CHAPTER 2
Meanwhile, the real Rolf was in the Waiting Room at Project Quantum Leap, and to say that he was more than a little confused was a huge understatement. One minute, he was onstage at the Vienna State Opera House in 1984, and the next thing he knew, here he was in an empty room with glowing neon blue walls. He had on a white tux shirt with the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up, white pants and matching shoes, and pacing back and forth, muttering to himself in German. And you didn't need a PhD to know that besides wondering where the hell he was and how he got here, another thing on his mind was the whereabouts of his beloved Heidi.
Dr. Verbena Beeks, the facility's psychiatrist, came into the room with a steaming cup of tea. "Um—excuse me, Herr Günther?" she asked, being as careful as possible not to upset the conductor any further.
Rolf stopped pacing long enough to see Dr. Beeks standing there. When he saw the tea in her hand, his demeanor relaxed somewhat. "Danke schoen, Liebe Frau," he said as he accepted the tea. "I apologize for my manners upon my arrival."
"No problem, sir. I'd feel the exact same way if I were in your shoes."
Rolf took a sip of the tea. "Assam, my favorite," he gratefully acknowledged. "There's nothing like it, especially after a long day of rehearsals. Heidi knows how to make it taste just right."
"Your fiancée?"
"Ja. I must tell her where I am; she must be so worried. In two days, we have another concert in Salzburg."
Dr. Beeks tentatively approached Rolf. In that moment, she knew right then and there that he was not going to like what she had to say next. "Look, Herr Günther..."
"You can call me Rolf."
"Rolf," she began, "I think you need to sit down for this."
Upon hearing those words, Rolf's gaze darkened. "What's wrong?" he wanted to know.
Dr. Beeks took a deep breath. "You're in a top-secret research facility in New Mexico," she explained, "in the year 2015."
Rolf was stunned. He set his teacup on the table beside him—somehow making sure that he actually set it on there—and took a step back, never once taking his eyes off the doctor. His throat felt as dry as cotton, his hands started to tremble ever so slightly, and his mind was racing. "Wh—what are you saying?" he managed to ask. "Are you saying I'm in the future?"
Dr. Beeks nodded. "You see," she continued, "you switched places in time with a Dr. Sam Beckett. In 1995, Dr. Beckett built what's called a Quantum Leap accelerator in order to prove that time-travel really was possible. But before we could get all the bugs worked out, he went right ahead and jumped in, so to speak. Since then, he's been bouncing in and out of other people's lives to fix what originally went wrong, kind of like a modern-day Lone Ranger. And that's basically why you're here, and he's in 1984."
"I see," Rolf said, trying his hardest to process what he was hearing. Even though he was still wishing he was somewhere else, anywhere besides here, he had no reason to not trust Dr. Beeks.
Al came into the room just then. "Everything okay in here?" he asked.
"Yes, Admiral," the doctor responded. Then she turned to Rolf and said, "This is Admiral Al Calavicci, the project observer."
"How do you do," Al said as they shook hands.
"Better for now."
"I just got done explaining the situation to Rolf," Dr. Beeks reported. "How's Dr. Beckett?"
"So far, so good. I told him I'd be back as soon as I got more information from Ziggy—specifically, this guy named Franz Jäger."
Upon hearing that name, Rolf whipped around with a menacing glare on his face. "Did you just say who I think you said?" he demanded.
"Um—yes. Why? Is he somebody you know?"
Rolf's fists slowly clenched as he made his way to the opposite end of the table. "Unfortunately, yes," he said, as softly as he could manage. "Franz was fifth chair in the trombone section a few years back. Very talented, but also very ambitious and, at times, arrogant. He always believed that he was better than the others in his section, and that he deserved to be first chair. As time went on, the other musicians grew tired of his attitude—that is, all except Heidi. And as long as I live, I'll never understand what she saw in him."
"So how did you two get together, if you don't mind me asking?" Al inquired.
"We had a Christmas Eve concert at the Lincoln Center in New York," Rolf explained. "It was less than an hour until showtime, and I was backstage on my way to get a drink of water when I heard Heidi and Franz arguing about something. I don't know what it was about, nor did I even ask. Well, when I went over to try to talk to them, he slapped her. If I hadn't been there, God only knows what else he would've done. And yes, I fired him on the spot."
Al nodded as he fed the information into the handlink, all the while trying to hide how furious he was. If there was one kind of guy he hated with a passion, it was the kind who would dare raise a hand to a woman in anger. "Is Franz the one you saw in the audience at the concert?" he somehow managed to ask.
"Yes," Rolf confirmed. "Ever since that night, he swore he'd get revenge. He's been sending me threatening letters and showing up at different concerts. And every time I tried to get extra security, especially for Heidi, my requests fell on deaf ears. I even have proof that Franz has been doing this."
After Al finished entering the last of Rolf's story, he turned to Dr. Beeks. "Sam's gotta hear this," he said urgently.
"Wait, where are you going?" Rolf asked.
"To the Imaging Chamber," Al answered. "I need to tell Sam—Dr. Beckett—what you just told us."
"Good luck."
"Thank you, sir. And you have my word that nothing will happen to Heidi."
Al then turned and hurried out of the Waiting Room. "Hang on, Sam," he murmured. "I'm on my way."
When Al arrived back in 1984, he found Sam in his hotel room. The shower was running behind the locked bathroom door, the radio was on a classical music station, and he was standing in front of the mirror, pretending he was conducting the orchestra. Everything was going smoothly until the music got to a sweeping crescendo. When Sam waved his arm to the side, he lost his grip on the baton, and it flew across the room and hit the wall.
"Shit!" he grumbled in frustration. As he went to retrieve the baton, the portal door opened and Al came rushing out.
"Good, you're here," he said. Then he noticed what Sam was doing. "Um—did I miss something?"
"Well, besides my inability to hold onto this damn thing when the music builds, not much," Sam answered dryly as he picked up the baton and turned off the radio. "What'd you find out?"
"Well, for starters, you were right to be suspicious about this Franz guy," Al began. "Rolf says he kicked him out of the orchestra for slapping Heidi backstage."
"That son of a bitch."
"Yup. And get this: he even has proof that Franz has been stalking her, and he's also tried to get extra security for her. So far, no luck."
The bathroom door opened just then, and out came Heidi. Her hair was still wet, and she was wrapped in a towel. "Is everything okay, Rolf?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure, everything's fine," Sam lied. "Why do you ask?"
"You've been acting odd all night," Heidi told him. And there was no mistaking the concern in her voice. "First you almost forgot to take a bow at the concert tonight, then you were talking to yourself at the party, and now I hear you doing the same thing again. I think you've been working too hard."
Sam sighed and looked away. This was another thing about leaping he always hated: being noticed when talking to Al. How nobody ever entertained the thought of having him put in a rubber room was astonishing.
"Okay, Heidi, I'll level with you," he said. He knew there was no point in trying to keep her in the dark, but at the same time, he had to be careful not to volunteer too much information. "I saw Franz in the audience."
Immediately, Heidi gasped and put a hand to her chest. "I can't believe it," she murmured. "Even after all this time, he still won't leave us alone?"
"I'm afraid not. But don't worry, I'm gonna arrange for extra security to be provided at out next concert. If they see any warning signs, or notice anyone who looks even remotely suspicious, they'll take care of business."
"Danke, Liebling," Heidi said, hugging Sam in gratitude, and somehow preventing her towel from slipping off. And the last thing Sam wanted to deal with was Al ogling her.
"I'm gonna blow-dry my hair, and I'll be right with you," she smiled. "Now, what do you say we get some sleep?"
"Sounds good to me," Sam agreed. Heidi nodded, gave Sam a long, passionate kiss, and returned to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
When Sam turned back to Al, the first thing he saw was the look of longing on his face. "Okay, you can stop fantasizing about getting lucky my fiancée," he said sharply.
"You mean's Rolf's fiancée."
"Whatever!" Sam barked in impatience. All he wanted was to save this woman's life and get the hell out of Dodge. "So, did we change anything or what?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah," Al remembered, consulting the handlink. "Well, lemme see here...According to Ziggy, the odds of Heidi surviving are at 73.3%—and they appear to be rising."
"So does somebody provide the added security?"
"Yup."
All of a sudden, the handlink started squeaking urgently. Sam knew what that meant: just because he'd prevented one thing from happening, that didn't necessarily eliminate the possibility of something even worse coming to pass.
Al looked at the handlink. "Oh, great," he groaned.
"I don't like the sound of that."
"Well, you're really gonna hate this, Sam," Al continued grimly. "In the original history, Franz was in the audience at the next concert, and he shot Heidi immediately after the finale. But Ziggy just said now that extra security is gonna be provided, she's no longer in danger. Now it's Rolf who gets shot."
"Does Ziggy know where or when?"
Al checked the handlink. "No, sorry."
"Dammit!" Sam grunted through clenched teeth. "Al, what am I gonna do?!"
"I'll have to stay by you at all times at the next concert, that's for sure. Now where did he say it was gonna be?"
Sam checked the intinerary that was laying on his nightstand. "In Salzburg," he answered.
"Yeah, that's right. Don't worry, Sam, I'll stick to you like glue. In the meantime, you might wanna make some calls and make the security arrangements."
"Right," Sam nodded. And he rushed to the phone.
Before disappearing through the portal door, Al added, "And whatever you do, don't tell them who you really are."
"I won't."
As Sam feverishly dialed the number, he was hoping against hope that his warnings would be taken seriously, and that not just he, but Rolf as well, would make it out alive.