The Traveler (24 page)

He placed a hand on the Russian's shoulder. The sleeve of his expensive coat was pulled back and the contracted killer looked down at the man's exposed arm.

“Let's hope we don't have to try this again.”

The Russian watched the dark-haired man of forty lower his hand and turn toward his chauffeured car, which waited in the back of the station.

The Russian was left wondering about the strange numerical tattoo on the man's forearm as he stepped into the old station's store area that had not seen a customer or worker in over eighteen months. His men were there and as he looked at the bespectacled Russian sitting at the small desk, the contract killer could see by the red flashing light on the boxlike detonator that the remote system was indeed operational.

*   *   *

The driver slowed his beating heart as he passed through the main gate with nothing more than a cursory wave from the oncoming shift of civilian security guards. He drove slowly, obeying the posted limit of five miles per hour as he watched the deserted and rain-swept road near the back of the navy yard. The pulsing of the windshield wipers lulled him as he pulled around the blind corner. He immediately saw the bright lights that had been installed around building 117. He looked around as he placed the van in park and then allowed the van to idle. He didn't wonder how the men who had hired him rigged the van, he just wanted out of it. He reached for the door handle and then he remembered to set the remote system on the dashboard. He took a breath and then flipped the small toggle switch. A small red light illuminated, indicating the arming of the system. Little did he know that it had also armed far more than the remote control. He pulled on the door handle—nothing.

“What?” he said as he felt the first stirring of fear down in the pit of his stomach.

He pulled on the handle again and the door still didn't open. He put his shoulder to it and still the door remained locked and closed. Suddenly he heard the gearshift move from park to drive and his eyes widened. He hurriedly reached out and hit the toggle switch again. The light remained brightly lit. He repeated the same action with the same result. He yelled an obscenity and then slapped at the small radar-looking device, sending it crashing to the floor. Still the van moved forward toward the first taped-off line where two agents of the FBI waited in the rain. He hurriedly tried to shut the key off. It turned but the engine didn't stop. He tried desperately to slam the gear lever into park but the van was moving so fast now that the transmission just clicked loudly as he sped onward.

The accelerator pedal magically went to the floor and the unsuspecting patsy was thrown back in the driver's seat as he realized the ruthless Russian mob had murdered him for their own ends.

The FBI van hurtled toward building 117 with over a thousand pounds of the hybrid mix that crystallizes conventional plastique to HMX, the most powerful military explosive in the world.

*   *   *

In a combat situation, Colonel Jack Collins was an unparalleled warrior as far as instinctual awareness was concerned—unparalleled with the exception of a man who not only was trained the same as Collins, but one who also had the instincts of a developed criminal mind—Colonel Henri Farbeaux.

Before the two FBI field agents jumped free of the path of the rampaging navy blue van, which the newly installed Krieg lighting illuminated clearly, Henri had his nine millimeter free of its shoulder holster and had fired six times before Jack had even reached for his weapon. Soon he added his and Mendenhall's firepower at the onrushing target.

The van careened wildly as if the driver had no control. The two agents had barely avoided being crushed as the van sped past their checkpoint and the wooden barriers that the FBI had installed. The wood shattered and the two men rolled free. Bullets slammed into the windshield as the van cleared the security checkpoint a hundred yards from the building. Henri had already expended a clip and had placed a new one into the Glock and continued his rapid fire at the oncoming threat.

Collins lowered his weapon to reload but before he did he could see the dark shape of the driver as he fought the wheel of the van. The man was wide-eyed and terrified as the van hurtled beyond the running FBI agents as they piled from their field vans and into the rain.

“Wheels!” Jack yelled and immediately Henri and Will adjusted their fire. They were satisfied to see the bullets striking the old and broken asphalt that lined the waterway. Rubber was starting to shred from the front right tire and sent the van careening to the right. It bounced off an old pier piling and then rebounded back into the roadway. The van rode on two wheels as the force of the turn threw the screaming driver to the floor of the van.

Finally the right front wheel sheared off the front axle and the van screamed past the three men after hitting the crumbling facade of building 117. Jack jumped free as Will and Henri kept firing into the glass and engine compartment of the FBI van just as it zoomed by. The engine compartment exploded in a gouge of flame as the van careened back away from the building. The van then hit a pier piling and jumped into the rainy night air. The van struck the water and immediately started to founder. The spew of water into the broken windows sent geysers into the air.

As FBI field agents started running forward as Jack was just standing after throwing himself onto the ground, when he was once again knocked off his feet and flipped over until he slammed into the redbrick of building 117. The detonation was so powerful that Farbeaux and Mendenhall were tossed from the stoop of the old building until they too were slammed into the old facade. The wall of water inundated the building, pier, and dry dock area of building 117. The wave hit Jack and he was washed away like he had been caught in a flash flood. The two FBI operation vans were caught in the artificial tsunami and slammed into the vacant building 115 where they were crushed underneath tons of water from the river. The running field agents were caught just as the wall of water slammed into the protective river-wall that lined the roadway. Parts of the old building started crumbling into the white water as the river started to calm.

The geyser that erupted from the water traveled seven hundred feet in height before the wall of water had started to expand, freeing itself from the cold waters of the East River. Collins was washed backward toward the still roiling river and when he thought he was being whisked into the water, hands grabbed him and pulled him to safety. Jack spat foul-tasting water from his mouth and then looked up and saw Will Mendenhall with a serious gash on his head, and the arm he had broken in Antarctica was hanging limp at his side. Henri was spitting blood as he made sure Jack was breathing and then he ran to help some of the field agents as they struggled to stand. The rain masked the sounds of men moaning in pain from the underwater concussion that had rent the air around the oldest section of the navy yard.

Will pulled Jack to his feet and he shook out some of the cobwebs.

“That was one hell of a punch,” Will said as he pulled Jack to higher ground as the waters receded back into the East River. His bad arm was now working again as the injury was only temporary in numbing his extremity. He rotated to make sure he didn't break it.

“What in the hell was packed into that damn thing?” Collins asked as he felt for the nine millimeter that was no longer there. He angrily pulled his sport coat free and tossed it onto the top step of the stoop. Then he heard the sirens. He took Will's arm and pushed him toward the door. “See if Jenks and the Traveler are okay. Then lock up and allow no one inside. We'll get the fire and police departments looking in the wrong place for now, but they're not stupid, they may believe that building was the intended target.”

“Right.” Will quickly entered the broken building.

Henri and the FBI agent-in-charge, Williamson, the Event Group operative, quickly formulated a plan just as the navy yard fire brigade showed up and were quickly followed by both the FDNY and NYPD. The place was starting to look like ground zero and that was attention Jack and his team had to avoid at all costs. They just didn't have the time for lengthy national security debates. Jack allowed the FBI to taint the trail and explain that a van filled with methamphetamine liquid exploded after trying to get by the FBI investigative team. The hard part would be getting Williamson's own field team to go along. Thus far the Event Group plan was in shambles. No second signal for the original doorway to lock on to, and now there was someone who wanted the Wellsian Doorway kept on a more private basis and was willing to kill fifty federal agents to do it.

Jack ran to the river and looked at the settling water and saw the bodyguard Julien as he stood wide-eyed in the rain where he thought he was unobserved. The other two were busily speaking beside him. They were animated as the larger man stared out at the spot the van had exploded. Then he saw Jack looking at him and before the colonel could move, Julien and his two companions turned away and vanished into the night. Jack turned and then headed for the heavily damaged building 117.

*   *   *

Jack found Will tending to a gash on Jenks's head as he avoided the smashed and shattered glass from the viewing gallery. Mendenhall nodded toward the Traveler, who was looking through the broken window frame at the water that had cascaded into the PIT from the river. The explosion had ripped a hole in the seawall that protected the navy yard from the raising and the lowering of tides. The base of the building had survived two hundred years of rot and decay only to be smashed by what amounted to an underwater depth charge that smashed the ancient wood and concrete pilings. Collins could see that Moira Mendelsohn was in shock as the water bubbled and rolled over the equipment it had taken her a lifetime to design and build.

Sparks momentarily flew from a bank of old computer panels and several of the old spools of magnetic tape blew free from their cabinets and splashed into the rising waters.

“I am sorry.”

Jack heard the words and he felt the woman maybe wasn't sorry for the loss of the doorway, but for the lost chance at helping them get their man back from the past. Even though she had informed them that the doorway needed that second signal to lock on to, she had not given up on the vast possibilities. She took a deep breath and it came out as a sigh.

“Ma'am, are you hurt?” the colonel asked as he leaned over for a look. He reached down and retrieved her blanket and spread it over her exposed legs. Jack's eyes locked on the numerical tattoo that had been brutally applied in greenish-blue ink. She saw him looking and she slowly pulled the shawl closer to her body. She nodded, indicating that she was all right. Her eyes went back to the rising waters covering her life's work. “You need to tell me who your enemies are.” Jack saw the stunned look on Jenks's face as he removed the cigar from his mouth and stopped Will from tending his cut as he strained to hear what the woman had to say.

“I have no more enemies, Colonel Collins. A woman my age actually becomes more secure the older she gets simply through the assault of time. Old age makes for an exceptional ally in avoiding enemies from the past.”

“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.”