“How about out of time?”
She smiled. “I am not following you, Colonel.”
“Who doesn’t want this machine falling into hands other than yours?”
Moira turned her chair and then faced Jack. She watched his eyes for a moment and then shook her head. “Perhaps you should check your end of that equation, Colonel, not mine.”
“Your bodyguards mysteriously vanished after the attack — why?”
“Julien and the others have left me?” she asked, a momentary look of panic filling her expression.
Jack remained silent as she thought and he realized that the information had truly stunned her. She looked away and Collins saw the tough old woman’s lips tremble. He placed a hand on her shoulder and then moved off to Will and Jenks.
“Look, can you duplicate that design if you had all of the specs?” he asked Jenks in a low tone as he watched Madam Mendelsohn move back to the broken viewing glass and stare down at her submerged doorway.
Jenks also watched the Traveler and then placed the cigar back into his mouth as he allowed Will to apply a gauze pad and tape to his cut.
“Yeah, if I had ten years and about three billion dollars, you bet,” he growled, and then tossed the cigar stub away. He stood and went to the viewing window and looked out. “No, our only shot was right there,” he said, pointing to the rising waters. “So I suggest you get some pumps in here and some engineers and get that leak sealed up tight. Me and Ginny will figure something out after we dry everything off.”
“Ginny and you will figure what out, Harold?” The voice made Jenks turn. He smiled and then quickly caught himself and spat onto the wet carpet. “Classy as always,” she said as she saw Jack and Will and nodded. Then her eyes fell on the Traveler and she quickly made her way to the electric wheelchair.
“That we maybe can salvage…”
Jenks’s words trailed off as Virginia Pollock kneeled down on the wet floor and faced Moira.
“Dr. Mendelsohn?”
Moira looked up and her smile grew as this was the first time in her life that someone from the outside world had addressed her as “Doctor.”
“Yes,” she answered as Virginia took her old and silken hand into her own.
“I have read your thesis on the alternating poles of influence in regards to ion particle research — an amazing piece that I use quite often in my courses on light-emitting and amplification lenses.”
“I didn’t think anyone had access to my old work.”
Virginia looked up at Jack with a questioning look. “She hasn’t met Xavier and Europa as yet?”
Collins shook his head. “Just Dr. Morales, not Europa.”
“Well, suffice it to say I can’t wait to get into your head about certain things regarding your research and the practical application of your work. I need to know so much. The mission into the past, I would love to see the records on those.”
The smile vanished from Moira as she eased her hands free of Virginia’s. The move was caught by all. Jack suspected Moira was hiding something huge but for now his only concern was the repair of the doorway and its application in assisting them getting Everett back home. And in the middle of all of that they now had a mystery concerning who would be willing to kill federal agents to stop the doorway from being compromised.
“All of my notes have been lost over the years. I’m afraid the only record of mission parameters is in here,” she said, pointing an old finger to her temple.
“Master Chief, get the assistant director up-to-date. Moira, you and I need to speak after we get this thing moving. Right now I have to see how much of our cover story has bitten the dust.”
“Do you mean the problems outside?” Virginia asked as she straightened up and looked around at the devastation caused by the suicide attack.
“Yes,” Jack answered.
“Well, it looks like the FBI is under attack by the civil authorities representing the Borough of Brooklyn. Agent Williamson said to tell you they are being pulled off the detail and turning the investigation over to the NYPD vice squad, ATF, and the DEA.”
“Damn, I have to speak with Niles. We’re going to need some special interference ran for us.”
“You mean we’re going to add another criminal charge to our growing list?” Virginia asked.
“Something like that, yeah. Now, we need your teams to get in here and start cleaning this mess up so we can see just how screwed we really are. Then the priority is to get the linkup with Morales and Europa up and running on a dependable basis. We need her computing prowess here ASAP. Will, get Ryan to grab us six field security teams out here from Nevada, I want our own people managing security from here on out.” Collins looked at his watch. “We have ninety hours left before the president will have to explain to a lot of angry agencies and cities why he is acting so slowly on this. And it’s now a lot larger problem than it was just an hour ago.”
Jack turned and left the gallery and caught the lift to the top floor. All the while he felt a helplessness he hadn’t felt since he saw Everett push him away and then vanish into a wormhole.
The Event Group was losing its race with time and technology.
9
The Russian didn’t exactly feel out of place in the financial district as he rode the plastic-lined elevator on his way to the thirty-fifth floor of the Halas building, as money never, ever, frightened him, nor did the men and women who had it in droves. The fortress of glass, white marble, and steel ugliness set itself apart from the gleaming spires that replaced the old World Trade Center, which had come to an abrupt end on September 11, 2001. He looked at the three Wall Street types next to him as they stepped off on the floor below his destination. He knew very few people ever rode the elevator to the topmost floor. He smiled as the doors closed at the haughty mannerisms the departed men had about them, which he found distinctly funny. After all, he mused, we are practically in the same business—the procurement of money and the acquisition of power. He punched in the private code on the keypad and the elevator continued upward one more flight.
The doors opened and the small Russian stepped free of the richly paneled car and saw the two security guards flanking either side of the double glass doors. The first rose from his small desk and confronted the visitor. He held out his hand and the Russian smiled and held open his black coat and sport jacket to show the guards that he carried no firearms. He smirked at the naiveté of the investment firm. He lowered his hands and the second guard issued him a visitor’s pass. The small plastic card was computer coded and it allowed him access to the thirty-fifth floor of one of the most advanced and profitable investment firms in the financial world.
“Mr. Frisch is expecting you. His assistant will escort you. Sir, your visiting privileges extend only to the boardroom.”
The Russian smiled at the seriousness of the two guards. He had seen no less than three alternate ways of entering this so-called secure haven in less than the two minutes it took to ride the elevator to his richly appointed destination. But that was information he would file away for another day.
“Mr. Jones, please come with me,” said a matronly woman in a gray suit. He smiled at her overstated manliness and at the tie she wore. American women in their struggles to be competitive drove them to extremes, in his humble opinion.
The Russian saw the boardroom he had been in many times. He was the only person inside the vast organization to actually see and have an audience with the men behind the curtain, the wizards, as he liked to refer to them. He stepped inside and saw the lone figure of a man sitting at the head of one of the longer boardroom tables the immigrant Russian had ever seen. The gray-haired man looked up from the newspaper and nodded that the visitor should sit.