Ben Wallace moved from his desk and returned to Ethan. The two men locked gazes as Jackman watched them closely for signs of trouble.
“There is one more thing I would like to show you,” Wallace said. “Come with me.”
29
3 Mile
Not that Ethan had much choice — either go along and see what they wanted him to witness or get another forced injection. A second dose was not an appealing option; his head was still splitting from the first one.
Jackman shepherded him out of Wallace’s office and into a service elevator located in the room they’d just passed through. Wallace and the other commandos streamed in behind them and the group rode the elevator down to the basement garage in that awkward silence that only an elevator can offer.
When the doors pinged open an unmarked van was already waiting by the elevator doors. They piled inside and Jackman took the wheel. He drove them out of the building and onto the freeway, heading toward LaGuardia. Ethan stared out the window, trying to block out the people around him and the things he’d heard in Wallace’s office.
When the vehicle stopped, they were sitting in a sectioned off area of LaGuardia for private takeoffs and landings. Jackman had parked beside what looked like a Gulfstream; it was smaller than a commercial jet, but bigger than most of the other twin-engines parked around the runway or in the hangers. The plane was impressive, but it seemed this wasn’t the show and tell Wallace had been speaking of.
Ethan was led to the steps of the plane unbound but not free to leave of his own volition. Jackman nudged him forward, but he resisted, gazing into the open plane door with trepidation. He shot a glance at Wallace, who stood at the foot of the steps, waiting for Ethan’s ascent.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’re in good hands, I assure you.”
“That doesn’t give me much comfort, given, you know, everything that has happened.”
Wallace smiled patiently. “The next stage of your journey is imperative, Mr. Tannor. Please, after you.”
Ethan climbed the steps to the plane and entered the cabin. It looked comfortable enough with the plush seats, tables, and couch, but still felt like a prison. He settled himself in the closest seat facing the door and leaned his elbows on the table in front of him, watching as the others piled in and took their own places.
Jackman eyed Ethan’s chosen position with a knowing grin and stationed himself between it and the door. Ethan hadn’t planned on making a run for it — he was realistic enough to know he didn’t stand a chance of escape — but Jackman’s ever watchful presence continued to grate on his nerves. Perhaps it was time to bury the hatchet, but maybe not until after Ethan stopped having visions of doing so in Jackman’s head.
Wallace was the last to step inside. He was carrying a black briefcase, which he handed to Jackman who stowed it beneath his own seat. Wallace then took the chair across the small table from Ethan and made himself comfortable, stretching out his legs as he reclined.
Ten minutes into the air, Jackman had been excused and was now sitting behind them at the table in the back. Wallace pulled out yet another cigar and lit up. His eyes cut over to Ethan. “Would you like a drink, Mr. Tannor?”
“No thanks. I like to keep a clear head during my abductions.”
Wallace chuckled deep in his throat and brought the cigar to his lips.
“Tell me something,” Ethan said. “How is it that with such a sophisticated gadget from the future you took so long to track me down?”
Wallace nodded like the question made perfect sense. “You are right to conclude the future holds many technological advancements, especially with regard to information and tracking. But the truth is, we are constrained by the limits of today. The 1980s are not the digital age.”
Ethan scowled. “Digital age?” This was another phrase that carried no meaning.
Wallace made a dismissive gesture with the hand holding the cigar. A trail of smoke floated in Ethan’s face and he waved it away with an exaggerated cough. Wallace didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s the method by which most information flows in my time — much more efficient, less constrictive, but with its own drawbacks and limitations. It is far easier to track someone down by the digital footprint they leave behind in cyber space or the electronic grid.”
There it was again, that word ‘digital’. The jargon was lost on Ethan, again used in a context he didn’t understand. “Jesus Christ, the more you talk, the more I get lost. Digital footprints — whatever they hell those are — cyber space, electronic grids?”
“I’ll humor you. Let’s say someone purchases a bus ticket. We can find out where and when by focusing the scope, perhaps even tracking them down on a closed circuit video feed. Once we’ve located where that person was, from there we can easily jump on the backbone of the network — either locally or wirelessly. If the admin rights were locked, we can hack our way in with a worm, virus, or password algorithm program. But as I said, today’s technology is primitive; no backbones, no trunk systems that can work with our advanced gear. We are confined to looking with our eyes and ears.”
Wallace fell silent, probably for Ethan’s benefit in catching up. “I can tell from the stumped expression that you’re lost, but I wouldn’t expect you to comprehend this completely. These terms are beyond your capacity of understanding. That part’s not important. The type of device you saw in my office — while greatly beneficial decades from now — is reduced to nothing more than an information receptacle in 1986.”
“Whatever you say, Doc Brown.”
“I’m not familiar with this doctor. Who’s he?”
Ethan rolled his eyes. He was done talking; better to wait until they showed him what they wanted him to see before asking more questions. And he had a feeling there would be a lot more questions then.
Almost an hour after takeoff, the plane landed smoothly. All things considered, the flight had been one of the most comfortable Ethan had experienced. He figured he could get used to this sort of luxury. Maybe if he ever got through this mess he’d use some of his inheritance to revisit this lifestyle on occasion.
When the door opened, Jackman grabbed the black briefcase and was beside Ethan before he could even stand up, prodding him to move. From the look of the sky the sun was beginning to make itself known. Ethan had no clue where he was and didn’t even try to guess as he was bundled into another van similar to the first one. His position in the windowless vehicle afforded him no view of the outside world, but he counted it a blessing that he wasn’t bound and gagged.
The van lurched slightly as they came to a stop. Ethan glanced around at the driver, whose code name was Zodiac. The man had a shaved head and a trimmed bottom goatee. He no longer wore black commando fatigues, opting instead for a dark blue coverall jumpsuit, which made him look less intimidating than before. Zodiac gave something to a man standing outside — presumably an ID — and in short measure the red and white striped gate opened to allow them access to a bumpy road ahead.
The vehicle came to another stop and everyone piled out. It wasn’t until then that Ethan realized exactly where he stood.
He’d seen it enough on the news several years ago. The giant cylindrical structures in front of him were unmistakable; he’d been transported into the heart of the Three Mile Island nuclear facility.
Jackman prodded Ethan again and he followed the line of men through access door after restricted access door and on into a large cargo elevator. Once inside, Ben slid open a concealed panel, withdrew a key, and used it to turn on the power switch.