Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 22

At the same time

Hangar Zero-Zero-Nine was relatively ominous to serve as a temporary operational headquarters for the BackStep Team, Talmadge mused, but, given the present circumstances, it would have to suffice. Dark rafters high overhead were draped with thick electric cables that filtered power throughout the place from the building's private generator. Huge aluminum ceiling lamps hung down, their collective brilliance illuminating every square inch of the interior. Massive optical displays and computer workstations with supporting banks of CPUs were spread out over the floor. Every door attached to the building had not one but two armed guards – heavily armed with enough weaponry for any eventuality – and Talmadge decided he'd speak with McGinty about repositioned that manpower once the time was ripe. He understood perfectly the need for heightened security, but he didn't need the firepower to start World War III; as a matter of fact, he was trying to prevent it.

"We'll dispense with the cursory introductions for the time being and get right down to the brass tacks, ladies and gentlemen," Colonel Travis McGinty began, his hands folded neatly in front of him. "As I understand from Director Talmadge, all of you have been fully briefed as to the nature of the threat currently facing our nation."

"Yes, Travis," the director replied. "I held a briefing in flight to alert my team."

Sighing heavily, the colonel lowered his gaze at the conference table. "I don't believe I need to tell you this, Bradley, but the President isn't very pleased with your decision to countermand his call for a BackStep."

With grim determination, Talmadge nodded. "I wouldn't expect him to be."

"He's going to need to understand your rationale."

"I wouldn't expect any sane person to be happy with my decision to call off a BackStep that might save the life of a loved one, but, in my capacity as director of the program, it was still my responsibility to make that judgment call." Tugging nervously at his ear, he continued, "The President is dealing with the most inconsolable loss known to man – death. In the past three years and for decades before, this country has dealt with more than our fair share of it. It's our curse for being the only remaining global superpower. For any of us, death is a life-altering event. It affects us deeply for months and years afterwards. Some people say that death opens a scar that never heals. I'm not one to dwell on such matters. In my position, I can't. However, setting the emotions aside and speaking strictly from a tactical point of view, I think authorizing a BackStep at this point is premature."

"How so?"

"Travis, you know our protocols for any BackStep," the director insisted, slightly perturbed with the question. "What we do and how we do it has never been any secret. We've always operated after gathering the necessary field data to ensure the greatest probability of success. What do we know about Trace Hightower's death?"

"You have the same intelligence we do," the colonel confessed. "If there were more, I'd certainly place it in your hands."

"Then, based upon the facts you've provided, we know next to nothing that will guarantee a tactical advantage." Defiantly, Talmadge shook his head. "Under the circumstances, I refuse to risk the greater loss of life by sending any chrononaut back in time without so much as an inkling of what to expect."

From his chair at the table, Isaac Mentnor leaned forward. "Colonel, if I may add a word?"

McGinty nodded agreeably. "Of course, Dr. Mentnor."

"Thank you. Sir, I'm inclined to support the director's position solely on the grounds that Frank Parker – or an alternate version of him – has reappeared in our timeline," the scientist explained. "That fact alone raises hundreds of questions that no person – with the possible exception of Larnord – can answer. I've been studying the possibilities since I returned to the Project, and the variations of what could go wrong are as equally unprecedented as this attack. At this point, I'm not convinced that another BackStep – a second one – is wise." He held up a hand, showing two fingers. "Two BackSteps in a three-day period?" He shook his head. "Sir, that's a risk we've never taken. It's a gamble we've never had the technology to even consider. Without further study, we have absolutely no way of knowing what effect – if any – it could have on the space/time continuum."

"Time is not a luxury we have on our side, doctor," McGinty said, "except with the use of a BackStep."

"I'm not ruling it out, sir," Mentnor corrected. "I'm only asking that we carefully consider all of the consequences before we even make the attempt."

Slowly, the colonel nodded at the group. "All right. I understand your position, and it's an explanation President Campbell will need to hear."

"I have no problem supporting the rationale for my decision to the President, Travis," the director stated. "If need be, I'll send Isaac. He's better suited for such a task."

"Very good." The colonel smiled. "Much of what I have to add, then, will be incidental to information you know." He straightened, where he stood, and addressed the members of the BackStep team gathered around the black conference table. "President Campbell, his family, and most members of the Cabinet have been moved to an undisclosed location," the colonel explained. "I'm certain that you understand why I cannot go into any further detail as this is a matter of national security. Also, it's to our benefit that the legislative branch is not currently in session. This eliminates any need to find each and every senator or representative in order to have them, as well, moved to a government safehouse outside of the District of Columbia. I am personally aware of several senators who maintain residence within the district limits, and they have been asked to evacuate the area."

"Evacuate?" Parker asked. "Why?"

"Colonel," Ebdon Finkle finally spoke up, "you're not trying to tell me that the President would have us tuck our tail between our legs and run to hide like some scared dog?"

"Mr. Finkle, I've seen the results of this attack. Trust me, sir, when I say that we may have no other choice but to run and hide."

"Why does the President feel it necessary to take such extreme measures?" Talmadge pressed. "Travis, this isn't because I refused an immediate BackStep, is it?"

"As you know, 9/11 caused us to rethink all of our strategic response scenarios when it comes to dealing with acts of terrorism. Evacuation of the Executive Branch became standard operating procedure, as we now work under the assumption that no terrorist threat is independent. If an oil refinery is struck off the shores of Texas, then we've been re-educated to see that as only the first domino to fall. The theory is that there may yet be additional campaigns against our country from both inside and outside sources. Until we can achieve confirmation of our safety, this is policy. The assault directed against the President's family might have only been the tip of a far larger iceberg, director. Consequently, as our precautions dictate, we've acted to prepare for the government to continue functioning independent of Washington."

"In straight English," Nathan Ramsey interrupted, glancing around the table at his teammates, "the President is persona non gratta until further notice."

"Crude, but that is correct, Mr. Ramsey."

"You have reason to believe that the Capitol could be the site of the next strike?" Talmadge tried.

Shrugging, McGinty stated, "It stands to reason."

"How so?"

"The President's family was the target of the attack. Such an action – to our knowledge – has no precedent." Calmly, he added, "The Joint Chiefs felt it prudent to get anyone of national importance out of Washington."

With a smirk, Parker couldn't remain quiet any longer. "So they invited us here instead."

He silenced with a single glance from Talmadge.

The colonel smiled. "Pardon the expression, but don't stand on ceremony when I'm in the room, Mr. Parker. I may have played the role of the diplomat. That doesn't make me any happier about our present situation than you are. If I've learned anything from my years of diplomacy in Washington, it's that every person – big or small, rich or poor, elected or not – should be encouraged to speak freely," McGinty responded.

"It has nothing to do with speaking freely, colonel," Parker added, despite the warning from Talmadge. "It has everything to do with my friends being placed in danger."

"I can appreciate your concern for your crew."

Shaking his head, the chrononaut replied, "I'm not so sure that you can, colonel. From what Craig Donovan told us, the State Department has a file a few inches thick on Richard DeMarco, but he was allowed entrance to our country like he was going to a masquerade ball without a masquerade. He didn't even bother to conceal his identity. Apparently, he didn't need to. Donovan said the man – a known terrorist – wasn't even listed on any of our security watch lists. Can you tell me how that's possible? Can you explain how a man as dangerous as DeMarco gets a 'Get Out Of Jail Free' card without so much as a single concern from Homeland Security?"

"Frank," Talmadge cut in, "this isn't the time to blame anyone."

"Bradley, it's never a good time, is it?"

"We don't even know that DeMarco has anything to do with this attack on Trace Hightower."

"We don't know that he's innocent, either," Parker corrected. "Until we do, I think it's reasonable to see his arrival in Washington as much more than a coincidence!"

"Mr. Parker, I am here," the military man countered. "If what I know of your reputation is correct, then I believe you'll appreciate it when I give you my word: I'm not leaving this city until any threat to this country has been neutralized, whether it has originated with Richard DeMarco or not. Our people – your teammates and my staff – will work together to solve this mystery, to stop whatever madman is behind it. To address the issue, I have people investigating how DeMarco's name was kept off our Border Watch Lists. I don't have an answer for you ... yet. As soon as I do, you and your team will be the first to know."

"If what you know of my reputation is correct," Parker replied, "then you'll know that I'm not easily convinced by words. Action is what matters, colonel. Right now, I don't see that we're doing much."

"Whoever drew first blood will not get away with this ... not on my watch." The colonel stiffened a bit where he stood. "While your nation appreciates your service, I won't stand idly by to see you or any of your team become a casualty."

Chiming in, Michelson offered, "Colonel, there isn't a man or woman at this table who doubts your sincerity. Frank Parker doesn't speak for all of us."

"Always a helpful reminder, Channing," Parker retorted.

"What about Donovan?" Mentnor asked, leaning forward. "Where he is? He definitely should be here."

The colonel's expression suddenly turned quizzical. Leaning forward, he pressed his hands on the table and said, "I'm so sorry. With all that has happened, it completely slipped my mind ... Craig Donovan has been hospitalized."

Everyone in the crowd gasped.

"What happened?" Talmadge demanded.

"He was following up on a lead with the Washington D.C. police department," McGinty explained. "From what we know, DeMarco had registered at a motel just outside of the greater D.C. area. He used one of his known aliases, and that's how he was able to track him down. Donovan and a local police detective – Martin Guerrero – were planning to conduct a search of the property. As the evidence would lead us to believe, DeMarco left explosives with a door trigger on his room. Apparently, he had no intention on returning, nor did he want anyone to examine anything he could've possibly left behind."

"But why?" Mentnor asked curiously. "We already knew that DeMarco was here. We already knew that he was in the United States. Why would he need to destroy a motel room of all things?"

The colonel's face darkened for a moment. "I can only speculate, Dr. Mentnor, that DeMarco exercised a diversionary tactic to throw any investigation off track. Our intelligence experts tell me that DeMarco isn't the kind of man who would leave anything behind. He isn't the kind of terrorist who would risk any piece of information, however remote its importance may be. It's not in his profile. As a result, I can only conclude that destroying his motel room was a ruse ... a ploy to make every one of us look in the wrong direction." The man stood upright again and stepped thoughtfully to his right. "Also, you have to keep in mind that DeMarco is a terrorist. Bombing a hotel room – as senseless as that may seem to you and I – might achieve nothing more than to create a diversion to our normal reactions. However, such an act would also be picked up by the local news ... which it was. The story ran throughout the afternoon with analysts speculating that it was, in fact, a terrorist attack."

"He's brought the war onto our soil," Talmadge thought aloud. "He's trying to frighten the average American citizen ... keep him guessing about where the next bomb could be or whether or not there will even be another one."

"Precisely," McGinty agreed.

"Colonel, what is his condition?" Olga asked, changing the subject back to the health of their teammate. "Is Craig all right?"

"The last update I received from George Washington University Hospital showed that he was in fair condition," he replied. "He suffered a mild concussion as he was thrown clear by the blast. Detective Guerrero, unfortunately, died as a result of injuries resulting from the explosion." He paused, slowly shaking his head. "I'm sorry to have to break the news to you, but I do not have any more information than that."

"He's one of our team, Travis," Talmadge said.

"I understand, director."

"We're not going anywhere without him."

McGinty nodded. "Given his current whereabouts, you may not have any other choice."

Rising, the director took charge of the meeting. "There's always a choice, and, thankfully, tactical personnel is a matter for me to decide." He turned to his crew. "All right, people. Listen up. We know what the situation is. We know what needs to be done from this point. We're breaking into three teams. Frank, you're presence is requested elsewhere ... namely, in the company of Larnord."

"Bradley, can't that wait?" The chrononaut glanced around the table. "I'd rather make sure that Craig is all right. I can see this ... this Larnord after the hospital."

"I'm afraid not, Frank," Talmadge continued. "When the Mallathorn call, you don't keep them waiting." He gestured toward the far end of the table. "Mr. Finkle and Dr. Welles will accompany you." Turning, he said, "Isaac, I'd like you and Nate to accompany Colonel McGinty back to the White House. We've some explaining to do, and you're the best man to do it. I want you to brief Chief of Staff Stoddard on every possible scientific reason to avoid any BackStep for the time being. I know what the President wants. He wants us to use the Sphere to bring his son-in-law back to him. Right now, I don't know that it's wise, but we do have seven days to come up with a better answer to that question." Glancing in the direction of his top staff, he added, "Olga, I want you and Channing with me."

Michelson stood. "Where are we going?"

Talmadge held out his hands. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "We've a fallen teammate to get back on his feet. The success of this mission might very well depend on what Craig Donovan has to contribute."

END of Chapter 22