Corrector (35 page)

“Promise me if you do so, you’ll contact me,” Carlson said.  She looked closely at Jake as he waited for his answer.

“I promise.  Too many lives are at risk here.  If I can do anything, I will.”  Jake knew that included trying to get the word out even if he couldn’t make the final jump to regain his own freedom.

Carlson leaned back and thought.  Finally she said.  “Okay.  Wait here.  I’ll be back.”

Fifteen minutes later, Carlson returned and personally escorted Jake around the facility. She had given Jake the codes to unlock the key doors, and showed Jake what he might need to evade discovery and get out of the facility.  After an hour, they returned to the room.

“Now it’s up to you,” Carlson said.  “If I come back here tomorrow to see you, I’ll know this is all bull.”

Carlson called for the guard to return Jake to his cell, but Jake could see no point in waiting.  He smiled at Carlson and back-tracked.

Jake rolled over on his cot and rubbed his temple. 
Holy Shit!
  There might be a chance to unravel this whole mess.  If only the jumps worked.  He looked at the calendar and did a quick calculation.  It was twenty-three days since he’d been arrested.  It was time to see if the piggy-backing would work.  He was a little concerned about making the jumps with a headache from the last one still pounding in his head, especially so soon after he’d regained his ability.  Unfortunately, this was a chance and he might not get another.  He lay back and relaxed, focusing on himself another five days back and back-tracked.

Jake grabbed his head and groaned.  What a headache.  Then he remembered.  Quickly he looked at the calendar.  He’d done it!  It was now eighteen days since his arrest.  He had a worse headache than he’d had after the first jump, but in truth it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the ones he’d had with a single ten-day back-track.  Now he was back to his supposed maximum.  The next attempt would tell him whether this was going to work or not.  He wasn’t back far enough to influence the event in Atlanta, and unless he could continue to string a series of jumps together, he was trapped.

He gave himself ten minutes for his head to settle.  He lay on the cot with his eyes closed.  He heard someone coming down the hall and decided he might as well try.  He focused another five days back and held his breath. 

Damn!
  His head was worse, but that must be a good sign.  Fearfully, he opened his eyes and focused on the calendar.  The “X’” he’d made stopped on the twelfth day.  He had done it!  It was now thirteen days since he’d been arrested.  The bomb went off the day before now, and he was fifteen days back from where he’d started.  It was a new record.  Could he do it again?  Even more important, could he do it twice more?  The last jump would be a nine day jump with a severe headache in place.  That jump would have to carry him all the way over the days where his ability didn’t work.  He could have tried for a closer jump, one into LAX, but that would be a ten day jump and he feared to take that extra day.  He would attempt it only if the situation demanded it.

He gave himself a full hour, then braced himself for the attempt.  He wasn’t really surprised when he opened his eyes, his head throbbing, and realized it was now eight days since his arrest.  He was done back-tracking unless he could get himself physically located to an appropriate spot.  Now he had to break out of jail.

Day eight had been important in his planning for a variety of reasons.  It was the first day he’d had his full ability back, and so was the only day where he’d be able to jump over the “outage” period.  It was also a day where little had happened.  He had one important event.  Just after lunch he was escorted from his cell to see his lawyer.  That was important.  There was no way he would be able to get out of his cell on his own, and trying to make a move when everyone was out for meals would be foolhardy.  His escape would have to occur when he was being escorted to or from the meeting with his lawyer.  He would have liked to make the attempt after seeing the lawyer, but his thinking suggested the guards might be slightly more wary of a prisoner after the meeting.  Going to see their lawyer, a prisoner would be anticipating something positive.  Returning, they might be upset, or have other reasons for being unruly.

Breakfast was over, so he could remain on his cot and try and let his head settle down.  What he wouldn’t give for a jar of aspirin.  Finally it was lunch.  He didn’t want to go, but that wasn’t an option.  He was escorted to the lunchroom, then back.  Thirty minutes later the guard came to get him for his meeting.  Jake did his best to look tired and bored.

He led the way, the guard following a couple of steps behind.  Jake had made the trip down the hall past the other cells and around the corner toward the meeting rooms.  Once they made the turn, Jake watched for the right time.  Then he stumbled.  The guard should have known better, but he was bored as well, and Jake had never been any trouble unlike some of the others here.  Automatically he hurried forward to help.  When he reached Jake and bent over, Jake drove three rigid fingers into the man’s throat.  The guard gagged and collapsed.  Jake stood and grabbed the man’s baton.  He clubbed him solidly in the head silencing him.  The guard was probably dead.  Jake quickly grabbed the man and dragged him over to the small utility room where he could hide the body.  Inside, he stripped off the man’s shirt and slipped it over his own coveralls.  It was too large, but it hid the orange from the waist up.  That would have to be enough.  He wasn’t going to be able to walk in the overly large pants.

Jake looked at the body.  He felt bad, and knew it wasn’t going to be the only casualty today.  He consoled himself with the knowledge that it wouldn’t last.  Whether he got away or not, he would be back-tracking and would undo the killings.  Still, it weighed on his conscience.  This time it wasn’t a killer.  This was simply a man doing his job.

There was nothing else Jake could use.  The man had no keys nor a gun.  It was simply the baton and the whistle and his ability to quickly summon help that he relied upon to maintain control.  Purposefully, Jake walked down the hallway toward the entrance Carlson had shown him.  He kept his face turned away from the guard in the glassed-in enclosure near the door.  The half height walls hid his orange coveralls from the waist down, and the fact he was able to use the daily code allowed him to open the door without alarming the guard inside.

Jake quickly stepped into the room and clubbed the guard inside before he could react.  Once again, the blow was solid and probably fatal.  Jake couldn’t afford to take any chances.  This man was armed, and in seconds Jake had stripped the man of his service weapon.  He checked to make sure a round was in the chamber of the familiar Glock.  There were also keys that Jake took just in case.  He didn’t know if he would need them.  Carlson had told him he wouldn’t, but what the hell.

This guard was more his size which was fortunate.  Jake could go no further without a change of clothes.  Quickly he stripped the man’s uniform and put it on, dumping the orange coveralls under the desk.  Finally, Jake pushed the body out of sight under the desk with the coveralls.  That wouldn’t work for very long, but there were no other options.  He couldn’t help but wonder if Carlson had known what would be required for him to get out.  Then he entered the door code and stepped out into the lobby beyond.

Dressed as a guard, no one paid him particular attention.  They might have had they been closer since he wasn’t someone they would recognize, but the few people he did see were engrossed in their own tasks and passed a goodly distance away.  Luck was with him.  He followed the path Carlson had told him to take.  It was entirely new to him.  This wasn’t the way they had come in when he was brought to the facility.  A couple of turns and a long hallway brought him to the parking structure.  Jake peered through the window and seeing no one outside, stepped out into the parking area.

The issue now was getting his hands on a car.  He could jumpstart a car if needed, although these days that was harder than it had once been. The problem was risking triggering a car alarm.  It would be better to encounter someone who had just parked.  He walked to the far side well away from the entrance to the facility and waited.  He didn’t have long, and he wasn’t going to get away without wheels.  Then a car came up the ramp and parked into the adjacent row.  Jake made his way quickly over to the car, slipping between a couple of parked vehicles to do so.  When the driver turned away from his door, Jake came face to face with Agent Laney.  The man took only a second to recognize him.  He was already reaching for his gun when Jake shot him. 

The shot was loud in this cavernous place, and here it would be recognized for what it was.   Jake pushed aside the body and climbed into the driver’s seat after taking the key ring from the hand of the dead agent.  Jake had hoped to quietly kidnap the driver of whatever car he appropriated.  There was no time to try and manhandle the body into the vehicle, so he simply drove away, heading down the ramp to the lower level.  Happily the garage was automated and the parking slip was in the cup on the console.  Jake ran it through the reader and the gate opened.  There was no payment required, which was fortunate as Jake had forgotten to grab the agent’s wallet.  This was a government facility and only required a card to get in and out.

Jake could see the freeway as he exited, and the green sign showed him the way to get onto it.  Moments later he was headed east on the 101 out of downtown Los Angeles. It wasn’t long before he was able to head south, as he sought the quickest way to get back to Laguna Beach.  He was halfway there when he noticed the first of the police cars on the freeway behind him.

They had discovered his escape and must have found the body of Agent Laney.  They would have been able to determine his car license and must have broadcast it to the police community.  They had been lucky to have found him so soon.  Jake still had a way to go before he was within range of his earlier self.  He stepped on the gas.  There was no point of being careful any longer.

As he sped up, the siren on the police car behind him was activated.  He ignored it and concentrated on the freeway signs.  Another three miles and he could turn off onto a smaller road that would take him toward the ocean.  Good and bad.  Here the police were probably a little concerned about collateral damage from the other freeway travelers.  Once he was off onto a less busy highway, they would be freer to act.  He had little choice.  He only knew one way to the town and he had to get close. Two more police cruisers joined the chase as they passed the next freeway on ramp.  He was probably on all of the news helicopters now.  Car chase!  How exciting!

At the last minute he cut across two lanes of traffic and took the off ramp at a far greater speed than was safe.  The maneuver didn’t faze the following patrol cars.  They were better trained for this than he was, and all three managed to follow behind him.  He roared through a traffic light almost hitting a car coming the other way.  The irate driver sounded his horn as Jake continued on.  The road narrowed somewhat, becoming two lanes each direction, with almost no traffic.  An occasional car came from the other direction.  The sirens were blaring behind him, and the two cars that were heading the same direction heard them coming and hurriedly pulled off to the side to get out of the way. 

Jake drove into a wooded area as he made a wide turn to the southeast.  He felt the car lurch as something slammed into the rear bumper.  The closest police car pulled back slightly after the contact.  Jake regained control and hit the accelerator.  He reached out with his aching head.  He thought he faintly detected something.  He was getting close.

He pressed on the gas pedal and momentarily gained a few hundred feet.  The police came on relentlessly.  There was no other traffic on the road as far as Jake could see.  This was their chance.  He braced himself for contact as he saw the powerful cruiser come speeding up behind him.  Another jolt to the side of his vehicle caused the car to shudder and waggle.  Jake could smell rubber.  They must have damaged something in the back. 

As he approached the underpass, they hit him again.  Jake felt the car lift slightly as he lost control.  He looked at the massive concrete side of the overpass fill his windshield.  Just before impact he made solid contact with himself and back-tracked.

Jake’s memories caught up with him as he was about to exit his rental car and start on his way down the alley toward Cheryl’s parent’s house in his attempt to expose her stepfather’s plan.  The sudden pain in his head was unlike anything he’d experienced before, and he sat back down with a groan as he grabbed at his head with both hands.  He couldn’t help himself, and he quickly opened the driver’s side door, leaned out and retched violently onto the pavement.  Finally the heaves stopped and he was able to sit upright again, wiping his mouth with his hand.  Carefully he reached for the water bottle and took a swig which he used to wash his mouth, then spit out.  He followed that with another small swallow.  Then he reached for the tin of aspirin he always carried and took five, chased down by a little more water.  He pressed the lever to recline the seat and sat back with his head resting on the headrest.  He wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

What a disaster!
  But he was back now.  He’d escaped.  The transition had been the worst he’d ever experienced, probably a combination of the extreme distance between the two instances of himself and the accumulation of multiple back-tracks over a short period added to a long jump of slightly over nine days.  He didn’t want to think how it would have been if he’d had to jump one day longer.  And what he had learned!  He could combine jumps and move back further than he’d ever imagined.  How far could he go if he really tried?  He wouldn’t be going any further today.  Another jump and his head would probably explode.  Oddly, he could only sense himself another three days back, then everything was sharply cutoff.  Too many jumps, or a side effect of the severe headache he wondered?

Jake let the memories settle into place while he lay with his throbbing head resting against the headrest waiting for the pills to take affect.  He had killed three innocents to make his escape.  They weren’t dead now, of course.  He was back before any of that happened, and he would make sure it didn’t.  Even so, he would carry the memories of those murders with him for the rest of his life.  Atlanta had to be his primary concern however.  He had promised Carlson, but more importantly he couldn’t let that many people be killed.  He knew he had to be finished with this current situation and get home and start preparing.

What to do?
  He couldn’t think clearly.  Even with the pain slowly subsiding, his mind felt like someone had taken a large spoon and stirred the contents.  He couldn’t imagine going home and telling Cheryl that he’d simply been unable to help her mother.  On the other hand, this was another of those situations that didn’t seem to want to work out, and he couldn’t afford to risk getting into another loop where he might be captured.  It was forty-five minutes before he was able to make a decision.

Groaning as he bent to climb out of the car, Jake then stood and made his way down the alley.  It was later than it had been the last time he’d come this way, but still early enough he didn’t think he’d be seen.  He retraced the steps and soon enough was back in place behind the stairs inside the house.  He sat on the chair and endured the throbbing in his skull.  His Browning Hi-Power was resting in his lap, and when he heard the movement up above signaling Cheryl’s stepfather was about to head down the stairs he reached down and wrapped his fingers around the wooden grip of the 9mm.  A couple of minutes later, Jake heard the clumping footsteps as the man came down the stairs. 

As soon as he reached the lower level, Jake stepped from behind the staircase where he’d been waiting and shot him four times in the back.  It wasn’t pretty, and there was no finesse to the shooting, but he wasn’t in any shape to worry about such things.  The shots were all good, and Jake had no doubts the man was dead.  He didn’t know if Karin would understand, but he would have to take whatever fallout came from his actions.  In his mind it was this way, or let Cheryl’s mom die.  Given the choice of one or the other, this seemed best. 

Jake didn’t worry about the brass that bounced around the hallway.  He knew the shots would alert Cheryl’s mom, and more than likely the nosey neighbor, although she might not be up yet as this time the shooting was somewhat earlier than before.  Jake slipped his jacket up to partly cover his head, and adjusted the ball cap with the same intent.  He’d always disliked hooded jackets but wished he’d had the foresight to have worn one today.  He slipped the pistol into his belt and quickly made his way out the back and into the alley, moving quickly toward his car.  He was driving away by the time Cheryl’s mom discovered the body, and had somehow eluded the notice of the neighbor.  No one else saw him leave either.

He headed back toward LAX, dumping the pieces of the handgun, his gloves, and the hat and jacket into a dumpster behind a small shop in a string of still closed stores along a stretch of a rundown street in Lakewood.  He jumped back onto the freeway and continued back to the Sheraton.  He used the quick checkout, then drove to the rental agency and dropped off the car, calling for a taxi to take him to the airfield.  Forty-five minutes later he was airborne and on his way back to Stead.  He hoped he hadn’t left much of a trail. He was too muddle-headed to be sure.  He was flying a plane with fuzzy vision and a mind that was running on slow.  Just the right combination where a keen eye and good coordination could make all the difference in a successful trip.

Somehow he made a reasonable landing at the airport, not one of his best, and turned the 182 over to the rental office without a scratch.  He paid up, reclaimed his Chevy, and drove slowly home.  Once there he showered, had something to eat, swallowed another five aspirin, and called Karin. He told her that he was back, it had been a disaster, but he would explain tomorrow.  He was going to bed.  Then he hung up and climbed between the sheets.

He woke around midnight to find a naked Karin spooning him.  She had come over and let herself in.  Obviously he had sounded horrible on the phone and she had been worried.

“Jake, are you all right?” she asked softly when she sensed he was awake.

The ache in his head had subsided to a dull throb.  He was clearly on the mend, but he still didn’t feel anywhere close to normal.

He rolled around and reached for her.  She came into his arms and he could feel her warmth along the length of his body.  He wished he felt well enough to take appropriate action, but that kind of activity would surely set his head off again.  Slowly, he told her the whole story.

“I killed him Karin,” he said softly as he finished the tale.  “I had no choice.  I was in no shape to try anything clever, and I can’t risk looping into that situation again.  It was that or let him kill Mrs. Green.”

Surprisingly, Karin didn’t object.  “I understand,” she said.  “We can tell Cheryl what happened when she gets home the day after tomorrow.  Maybe she can help her mother understand.”

“You’ll have to tell her,” Jake said.  “I’m going to have to go back East and chase down Carlson.”

“Do you think she’ll listen?”

“I got to her once.  I know her secret, which will get her attention.  I know when the blast will happen, and a rough idea of where.  Carlson gave me her office number and a private home number and told me her schedule.  That should be enough to get me started.”

“Are you sure you are in any shape to attempt this?  Can you continue to back-track over the same period time and time again?  Is it doing something to you?”

“I honestly don’t know. I wish I could wait a week or so, but there isn’t any time.  I’ll just have to try and minimize any back-tracking.  I think I might have come back as far as possible.”  Jake told her about the unexplained lack of ability to sense himself very far back after the series of jumps.

“Just don’t be stupid and take any unnecessary risks.  If you hadn’t gotten away I would have lost you forever.”

They drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, waking again after eight the next morning.  The pain was continuing to abate, but his head still felt stuffy.  Jake felt well enough they made love, then showered together.  Then they went out for brunch.  Karin took the day off, and they spent it together.  After a romantic dinner, they returned home, made love, and went to sleep again.  In the morning, Jake would be leaving.

Jake closed the safe.  He had two sets of identification once again. Today he was bringing his own papers, plus the ID for Stan Mathews.  That was the way he’d first introduce himself to Carlson.  That was who the woman was looking for.  Karin drove him to the airport, which worked out well.  He had to catch a Southwest flight to San Francisco where he’d pick up the American flight that would carry him to Washington D.C.  Karin would hang around for an hour until Zack and Cheryl arrived.

“Karin,” Jake said hesitantly after he’d checked in his bags.

She looked at him expectantly.

“Look, we don’t know how this is going to play out.  I’m going to have to reveal what I can do to Agent Carlson.  Who knows where that will lead?”

“We talked about that last night,” she said.

“Yeah, I know.  They might want to come after me for what I’ve done before.  We know they are looking for Mathews, which is me.  They have some idea what I’ve done, but not the real story.   Hopefully, I can make them understand.  If not, well . . .”  Jake shrugged.

“Jake, what are you trying to say?”

“If it all works out, I’d like you to think about something.  About us.  You don’t have to answer now.  It would be pointless anyway.  But I’d like you to think about something more permanent.”  He stopped, frustrated.

“Jake, is this some kind of proposal?”

“No.  Yes.  Sort of.  I want to do that right, but that’s where I’m headed.  Just think about it.  We’ll talk when this is all over, assuming I’m still free to wander around.”

Karin embraced him and gave him a meaningful kiss.  “Dummy,” she said.  “Come on, your plane is going to leave.  You’ll be stuck here for another couple of hours and miss the San Francisco connection.”

It was early evening when Jake arrived in Washington, and he went straight to his hotel.  He ordered room service, called Karin while he waited, then ate and then went to sleep.  Tomorrow would be a busy day.

Jake slept in, at least in terms of local time.  He had been tired, and was still on West Coast time, so it was almost ten AM Washington D.C. time when he finally rolled out from between the sheets.  It was too late for him to expect the breakfast buffet to still be available, but the Marriott Residence Inn where he was staying also had room service.  He placed an order for a large breakfast, ordering more than he knew he could eat, but the variety would allow him to pick and chose as whim struck him.  He showered and changed while he waited for the food to arrive.  He didn’t have a heavy schedule today, at least until tonight.  His primary purpose was to explore the city and make sure he placed himself in numerous locations widely spread against the chance he might need to back-track in the coming days.  He’d had enough being in a situation where he was physically too far removed for him to be able to use his ability to extract himself from situations that were not headed in the proper direction.

To that end he played tourist.  After leaving the room he went first downstairs to the business center and arranged for the single envelope to be delivered by registered carrier that day.  Then he retrieved his car and started his tour of the city.  He drove past the White House and visited the Capitol Building.  He also visited the museums and some of the monuments.  In addition he drove completely around the city on the beltway, stopping periodically, but never leaving the car.  He had a supply of aspirin in place, as well as a couple of Pepsi’s he’d purchased from the vending machine on his floor.  They would be warm by the end of the day, but taste wasn’t the reason he wanted them.  Jake also drove past the FBI Headquarters on Penn Avenue where he expected to spend much of the day tomorrow.  He found a place to park a couple of blocks away and walked around the outside of the facility.  By the time he had finished it was getting late, and he pointed his rental car to the west, heading out of town before the daily commute traffic became too great. 

Jake drove the twenty-one miles on the Dulles Toll Road, taking the Reston off ramp which placed him in the town where Special Agent Susan Carlson lived.  He’d marked her location on the map he carried with him, and when he passed a small mall he pulled into the parking lot to refresh his memory of the streets and locate exactly where he was at the moment.  Confident he could find it, he shifted the vehicle back into drive and enjoyed the drive through the small town, finally passing in front of the large brick house where the senior agent lived.  He passed without stopping, then drove back down the main street where he pulled into a chain restaurant he recognized. 

By the time he had finished dessert he was confident she would be home.  He returned to his car and once inside the vehicle he retrieved the cheap cellular phone and dialed her number from memory.  It took six rings before it was answered.

“Yes,” said the slightly breathy voice he remembered from their meeting in Los Angeles that now had never taken place. 

He noticed she didn’t identify herself, simply waiting after the single word question.