Rebel in Time

'Then we'll just have to find out. You're doing great so far. Do those figures tell you how far into the past he went?'

'Those figures tell me little or nothing at the present moment. We must calibrate — and we can save time by finding out how McCulloch and company calibrated their own experiments. For openers we can reverse the equation that we use for future displacement. However there is no guarantee that the terms will work precisely in reverse. But McCulloch and Harper must have done something to calibrate the time displacement or they wouldn't have dared risk the big trip. If they did it — we can follow their lead, get their results and use them ourselves. Let me see if I can find their traces. There's a coffee machine in the corner. Pour us a couple of cups while I browse through the print-outs looking for their footsteps. It shouldn't take long.'

It didn't. By the time they were finishing their coffee, Kleiman had found the entry he was looking for.

'Eureka! Which, in case your classical education was deficient, is Greek for I have found it. There are some smaller probing experiments here, a lot of them, but I looked for a big one. And here it is. It took place a little over a year ago. Look at the juice they used! Don't show the electricity bill to the tax payers. Now some quick work with the math.'

Kleiman checked the figures twice, and the results remained the same. He scribbled on a ruled pad, then tore off the sheet and passed it to Troy. 'December tenth, nineteen forty-one,' he said.

Troy looked at it. 'This is the arrival date?'

'Correct. Something weighing approximately fifteen kilos was sent back to that date. Or at least I think that is the date. The mass is correct, but the date is simply an inversion of the future equation. It may not check out exactly, but we can do the same thing they did to find out. Check the newspapers. Whatever they sent back had to be unusual enough to make news. A rabid wolf, twenty-five plucked and deep-frozen two-headed chickens, I don't know what. But you can be sure that whatever they sent, it was something odd enough so that they knew it would be noticed and reported in the papers.'

'Are you sure of this?'

'Nope. But it's a good enough theory to start with. Why don't we split the work? I'll keep analysing the print-out and put together a list of how much they sent and when. While I'm doing that you drive over to the Washington Post and look through their files for that date. If there is nothing recorded, look forward and backwards until you do find something. It has to be there or McCulloch wouldn't have gone ahead with his nefarious plans.'

'I agree. How late will you be here?'

'Until you phone.' Kleiman placed his hand on his heart and looked heavenward. 'I break a long-standing rule to be out of the shop by five and into the first martini by five-thirty. No sacrifice is too great for the cause. Go, and come back with your shield or upon it. I want good news or none at all. You can do it.'

Why not, Troy thought, as he drove back into the city. Just stick with it until he uncovered some trace. He would do this because he had the sure knowledge that the information was there. McCulloch had found it — and so would he.

The files at the Post were well organized. Copies of back issues were available for consultation or purchase. But in order to save space, after some weeks had gone by, the newspapers were stored on microfilm. Troy filled out an order form for the December 1941 reel and pressed the button on the counter to call the clerk. There was a long wait. He didn't appear until Troy rang the bell again.

'Patience, brother, patience,' he said. A mulatto youth with an impressive afro, the hair standing out a good eight inches from his head. He took the call slip from Troy and vanished back into the files. But returned in less than a minute and gave the slip back to Troy.

'Can't do it,' he said. 'No way I can oblige you with this one.'

'Why not?'

'It's not there, man, that's why not. Happens once in a while. Sometimes they get misfiled, sometimes the dudes even walk away with them. This is a hard world. It could have happened a long time ago for all I know. We hardly ever get requests for stuff this old. The reel might have been missing for months even. But whatever happened — this one is gone for sure.'

Chapter 16

The colonel had got there first.

Troy looked down at the slip and knew that their suppositions must have been correct. McCulloch had been here, had found what he had wanted, then had covered his tracks.

'What about the period just before or after this?' Troy asked. 'Could I see them?'

'This is really your bad day, man, because you are still shit out of luck. We get about four months of newspaper on every reel of film. The date you want is somewhere right in the middle of that spool.'

'But — this can't be the only copy you have. Don't you have permanent records on file?'

'We got the master in the vault, for a back-up. People got no respect for property these days. These public prints get scratched and torn and thumb-printed to death. So we make new ones whenever they're needed. But that takes time. I put the order in now, be at least three days before we get it back.'

'I don't have the time. Would it be possible to look at the master?'

The clerk shook his head in a slow no. 'No way. We got rules here. The masters stay in the vault. No way I can let one out. You'll just have to keep your cool and come back when the new print is ready.'

They were alone in the room. Troy took out his wallet and extracted a twenty dollar bill. He placed it on the counter; the clerk's eyes followed it. 'Couldn't we make an exception just this once?' Troy asked. The clerk took a step backwards and looked around.

'Man, you trying to bribe me?'

'Yes.'

'It's a deal. I don't like the mothers that run this place.' The bill vanished and fifteen seconds later the film appeared in its place. The clerk touched his finger to his lips. 'This is going to be our secret. Use the first viewer there and let me have the film back before you split.'

'Thanks. This shouldn't take long.'

But it did. He could find nothing on the tenth of December, no matter how he searched, that might possibly be relevant. He went through this issue of paper three times to make sure. All right then, keep searching, Bob Kleiman had said that he couldn't be certain of the exact date. He would just have to keep looking.

An hour later he found the item.

This was it. It had to be; it fitted perfectly. A small article on the second page.

INVASION SCARE IN MARYLAND

Mysterious Explosion and Lights Cause Great Alarm

The possibility of a German invasion alarmed hundreds as a series of explosions and flaring lights near Clewerwall broke the silence of the night. Police and firemen were called out and found the site easily since the explosions continued for over two hours on a rocky prominence close to Saunders Farm. It was the work of pranksters, reported Police Chief O'Sullivan. A metal box was recovered that had been filled with flare launchers of the kind used at sea in time of distress. The perpetrators of the hoax were not found.

There it was. This had to be it. Troy returned the roll of film and had a photoprint made of the page. When he left he found himself in the middle of heavy traffic as the civil service employees poured out of the offices in their endless waves. By the time he had returned to the project it was after six.

'Message for you,' the guard at the gate said. 'Doctor Kleiman says for you to meet him in the director's office.'

'Thanks, I'm on my way.'

Roxanne Delcourt had the bar open and was stirring a mixer full of gibsons when Troy came in. Bob Kleiman was already sipping a large one.