The Traveler (29 page)

Will and Jason exchanged looks and with a nod at the men in running suits and sport coats, they ran through the front door and vanished.

“Now, what will you gentlemen have—vodka?” he asked as the young bucks of the Gambino crime family gathered the handguns of the arrogant new kids on the block, who were finding out that old grudges never really vanished with certain families.

The bearded man looked at the men disarming them and smiled—if only briefly.

“Yes, vodka will do.” He gestured for his men to sit.

The bartender's eyes flicked to the old men at the table who had resumed playing cards. One of then looked up and raised his gray-colored brows. The man took a dusty bottle from the bar and came around with glasses and approached the angered Russians. He placed the glasses down with the bottle of vodka.

“On the house.”

The bearded man looked up as a small shot glass of clear liquid was placed in front of him. He raised his glass in toast and turned to the old men at the card table and then finally at the two men playing checkers in the far corner. The oldest man was recognizable as Paul Gazza, the head of the Gambino crime family. The man posed no threat to the power of the Russians, at least according to Russian sources.

“To old times,” he said with a sad smile, and then drank and slammed the glass down.

The men looked up and their silence made the Russians feel uncomfortable. The old man in the hat nodded his head as if in agreement as he smiled at his friend across the table and jumped several red checkers over black ones.

“Ah, checkmate!” he said with a laugh.

“You're playing checkers, old man, not chess. There is no checkmate in checkers,” the Russian said with a bemused smile.

The old man in the moth-eaten fedora looked up and his smile vanished as his eyes narrowed. “There is always a checkmate, no matter what game you play.”

The Russian mobsters never knew what hit them as several silenced weapons thudded in the darkness of the social club on a small side street just off of Flushing Avenue.

The card game, among other more dangerous games in New York, continued within the Brooklyn underworld as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.

 

11

BROOKLYN NAVY YARD

As Virginia's nuclear sciences team and Jenks's newly aquired engineering department examined the doorway like ants crawling on a hill, Anya sat next to the Traveler, Moira Mendelsohn. The old woman looked at the sad countenance of the young raven-haired woman. Her eyes would wander back to the activity below in the newly discovered PIT where a machine she never knew existed sat in its sparkling glory as the Group went over it with all the advanced science at their disposal—equipment Moira had never seen before. Soon the old woman's eyes were back on Anya, who felt her gaze. She faced the smiling Traveler.

“You keep looking at me as if you have something to say,” Anya said not unkindly.

Moira smiled wider and then fixed her with her brown eyes.

“You were the young lady who stole my debrief file from the Mossad?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Dangerous games. Very dangerous.”

“Yes, I hurt someone very close to me to get that file.” Anya smiled as she looked away and watched the technicians below. She felt Moira studying her once again. “For a deed that I will eventually pay heavily for.” She gave the Traveler the briefest of sad smiles. “Deals with the devil and so forth.”

“But then again you would still go about hurting anyone to get back what was lost, yes?”

Anya looked at the Traveler and she could see the woman was speaking from a past fraught with the same sort of decisions.

“Yes, a million times over.” Anya turned away and looked at her watch. “If you'll excuse me I have a meeting I'm late for.” She started to rise as Moira placed a hand on her wrist.

“You are a Gypsy?”

Anya stopped and looked down at the withered but elegant hand and then into the Traveler's eyes. “Yes.”

“I knew many Gypsies in the old days,” she said as she looked away momentarily, and that was when Anya saw the tattooed number on her forearm as she absentmindedly adjusted the blanket around her legs. Moira looked back at Anya as she released her wrist. “I hope your quest turns out far better than my own.” Moira used the wheelchair's motor and turned away to concentrate on answering Dr. Pollock's technical concerns.

Anya watched her a moment and wondered what quest the Traveler had referred to. She thought a moment and asked herself just what secrets did this brilliant woman possess that she wasn't mentioning.

Anya Korvesky knew she had to dig a little bit more into the Traveler's past before men and women risked their lives for her and Carl.

EVENT GROUP COMPLEX, NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

Xavier took a long swallow of Mountain Dew and then looked at the sandwich the mess steward had delivered to the computer center where he and his newly acquired staff were looking for any avenue that would allow the Wellsian Doorway to lock onto the correct time frame. Thus far there was nothing that could duplicate the signal from the second doorway. They had hit a definite dead end. He pushed the plate with the sandwich on it away from him in frustration. He placed the plastic bottle of soft drink down and then spun his chair to look down onto the floor where most of his techs were working with Europa to find a solution. They looked almost as frustrated as himself. His eyes scanned the monitors below and his sight caught something that made him think.

“Uh, Mr. Styles, is it?” he said into his microphone at his personal station, which overlooked the extensive computing floor below.

The tech was leaning over a station where another worked. The tall, thin technician looked up and back at his new boss. “Uh, yes, sir,” he said.

“What is that on your monitor?”

The technician looked up and saw what the youngest and newest department head in Department 5656 history was seeing.

“Oh, we were just going over the supply situation Mr. Everett would have had in the escape pod. We have come to the conclusion that he would have run out of supplies a month after crashing. If that long. His ammunition supply was—”

On the monitor below there was a schematic that showed the small escape pod that was used on the battleship HMS
Garrison Lee.

For no apparent reason Xavier smiled and then slapped his hand down hard on his leg, not feeling the impact due to his paralysis.

“Transfer those specs to my station immediately, please. Join me up here, we have some work to do. Europa, I need everything that you have on escape pod design number 22167.”

Energy started to fill the computer center as an avenue for science had just been opened and they now had a chance at answering the question for how they would lock on to the correct time frame for Everett's rescue. The Event Group came alive with a small thread of hope.

BROOKLYN NAVY YARD

Collins, Mendenhall, and Ryan were the last to be seated in the overcrowded upstairs office. The space had been cleared of the window-dressing mess that had camouflaged the true intent of building 114. The main addition to the room was the large eighty-eight-inch monitor against the far wall. Xavier Morales was on the screen and all but Mendelsohn knew Europa was there also.

Niles Compton sat at the table's head and Alice Hamilton was on his right as was customary with Virginia next to Alice. Jack was directly across from Sarah, Charlie Ellenshaw, and Anya. The rest of the various departments that had something to add to the meeting were present. Jenks was in a hurry to get back to the newly discovered PIT to reverse-engineer as much as he could as he still wasn't that trusting of Madam Mendelsohn. Jack looked at Sarah and let her know with his eyes that he didn't like the fact that she and Anya, with Alice Hamilton's help, had tried to sidestep his mission parameters and insert themselves into the field team. Sarah knew Jack wasn't happy.

“Okay, Colonel, are our two adventurers unharmed?” Niles asked as he looked over the wire-rimmed glasses that covered not only his good, but also his patched eye.

“Aside from needing a refresher course on covert egress of an enclosed facility, they're fine. Although two DNA-coded cell phones will be coming out of their pay,” Collins joked without a smile at Ryan and Mendenhall.

They would both thank Collins later for the public shout-out.

“Commander, you reported that the men who accosted you and Captain Mendenhall were Russian speaking?” Niles asked as he continued to look at the two men at the end of the table. His good eye kept wandering to Ryan's facial anomaly that was unavoidable, thus it was hard not to smile at the young naval officer's discomfort.

“Well, I wouldn't say we were accosted exactly,” Jason started to protest.

Niles waited patiently even though time was short—but even the director couldn't waste an opportunity jabbing a teasing blow at Jason and Will.

“Yes, sir, definitely Russian. From the sounds of it, maybe organized crime, not sure.”

“Yes, sir, it seemed the Italian gentlemen who assisted us”—he looked at Collins—“in our egress from that particular enclosed facility”—he then looked back at the director—“didn't seem too fond of them. It seemed those gentlemen might have been organized types also.” Ryan shot Collins a look.

Jack smiled, knowing he had angered both of his men and knew they deserved the return strike. He shook his head and then looked at Henri.

“Okay, we don't have the luxury of time to go out and hit these bastards first, and we've used our monthly quota of FBI assistance to find out exactly what they want and how they fit in here. You turn this thing over to our organized crime fighters, Will and Jason.” He faced both Mendenhall and Ryan. “Get a Europa link and get as much as you can on this Russian outfit.”

Will and Jason knew Jack was forgiving their small failure by not berating them further.

“And me?” Henri asked as he wondered how long his term of servitude would be—if he survived, that is.

“We stick as close to that machine as humanly possible. It seems Madam Mendelsohn's little invention has suddenly become very popular at the oddest of moments.”

“‘Oddest' being the operative word, I assume?” Farbeaux sniped.

“Par for the course around here,” Jack replied with a wink.

“Okay.” Niles nodded for the navy communications man to allow Moira into the room. He hadn't wanted to be briefed by Ryan until he knew who they may have been dealing with. The Traveler still caused many a person at this table major concern for not knowing her greatest achievement had been compromised, stolen, and then duplicated. She wheeled in and nodded to all those around the table with her eyes settling on Anya for only a brief moment. “Virginia?” Niles finished as the room quieted.

“In consultation with Dr. Mendelsohn, we have come to the conclusion that the Wellsian Doorway looks intact and fully functional. But that has not been confirmed as yet by our teams. The damage to the power lines coming into these buildings has not allowed us to bring the doorway online nor even her peripheral systems. The building has a small supply of power coming through its own generating system, which we have fully refueled, but not anywhere near the power we would need to get the doorway operational.”

“Are we working on an alternate power source?” Niles asked Jenks.

“Not yet, we need—”

“Yes, we are covering that,” Virginia said as she cut off the startled master chief, who looked as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

“We have?” he asked with a grumbled look.

“Yes,
I
have,” she said, looking at his confused face.

“Okay, what should the priority be?” Compton asked only for the benefit of others around the table.

Virginia turned to Xavier, who nodded his head at the camera view supplied by the supercomputer.

“Thus far I have nothing on how to gain signal acquisition without the second receiving doorway being in place. The science just isn't there. An attempt made without a corresponding doorway, as I am sure Madam Mendelsohn will tell you, is quite impossible. At least according to theory.”

“According to my engineering specs, Einstein may have come up with this theory, but I don't see how this thing actually works, and sending people through that damn thing without knowing the exact science behind it is damn well stupid.”

Compton ignored Jenks's outburst and turned back to the large viewing screen. “I sense a ‘but' in there, Doctor,” Compton said, watching the young man and how he handled the pressure of research on an emergency level.

“That there is, Director Compton. In my briefing by Europa and reading the final after-action reports by Colonel Collins, I may have a lead on something that may help. It's a long shot but I do think it's worth looking into. I just need some information from the master chief.”

“Master Chief?” Niles asked looking to his left.

“Go for it, young Xbox jockey.”

Compton frowned at Jenks.

Morales smiled at the intended slight of being called an Xbox jockey. “I understand this entire operation was started when Admiral Everett vanished in an escape pod from HMS
Garrison Lee,
and then into the unnaturally generated dimensional wormhole, is this correct?”

“Yes,” Niles answered quickly just to keep Jenks from doing so.

“And the government of Great Britain recovered that same escape pod two hundred thousand years, give or take fifty thousand years, after it crashed into the historically and speculated inland sea on the continent of Antarctica. Is this also correct?”

Silence as the room waited patiently, knowing the new man knew nothing of how Niles ran his meetings.

“Master Chief, you designed those very same escape pods, am I correct?”

“That's right, the escape pods and the assault craft used in the operation.”