Quantum Touch (Book 2): Sand Storm Read online

  Sand Storm

  Quantum Touch Book 2

  Michael R. Stern

  Copyright (C) 2018 Michael R. Stern

  Layout design and Copyright (C) 2018 by Creativia

  Published 2018 by Creativia

  Cover art by Cover Mint

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Sneak Peek

  A Last Request

  For Linda

  Acknowledgements

  Often thank you is enough to those who make a project like SAND STORM a reality. More often, thank you is not nearly enough.

  My deepest gratitude goes to my editor, teacher, wordsmith and idea-monger, Amy E. Davis of Riverfog Writers' Group for her patience and guidance as I grow as a writer. She is incomparable.

  To my daughter, Amanda, whose candor in critique produced a brand-new story, I hope the final product makes you proud.

  To my friend, Dr. Rick Mauriello, for his willingness to be battered with questions about medicine, I hope I got it right.

  To Jack Parry of Parry Design for his excellent cover design, I look forward to the next ones.

  To my readers, thank you for your support and encouragement. I hope I never let you down.

  I have an extra special thank you to a world of professionals who spend more time than we know, and more effort than we appreciate. Teachers are the heart of my story, and matter to us all, more than we know.

  Russ Fritz, thank you for that first trip into written imagination. Gil Ashley, thank you for making learning fun.

  And last and certainly not least, thank you to my wife, Linda, who has permitted me to forsake pretty much everything else to try to become a good writer.

  Chapter 1

  “YOU'RE TELLING ME the world is a dangerous place? Me?” The man's patrician arrogance stormed the phone. “You've continued to do what you want because the world remains a dangerous place.” Standing at his window, the Washington Monument as a backdrop, he scoffed at the little people below, scurrying from place to place. As if they were important. “We need to proceed carefully,” he said in a calmer tone. “Not knowing what they know, we can't allow what we know to make us careless.”

  The man sat down behind the mahogany desk in his elegantly decorated office. Photographs of himself with the power elite of a generation covered the walls. Gray-haired, immaculately attired in a Savile Row gray pinstripe, he kicked off his shoes. The calfskin loafers breathed while his toes caressed the plush carpet.

  He switched the phone to his other ear. “I don't care what it costs. The result will be worth it many times over. We need to mix in the Arabs, so try the Eledorians. They're already suspects. You know the rest. Get them ready. We'll know when the time is right.”

  * * *

  AT FOUR THIRTY, two black Suburbans pulled up in front of the Russell house. Fritz had been watching and walked outside to meet the president. More people than he had expected climbed from the cars. The First Lady had come along, as she had in the spring. The president introduced the others. Fritz said hello to Tom Andrews, head of the president's Secret Service detail and agent James Williams and then spotted Mel Zack, still in the driver's seat of the second Suburban.

  The president said, “Tom is taking the team to The Mill to get security set up for when we go to dinner. They'll be back later.” Overwhelmed in more than numbers alone, Fritz refused to let the intimidating company dictate whatever his decision needed to be.

  An attractive young woman with a mischievous look examined Ashley's car. “Nice ride,” said the president. “Ash's baby?” Fritz nodded.

  Fritz's wife, Linda, and his friend and fellow teacher, Ashley Gilbert, stepped out on the landing. Ashley stared, then coughed and cleared his throat when introduced to Dr. Jane Barclay from the Department of Homeland Security.

  “Uh oh,” Fritz whispered to Linda.

  “Yup,” she whispered back.

  Fritz invited his visitors into the family room. Late afternoon sun reflected off the flat screen TV on the wall. Ashley brought extra chairs from the dining room and claimed a seat where he would be able to keep an eye on Dr. Barclay. His place secure, he went to help Linda bring in the snacks.

  While the others found seats, Fritz and the president pulled two of the dining room chairs to the middle of the room, facing each other. “Fritz, I've brought some of the people who are most involved in protecting the country,” the president said. “They know what you did last spring. They also know about the portal. This meeting is top secret, of course.”

  Fritz nodded to each of the president's advisers. “What is it that you have in mind?”

  The president said, “You mean, what do I want?”

  “I was trying to be polite, but yeah, what do you want from me this time?”

  “Fritz, the Narians have completed their nuclear project. Forget what they say, it's a weapons program. I'm talking about an imminent nuclear threat, and they're in the starting gate. Israel is weighing its options. We're doing everything we can to hold the Israelis back, but I don't know for how much longer.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “We,” he swept his hand toward his advisers, “have discussed possible scenarios where your help might be, well, helpful. I know you're hesitant, but no one else can unlock travel across time and space. No one else can open the portal. I want to fill you in on our analysis and to talk with you about how much and what kinds of things you would be willing to do.”

  “Mr. President, as I told you last night, I'm a teacher. I love what I do, and I like working with the kids.” With an abrupt jolt, he absorbed a new reality: his boredom with teaching had evaporated. “If I can help, you know I will. But I still don't know all the things about the portal that might make a difference. We both know how it opens, but beyond that, I don't know what the consequences of using it might be. And we both know it can be dangerous.” He rubbed his cheek for effect, but the small scar from his quick visit into the past served as a reminder. His face and that billy club couldn't exist in the same space at the same time, even across eighty years.

  Linda spoke up. “Mr. President, I'm afraid that using the portal might have a negative impact on all of us. It's not that I don't want Fritz to help, but I don't want him in danger. Or changing history. Or the future.” She placed a hand on her growing belly.

  “Linda, that's why we came. We think it's important, but we still want your input, and we wanted to meet in a less intimidating place than the White House.”

  “Mr. President,” said Fritz. “Tell us what you think you'll need.”

  “We've been considering some of the world's hot spots. I'm sure you know that the situation in Eledoria is still unresolved. It's quiet right now, but…” Fritz nod
ded.

  The CIA director said, “Mr. Russell, we have people on the ground who have infiltrated Narian research centers and given us key locations. In addition to our not wanting the Narians to get the bomb, we are concerned that nuclear material will find its way to market. We need to stop them before it does. If the Israelis move soon, we may lose the ability to control this thing.”

  “In other words,” said the president, “we can't openly attack, and we don't want Israel to do it. That could mean warfare throughout the Middle East, or worse. No one will win that fight.”

  “So let me get this straight,” said Fritz. “You need the portal so you can blow up the Narian bomb program?”

  The secretary of defense said, “It's more than that. Before we can destroy the facilities, we need to extract computers and confiscate the research they've completed. We want the program crippled well into the future.”

  Fritz looked at the president. “At least you have something easy for me.” He sighed and looked at his wife.

  Linda asked, “Are you bringing any radioactive material into the school?”

  “No,” said the president. “There's far too much. We'll leave it. We want to incapacitate the facilities, make them toxic, unable to be rebuilt.”

  Fritz asked, “And you know exactly where? I assume it's underground.”

  “We hope we have all the locations.”

  “You want me to help you do all this. Are you nuts?” Around him, his visitors sounded like a chorus of straws at the bottom of a finished milkshake, shocked he would speak like that to the president. As he scanned their faces, he questioned if any of them had ever been asked to do anything as difficult.

  The president ignored the gasps, and rather than anger him, Fritz's comment amused him. “I've been called worse. Yes, Fritz, not only do I want your help, but I think we need it. And obviously we're going to need the school. There's an eight-and-a-half-hour time difference, so we should be able to accomplish everything while school is out.”

  “When are you thinking of doing this?” Linda asked.

  “Within the next couple of weeks. We don't have much of a window.”

  “So all I need to do is put the paperclips in place or take your already paper-clipped papers and open the door?”

  “That's it,” said the president. “If this works, I don't think I need to tell you how much trouble you will have prevented.”

  “And lives I can save. Yeah, I think I've heard that before,” said Fritz. “What else do you want me to do?”

  Dr. Barclay said, “If I may, Mr. President—Mr. Russell, there's nothing specific at this point. But you know what kinds of things might crop up. In addition to the nuclear issue, for example, we've detected an increase in internet noise. If we obtain actionable intelligence in places we can't easily reach, you could help us.”

  Fritz looked at Linda and then at Ashley. Ashley looked attentive, but Fritz had seen that look before. Ashley had a new woman on his radar. “It seems you've spent some time thinking about this, Mr. President.”

  “We have. Once you stumbled into my office, it didn't take long for any of us to understand where things might go. In the past few months, the portal has excited and scared me. I'm sure you know what I mean. Time travel, immediate access to the past and more valuable, the present, has created an opportunity. Fritz, I've hoped you'd accept this chance to do good. I made a pledge to make the world a safer place when I first took office. I may have nothing to do with it directly, and we can never say anything about how things get done, but who gets the credit doesn't matter if the result is a good one, does it?” A tight jaw and deepened crevices across his forehead replaced his calm demeanor. “This isn't about my legacy or politics. But it is about my family and yours. Lots of families.”

  “It's a good thing this isn't our first date. You sure ask a lot. Well, at least I get dinner.” Everyone laughed, yet Fritz's insides were doing jumping jacks.

  The president turned to Linda, whose scowl told him just how much she disliked the direction of the conversation. “Linda, I wouldn't ask if we didn't think we faced an emergency. All I need is for Fritz to open it and then stand back. I suppose George could end up being the biggest problem, but I will deal with that. We could commandeer the school, but that would be a tad too public. So I just have to sell him on the importance. I'm sure he will agree.”

  “Mr. President, pardon me, but who's George?” asked Dr. Barclay.

  Ashley responded quickly. “He's the principal at Riverboro High School. Our commander-in-chief.” His eyes twinkled.

  Fritz said, “He'll do it for some kind of quid pro quo. That's how George operates. So, have you got any other surprises?”

  “We've discussed a possible intervention in a hijacking or even a problem on the space station. We would have to be exact with the coordinates or the portal would open in thin air, literally. Or no air. But we don't need to talk about that now.” The president paused. “Fritz, none of this conversation matters unless you're willing to be part of the team.” Fritz sat up, tilted his head, and met the president's eyes. “Sorry,” said the president. “Sometimes I get too rah-rah . I know I don't need to do that with you. I'll save it for George.”

  Linda said, “And you only want him to open the portal?”

  “The only other thing we would ask is that Fritz works with the commanders or leaders of the projects so we can coordinate details. If the paperclips are in the wrong places, we could have a mess on our hands. And our guys have to know how to get out.”

  “So you need a dry run into a safe area first?” Linda asked, hoping they had thought of it.

  “If we use the portal, we'll be going into harm's way, no matter where. It has to be done right. But I'm not asking Fritz to go in. Just to help set it up.”

  “Mr. President, I think you know that you've made a compelling case. My concern is how the portal gets used, because we will be changing the future's history. So far, the portal reaches backward in time and to other places at the same moment as when I walk through the portal, but who knows what damage we would do to events, or people, fifty or a hundred years from now.”

  The president rested his chin on his left hand, brushed his lips with his index finger, and considered the serious man watching him. He had spent countless hours analyzing this concept. Does time travel change the future? Neither quick to answer nor glib in his chosen words, his answer would affect more than just his present audience. “I've thought about that too. But consider this. What if, instead of damage, we improve the lives, the possibilities for people fifty or a hundred years from now? For those children you teach, for your new child? We can't guess which will happen, bad or good.”

  Fritz listened with an ear tuned to politician-speak, processed the thoughtful answer, and glanced at Linda. Her almost imperceptible nod told him to keep going. “Mr. President, you mentioned guidelines last night. As you know, school began today. I haven't had a lot of time to think about this. I want to talk this over with Linda before I give you an answer. But you need to know that under no circumstances will I participate in activities that are obviously partisan or that are intended to kill people. I'll want a full briefing on any mission you want me to be involved in. And I am really worried about how many people will have to know. When we got involved, when you first came here, you said national security concerned you, not just the dangers to you and to me. The numbers are growing.” He waved both hands toward the other people in the room.

  “We came to address any questions or objections you might have,” said the president. “I expected you to speak to Linda privately, and I don't want you to make a decision right now if you feel pressured. But I do need to know soon. I've told you what our situation is. And it is important. You need to decide for yourselves if it's important enough.” He looked at Linda and back to Fritz. “About your guidelines, you haven't asked anything unreasonable. As far as other people being involved, the portal has the highest level of security clearance. You'd be st
unned at how seriously even the ambassador's children have been about keeping quiet. They tell their friends how cool the rescue helicopter ride was. Everyone will be sworn to secrecy. No written documents and no digital accounts of the portal's existence are permitted. I don't think there will be any leaks as long as we use it properly, but even if there are, who would believe it? It would just sound like a headline from the gutter press, or a science fiction magazine. You have a code name, by the way.”

  “Can you tell me what it is?”

  “Sure.” The president offered a gentle smile. “Friend.”

  “Thank you for respecting my position and our intelligence.” He glanced at Linda and Ashley. “I want my help to mean something more than an easy way to make war. I'm a teacher, I study history, and I've seen politics too often erase the good that government is supposed to do.” He met the president eye to eye. “I'll have an answer for you soon.”

  The president leaned forward, and Fritz could almost feel his brain signaling. “We both know the portal is important. We've had this conversation before. So, thanks. How about we go have dinner?”

  A RIVERBORO police cruiser stopped at the sight of the Suburbans and the group of agents milling around. The officer got out and opened his mouth wide when he recognized the man walking toward him. The president offered his hand. “Officer, this is a matter of security. You cannot mention this. If you need to report something, just say you checked and everything was fine. That way, it won't be necessary for us to be involved. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, sir. No problem, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps you might do one more thing for me.” The president didn't wait for a response. “We will load up now and proceed to a pub called The Mill. Are you familiar with it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you think you could lead us there, take the point? No siren, no lights?”

  “Sure, it's only about five minutes from here, Mr. President. No problem.”