Prologue (59 page)

He never found Pamela. He feared that she had been taken into custody, but he resisted the temptation to contact the police or, for that matter, to remain long in
Dallas
. Pamela had money, was white, and knew when the return wormhole would open. The rest was up to her.

Ginter and Amanda left
Dallas
after packing and sanitizing Lewis’ apartment. He carefully wiped down every surface in his rooms at Cazzie’s, obliterating any fingerprints. By early evening, they were heading west in the Corvette, arriving in
Los Angeles
early Saturday morning. From a seedy hotel room in
Watts
on Sunday morning, they had watched Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald. As Amanda gasped, Ginter thought how lucky he was.

From there they traveled north, then east, backtracking occasionally, at times together and at times separately.

Since they were now moving without a pre-ordained plan, Ginter knew there was no way that Paul could contact them, if he were alive.

He watched as Paul and Amanda walked up to Natasha and the three began conversing. Ginter detected neither concern nor surprise in his friend’s demeanor. He noted with approval that underneath winter coats both deVere and Hutch appeared to be wearing the same clothes they had during their arrival in August. Together the three turned and walked to the tree line and Hutch and deVere bent and scraped away the earth. Ginter looked around one more time from his perch but still saw no sign of Pamela. He moved back from his blind and carefully picked his way down the stairwell.

In
New York
, Ginter and Amanda had arranged to meet again, although they stayed in separate hotels. They watched television, although in 1963, the flow of information was maddeningly slow.

They read newspapers, listened to the radio, and watched more television.

And they waited for December 8, and for any word from deVere.

If he’s still alive.
Ginter had used that phrase often, partly, he told himself, to jinx deVere’s death and partly, to prepare Hutch for what Ginter secretly feared might be the truth, that the unknown Russian agent had kidnaped and later killed deVere before proceeding back to his own wormhole.

At other times Ginter had feared that December 8 would be a trap, that the Russian knew the wormhole’s return path and would ambush them to prevent any re-return. And so, on this damp and raw morning Ginter had sat in the Weston Observatory surveying the park through binoculars, and trying to figure it all out.

No pro-Soviet agent from 2026 would have shot Kennedy. Ginter thought he had it pretty much figured out, but seeing Natasha with the pack put a face on the shooter.

Of course, he thought, as he exited the tower. He walked down to the three, keeping his own hands away from his clothing. Natasha studied him closely. The red pack lay on the ground beside her.

To his right was the small grove of sycamores into which he, Amanda, Paul, and Pamela had crawled. Although the weather hinted at the approaching
New England
winter, there were still birds in the trees. He thought he heard them singing. Then they stopped abruptly. Ginter turned to see Pamela emerge, alone, from the stand. She had apparently come back to the park by the same route as Ginter.

“Looks like everyone made it,” Ginter said.

Paul stepped toward his friend, his arm extended. “Lewis, there’s something you have to know about Natasha.”

Lewis waved him off. “I think I already know.”

“I left
Dallas
with her,” Paul continued. “She dropped me off in
Tulsa
and we agreed that it would be safer to get back here separately. I had no idea how to contact you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lewis said, still watching
Rhodes
as she approached.

“You made it out O.K.?” Ginter asked her.

Pamela nodded. “No thanks to you. I got out as fast as I could. I hid in a hotel for two days and then flew to
Boston
. I stayed there until yesterday, when I took the train up here.”

Pamela tugged her jacket tightly around herself and moved to Lewis’ right, directly across from Natasha.

“How’d you two meet up?” Ginter asked Amanda.

“We both checked back in to the Carpenter,” she said simply. “We saw each other there.”

Ginter snorted.
“So much for cloak and dagger.”

“Lewis, I have to tell you about Natasha,” Paul began again eagerly. “She came back through our wormhole ahead of us. She’s involved in Euro-Resistano. She was in
Dallas
and asked about Oswald. Her being there was just a coincidence.”

Ginter turned to the Russian. “I think I’d like to hear it from Natasha herself.”

She shrugged. “It’s as Dr.
deVere
says. My parents were killed in the Second Great War with
China
. One doesn’t easily forget spending her youth in a Soviet orphanage. I could tell you stories...” Her voice trailed off.

“But I won’t,” she finished with determination. “I have long been active in the resistance in
Europe
. And as I told Dr.
deVere
, your plan never would have worked. Kennedy had to be prevented from pulling out of
Southeast Asia
and your plan”-she indicated Ginter-”gave me the perfect option.”

Ginter nodded slowly. “I see,” he said and frowned. “But how did you get back to 1963?”

“I was in your lab weeks before the wormhole. I have my own Physics background, you know. And once I knew what you were up to, I had to go back and do what you couldn’t.”

“Tell me about
Dallas
,” Ginter said evenly.

“
Dallas
was simple. I had brought back a Dragunov SVD-S with a laser scope and set up the best shot.”

Ginter moved away from the group and stretched his back out to the left and then the right. The movement brought him directly to Natasha’s side so that the red pack lay between them on the ground.

“Nice choice,” he said. “I saw the older version in
Greece
.
Seven point six two millimeter.
Accuracy is what, less than two MOA at 600? Perfect, but how did you know about the Depository?” Ginter asked. “I mean, you being there with a Dragunov at the same time that we’re there with a Mannlicher. Bit of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

It was Paul’s turn to speak up. “She told me all about it,” he said. “It was the last chance before the 24th to stop Kennedy.”

“What I can’t figure out,” Ginter continued, ignoring his friend and looking straight at Natasha, “is how you would know where I was or what I would be doing on that Friday.
Unless, of course, you had prior information.”

“What do you mean?” Paul demanded.

“A Russian was snooping around the émigré community and mentioned Oswald being in
Cuba
,” Ginter said. “Oswald thought the Russian was an American spy. But an American agent wouldn’t have thought that Oswald was in
Cuba
. Only someone from the future who didn’t know that history had been changed would have thought that he was there.”

“Of course,” Paul said. “It was Natasha. She admits it.
You’re
the one who thought it was Collinson or Pomeroy.
You’re
the one who was wrong.”

“Yes,” Ginter said. “
Which is why I sent for you to come to
Dallas
.
I incorrectly assumed that the Russian was a man.”

Natasha slowly raised her eyebrows. “So what,” she shrugged, “if that were me? I’ve told Dr.
deVere
it was.”

“The so-what is that Paul and Amanda didn’t come to
Dallas
until the 19th, well after I had found out about the curious Russian. You didn’t end up in the Dallas Russian community by coincidence. Someone tipped you off that I was in
Dallas
doing something with a defector. I never clued Pamela in about the plan but you two”-he looked at Paul and Amanda-“knew that I was in
Dallas
running an op involving a defector from
Russia
. You may have assumed that I meant that the defector himself was Russian, not that he had once defected there. If that had been passed on to Natasha it would explain why she showed up in
Dallas
asking about Russian defectors before you two came down there.”

Paul deVere exploded. “Lewis, you don’t know what you’re talking about! I had nothing to do with Natasha and neither did Amanda. You’re, you’re paranoid!"

“Maybe, but I’m not wrong,” Ginter said.

Ginter turned to Natasha. “You have degrees from
Karl
Marx
University
.
Advanced degrees in Physics.
But you also have a history degree, don’t you?”

“And your point, Lewis?”
Paul demanded, crossing his arms.

Ginter turned to Amanda. “You’ve taught at many places around the world, including
Leipzig
. The only University in
Leipzig
is
Karl
Marx
University
.”

“Lewis, talk about guilt by association,” Paul sputtered, but Ginter detected a trace of doubt in his friend’s voice.

Ginter pressed on. “I have a friend in the postal service who told me a young, good looking CA agent sent a package priority confidential to a Vladimir Romanov at
Karl
Marx
University
. My friend didn’t open it, but he thought it important enough to tell me about it.”