The Traveler Page 12

  “The Traveler.”

  * * *

  Alice Hamilton lagged behind as the others left the conference room and then took her time turning to face Niles, who sat at his desk and pretended he didn’t see her. This was a confrontation he had not been looking forward to—a battle with his own conscience as voiced by the marvelous young actress Alice Hamilton.

  “Quite a collection of new faces you have; interesting, to say the least,” she said as she easily placed her ever-present files on the edge of the large desk.

  Compton looked up and smiled. He decided to let Alice throw the first punch and remained silent as she politely folded her hands in her lap and then adjusted a strand of gray hair that slipped from her bun. He kept the smile and waited.

  “The young man”—she picked up a thick file from the top of her stack and opened it—“Xavier Morales, brilliant, so many letters after his name it looks like a screwed-up alphabet. Thus far since his professional career has started he has broken into no less than three commercial companies with names like Microsoft, IBM, and Raytheon. He claims boredom. Main achievement in life, hacked close to a billion dollars from a drug cartel.” Alice smiled and closed the folder. “Still, him I can understand. You need an abstract mind to keep up with Europa, I get it.”

  Niles leaned back as he watched the waters of the floodgates overflow. He pushed two aspirins into his mouth and dry-swallowed them. They caught, he grimaced, but then managed to get them down just as Alice reached for the second file. She eyed Niles as she opened it, waiting to see if his one good eye would flinch.

  “Master Chief Harold Jenks, United States Navy, retired. Owner Blacksmith Engineering. Everyone in his own company hates his guts even though he has made all fifty-one employees very wealthy. Ruthless, barbaric, and quite the engineering genius. Here only because he has a fatal attraction with the only woman he has ever been terrified of, our own assistant director. Bottom line: unstable, uncontrollable, and any other ‘un’ you can think of. Not Department 5656 material, and that is according to your own job description and criteria.”

  “Okay I—”

  Alice politely smiled and held up her hand. “Oh, but there is more Mr. Director. How about a foreign intelligence agent who now has access to the greatest finds in the history of the world? Granted, she’s a woman we all like and admire, especially myself.”

  “Alice, I—”

  “And let us not forget our good friend Colonel Henri Farbeaux. Do I need to go into his record?”

  “Now that was Jack’s idea and you have to admit Henri’s already paid dividends for this Group.”

  “Yes, by getting our other high-risk asset out of Jerusalem, I know. It was me who sent him in as I figured if the Mossad arrested him we weren’t at a loss of one of our own.” Alice started gathering her files. “You are rushing into this, Niles.” She stopped and looked at the director. “All I’m saying is be careful. These new people are brilliant and are capable of good things, but make sure they belong here in the long term and not just for getting Carl back. They need to belong.”

  Niles decided to let it drop now that he knew that Alice was only voicing his own inner thoughts and venting her fears, which were in line with his own. He watched her as she gave him one last look before patting his arm.

  “You look pretty good, by the way. How’s your buddy?”

  “The president is doing better, and yes, I do feel somewhat … well, besides being blinded in my right eye, having a scar on my face the length of Long Island, and knowing that this is the best I’ll ever walk again, hell, not bad at all.” He gave Alice a sour look as she smiled and turned for the conference room door.

  “Could have been worse, Mr. Director. After all you still have your balls, and with these new personnel changes here at Group, you’re going to need them.”

  Niles watched the door close and then he faced the large monitor and the image that was still up. He gave a crazed chuckle and wondered if he was doing the right thing in risking more lives to get one back from the dead.

  * * *

  Alice caught up to Xavier Morales as he just finished his rounds in the computer center. Though quiet and shy he asked very legitimate questions of the one hundred men and women who would be working for him in computer sciences. Most of the apprehension at having someone so young being a department head was tempered by the fact that they had all heard of Xavier Morales, the wunderkind of MIT. Alice watched the young man through the glass and immediately saw that he wasn’t dressed as a man of his education would have normally dictated: black tennis shoes and an old checkered button-down shirt. His black hair was neatly combed and in his shy way looked as if he were nothing more than a teenage boy.

  Jason Ryan turned and saw Alice standing outside of the large theater-style comp center and then nodded as Morales turned to leave. Jason quickly opened the door for him. Alice greeted the young man and introduced herself again. She looked at Jason and stifled a laugh at his tattooed predicament.

  “And I suspect Jason was taking you over to meet Europa face-to-face?” Alice asked. With boredom etching his features, Jason nodded. “Well, you probably have far better things to be doing. I’ll take him, I need a word with our new comp genius.”

  Without a word Ryan hurriedly left toward the bank of elevators so he could get down to logistics where a whole lot of people responsible for this tattoo had better be ready for war.

  Alice gestured for Xavier to continue down the same hallway. She noticed the old chair and the strong arms that propelled the young man at a pretty good clip.

  “Our engineers can find you something far more advanced than that old chair if you wish,” she said, suspecting she already knew the young man’s answer.

  “And Master Chief Jenks is one of those engineers?”

  Alice only raised her lovely brows and smiled.

  “No, thank you, Mrs. Hamilton, I was raised in this chair and if I get anything else now I would get lazy and also get no exercise at all.” He slowed his pace and then looked at Alice. “Tell me about Professor Ellenshaw.”

  “Charlie?” A sad and knowing look crossed her features as she adjusted her load of files. “I won’t go into detail, but Charlie’s had a rough go of it the past three months.”

  “I understand he was close to Dr. Golding?” Morales asked as he stopped by the double clean room doors and the blue-clad Marine guard standing outside. Xavier removed the new temporary ID card from around his neck and gave it to the guard, who checked it. He nodded at Alice as he gave it back.

  “Quite close, rather unexplainable as they were such opposites, a man of science and one who chases dreams and sometimes nightmares … yes, they became close because they started out so distantly separate. He’s hurting and if he’s taken it out on you, I assure I’ll speak to him.”

  “No, no, please, don’t do that, Mrs. Hamilton. I have an idea: Would you please give me five minutes with Europa to introduce myself properly, and then would you ask Professor Ellenshaw to join me in the clean room?”

  With a curious look Alice just nodded. “Yes, I can do that.”

  The clean room doors hissed open and Morales smiled as the guard handed him a sealed plastic bag with electrostatic clothing. Morales just shook his head with a polite smile.

  “Nah, we don’t want to start off like that.”

  The guard looked at Alice and then saw that the Group matriarch was smiling.

  “You heard him, that’s no way to meet someone for the first time.” Alice nodded at Morales and then left.

  The doors hissed closed behind Xavier as he entered the dressing area and then easily went to the last door and opened it. He wheeled himself inside and then turned. The console for Europa was there with six stations. Microphones were at each. The large bulletproof glass stretched fifteen feet across the front. The metal screen protecting the inner sanctum was in the down position so Morales could not see inside. But he knew, or could guess, what was there. Gone were the robotic program
placement arms, and in their place would be a series of long glass tubes that contained Europa’s bubble memory system of Pete Golding’s own design. Morales closed his eyes as he faced the large glass remembering the paper he read from Golding describing the theory of bubble memory cylindrical super-microchip technology. He cleared his throat and a seventy-five-inch monitor lowered automatically from the ceiling. It came to life with a simple screen saver that said DEPARTMENT 5656.

  “Hello, Europa,” he said as he watched the monitor, hoping to get a verbal response.

  “Good afternoon Dr. Morales,” said the sexy Marylyn Monroe voice.

  “How are you today, Europa?”

  Silence.

  “I asked how you are?” he repeated as he watched the screen.

  “I am well,” Europa typed.

  Morales only smiled as he approached the first of the six workstations.

  “No, you’re not well. But we’ll get you there.” Morales patted the console and then raised the large metal panel. What he saw amazed him. The famous, or was it infamous, Blue Ice system with Pete Golding’s own fingerprints on it. The sight was beyond his imaginings. The three-foot-in-diameter tubes were filled with large, slow-moving blue bubbles made of clear silicone—the memory carrying system that Europa could tap into in a millisecond.

  “Where have you been all my life?” he asked as he leaned forward to look upon the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

  The door hissed open and Charlie Ellenshaw stood in its opening. His hair was still crazed and his glasses were perched on his forehead. His eyes were red.

  “Alice asked me to come and see you,” he said with a voice that was deadpan.

  Morales looked from the blue-tinted Europa programming room to Charlie.

  “Professor, we have a very sick lady here, and according to Colonel Collins and Director Compton, we’ll need her services desperately”—he looked at his wristwatch—“in less than three hours. I need your help.”

  Charlie looked from the newcomer to the inner workings of Europa.

  “Pete never worked with Europa while her protective screen was up.”

  “Why is that, Professor?” Morales asked, not out of politeness at the tall, strange man, but because he really wanted to know.

  Charlie took a tentative step into the room and the doors hissed closed behind him, startling the older man. He collected himself and then faced Xavier.

  “He said it was rude to see her like that, so he did the polite thing and closed the door, like she was—”

  “A lovely lady in a dressing room?”

  “Yeah,” Charlie said as he looked more closely at the youngest genius outside of Niles Compton he had ever met.

  Morales, without looking away from Ellenshaw, hit the button and the protective screen came down.

  “Europa, are you there?” he asked as he kept watching Charlie.

  “Yes,” she typed out.

  Without facing the screen he asked Ellenshaw, “She texted her answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “See, she’s not acting right and I think I can guess as to why. Can you help me, Professor?”

  “How?”

  “Tell me and Europa about Pete Golding.”

  “What?” he asked in utter confusion, but sat down in the station next to Morales.

  “Europa, can you tell me the disposition of Dr. Peter Golding, please?”

  There was silence for the longest time, long enough that Morales turned his wheelchair and removed the rolling chair in front of the empty station and then faced Europa’s screen.

  “Dr. Golding is currently not on station.”

  This time both men noticed she spoke instead of texting.

  “Do you know why?” he asked.

  Silence.

  “Europa, have you scanned all personnel records for Department 5656 and any corresponding field report deaths from same?”

  Silence.

  “Europa?”

  “Dr. Peter Golding, deceased ninety-seven days, sixteen hours, fifty-six minutes, plus or minus ten minutes.”

  Morales turned to face Charlie.

  “Tell me about Pete.” He smiled and then looked at Europa. “Tell us both about Pete and why he died.”

  Charlie Ellenshaw was flabbergasted to say the least. He didn’t know if he wanted to hit the kid and leave or just stare stupefied. Then he saw the text messages on the screen blink out and then the lights in the clean room dimmed as Europa powered down.

  “You see, Charlie, she needs to know also. She knows what death is, but no one ever explained why people have to die. That is messing with her advanced AI systems that only Pete had intimate knowledge of. We both need to know about Dr. Golding, especially her.”

  Ellenshaw sat silent as he studied the young master of artificial intelligence. He didn’t know what to think of the young man and his obvious intellect. Charlie could understand Pete simply because they had fought and been through some of the adventures of a lifetime that challenged them as men, but Morales was someone who lived his life outside of his world through others. Charlie came to the realization that Europa might be no different. He watched Morales as he opened what Ellenshaw knew was Pete’s 201 file from personnel. He wrote something down and held it up to the camera so Europa could see it.

  “Europa, do you recognize these coordinates?” Morales was patient as the temperamental Europa read what he had written. She typed out that yes, the longitude and latitude were confirmed as the Mount Rose Cemetery in Princeton, New Jersey. “Use your satellite imagery files and bring up an aerial view, please. Zoom in on plot 2343, northeast quadrant of the cemetery.” As he waited for the satellite image to boot, Morales looked over at a curious Ellenshaw. “By the way, Professor, your choice of music may not have been likable to certain members of your rescue team, but as a PSYOP distraction I thought ‘Sugar, Sugar’ was a righteous choice,” he said, and then smiled at Charlie, who didn’t know if he was joking with him or not. Only Xavier Morales knew that if anyone else asked he would say that he had never heard of the song nor the Archies who performed it before that day in Mexico.

  On the large monitor an image of New Jersey exploded to a close-up of the cemetery in question. Soon Charlie was looking at a headstone. The name was there. Peter Golding. The date of his birth and of his death. Then the simple message: “A Friend.” Ellenshaw knew the headstone well as he had been the one to place it there. Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III removed his glasses and stared at the image. Europa was motionless and it seemed even the bubble memory system slowed in its intensity behind the large glass.

  Charlie didn’t know if it was right, but he started talking and for the next hour and a half Europa and Morales listened to a story about a man’s life and his death.

  * * *

  All sixteen department heads were present inside the large conference room. Many of the civilian personnel saw the new additions and politely nodded. They watched as Master Chief Jenks came through the doorway dressed in a lab coat and carrying his newly issued blue coveralls all military personnel wore at Group. Compton was silent for a brief moment.

  “Dr. Morales, I assume you have made progress with Europa?”

  Xavier didn’t understand a thing of what was going on but he nodded and gestured toward Charlie Ellenshaw, who sat silently.

  “With the assistance of Professor Ellenshaw, yes, Europa has been enlightened to certain things that had not been adequately explained to her. She is even now absorbing the new data.” He partially turned to the large monitor. “Let’s see. Europa, are you monitoring the minutes of the current meeting?”

  “Yes, Dr. Morales, Europa is recording.”

  All eyes went to Morales as he smiled when Europa used her voice synthesizer to answer. The familiar sexy voice was greeted with thankful sighs from Niles and Virginia, who knew that if they didn’t have a fully functional Europa, what they hoped to do would be impossible.

  “Thank you,” Niles said.

&nb
sp; “She’s not there yet, but soon will be as soon as she assimilates certain data.”

  Niles nodded at Alice Hamilton. She stood and started passing out electronic tablets. “Please keep all written notes confined to these pads. They will be linked directly to Europa. There will be no, I repeat no, handwritten reports to be filed on Operation Traveler. Even if successful, this technology can never be confirmed by any written word. It’s just too dangerous.”

  Silence was the order of the day as everyone accepted the electronic pads.

  “Master Chief,” Virginia said, taking over after Alice had taken her seat, “you will notice that your first fifteen thousand pages are filled with Einstein’s and other noted scientists’ theories on time displacement and its quantum limitations—theoretically speaking, of course. Familiarize yourself with them as much as possible. I’m afraid it’s quite heavy reading. You will learn why as we go along. You will also see the dossiers on several scientists of German background, familiarize yourself with them also. We need your report on the mechanical and scientific feasibility related to these men and their work to compare with my physics department assessment”—she paused and then went all the way in—“in twelve hours.”

  “Thrilled,” Jenks said, but his eyes did look to the pad and the headings of several of the entries. He had to admit, he didn’t believe in the theory, but as an engineer, he was intrigued nonetheless.

  “Dr. Morales, you will see the main factor in your upcoming research is the Traveler herself, Moira Mendelsohn; she is your target. You and Europa will dig until you have everything you can find on her. We want the number of hairs on her head if you can get it.”

  Xavier looked from Director Compton to the young face of a girl in ragged clothing that was now up on the large monitor. She had a sad face and Morales could see that the picture was made by blowing up a section with only her in it.