Paul just pointed. Amanda turned and looked to see a trail of paper wafting in her wake, then at the open briefcase in her hand. “Oh… my God… it sprung,” she whispered. She tossed the empty briefcase aside and dashed back to the door, bent over, and scooped a fistful of loose papers into her purse.
A boot thudded against the door. She heard Natasha yell, “The pass card, stupid, wave the card!”
She grabbed as much paper as she could and ran back into the lab, clutching Paul’s arm.
“Come on, Lewis,” she urged.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” he said, punching numbers on a keyboard connected to the mainframe at the side of the room. “It’s not that easy to find another one.”
The door beeped. Paul realized it was about to open. “Lewis, get us gone,” he said.
“I’ve got one wormhole going to 1967… 1966…”
“We need early ’62,” Amanda pleaded.
“This isn’t September first, remember? That wormhole isn’t open,” Paul said quietly. “Lewis…”
“I’se be tryin’ massa… 1965… 1964… damn these slow computers.”
The door flew open, and Paul and Amanda turned to see a man holding a snub nosed revolver in his right hand. His left arm was encircled around the throat of Pamela Rhodes.
“Move away from that terminal,” he commanded in a thick Russian accent.
“Who are you?” deVere demanded.
“I order you to get your hands away from that computer right now or I will shoot,” he said, training the revolver on Lewis Ginter.
“Nineteen sixty-three… September… getting warm… almost there,” Ginter said.
“Now, Lewis,” Paul said quietly. “Just hit enter. Open the damn hole.”
“But—”
“Doesn’t matter any more. Gotta’ go now.”
“All I’ve got is a 55 to one ratio,” Ginter protested.
“Do it,” deVere said quietly. He stepped toward the man, drawing his attention.
“Let the girl go,” he said quietly. “She’s not involved in this.”
The Russian shifted his grip to Pamela’s head and angled the gun directly against her temple. Paul stopped in his tracks.
“You must be Dr. deVere and you”—the man gestured at the computer from which Lewis had just pushed back his chair—“must be Lewis Ginter.”
“And who the hell are you?” deVere growled, moving to his right away from Lewis Ginter.
The man trained the revolver on deVere’s chest. “Do not continue, Professor.” He swung the revolver back at Ginter. “On your feet!” he commanded.
From out in the hallway deVere heard a sudden shrieking blare. He cast a stunned look back at Ginter.
“The fire alarm?” he asked dumbly.
Ginter rose to his feet with his hands in the air.
“What is it you want?” he asked the Russian.
The sequentially circuited alarm triggered throughout the building and the lab’s overhead horn sounded a shrill piercing blast.
“You set the building on fire?” deVere asked.
“Don’t be stupid,” the man responded, but deVere detected uncertainty in his voice. The man waved the gun to his left, motioning Ginter to move toward deVere.
Ginter held his ground, his arms still in the air. “If there’s a fire we better get out of here now. The elevators are disabled, as you no doubt noticed. Walking down 20 flights is going to take some time. Fire can spread quickly.”
The Russian took a step back, pulling Pamela Rhodes with him. Her face showed only calm. Good girl, deVere thought.
“Comrade!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Never mind the papers! Is there a fire?” He turned back to the pair. “You will come with me now. Down the stairs. We will get to the bottom of this.”
Ginter moved to his left, arms still upraised. As he came abreast of the Russian deVere stepped forward from the gunman’s left. The Russian started at the unexpected movement. The split second was all that Ginter needed. Pamela twisted and Ginter’s right arm crashed down on the Russian’s gun hand knocking it down and forward. The gun went off as deVere dove to the right and Pamela pushed at the gunman’s arm. A second arm chop by Ginter sent the revolver sliding across the floor. Before it had stopped Pamela had spun and hit the Russian straight on in the face with the flat palm of her hand. The Russian dropped and lay still. In a flash Amanda crossed the room to the entryway and slammed the lab door shut. She jammed a chair underneath the doorknob.
“That should hold her out. I don’t think she had a weapon,” Amanda said breathlessly.
DeVere moved over to the prostrate Russian. “We need something to tie him up with. Is there any rope?”
“There’s no time,” Ginter shouted. He cast a quick look at the figure sprawled across the linoleum floor and stepped back to his computer terminal. “All I could find was a window open for six minutes. It has a 55 to one ratio so it’s very unstable.”
“Is there a fire?” Amanda asked from the rear of the room.
Ginter punched a few more keys. “I have no idea.”
“Did you set off the alarm from your computer?” deVere asked.
Ginter looked up, dumbfounded. “From my computer? No, of course not. I can’t affect the fire alarms from my computer.”
“Then there’s a fire,” Amanda panted. “We’ve got to go.”
“Not quite yet,” deVere argued, looking at the lab door. “Lewis, what do you have?”
“She’s right,” Ginter answered. “We’ll never find another wormhole in time.” He pointed at the barricaded lab door. “There’s going to be firemen and District cops all over this building in a matter of minutes. We’ve got to go.”
“How much time do we have?” deVere pressed.
Ginter checked the computer screen. “Wormhole is open another one minute and 28 seconds. We’ve got to go now.”
DeVere hesitated and then stepped back to the gray metal filing cabinets at the rear of the room. Squatting slightly he wrapped both arms around one and began walking it away from the wall.
“Watch out,” Ginter barked. As deVere stood back Lewis Ginter threw himself at the empty cabinets and toppled them both over, exposing the jagged tear in the wall.
“Let’s go,” he said and stepped through the hole. DeVere stepped back to his desk and grabbed the duffle bag he had brought with him. He took Amanda’s hand and escorted her over the jagged sheet rock. He turned back to Pamela who, after a moment’s hesitation, stepped forward wordlessly and through the hole. DeVere took one last look around the lab, listened for a moment to the still wailing alarm, and followed her in.
The Accelechron was humming. Atop the pedestal a chronometer was counting down the time left in the wormhole opening. It was down to 55 seconds. Lewis Ginter grabbed Pamela’s hand and pulled the dazed woman toward the vortex. “You’ve just got to trust us on this,” he said kindly. “It’s not safe to stay here.”
Paul deVere grabbed Amanda’s hand and was about to follow when the history professor jerked away.
“Wait,” she said, and nimbly stepped back through the hole and into the lab. In a panic Paul looked at the chronometer, which now read 44 seconds. However, in just a few seconds Amanda returned, her pocketbook in hand.
“What the heck do you—?” he began, but her smile cut him off.
”If you can bring your duffle I can bring my purse. I had to,” she confided. She leaned and whispered in his ear.
Speechless, Paul deVere watched as Lewis Ginter and Pamela Rhodes walked into the vortex. Taking a deep breath he muttered, “Women,” took Amanda’s hand, and together they followed them in. Paul deVere felt himself splash in the sky.
Chapter 14
“You bastard!”
For a moment Paul deVere thought that he was paralyzed. His mind was fogged and his body was unresponsive to his brain’s commands. He opened his eyes and mistily saw Amanda lying next to him, her face pushed into dirt. Beyond her, Pamela Rhodes was kicking a prostrate Lewis Ginter. Paul could see long grass in front of his face and could smell its sweetness. He felt the sun’s warmth on his face. He thought he was in some sort of meadow.