Close Up the Sky (17 page)

It remained
unspoken, but the assassin had apparently been after him, not Williams. The
Marine was simply a bystander that needed to be eliminated for expediency. Someone
wanted Matt Leahy dead, and they had no compunction about killing anyone who
got in the way. The question was why? His sole reason for being here was to
find a missing person, not investigate the time agent murders or ferret out a
saboteur. Possibly, it was as Durant had theorized in their first meeting:
Edward held the key to everything. When, or if, he was located, they would
undoubtedly have the answer to the entire mystery. Maybe someone did not want
him found.

Leahy intended to
do everything in his power to find his brother and bring the case to a
conclusion, but in the meantime there were certain things that needed doing.

"What
hospital is Colonel Pope in?" he asked Durant.

"He was flown
to Albuquerque. The doctors here felt there wasn't enough time to get him to a
properly equipped military hospital."

"Taylor, can
you get Ryan on the telephone right now?"

"I guess so,
but why?" she asked.

"You trust
him, don't you?"

"You know I
do."

"There are
some things I want him to do for me. When you get him on the phone, I’ll talk
to him."

She looked at
Durant for approval. His authority would be needed for an outside call.

"What do you
have in mind, Matt?" Durant asked. "The telephones here are not
completely secure, so outside calls are not permitted without clearance. That’s
why you don’t see anyone with a cellphone. They are strictly prohibited.”

"Don't worry,
sir. What I'm going to say will seem innocuous enough to eavesdroppers."

Durant picked up a
phone from the lamp table beside his chair and dialed a number. When someone
answered on the other end he said, "Sergeant, this is Dr. Durant. Miss
Griffin will be making an outside call. She has my authority to do so. My
current code is D15A." He nodded to Taylor. She got up and went into the
bedroom to place the call.

"Who's
Colonel Pope's second in command?" Leahy asked Durant.

"That would
be Major Durham."

"When we're
finished here, I'd like you to make arrangements with him to provide
transportation to Albuquerque by helicopter."

Durant nodded his
acquiescence.

"Good. I want
the chopper to leave tonight." He turned to Williams. "Chuck, would
you personally deliver the sniper’s rifle and a message to Ryan Pierce at the
police department?”

Williams nodded. "No
problem."

Durant pursed his
lips and gave Leahy a questioning look. "I assume from your candor that
Captain Williams is now a part of your plans?"

"That's
right." He said it like someone in control.

"And how much
does he know about our situation here?" He was talking as though Williams
was not present.

"Everything."

"The Chronocom?"

"That, too. And
from now on I make the decisions about who can and can't talk to me,
okay?" To ease the impact on the old man he made it more of a question
than a demand.

"We’re trying
to ensure the safety of the project, Matt. You must understand that very few
people are cleared for what you've disclosed to Captain Williams. It could be
considered a very serious breach of security.”

"I understand
that, sir. But there's no time for an in-depth background investigation on
Chuck. He saved my life out there, and almost died himself. I thought he
deserved to know. Besides, I had another reason for telling him."

Durant looked
confused. "Yes?"

"He’s
volunteered to go with us when we leave on the mission."

The scientist took
out his pipe and began packing it from an old leather pouch. It was the first
time Leahy had seen him actually use tobacco. He looked tired, and his hands
continued to tremble. The flesh under his eyes was puffy and marked by dark
circles. He lit the pipe without comment and drew deeply on the tobacco.

"It's not
feasible, Matt," he finally said. "We don't have enough time for
language instruction. Besides, there are a dozen other things that have to be
done to prepare him for the mission."

"I've already
thought of that. Taylor can instruct him on enough basics to get by. As a
foreigner no one will expect him to speak fluently. Besides, he won't be much
worse off than I am in that regard."

Durant looked at
Williams. "And how do you feel about this, Captain?"

Williams shook his
head and smiled thinly. He appeared to be having a hard time comprehending the
events of the last few hours. "Even knowing what I do, I mean with the
sniper and all, if Matt wants me, I'm willing to give it my best." He
sounded confident.

"Durant
nodded and said, "You realize the dangers involved? Unless you achieve
success rather quickly there's a good chance we won't be able to bring you
back."

"Then we
better get moving," Williams responded.

Durant bit down on
the stem of his pipe. He gave the two men a penetrating look then let his gaze
drift toward the bedroom where Taylor was busy on the phone. He knew that these
young people were aware that the odds against their survival were tremendous,
yet they were willing to risk their lives in a desperate attempt to save
others. In his long life he had seen a multitude of strange and sometimes
phenomenal things, but the quality of self-sacrifice in Man never failed to
fascinate him. Though he had never voiced it, he had always wondered if that
particular part of the human spirit was where God resided. The thought made him
wish he could go with them. Looking at the three of them gave him a sudden pang
of guilt. He wanted with all his being to tell them the real reason why Edward
Leahy must be found, but there were things so titanic at stake that not even he
had the authority to reveal them.

"Chuck, isn't
it?" he asked Williams.

"Yes
sir."

"Well, Chuck,
I guess you've got yourself a job."

"There's one
other thing," Leahy said. "Edward's personal file made reference to
other documents that weren't in the folder. Taylor tells me those documents are
exploration files; trips he made into the past. I'd like to see them."

"Taylor
already mentioned it to me," Durant said. "You think there may be
some clue in the files?"

"Right now
I'm just looking for a common denominator. Did he ever mention something called
Babylon Station?"

Durant stiffened,
but maintained his composure. "I don't think so. What is it?"

"I don't
know, but it could be a starting place."

Taylor came back
into the room. "I have him on the phone, Matt," she said.

Leahy went into
the bedroom and held a brief conversation with Pierce. When he finished he came
back into the sitting room and took a piece of blank paper from a desk. He
wrote intently for a few minutes then sealed the paper in an envelope. He
scribbled his initials across the flap to ensure against tampering and handed
it to Williams.

"Put that
note and the rifle in Pierce's hand, Chuck."

"You got
it." He picked up the rifle from where Leahy had propped it against a wall
and started to the door. "I'll be at the launch pad in fifteen minutes,
Dr. Durant, if you’ll clear the chopper."

"And watch
yourself," Leahy said to him.

Williams flashed
them a toothy grin and disappeared into the night.

Durant used the
phone to arrange for the helicopter then walked over to the window. "Chuck
seems like a fine young man," he said, looking out. "I hope he's careful."

"He can take
care of himself," Leahy responded with a knowing smile.

"What do we
do now?" asked Taylor.

"What's our
scheduled departure time, sir?" he asked Durant.

"It's become
critical. Except for a few periodic tweaks to the computers, we've been keeping
the Chronocom shut down. The only problem is making the adjustments. While
that’s going on we have to keep the machine activated. That's when we're
completely vulnerable to one of the field agents using his return pager and
consuming a portion of the remaining power. By now, many of them know
something's wrong
;
they just don't know what. They're
probably trying to activate their pagers almost continuously. While the power
is on we have no way of stopping them from coming through. If you'll pardon the
pun, that's why time is so important. Our best estimate is that we can operate
the Chronocom three more times, four at the most, so we certainly don't need
any accidental activation.” He pulled on the pipe a couple of times. "The
computers have calculated the odds against someone activating the machine
during one of our adjustment periods, and they don’t look good. At the
projected rate of probability, you have to leave no later than thirty-six hours
from now. After that there may not be another opportunity."

Now he understood
Durant's warning to Williams about not coming back. If the remaining power of
the Chronocom was expended while they were searching for Edward, even if they
were successful in finding him, they could not return to the present.

"How do you
plan to coordinate our return if the power has to stay off all the time?"
he asked.

“By gambling,”
Durant responded. “We’ve worked out a time schedule that will have to be kept
at both ends of the time warp. At the exact same moment, once each twenty-four
hour period, we'll power up for exactly sixty seconds. We can't risk opening
the window any more often than that. You'll have to activate your pagers during
one of those time intervals. It will be up to you to keep your time coordinated
with ours. It takes about ten seconds for the Chronocom to send or receive. That
leaves a very narrow safety margin. If your timing gets out of sync by more
than fifty seconds we'll miss you. For that reason, we’ll use atomic clocks
already synchronized with each other. One of the clocks will be in your team
leader’s equipment issue."

Leahy considered
that for a moment then said, "I assume you've also set a time limit for
completing our mission."

Durant glanced at
Taylor then back to Leahy. It was apparent that he didn't like what he was
about to say. "Twenty days. At the end of that time we'll surmise that
you're either lost or dead. We'll then open the window for whoever can come
through until the power is exhausted.” He paused for a few seconds, and said,
“After that, we’ll close up the sky forever."

His last sentence
was almost a whisper. It had such an icy tone of finality that it created a
nervous knot in Leahy’s stomach. His entire career had been filled with
high-risk situations, but none had ever been so finely calculated as this one. The
incident with the sniper had not been his first encounter with death; he had
seen it before and knew it used many disguises. Now it wore a naked face and
was giving him advance warning of its approach. It was riding the shoulders of
time, and the end could be only twenty days away. But this time there were
other factors in play. This time more lives were at stake than just his own. Over
three hundred men and women were still in the field. If Durant was right, some
of them were already aware that they were trapped. They had no way of knowing
it, but their lives depended on the success or failure of the team he was about
to lead into the world of an ancient king. With great effort he forced the
enormous feeling of responsibility to the back of his mind and concentrated on
immediate issues.

"Can you make
Edward's files available first thing tomorrow?" he inquired of Durant.

"You mean
today, don't you? It's already tomorrow."

Leahy looked at
his watch and was surprised to see that it was after midnight. "I had no
idea it was so late. I guess time really does fly."

Neither Taylor nor
Durant responded to the attempted humor.

"I suggest we
all get some sleep," Durant said. He got up and stretched. "The next
thirty-six hours are apt to be very busy. Coming, Taylor?"

"I think I'll
stay awhile longer." Her answer was directed at Durant, but her gaze was
on Leahy. "If Matt doesn't mind," she added in a soft voice.

No answer was
required. It was obvious from the smile on his face that he did not mind at
all.

Durant cleared his
throat and said, "Well then. I'll see you two in my office later
today." He pulled the door shut behind him, leaving them alone. The night
air was cold and clear, and he turned the collar of his lab coat up for warmth.
He looked up at the sky as he walked. The Milky Way stretched across the
heavens in a ghostly parade of thickly massed stars. He knew that on the
clearest of nights the unaided eye could only resolve a few thousand of them,
but it always looked like millions. It was one of nature's most beautiful
visions. In the distance he heard the muffled sound of a helicopter as it
lifted off. He watched it rise into the night, invisible except for its red and
green navigation lights. The lights gained speed against the background of
stars and disappeared into the southeast, toward Albuquerque.

He stopped
momentarily and tapped out the ashes of his pipe against the heel of his shoe. A
light breeze came up and scattered the sparks in a miniature whirlwind across
the concrete walkway. He watched them until they vanished into nothingness. It
made him think of something Abraham Lincoln had once said when the country was
dividing itself just before the Civil War:
I
know the storm is coming.

"I understand
what you meant, Mr. President," he said to the night. "I know the
storm is coming, too."

I
n another part of Apache
Point, a storm that had been festering for hours was breaking. A powerful arm
hurled a delicate clay image of Pharaoh Tutankhamen against a wall, shattering
it to pieces. The anger behind the arm was not directed against the king, but
the events that had occurred in the desert a few hours earlier. The destroyer
of the priceless relic glared at the fragments scattered across the floor and
trembled with rage. He snapped his head back and rolled his eyes upward until
only the whites showed. The veins in his balled fists stood out like small blue
ropes, leaving the knuckles pale and bloodless. Sweat trickled from his face
and dripped onto his naked chest, but he did not feel it. He stood like a
statue, his rasping breath the only outward sign that he was alive. Inside his
skull a maelstrom of thought was taking place. His instincts had warned him not
to trust such an important assignment to a fool like Osterman. The filthy slime
had misled him into believing he was a professional, and then had failed in the
simplest of tasks. He could not even kill one unarmed man. His rage intensified
as he thought about the intricate maneuvering he had performed just to get the
assassin into the secured area of the facility. And all for nothing!