I see no harm in allowing you to see it.”

“See what?” Mendenhall asked.

Moira Mendelsohn started the silent electric motor on her wheelchair and then made her way to the door, which magically opened as she gestured that their appointment time was up. She did turn and smile as she waited next to the guard. “To see what it is you came to see, gentlemen.”

The four men stood as they knew they were being asked to leave.

“And that is?” the master chief asked gruffly as he placed a cold cigar into his mouth.

“Why, my own Wellsian Doorway, of course.”

Jenks smiled as did the others with the exception of Collins. For Jack suspected that without a second doorway the mission was lost to them. But Jenks couldn't contain his enjoyment.

“Now this I have to see.”

 

6

BROOKLYN NAVY YARD, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK (BUILDING 117)

They passed through the main gate of the old navy yard, a starting point for hundreds of thousands of American troops in two world wars and was the building site for some of the most famous warships this nation has ever produced. From heavy cruisers to battleships, the navy yard had seen it all, but in 1966 the Department of the Navy decommissioned the yard and she had fallen on hard times since. The yard was now in the middle of a preservation fight and was modernizing most of the old buildings where 70,000 workers once made the United States Navy the most powerful afloat.

“I have to admit this place is looking better than it did a few years ago. I almost built USS
Teacher
here but decided New Orleans was better suited to my style,” Jenks said, and then looked over at the Frenchman and gave him a dirty look.

“Master Chief, I was never on your marvelously designed boat, but from what the colonel says, it was a real kicker.” Henri smiled over at Jenks.

“All right, you two, we'll turn this car right around,” Will said, turning in the front seat to face the two opposites.

“Where in the hell is this Julien fellow taking us?” Jack asked as he maneuvered the rental car around a series of old wharves and warehouses.

“Maybe the old woman decided not to be so cooperative,” Will said, feeling somewhat better having weapons in the vehicle.

“No, you can see she's been a straight shooter all of her life.” Jack looked over at Mendenhall. “Besides, I give anyone who went through what that woman and millions of others went through the benefit of the doubt.”

“There it is,” Jenks said from the backseat.

Jack saw building 117 through the rain that had just started to fall. Collins hit the pulse wipers and cleared the glass as he pulled in behind the Range Rover. They all watched as Moira's man Julien and two others stepped from the navy blue vehicle. They were met by a uniformed guard and together the four men went to the front of the building.

Jack stepped from the car and as he did he examined the exterior of building 117. It was lined by an old dry dock that might have been used for commercial ships because of its compact size. The building itself was unremarkable. Brick and mortar. The glass windows, about five thousand of them, were all painted over and secured with outside locks. The small arch covering a loading dock and main office entrance had seen far better days as both awnings hung limp and shredded. The building wasn't one of the oldest built in 1806 when the yard first opened, but it was in the same century range.

Collins stood in the lightly falling rain and then saw the old dry dock area next to the building. He saw the pile of bricks next to the water and walked the few feet over and then knelt down. Weeds had covered most of the fallen brick but Jack managed to tear some of this loose. Underneath he saw an old green-tarnished bronze plaque and he leaned closer. He removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket and brushed away years of grime that had covered the words.

ATTENTION

ON THIS DAY OF SEPTEMBER 21, 1864

COMMISSIONING CEREMONIES WERE CONDUCTED FOR

U.S.S. ARGO

MONITOR CLASS VESSEL

Jack pulled the kerchief away and then smiled and shook his head. He remembered the tale as told to him by Niles Compton and Garrison Lee over ten years before. He stood up and wiped his hands.

“What is it, Colonel?” Mendenhall asked as he stepped up to see what had interested Collins.

“Nothing, just a coincidence, a strange coincidence, but one nonetheless.” With one last look at the old and forgotten plaque, Jack made a promise to have the dry dock marker removed back to the complex—it needed to go home.

As Collins turned away, Mendenhall saw what he had been studying. He raised a brow, confused, and then followed Jack to the front doors.

“Well, shall we see what there is to see?” Jack said as he moved to the steps that led upward toward the office.

The uniformed guard held the door open for the four men as they entered. The rain started falling harder and the guard quickly closed the door. All four turned as one when they heard the outside locks being engaged.

“The building is secured on the outside and inside at all times,” Julien said as he stood before a large aluminum door.

“Yeah, and what does the New York City fire department have to say about locking folks inside a dilapidated building?”

“They say nothing, because we have paid millions in bribes to keep them from saying anything,” Julien answered as he gave Jenks a curious look, as if bribery was an everyday occurrence.

“Oh,” was all he said.

The large man was joined by his two companions and together they unlocked the aluminum door, and then one hit a large red button and the door began to go up. Jack and Henri both noticed that all three men stepped away from the darkness beyond the door as it rose. Julien in particular looked as uncomfortable as any man Jack had seen opening a door. He and Henri exchanged questioning looks.

Julien swallowed and then reached into the darkness and switched on a light. He quickly pulled his hand out and then faced the four men.

“Through the door and down the stairs, two flights.” He handed Jack a set of two keys. “One opens the work areas, the other the main laboratory; you'll know which. The noise you'll hear are the pumps needed to keep the basement and subbasement clear of water from the river and dry dock area. You have thirty minutes.”

“You and your men aren't accompanying us?”

Julien's try at a cocky smile failed on the large man. “No, uh, we are not allowed.”

The four men watched as the large personal protector of Moira Mendelsohn and his men left for the front of the building.

Jack didn't have to comment on the strangeness of the three men—they just moved into the room and down the two flights of stairs.

Jack used the first key and unlocked the large steel door at the bottom of the stairs. The hallway was lined with other, larger doors for allowing heavy equipment to be moved in. There was even a large lift that rose the three flights. They all heard the continuous dripping of water as it seeped through from the rain outside and the river and its constant assault on the old navy yard.

Jack opened the door and the lights inside automatically flared to life.

The sight that greeted them nearly caught them all off guard. The brightness and cleanliness of the giant space amazed them. With the exception of the two inches of water they found themselves standing in, the home of the Wellsian Doorway looked as if it popped right out of a science fiction movie. They were in a circular room that sat elevated above an amphitheater-style laboratory. Circular row upon circular row of electronic panels and technician's stations sat empty as all stations looked down upon a round blank spot made of steel.

“The damn thing isn't here!” Jenks said as he angrily tossed his cigar into the water at his feet. “I should have known the old dame was nuttier than the Frenchman here.”

Henri smiled over at the master chief.

Jack shook his head and then moved to the main monitoring station in the center of the first console. He saw the plastic cover that was marked simply “PIT.” He took the second key and lifted the cover and inserted it. He twisted the key and suddenly the lights dimmed and an amazing sight met their astonished gaze.

The center of the floor started twisting in a corkscrew fashion and as it did the edges slid into the wall. Fluorescent and indirect lighting started to flare to life far below them. Jack smiled as the circular floor spiraled away to nothing. The difference was that the giant room below was as clean as if it had been built yesterday. There was no water anywhere in the spaces below. That was where most of the powerful pumps were stored.

“I'll be damned and buggered,” the master chief exclaimed as he stepped toward the glass.

“Okay, I think I made a little pee pee here,” Will said as all eyes fell on the machine that occupied the center of the room.

Spotlights came on and their adjusted beams sliced through the darkness and fell upon a gleaming chromed steel and glass sphere. It was open to the air but the glass enclosure was made to reflect something back into the large, sixty-five-foot object.

“Look, there are laser amplifiers and portals all aimed at the inside of the … the—”

“Wellsian Doorway I believe are the words you are looking for, Master Chief,” Henri said as he too had to step forward to see the giant ball of glass and shiny steel.

“Yeah, I guess that's what you would call it,” Jenks mumbled as he took it all in two stories below them.

“Look inside the sphere,” Will said as he stood next to Collins.

“Oh, my,” Henri said as they all saw the same thing.

“Are those?”

Jack had to chuckle.

“Seats. I count twenty of them.”

The four men were actually shocked that what they had desired to see was actually there.

“I don't believe the old broad built the damn thing,” Jenks grumbled.

Henri looked at Jack and they both thought the same thing at the same moment but it was Jack who faced the machine below and voiced it.

“Yes, Master Chief, she did build it.” He faced the men in the control room. “The real question is, why did she build it?”

Jenks, Will, and Henri all looked at the amazing piece of equipment below and the question hung in the air like a guillotine. The four men were silent as they tried to take in the ramifications of what was represented below. Jenks popped a fresh cigar in his mouth and articulated the moment with vivid verb.

“A goddamned time machine.”

 

PART TWO

THE TIME MACHINE

There are really four dimensions, three which we call the three planes of Space, and a fourth, Time.

—H. G. Wells,
The Time Machine

 

7

THE CONTINENT OF ANTARCTICA, 227,000
B.C.E.

The old and shattered camp was the fifth one Everett had come across since he had found himself hundreds of thousands of years in the past. Military equipment that should not be here was strewn haphazardly around a small clearing. Vines and other vegetation had grown around and through the rusty and shattered tools of military conquest. This camp was far different from the four he had discovered in the days before. This was what he knew to be a Roman stockade. He had done his Annapolis dissertation on Roman tactics during that empire's reign throughout history. Everywhere there were rusty and broken swords. Spears with their shafts shattered. Helmets, rotted red cloaks, and the remains of many campfires. But strangest of all was the semi-modern Japanese equipment lying about, intermingled with ancient Roman gear.

“What the hell was this?” he asked himself as he examined the two very different sets of finds. He checked the more modern Japanese rifles and saw that none of them had ammunition, a sorrowful discovery that lessened his chances of living through this. He tossed a broken bolt-action rifle down and then looked around the eerie setting. No remains were evident as he scanned the area with his bow at the ready.

Suddenly a memory occurred to him that had skipped his train of thought. He now remembered Sarah's discovery during the search for the alien power plant that the Iranians had conducted experiments with the dimensional wormholes and had disrupted time to the point that they had succeeded in snatching Roman, Japanese, and even Chinese troops from their own planes of existence. These must be the remains of those lost souls. As he looked around the stockade he came to the conclusion that these differing warring entities came together for a common cause called survival. And from the looks of the stockade that mission failed and failed big time.