Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 45

Five Days, Thirteen Hours, Forty Minutes

Channing Michelson glanced over the shoulder of the police technician operating the video streams. He knew that, thanks to technology, most of the nation's busiest intersections were monitored with traffic cameras, but he had no idea how wide-reaching the technology had grown. To his surprise, traffic cameras had actually captured the vehicle that screeched away from the hospital after Craig Donovan had chased the men out into the parking lot. Another camera had tracked the vehicle as it roared through two intersections ... only to be picked up by another seven cameras as it fled the scene. Eventually, photo stills showed the car abandoned, and another still clearly showed the two occupants. The tech had digitally filtered and enhanced the image. Clearly, one of the men was Richard DeMarco, global terrorist. The other man, however, was unfamiliar. The tech fed the near profile – it was the best image they had – into the government database, as well as cross-referencing the data with the NSA mainframe with Donovan's influence. Michelson watched as hundreds of faces streamed past the one still frame as the high-speed computers did their work searching for a name to go with that face.

"It would appear that they fled on foot to this area," the officer explained, pulling up a map of the business district of Washington, D.C. "We have several images of them joining a third person – a woman – and then moving into an alley. I'm still trying to locate any possible record of where they were headed."

"Keep at it," Michelson said. "And let me know if you get a name of DeMarco's accomplice."

"Yes, sir."

He turned to leave, but Bradley Talmadge caught him with a gentle hand to the chest. Michelson saw that the director was slowly closing the cover of his Blackberry, finished with a telephone call.

"What is it?"

Talmadge glanced down at the police officer, realizing that they weren't alone. He nodded in the direction of the outside hallway, and they walked together. There, they found Olga and Donovan, both sipping coffee. The director moved to the center of the small group, and he announced, "There have been ... developments."

Grimacing, Olga tried, "Aren't there always?"

His voice sounding grave, Talmadge explained, "It would seem that Isaac and Nathan have managed to co-opt some satellite photography from Russian intelligence."

"What?" Michelson asked.

"Yuri Ivanov," Donovan announced, chuckling.

"You know him?"

"No," he said, "but I know of him. He's a relic, a holdover from the days of the Cold War, if you can believe it. Ramsey's told me about him a couple of times. Apparently, the two of them met at some interagency counter-intelligence briefing in DC more than a decade ago. They struck up a pretty decent friendship, and they've been exchanging ... er ... adult beverages from several thousand miles apart."

Talmadge nodded. "Can he be trusted?"

"How should I know?" Donovan tried. "I only know what Ramsey's told me. It sounds like they're good friends." The man shrugged. "Given the present circumstances, I would think we'd want as many of those on our side as we can get."

Agreeing, the director continued. "Well, this Yuri has shared some of their satellite footage with the White House, and Ramsey believes he's been able to confirm a working theory of his: he insists that Trace Hightower is alive."

"Alive?" Olga interjected. "But how?"

"All we know for absolute certainty is that Isaac has concluded that what hit Alaska was the modification of temporal energy from a form of transit to that of a weapon," Talmadge explained.

"You're kidding?"

"I wish I were." The man shook his head. "The White House is being held hostage by Senator Arthur Pendley."

"Pendley?" Michelson asked. Leaning forward, he pressed, "Bradley, tell me it's someone other than Pendley! He serves on the Senate Oversight Committee for BackStep Operations. He's spoken out against the use of the program. He's demanded that BackStep be discontinued, for God's sake! He's blathered on about something he calls 'temporal McCarthyism' for two years now, ever since the Mallathorn came to Earth! He's no friend to us and to what we do ... but you're saying he's using our technology against the United States?"

"He's not only using it," Talmadge offered. "Right now, it's safe to say that he's holding the country hostage. He's made the demand that BackStep be officially disbanded. He wants everything we have at NeverNeverLand turned over to him. That ... and he's ordered that the government assassinated Larnord within the hour."

"You've got to be kidding?" Olga tried, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Now, wait a minute, Bradley," Donovan said, reaching out and placing a hand on the director's shoulder. "If Pendley has found a way to weaponize temporal energy, then there's no way that can be any small endeavor. He'd had to have a base of operations, and, knowing what we know, I think it's safe to conclude that the base couldn't be the size of a telephone booth. You're talking about a small installation. If he's still in Washington making overtures for control to the White House, then we need to get to him, to find out where the weapon has been built!"

"Reasonable men would agree with you, Craig," Talmadge conceded with a smile, "but we're no longer on the playing field of reasonable men. The White House has said that Pendley is strictly off limits. They had him under surveillance, but he managed to slip away. Certainly, considering Washington's vast resources, we're not going to do any better."

"Then what are we going to do?" Michelson asked. "Bradley, you can't expect us to sit back and let this lunatic take control of BackStep, to take control of the government ... can you?"

"For now, our options are few." The director tucked his hands into his pockets, momentarily lost in thought. "We're dealing with two crises right now, people, and I refuse to believe that Senator Pendley and Richard DeMarco are a coincidence. Now, Olga, that one goes to you. I want you to dig around. Find out what you can about the both of them. I believe – if you go deep enough – we're going to link a link. I want to know what that is. Quite possibly, it'll show us a weakness that we might be able to exploit." He glanced over at Donovan. "Craig, Miss Farris is our only known connection to Richard DeMarco. His profile indicates that he hunts anyone that comes to know his identity. At this point, he sees Indiri as much a threat to him as he is to us. So I want you to stay with her. He's tried to kill her once. While it pains me to say so, I strongly believe he'll come for her again." With a uncharacteristic grimness in his eyes, the director added, "I need you to take him down. DeMarco must be caught – alive – at any cost."

"Yes, sir," Donovan agreed.

"Channing," the man turned once more, "you and I are going after Arthur Pendley."

With a bemused expression, Michelson asked, "But I thought you said that the White House ordered us to stand down so far as the senator was concerned?"

Talmadge smiled. "Channing, you're very good at what you do. So far as BackStep is concerned, you've made a remarkable record, one that all of us are proud of. But ... Frank Parker had an edge – a brazenness to him – and I need that from you now. You talk to Parker, and he'd tell you that he didn't have near the measure of success he enjoyed by following rules. No, he broke them. He damn near broke them whenever he saw the chance. I can't order you to disobey the Executive Branch, but I'm telling you that it's in all of our best interests to learn everything we can about what Senator Pendley has been doing. We're on a timetable. The clock is ticking. Let's make absolutely certain that this lunatic doesn't pull the plug on everything that we do."

Slowly, the chrononaut nodded.

"Do we have any word on Frank?"

She didn't want to ask. She knew how that question – that simply inquiry – would hurt Channing. In fact, she refused to face him, but she felt his glare on her once she let the words slip.

Talmadge cleared his throat. "From what I know, the Mallathorn stronghold at the Pentagon ... has been attacked."

"What?" Donovan interrupted. "By who?"

"That's all I know," the man continued. "The White House Chief of Staff Ethan Stoddard has dispatched Colonel McGinty to the Pentagon."

"Is Frank all right?"

"I don't know anything further," Talmadge repeated. "The word came in not long before I spoke with Nathan." Knowing that his friends were looking to him for leadership, the director added, "It's Frank Parker, people. He can take care of himself. Let's not lose sight of what it is we need to accomplish." With a sense of resignation, he concluded, "Once I hear anything, I'll spread the word."

Bradley Talmadge knew that he was about to suffer a small mutiny when the police technician poked his head out of the nearby room. The officer called for them, and, as a group, they moved back into the video room.

"We have a match on DeMarco's accomplice," he said.

The director took the page from the officer, and he studied it.

"His name is Matthew Churney," Talmadge read aloud to his team. "He has several aliases under which he's been brokering arms for the Middle East. It figures. DeMarco's a terrorist. Odds are he has a long history with Churney." Scanning the page, the director read aloud, "He's been recently tied to some terrorist operations in the Gaza Strip, in Syria, and an assassination in Teheran. According to this, he moves about the world with increasingly regularity, but he maintains a base of operations here in Washington."

"Any other known accomplices?" Donovan asked.

In disgust, Talmadge concluded, "Yes. His sister."

END of Chapter 45