Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 89
Five Days, Four Hours, Twenty-Six Minutes
Stoddard glanced into the camera that projected his image through the secure line thousands of miles up to the Alaskan military installation. "What you're telling me is that we should order our forces to begin watching the skies for a C-130?"
"Yes, sir," Ramsey explained. "That's what's missing from General Nash's inventory. A C-130. She's provided the registry number, and I believe she's even forwarded its individual beacon frequency, so you should be able to have the boys pull it up on satellite. However, I'm going to guess that Pendley's goons know what they're doing. They're probably flying this thing over very public locations. Major cities. That short of route. It's going to make it very difficult to engage the thing or shoot it down."
The chief shook his head. "I'm not certain we could get the President to agree to that plan of action anyway. More likely … more likely we'll wait it out. Pick it up on radar. We'll follow it to its destination, and we'll keep the Sarcophagus from falling into the senator's hands."
"If I were calling the shots," Ramsey offered, "I wouldn't play it that way."
"Why not?"
"There's far too much wiggle room, if you ask me," he said. "You're talking about time travel technology falling into the hands of someone we know firsthand is willing to use it for the worst possible reasons. I'd shoot it down, right out of the sky, in so public a display that Pendley doesn't have a chance to miss seeing it happen. He'll know that we're as serious as he is, sir, and he might think twice before he uses that time weapon of his."
Dr. Isaac Mentnor leaned forward. "Nathan, do you really think destroying the Sarcophagus will cause Pendley to rethink his strategy? I would guess that would only further antagonize the senator."
"Look at it from a different perspective, Isaac. Right now, we haven't really responded to any of these attacks. Pendley is seeing us as cowards. He's put up. We've shut up. I say … let's put that sucker back on his heels. Let's show him that we're willing to go to the mat, if that's what it takes, to bring this thing to a head. Who knows? At the very least, it may flush him out into the open."
Suddenly interested, Stoddard turned his head slightly. "How so?"
"Well, we don't know where he's hiding, right?" Ramsey asked. "He's most likely still in Washington. We don't know whether or not his weapon is there, but we know he's been able to finagle some FEMA soldiers to do his bidding, so they could be operating the weapon. If we can get our hands on the senator, we might be able to take control of the weapon. Shut it down for good. I know. It's a long shot. But what else do we have?"
"If the weapon isn't here, how do we know that these soldiers wouldn't turn it on us?"
"Because they wouldn't know where we're taken their boss, the senator," the director answered. "Like I said, I know it's a long shot. Assuming Pendley doesn't have the weapon, then he's probably left these men and women with very specific instructions over what to do if he's taken into custody again, and those instructions are probably targets to hit – one by one – until the United States government releases him." Ramsey shook his head. "I don't buy it. This is too big a game for Pendley to risk having others in charge of the weapon. He's with it. He'll want to see what it can do firsthand. Sure, he'll be able to see the aftermath once the idiots in the press get there, but watching it first requires knowing exactly where it's going to strike … and the only place he can possibly know that is to be in control of it."
"You believe it's here," Olga interjected, "in Washington?"
"I do," he said. "It's the only logical answer."
"And you're suggesting that we cause the senator to make a mistake in order to reveal that location?" Stoddard tried.
"One way or another, chief, an awful lot of people are going to die," Ramsey argued. "I'd rather we do something than do nothing. Right now, the American people are sitting back, and they're waiting for us to respond. I know that you've issued your statement, sir, and I know that the President is going to issue his. That's good, but it isn't going to change what Pendley's up to. It isn't going to change what we're up against. I say … put some heat on this character and force him to become visible. Even if it's for a matter of minutes. Make him angry. He'll slip up. That's one thing I've learned from my years of running this covert operations. You make the other guy angry, and he'll do something without thinking. It'll be … out of the box, so to speak. It won't have the benefit of having been planned out in advance. That slip might just give us the opportunity to go after the bastard."
"Thank you, Nathan," Stoddard replied. "I'll share your advice with the President."
"Chief Stoddard," Olga began, "what is Nathan supposed to do now?"
"Do you want me to head for home, chief?"
"No," the chief answered quickly. "I want you to stay where you are, Nathan. You've secured Mr. Hightower, and you've played a very important role by bringing your Russian friends into the country. Take a few hours. Show them a little American hospitality. Get them fully refueled, after they've had some R&R compliments of our government, and see them off. There's no need to circle the wagons here. I'd rather keep some forces out in the field, should I need to call on them. You stay there. We have Frank, Bradley, Olga, and Isaac here at the White House. Michelson is in transit back to Nevada …"
"What?" Olga asked, surprised.
Turning, the chief offered, "I'm sorry, doctor. Weren't you informed?"
Her face flushed, she gripped the arms of her chair. "What's he supposed to do back in Nevada? You're not … you're not thinking about a second Backstep, are you?"
The man cleared his throat. "We examined the alternatives, and we've realized that our only option may inevitably be to undo these events."
"I concur," Ramsey shot quickly. "As a matter of fact, that's probably what we should've done from the beginning."
Mentnor grimaced. "Have you considered the possible ramifications to the time stream?"
"I assure all of you," Stoddard announced, rising, "that the President and Director Talmadge and I discussed all possible concerns. Michelson was dispatched as a precautionary step. He's going to be prepped and ready in the event that a Backstep becomes our 'nuclear option,' as they say. He won't be dispatched unless we believe no other course of action is going to achieve our goals."
"But didn't Pendley demand control of the Backstep facility?" Mentnor pressed. "Doesn't that indicate he'll be anticipating that strategy?"
"It does," he agreed, "but there is no way to know with absolute certainty how the senator will respond."
"He'll stop us," Olga argued. "He won't let it happen."
Frowning, the chief nodded at the group. "It's out of my hands, at this point. Michelson is already in the air. He'll be in Nevada soon. He's been ordered to prep for his mission." He paused. He knew that the doctors were objecting because they feared for the safety of their colleague, and he appreciated that. Stoddard wanted to say something to reassure them, but, given the circumstances, what could he say? "Let's do what we can to make sure that Channing stays in our timeline, agreed?" He pointed at the video screen. "I like what Nathan's suggesting. Let's force Pendley to make a mistake. Let's force him to behave out of character. If that can pull him out, if that can force him to show us where he is, then we'll take him out before he can use his temporal weapon again." He nodded. "You'll excuse me. I'm going to speak to share this plan with the President." He left the room.
"Nathan," Mentnor began, "how could you agree with this?"
"What?"
"You know what!"
"What more can we do, Isaac?" the director argued. "We're not at war, but we have the technology to strike back at the senator in a way he can't stop us! Why shouldn't we just Backstep and erase all of these events?"
"How can we erase all of them?" Olga demanded. "Nathan, you've heard what the Mallathorn said to Parker! Larnord told him that the natural flow of these events has been altered. In a conventional situation, yes, a Backstep would be the right choice. But this? This is far from conventional! This borders … this borders on the absurd!"
"Olga, Isaac," Ramsey tried, holding up his hands on the other end of the video phone, "I know you're both concerned about Channing. Look. If it makes you feel any better, then let me say that I am, too. But I'm more concerned about Pendley taking another pot shot with that ray gun of his! That we know, there's no way to stop it, short of shutting it down completely. There's no way to defend against it … now. Seven days ago, there is. We can stop these events from ever occurring."
"It's a mistake, Nathan," Mentnor stated flatly, "and you know it."
"How do we know that?"
"If you haven't thought it through," the scientist replied, "then I can't help you."
"What? Isaac, no! Don't be like that! Olga, please! Talk to him!"
"I will, Nathan," she said. "I'll tell him what a fool I think you are!"
"Olga, wait! Now, come on, people! Tell me what I did wrong!"
Standing, she walked over to the phone. She leaned down and placed her face close to the camera.
"What you did may have endangered every living man, woman, and child, Nathan," she said. "For all his bluster, Pendley isn't a fool. He's going to be prepared against a Backstep. He knows we have the technology, and there is no way he is going to allow it to happen."
"We don't know that!"
"Goodbye, Nathan," she said.
"Now, wait a minute …"
"Goodbye, Nathan."
She switched off the connection, and the screen went black. Exhausted, she sat down at the table again, burying her face in her hands. She wanted to cry. She needed sleep. It had been so many hours since she – since any of them – had enjoyed any real rest or even a decent meal. The White House kitchen had prepared sandwiches of all varieties, and she had eaten, but it wasn't a meal to replenish as much energy as she had expended in worrying alone. She sighed heavily, and then she felt the warm hand on her skin.
"Everything will be all right, Olga," Mentnor tried.
Lowering her hands, she fixed her eyes on his. "I can see in your face, Isaac, that you don't believe that."
He smiled weakly. "In this case … no. I don't believe another trip through time will help us." He raised an eyebrow. "Don't get me wrong. We may be able to undo certain events. That's always been the benefit of the program. But will we be able to avert all of this? No. That would be quite impossible. Pendley will only speed up his timetable, or he'll choose far more treacherous targets the next time, and I – like you – don't want to see that happen."
"But it's too late," she said.
"No," he argued. "I'm sure that Bradley convinced the President of these concerns. He wouldn't endorse another Backstep. He's probably … well, if I know Bradley Talmadge the way I think I know the man, he probably agreed to sending Channing back to NeverNeverLand to give the White House a sense of security. He'd want to let them know he was in agreement for preparing, but there's no way he'd ever agree to this."
Her spirits lifted. She slipped one hand down her forearm and placed it over his. She gripped his warm fingers, and she grinned.
"I've missed having you on the project, Isaac," she admitted freely. "It's been … difficult."
"You're more than capable of handling these affairs," Mentnor pointed out.
"That isn't it," she argued. "It's … you. I've wished having another person who shares more of a … scientific evaluation to these events. Would you … would you rejoin the team? I'm certain Bradley would love to have you back."
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't know, Olga."
"Promise me that you'll think about it."
"There are … there are so many things to consider …"
"Just give me your word that, once this is over, you'll think about it," she pressed. "Let me know that you'll consider it as an option, and tell me that you'll talk to me before you decide."
After a pause, he grinned at her. It was nice to know that he was wanted.
"I promise," he said.
END of Chapter 89
