Yet was he inevitably doomed to repeat the tragic events of the past? Max had already met Kovac. He’d heard him mention a girl from the university that Max was convinced was the young Deanna Hastings. Max wanted to locate the secret scientific facility and learn more, yet suspected that David might have done exactly the same thing and then lost his life. Could Max even change what had happened before? Was everything fated to occur, no matter what he did?
Max was extremely reluctant to succumb to sleep, wondering if by morning he’d be marooned in the past. Yet as hard as he struggled to keep his eyes open, it wasn’t long before he fell asleep.
THE NEXT MORNING
, Max was disoriented when he woke up, but relieved that he remembered who he really was. He sat up, still wearing the formal clothes from the night before. It looked as if someone, probably David’s mother, had come in to check on him the previous evening and closed the curtains. Max got up and searched through David’s closet for something more appropriate to wear, selecting a pair of jeans and a plain black tee shirt. It seemed appropriate since that was what David had been wearing when Max had met him in the future. Once he was dressed, Max went downstairs. The house was quiet and there was a note from Mrs. Dexter attached to the fridge.
“Hi David. Hope you’re feeling better. We thought we’d just let you sleep in this morning. Dad’s gone out to an appointment, something to do with work. I’m only over at Aunt Carol’s, so call me if you need anything. I should be back just after lunch. See you later. Mom.”
When Max finished reading the message, the mention of Mr. Dexter’s appointment triggered something in his mind. He had a vague recollection of being in the car with David’s father, although he couldn’t recall where they’d been going. He also
recalled saying goodbye to Mr. Dexter, after he was dropped off somewhere. Max strongly suspected that David must have traveled to the secret facility that very morning.
Max now knew for certain that he could change David’s fate. Since David hadn’t accompanied his father, the same events obviously weren’t predestined to occur. Max briefly considered the risks that might be involved in changing the past, but brushed them aside. His very presence here, courtesy of Deanna’s hypnosis, had already changed things.
Max glanced over at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was only just after nine and he had several hours before Mrs. Dexter returned. Max had no idea how he would even find a scientific facility, but he knew someone who just might be able to help him.
He remembered that Carrington had been working with the city police at the time of David’s disappearance. Max’s first instinct was to search online, but remembered that the Dexters didn’t have a home computer. Max searched though several of the kitchen drawers until he found the local phone directory, next to a small glass jar filled with loose change. Once he’d located the number, he called the city’s main downtown police station. While they had no John Carrington on their staff, the woman at the reception desk was very helpful and told Max that the detective worked out of another office. She wasn’t able to transfer Max, but gave him the number to call. Max thanked her as he put down the phone then called the other office. His hands were trembling as he punched the digits on the keypad. After just two rings, another woman answered and Max asked to be put through to Detective Carrington. Max took steady, deep breaths while he waited for the call to connect.
“John Carrington,” said the detective in a very businesslike tone.
“Hi, Mr. Carrington,” said Max, struggling to prevent his voice from quivering. “My name’s David and I have some information that you may be interested in.”
“Who is this?” Carrington asked him. “What did you say your name was?”
“My name’s David Dexter,” Max continued, trying to remain calm. “You may have heard of my father?”
“Jonathan Dexter?” asked Carrington, sounding decidedly unconvinced. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“It’s no joke, Mr. Carrington,” Max replied. “I’ve some information that I think you’ll find very interesting. It’s about the missing person cases you’ve been following.”
“What about them?” Carrington demanded.
“About their connection to the university,” said Max.
“Okay,” said Carrington, slowly, “so tell me about it.”
“Not on the phone,” Max replied. “Can we meet?”
“Sure, why not,” Carrington agreed, after a slight pause, to Max’s surprise. “Where?”
“There’s a restaurant near where I live.”
“Yeah, I think I know the one,” Carrington said. “Mickey’s, right?”
“Yes, that’s it,” said Max, relieved that he’d remembered enough of the neon sign from the previous evening.
“So what time can you be there?”
“Say in half an hour?” said Max.
“This better be serious,” said Carrington, sternly.
“Oh, it is,” Max assured him, “don’t worry about that.”
“Okay then, see you there,” said Carrington, hanging up.
When Max put down the phone, his hand was trembling. Although he occupied David Dexter’s body, Max had to admit that he had no idea if he could pull off the elaborate deception. However, he steeled himself for the task ahead, knowing that John Carrington was perhaps the only person who could help him.
Max put the phone book back in the drawer. He grabbed a handful of coins from the jar, before he remembered that David’s wallet was on the desk in the bedroom. He went upstairs, grabbed the wallet and the keys then left the house to meet with John Carrington.
From his connection to David’s memories, Max somehow seemed to know the direction to Mickey’s restaurant as soon as he stepped out of the front door of the Dexters’ house. The Dexters lived in a neighbourhood that Max had never visited in his own time. Most of the houses were huge, with extensive lots, professionally landscaped gardens, and double or even triple garages. The streets were lined with tall, mature trees and carefully trimmed lawns, hedges, and shrubs. It was a far cry from the collection of drab apartments and condos that dominated the area where Max and his father lived in the future.
As he walked, Max pondered how much information he could actually disclose to Carrington. He knew that he’d have to be careful what he told the detective, in case Carrington grew suspicious as to how David Dexter knew so much. As a detective, Carrington was no doubt highly experienced in questioning suspects and probing for weaknesses in an alibi. Max resolved to be selective in what he revealed, while attempting to assess exactly how much Carrington already knew about Kovac’s operation.
When Max entered the restaurant, the first thing he noticed was the smell of cigarette smoke drifting through the air. He glanced around as he approached the counter and saw that some of the customers were smoking cigarettes as they chatted over coffee. It was something that Max never experienced in his own era, where smoking was unwelcome just about everywhere. At the cash register, Max bought a small soda and was pleasantly surprised at how cheap it was. The handful of change he’d taken from the kitchen jar was more than enough. As he walked away from the counter, Max wondered if he’d be able to recall David’s PINs for the bankcards, but figured he had some cash, if needed.
He settled into a booth by the window. As he watched the traffic, Max began to appreciate how greatly things would change in the coming years. The cars he’d seen in the Dexters’ neighbourhood had all been relatively new for their time. Yet as Max watched the period vehicles in the parking lot, many seemed positively ancient to him.
He studied people as well, marveling at how some fashions or hairstyles sometimes resembled those of his own time period, while others looked bizarrely different. Max also noted the absence of music seeping down from overhead speakers, something that seemed all pervasive in his own time. It was similarly strange not to hear the endless variety of ring tones from cell phones that permeated so much of life in the future.
“David?”
Max looked up to see a man in his mid-forties standing beside the table, holding a steaming cup of coffee.
“Yes.”
“John Carrington,” said the man
He gave Max a brief smile before settling into the seat opposite and lighting a cigarette.
Max easily recognized the younger version of the man he’d last talked to in Castlegate Park. Carrington had thick brown hair, but a goatee didn’t yet frame his mouth. His face was thinner, almost drawn. He wasn’t wearing glasses, although the dark circles under Carrington’s eyes indicated he’d probably spent too many late nights working at the office.
“Okay, David,” said Carrington. “I’ve got to admit I was a little skeptical when you called, but I can at least see that you’re really who you say you are. I’ve seen your picture in the paper before, with your parents. Now, I’m a busy guy and I don’t have much time. First of all, why did you call me? What do you know about these missing person cases?”
“I heard you were investigating them,” Max replied. “I thought you’d be interested in what I know.”
“And what do you know, exactly?” Carrington asked him, studying Max’s face intently.
Max took a sip from his drink then began telling Carrington about what he’d heard at the dinner party. He even included snippets of information that he’d learned in the future, such as details about Kovac’s experiments with psychics, in order to make the story all the more plausible. Carrington regarded him quizzically throughout. Max wasn’t entirely sure whether the detective believed him or merely felt that he was playing some kind of practical joke.
“And you say that it was Dr. Kovac and two military guys who were there with your father?” he said when Max had finished.
“Yes, and they mentioned some old navy warehouse.”
“I knew it,” said Carrington smacking the surface of the table with the palm of his hand. “That would explain so much.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I think I know which place they’ve been using,” replied Carrington. “I’ll go and check it out for myself.”
“Can I help?” said Max.
“This isn’t a game, David,” Carrington told him. “It’s not something for kids to get involved in.”
“I’m fourteen,” said Max.
“Look, David,” Carrington said, calmly, “I’m very grateful for the information. This is all very fascinating, but I have to admit I’m still skeptical. And I’m still not sure why you’d want to tell me all this, since your dad is part of the whole thing, as far as I can tell. If this becomes public knowledge, his political career will be ruined. He can kiss goodbye to a run for the White House.”
“I think he’s considering leaving politics anyway,” said Max.
“Really?” Carrington asked. “I didn’t see anything in the news.”
“It’s, er, private really,” Max lied, knowing that he couldn’t possibly explain Jonathan Dexter’s future career path without revealing his own true identity. “I know he and my mom have talked about it. They think the stress of a campaign will be too much and they want their privacy.”
“Well, I can understand that,” Carrington nodded.
“So could Jonathan’s,” Max began to say before correcting himself, “I mean, my dad’s name be kept out of all this, if it becomes public?”
“That might be tough,” confessed Carrington, “but then again, even if what you’re saying is true, it’s unlikely it will
ever
be made public. Ever since I started trying to make a connection to the missing person cases and some kind of secret operation, I’ve come up against roadblocks at the police department. Even if I expose this, the government may just throw Kovac to the wolves and let him take the blame. Your dad probably won’t be implicated at all. And if he’s leaving public life anyway, there isn’t too much to worry about.”
“So he won’t be involved?”
“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do what I can,” said Carrington, extinguishing his cigarette in the table’s ashtray as he stood up. “Now, you’d better run along home. Thanks for the information.”
“But I can help,” Max insisted as he followed Carrington outside to where the detective’s red pickup truck was parked.
“Like I told you,” said Carrington, as he opened the driver’s door, “thanks for the information but there isn’t anything else you can do.”
He patted his jacket pockets.
“Damn. I left my lighter and smokes in there. Just go home, David.”
Carrington turned away and went back into the restaurant, leaving Max standing on the sidewalk. Maybe he should just leave it up to Carrington and the police? After all, Carrington may now have more information that he would have done if Max hadn’t traveled back and talked to him. As far as Max knew, David and Carrington had never met at Mickey’s in the previous timeline, since once again, events had been changed. Perhaps he should just go home, although Max felt he almost had a duty to help expose Kovac and bring him to justice. Max noticed the blue plastic tarp in the back of the truck. Maybe he could help out after all, even if Carrington wasn’t exactly inviting him to tag along? Max went to the rear of the truck, climbed in and pulled the tarp over himself just before Carrington emerged from the restaurant.