A Temporal Trust (The Temporal Book 2) (11 page)

Sam had spent the past few hours exhausting his energy over the map. They still hadn’t heard from Marcus although Sam could sense that Marcus was alive and in DC. He was most concerned with Maro whose signature was becoming difficult to pin down.

General Gordon sent a dozen law enforcement officers on Marcus’ trail, but nothing of Marcus or Lieutenant Harrison had turned up. The general had even contacted the president, but even though Marcus had specifically said he was going to meet the president, the president assured Gordon that they had not arrived.

Suteko left Sam and headed for the stairs. She had felt sick since striking Catherine and decided it was time to make amends; she went through the Berkshire House in search for Catherine to apologize.

As she left the winding staircase and stepped onto the second floor, she was taken aback by the many rooms and ornate decor. The government had provided what could only be described as a mansion, and the large number of rooms made Suteko’s search challenging. She realized she hadn’t seen Catherine since the Nephloc spy appeared and that sudden thought provoked her conscience to action. Suteko was told Catherine had retired to her room. But which room? Which floor?

After passing a few rooms on the second floor, she heard some movement behind a closed door. All the doors on that floor were closed, but she knew someone was behind this one. It had to be Catherine. Everyone else was accounted for. Suteko lifted her hand to knock and then halted mid-strike, reconsidering. After a few long seconds, she lowered her hand entirely. She sensed a dark anger behind the door. Perhaps more time would help mend the wounds. Suteko headed back downstairs to the communal hall.

Ian was there playing solitaire. Sam came running in, holding up his phone. “The general called requesting our presence at the secondary command center.” Without Marcus around, the general needed their help for coordination and communications.

“Where is Marcus? Why does he get the day off?” Ian didn’t bother to look up from his cards.

“Ian, this is serious,” Suteko said. “We haven’t been able to get a hold of him for hours. How is Catherine doing?”

Ian shrugged his shoulders and slapped another card down. “Sulking in her room, I guess.” He shook his head and, after a moment of hesitation, he threw the rest of the cards on the table, having lost all interest in the game. He had tried to talk to Catherine earlier. She had simply brushed him off—his pride kept him from a second attempt.

Suteko turned to go to Sam. She heard Ian let out a held-in breath as she passed him by.

She sighed and approached Sam who had just finished the phone call with the general. “Sam, could you check on Catherine? I doubt she would respond to me.”

Moments later, Sam knocked gently on Catherine’s door. Suteko watched by the staircase. It was that room on the second floor. “Catherine?” He waited for a response. None came. “Catherine?” Sam’s voice was louder and more insistent. “The general needs our help.”

Sam’s face crumpled. He could sense Catherine’s presence, but something was wrong.

“Is it Catherine?” asked Suteko who had hurried to Sam’s side after hearing some strange echoes.

“Yes, I sense her signature, but it is weak and becoming weaker.”

“Get Ian!” Sam grabbed the doorknob of the locked door and, slowing time, he moved his hand rapidly. The effect—in natural time—heated and twisted the metal off. He thrust his fingers inside the hole and flicked off the cylinder and lock as if it were made of paper. A moment later, the door was wide open. He did not immediately see Catherine, but the shallow blotches of red pooled on the cream-colored tiled floor left no doubt. He hurried to the other side of the bed to see Catherine unconscious with slit wrists.

Ian appeared behind and cried in pain as he saw what Sam saw. “No! Catherine—No!”

“Suteko!” Ian yelled.

Suteko had stopped at the doorway, not knowing what to do.

“Suteko! Come here and help her quickly.” Ian knew Catherine had but one chance.

She was, in an instant, next to Catherine. Her breath caught. For a moment she sat there speechless, unable to process the simplest of thoughts. Sam’s touch brought her back and she immediately laid her hands on the dying woman. Suteko felt the pressure of a surgeon trying to heal a patient that she, herself, had wounded. She was experiencing a mixture of guilt, shame, and unbridled fear. If only she had actually knocked on the door and apologized earlier. The dark echoes she had felt had been Catherine’s inner self crying for help.

Catherine’s accelerated healing had stopped the blood flow, but she had cut deep and allowed much life to leave her body. She moaned and tilted her head away from Suteko.

Pulling the negative energy out of Catherine caused Suteko to heave her chest as if she had just run a marathon. Sweat beaded on and ran down her forehead, doing nothing to quell the flashes of heat. It was at times intense enough to knock her off Catherine. She quickly latched back on, varying the location of her touch. She felt like a leech, but a leech helping to remove the negative energy from Catherine’s body.

“Do something Suteko!” Ian’s voice was loud and insistent. He was having a hard time controlling his emotions and his words. “Dammit, Suteko—do something.”

“Ian,” Sam said, positioning himself in front of Ian. “You must calm down. If Catherine is to have any hope, Suteko must do her work in peace.”

Ian looked at Sam’s face as if to challenge him and then, just as it appeared he would take it to the next level, Ian broke away and fled out of the room.

Suteko concentrated. She had displaced much of the negative energy that had seemed to define Catherine’s personality recently. Whatever had happened to her, it left her deeply scarred. Suteko ceased pulling and began to push. The positive energy within Suteko wouldn’t be much—she felt depleted already—but she gave it her all.

Catherine moaned louder. Sam smiled at the realization that it was working until he looked at Suteko. The Japanese woman’s face had turned pale and her eyes were glazed. It took all his effort to catch her head before she fell to the hard floor unconscious.

“Suteko!”

Sam felt her pulse. She had one. He leaned over to hear the shallow breaths. As he straighten back up, she was already breathing louder and deeper. Her eyes opened, and upon seeing Sam, she smiled enough to convey that she would be fine.

Sam moved his attention back to Catherine. Her eyes were shut, but she was moving and moaning.

She whispered something that Sam couldn’t understand. He was concerned about Suteko’s health, but he felt compelled to listen to Catherine. Sam examined her face. Her appearance had changed. Her face was harder. Her closed eyes and body movements suggested she was experiencing a fitful dream. If it weren’t for the whispers, Sam would have assumed she was having a nightmare. The words appeared to be meaningless, but he sensed that that was not the case.

After one more glance at Suteko, Sam leaned into Catherine. Though slurred, the whispers were words. He heard her say in a clear speech, “War and Treachery.” Her words then returned to the seemingly meaningless garble.

Sam glanced at Suteko. He smiled seeing that she already had much of her color back to her face. Returning his attention to Catherine, Sam jumped in fright. Her eyes were now wide open; she began to speak, but this time her words were recognizable and at normal volume. “War and Treachery...The leech!” Her voice brought Ian back into the room. Suteko recoiled slightly at the word “leech.” Ian ran to Catherine’s side and took her by the arms.

“Catherine!”

His smile turned twisted as he heard her say, “War and Treachery, the strong shall become weak—a slave!”

“Catherine!” Ian’s eyes—as confused as they were—poured with concern. “You’re okay. You are going to be all right,” he said as he cradled her head and gently stroked her hair.

“War and Treachery, the strong shall become weak—a slave with a cruel master. A temporal trust—united then betrayed.”

All eyes were on Catherine. Ian and Sam were kneeling at her side, trying to provide the comfort she needed but not knowing how.

“Suteko,” Sam said, turning his head in her direction, “Do you know what’s going on? What happened?”

Suteko’s face went white. “I...I don’t know. I thought for sure I was helping her.” One of Suteko’s hands flew to her face to conceal a tear and regain some composure. “I’ve never gone that far, never experienced a touching that close.”

“Not even with me?” Ian’s lips were tight and serious.

Suteko was too guilt-ridden and exhausted to address Ian. Instead, she directed her tearful eyes to Catherine. “There was just so much darkness to rid. I’m so sorry…”

Catherine moaned, but did not speak. Her eyes remained open—without blinking—but she seemed oblivious to the concern of those around her. She offered no solace or condemnation for Suteko.

“No, Suteko,” said Sam, shaking his head. “I do not believe you caused this. I believe this is a message.”

Sam fished his cell phone out from his pocket. He quickly found the microphone icon and began recording.

Sam turned back to Catherine. “Catherine, can you hear me?”

Then, with a slow, smooth motion, Catherine’s head tilted into Sam’s direction. There was some moaning, but no words.

“Catherine!” This time, Ian’s voice made her tilt her head into his direction.

“They know, Ian.” Catherine’s voice was clear and directed at Ian.

She closed her eyes and spoke no more.

“What? They know what?” Sam, Suteko, and Ian turned their heads toward the source of the questions, to the doorway. Marcus had returned. Lieutenant Harrison stood behind him.

“Marcus? Where have you been? We’ve been trying to get you for hours.” Sam’s voice had a touch of anger as he thought of the missing and dead, people he had never met but somehow, through his gift, he felt he knew intimately.

“I’m sorry, son, but I was...delayed.”

Ian let out a huff and turned back to Catherine.

“You could have called,” added Suteko. “Or at least answered our calls.”

“No, I couldn’t have. Both my cell and Lieutenant Harrison’s were confiscated when we tried to see the president.”

“The president said you hadn’t visited him.”

“That part is true—although it wasn’t for lack of trying. I will tell you more later. What’s going on?”

“Catherine...she…”

Marcus looked at her bandaged wrists and said, “I see and how is she?”

“Not good. But she seems to be stable thanks to Suteko,” said Sam who had stood and was now next to Marcus. “Maro and Amato were under attack,” Sam continued. “I’m having a hard time locking on Maro and we haven’t heard from Amato.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. I only gave him my contact information. Sam, were you able to discover Maro’s phone number again?”

“Yes,” answered Suteko for Sam. “But he isn’t answering.”

“How about Amato? Is there any way you can get his information?”

“I’m afraid not,” answered Sam. “I may be able to sense that he has been around the Temporal, but he is not one of us. Is there any way you can get your phone back? Call the president?”

“I’m afraid it is all gone. The president did not authorize our detention and, although Dr. Bracker is investigating, so far it has not been found.”

“That means Kaileen may have all the contact numbers. Marcus, she can mimic your voice.”

“I password protected the numbers and coded the names, but a clever girl like Kaileen…” Marcus’ voice trailed off.

“Marcus,” asked Sam hesitantly, “she was your student, wasn’t she?”

Marcus’ weary frame stooped. He placed a thick hand around the door jamb for stability. Prompted by the unexpected question, the old man was lost in thoughts of the distant past. Against his will, a tear escaped his eyes. Sam noticed Suteko look down and avert her eyes.

Marcus shook his head. “No, Sam, she wasn’t my student.” He wiped the solitary tear away and turned to leave the room while saying to Suteko, “Keep trying to contact Maro.”

“General, if you have concerns regarding Dr. Bracker, I’d like to hear them now.” Marcus’ eyes were tired; his voice was bitter. He directed his attention squarely at General Gordon who had come to the Berkshire House as soon as he heard of Marcus’ detention.

An additional plane had been destroyed. A crew of ten men, all dead. The general was not totally surprised to hear that Marcus knew it had occurred in Italy. Gordon whispered Bracker’s name under his breath which prompted Marcus’ question.

“A few months ago, the media acquired certain papers that led to the revealing of several deep cover CIA agents.”

“Right. It was quickly buried by the drama surrounding McGregor, but I remember. It was some anonymous hacker group that released the names online, right?”

“Yes, but it was an intentional leak and not the fault of lax internet security. The hackers were handed the codes and passwords. Two of the operatives were assassinated and at least one of them was hot on al-Zawahiri and several other leaders of al-Qaeda. Marcus, we could have brought the whole thing down in one fell swoop.”

“And you believe Bracker was the leak?”

“Bracker was a research analyst for Senator Harper, the chair of the security council.”

“A research analyst? He doesn’t seem the type.”

“It’s a title, a government job that leads to other government jobs. Probably nothing more than a payback position—hired as a thank-you-for-your-support.” The general shrugged. “While nothing was conclusive, an internal investigation narrowed down the likely source of the leak to that office. Besides the senator, Bracker was the only one with access to that information. There have been other less traitorous instances of him playing politics with national security. Everything is conveniently circumstantial, of course.”

“And yet,” Marcus said with a concerned look, “the president trusts him.”

“I greatly admire the president, but some of his cabinet choices were made out of political expediency. You may well remember the circumstances of his taking the oath.”

Marcus nodded. He knew far more than most. Kaileen had made a deal with the previous president. The deal turned raw when McGregor was exposed and disposed of. The nation was reeling and it was thought that Plato’s Noble Lie was the only way to handle the situation. Not knowing the whole truth, the American people—indeed the world—still had great admiration for McGregor and the previous president. They were remembered as fallen heroes. President Gardner had a solid following, but to not choose advisors from the previous cabinet would have been seen as ungrateful and purely partisan politics.

“Let’s just say that some of the people who are closest to his ear would not be my first choice.”

“And yet you didn’t appeal Dr. Bracker’s authority to return to us.”

“I do not have solid proof he was behind the CIA leaks. And while Dr. Bracker and I have major philosophical differences, the man has a wealth of experience and a vast array of contacts. As long as he has no direct access to sensitive information, he could be useful in specific and limited ways—I would personally emphasize the ‘limited’ aspect of his help. Besides, even if he did have access to the information—which he didn’t—he isn’t a murderer, at least not intentionally. We are talking about treason of the highest order.”

“I shall talk to the president. This is most concerning. Someone gained knowledge of the operations—knowledge that not even the president had and these people had the pull to have Harrison and myself detained at the White House.”