Saboteur: A Novel (22 page)

Patterson seemed to go limp as Taro
walked away. He turned to Downy and looked him over. “Whatever are you wearing,
my boy?”

“It’s a--some kind of sheet I
think. Taro had me put it on.”

“I guess he’s planning to take you
tonight then.” Patterson poured the shot in front of him down his throat
violently. Then he grabbed the one Taro had left untouched and did the same.
“Let me look at those pupils for a moment.” Patterson lifted his chin and
looked to the left and right. Downy’s eyes were as wide as saucers, pools of
black. “Did he tell what it is you took?”

“Yeah, I’m on acid right?”

“Don’t get nervous, it’s an
absolutely distilled and pure form. Created in a lab and strictly controlled. You
won’t even have a hangover, so drink up.”

“Am I dead, Charlie? Are we both
dead?”

Patterson suddenly laughed warmly.

“Oh, no. Do you feel dead, Noah?”

He looked around the room. This
place doesn’t look the same. He looked down at the newspaper in front of him.
He could see half a headline in bold,

AMERCAN FORCES ENTER BERLIN: FURORS WHEREABOUTS…

“What the hell
is this some kind of movie set?”

“It’s good he gave you the pill.”

Downy looked bewildered waiting for
Patterson to speak.

“Our first incursion into the
timeline occurred October 29
^th
, 1998, two full years before anyone
expected it possible. It was a complete success, Noah. At first, we were just
sending inanimate objects through and bringing them back. Then we started
collecting things, rocks, pots and pans, some coins. Like taking a tiny fishing
net into the ocean and seeing what you catch. Then we realized we could send
people. It’s like a nightmare I can’t wake up from now.”

“What are you talking about,
Charlie?”

“You aren’t where you think you
are, Noah, not at all.”

“I don’t know where the fuck I am
or how I’m out of jail, or got put in for that matter. They said I killed Sam
Charlie, I would never--”

“Look at the date on that
newspaper,” he said pointing.

Downy picked it up. “Why did she
bring this? It’s old.”

“It’s today’s paper. It will take a
while for you to accept this but you’ve skipped from your timeline to a new
one, Noah. It’s helpful at first to think of it in those terms, like a skipping
record. The needle has landed in a new spot.”

“It’s the drug isn’t it? I’m
hallucinating, you said it was pure, you’re dead Charlie.”

“No, the drug is protecting you.
Without it you’d be unconscious, in fact. It helps your subconscious mind
adjust. The part of this of which I’m least proud is that I’ve let you down so
completely. I know you truly believed in my genius, as I once did, but I am
under no such illusions now.”

He put his hand to Patterson’s
shoulder as if to corroborate.

“You’re alive though and
that’s--what did you mean when you said you weren’t really--”

“It was the only way to save
everyone after we realized what was happening.”

“Who Charlie? What are you talking
about? What was happening?”

“All those things I found, Noah, those
beautiful things, the incredible luck of locating the place where Caesar
himself fell, I had help. I cheated to get it, all of it. It should have stayed
where it was, lost. The past is an utterly dangerous place. I brought back much
more than I ever realized. I fucked up so completely, so horribly, and now my
dearest Samara. What has he done to her?”

“You’re not making sense, Charlie.”

“I know what he’s capable of, we
all do. That’s why we’re trying to stop him.”

“Are you trying to convince me it’s
1944, Charlie?” he said holding up the paper.

“I won’t bother. You’ll accept
things as you go along. I want you to realize that Taro is doing this so he can
manipulate you, Noah. He is incredibly talented at manipulation. You need to
hear it from me at least, I certainly owe you the truth.”

“Please Charlie, tell me what’s
fucking happening?”

“It started this year, in 1944
actually--”

Chapter
XIII

Patterson pulled his spectacles up on his face and drew a
deep breath. “This year, 1944, a group working on aspects of nuclear fusion
discovered something which was then unimaginable. No one knows their identities
for sure; they’ve always existed with the greatest of secrecy. Some say they
first came together to protect the secret. Whatever their original intent, there
were already men of lesser conscience ready to use what they found. The
science, you see, insisted it was possible to jump from one spot in time and
appear somewhere else. Time could be adjusted just as easily as space. I’m no
physicist, Noah, but that’s the essence of it. They dared not give it a name at
that point mind you. It would take the work of another lesser known physicist
to put the cherry on top. In 1967, a young, ambitious grad student from Harvard
physics discovered the code for the MMI, the meta-matrix that governs our
positioning in the space-time field. He developed the POND. The name’s an
acronym. It’s called a Position-Optic Nano Dilator. Later they discovered they
could also use existing geologic data to guarantee safe travel. Water levels
were easy to measure going back tens of thousands of years. You can’t have
people suddenly popping up just anywhere. They used the data to determine where
the safest passage points could be placed in any time frame. It turns out
bodies of fresh water work best. Once that code was deciphered it was like
having a map of everything. Places, space, time itself. His name was Jacob,
Jacob Tannehill. At the time, even I refused to acknowledge that his actions
were dangerous. But none of us knew how far he’d already gone.”

“So you never died on the boat at
all with Nazim? How could you let us b— “

“It was a necessary evil, that
unfortunate accident, and one that has cost me everything, my very soul in
fact.”

“So Nazim was telling the truth? He
really does believe you’re still alive?”

Patterson’s eyes registered sudden
alarm. “What do you mean?”

“He must think I’m dead.”

“No Charlie, I spoke with him and
he claims to have seen you only weeks ago.”

“Christ in heaven what has the fool
done? It’s moved again, Jesus.”

“Did he see you, Charlie?”

“Whoever he saw that man is likely
dead now or the Vestals have him. Noah, I must ask, have you been noticing
anything strange, small changes in the things around you?” Patterson’s eyes
watered over as he yelled for the waitress to bring two more drinks, “Mak’em
doubles.”

“I don’t know, nothing really.”

Patterson looked scattered,
confused.

“But now you’re here, which means
you must return at once, Noah. This place is hell itself. I live here in exile.
I am forbidden any future as well. I’m watched at every turn.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, the Vestals will come very
soon. Taro knows there’s little time. But what he’s offering you, you mustn’t
believe whatever he says.”

“Who are the Vestals?”

“They’re purists, very ancient,
maybe their zealots I don’t know, but they monitor the MMI. They’ll never let
Taro escape. They won’t let any of us escape. They believe in the absolute
purity of the line.”

Downy leaned over the balcony and
could see Taro in a crowd of women toasting and laughing.

“Who the hell is he?”

“I wish there were a simple answer.
I only know who he used to be. Now he is the man who would undo everything.
He’s taken a horrible risk bringing you here. That name Taro is an interesting
appellation. You should look it up.”

“He said he could help me find out
who killed Samara, Charlie. Is he lying?”

“It’s me he blames, that’s what
this little meeting is all about.”

“What?”

“He would say I am the cause of her
death. Please tell me she didn’t suffer, Noah,” he said as tears raced from the
corners of his spectacles.

“I don’t think so…I…”

“He’s a cold butcher, Taro, when he
needs to be. I know it.”

He saw the waitress approaching
with their drinks and noticed for the first time her stockings. They reminded
him of the old Betty Page pin-ups. The wood of the tables was untarnished and
the collection of graffiti that had accumulated over the years was missing.
Could it be true? Was he really sitting having a drink with his dead best
friend in the past? He felt dizzy, mad.

“Tannehill had been using the Pond
for years already when he made his big announcement. Restraint was never
Jacob’s strong suit, I’m afraid. I didn’t question his help finding all those
beautiful things either. He led me to what he wanted me to find and then acted as
if it had all been my idea. I was a fool. I am a fool.”

“All right boys, here’s four girls
in two glasses. I’ll be keeping my eye on you two,” she said with a wink.

“Thanks,” Patterson said demurely.

“Tell you what. Your pal down there
sure is making friends with his deep pockets. He’s good for it, yeah?”

“Oh yes,” Patterson said with a
tone of half disgust. “Money is no object with him.”

“Thank God. You know sometimes
people get all liquored up and make promises.”

“Can I ask a rude question?” Downy
suddenly blurted out.

“Sure, hun. Go ahead.”

“What year were you born?”

“Ah you had me scared, that’s not
so rude, 1916, hun. Well, am I too old or too young?” the girl said laughing.

“Neither,” he said smiling
awkwardly.

“Ok, let me know if ya need
anything else.”

She was being polite, but he could
sense she knew something was amiss with their little party. She looked back
over her shoulder at the top of the stairs. Downy inexplicably flashed back to
his first time using pot in high school. The realization of how much acting
people do just to keep the ball moving in life. How scripted life becomes, how
scripted it is. It had made him sad then, but it had also filled him with a
kind of empathy. People tried hard even when they didn’t believe.

He looked down to the balcony again and there was Taro,
who’d been staring at him for some time unnoticed. He raised his glass in
Downy’s direction and then handed the drink to a beautiful, young girl who was
now on his arm. Taro leaned into her ear whispering, before she turned and blew
a kiss in his direction.

“Watch out for the fucker, Noah.
He’s imminently dangerous and a wanted man.”

“What are you doing in 1944,
Charlie?” he said almost falling over with drunken laughter. The scotch was
going straight to his head now and he felt faint again.

“We must never see one another
again, Noah. I’m so sorry my friend, but that is the way it must be.”

“Go back to prison and fight for
your life in court. You are innocent of course. Stay where you are. Samara
is--is lost, but you can still live.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I killed myself a long time ago.”

“What did you do?”

“We stole fire from the gods and
now they are very angry with us.”

“I’m too high for this, Charlie.
Please, just explain--”

“We started jumping around in the timeline,
thinking it was no harm. But we got caught and now we have to stay where we are
or risk destroying everything and everybody. The Vestals will catch him soon
and if you’re caught with him you’ll be killed too, or worse. He wants to tell
you his side of things, to tell his side of the story to the world. Let him.
But trust him on nothing else.”

Taro appeared suddenly next to
them. “Gentlemen, I think our time for revelry has ended. You must say your
goodbyes. With any luck though, all of us should see each other in the near
future. Come Noah, there is, I believe, a fire escape in the back. We need to
disappear, you and I. This bar is filling up with the wrong kind of people.”

Patterson lurched to grab for
Downy, but Taro stepped in grabbing his collar, brandishing a blade to his
neck. “Sit down my friend. This is no place for your wretched violence.”

Taro put the blade back inside his
jacket. He smiled. “I abhor violence, I really do and always have. Some men
will have it no other way though.”

“Turn yourself in, Taro.” Patterson
said.

“Oh bloody hell, lighten up,
Charles. You know how I crave a quick, noble death. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Let’s do it now and all can be well.”

“I won’t help you.”

“I know that’s why I have chosen
him, your star pupil.
He
can be
reasoned with; I’ll bet on it.”

Taro pulled Downy close to him as
he nearly stumbled again to the floor. He could hear Billie Holiday still
crowing on the jukebox:

What
do I care if it may stahhhm?

I
got my love to keep me warm.

I’ve
got my love to keep me warm.

He had always loved the way she said the word storm, as if
it were pronounced with a soft ‘ahh’ sound instead.

“I’m dreaming aren’t I? This is the
weirdest dream,” he said tottering in front of the two of them.

Taro pointed to the fire escape and
simply led him down the passage like they were two old pals off together again.
He tried to turn to see Charlie, but his chair was turned over and empty. He
had vanished.

“The good news is we don’t even
have to climb down,” and with that he gave him a push through the open window.

 
Downy opened his mouth to scream, but the
wind caught in his throat and he just floated silently into the black.

Chapter XIV

The man in the cell wouldn’t stop repeating the word. Maybe
he was trying to remember something important. His pronunciation was off of
course, but it seemed everyone in the dungeon was from parts unknown.
Priest. Flamen
. Was he a priest?
 
The repetition was starting to drive him
crazy. He shouted suddenly to the man.

“Shut up!”

The echo carried far off in the
chamber, but then there was laughter, a woman’s laughter. It sounded like a
taunt. He wondered about the fate of the prisoner they had taken away. Then he
heard a movement in the corner. There was someone sitting near him, just
outside the bars of his cell. He heard the man’s boots grind against the dirt,
but could not see his face.

“I will release you very soon.”

“Will you?”

“Yes, I will. What if I told you
you were free? You were just dreaming about running away only a few days ago,
no?”

“How do you know that?”

“I know you better than most.”

“And yet your face is always
hidden. Perhaps you’re a god then, who reads men’s thoughts?”

“Maybe I am!”

The man suddenly leapt up, becoming
furious, clamoring at the bars of his cell. He spat at the cloaked stranger,
“What are the terms of my release then? What do you want from me?”

“No terms, you’re just free to go
and to do whatever you want.”

“I
was
fantasizing about starting over, but I’m--I’m too weary--I
won’t run either,” he said collapsing against the bars of the cell.

“Weary is but a passing state for a
man like you. New fascinations will appear. I have a feeling you’ll soon be in
charge of some army wherever I put you.” The cloaked man seemed genuinely
amused by the thought.

“Do you not think you have
forfeited your own life by taking me in the first place? You must know who I
am.”

“Life goes on without you believe
it or not. Not everyone was sorry to see you go either.”

“Yes, but I’m being searched for as
we speak. There is none to replace me.”

“Gratefully the people will not
have to suffer long your absence.”

“Must we talk only in riddles?”

“No. Let’s be clear, when you leave
here you will find yourself in a strange land. But it won’t be wholly
unrecognizable, and you may start a brand new life, my friend. Live as you see
fit. Write perhaps. You know the burdens of power, of war. I’d avoid them this
time, if it were me.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Protection. My plans are nearing
fruition. We shall not meet again.”

“Who are the others, the
prisoners?”

“They’re refugees like you. I am
trying to save them as well.”

“The girl in the cell next to me?
She was nearly strangled to death. Is that how you save people?”

“Some that I work with are
barbarous in their methods, but she is safe now. She spoke to you then?”

“Yes, some.”

“I knew her in another place. She
is an amazing girl, in fact--a near cipher for our tongue, which is dead to
her.” The man rose, pulling his cloak further over his face.

“You killed my nephew. Why, he was
harmless?”

“So you say. I’d love to see what
you do in your new life in any case. I really do love you, my friend.” The
cloaked man reached through the bars clutching at his hand, squeezing tightly, but
ignored his question. “Be safe and live happily. You have earned it.”

He stood frozen with his hands
against the bars. The man’s voice was perplexingly familiar. He turned
suddenly, disappearing up the stairs into the darkness.

He sat down again to the cold floor thinking of what it all
meant. Why would someone kidnap him only to let him go? Why had they killed his
nephew? Objectively, it suggested there was a conspiracy of some sort; but why
would saving him, but killing the boy make sense unless his nephew was somehow
involved? The boy wouldn’t dare. It made no sense whatsoever, especially since
he knew his place in the will was secure. He had free access to all of his
power anyway, money, influence without any of the burdens. The boy was too
smart to take such a foolish risk, or throw away what he already had.

Maybe the goal was to remove him from the city permanently.
He thought of the old stories of Romulus, the founder of Rome, a boy who’d
become king by slaying his own brother Remus. Romulus himself had been lured
outside the city by those closest to him, who feared his kingly powers, and
then been assassinated. The myth of course claimed he’d ascended to the heavens
and become a god in their presence. Poetic murder. Was this the same? Was he to
be lured away then killed like the kings of old? He found the idea of simply
being freed unlikely, and yet there had been a great deal of attention to
secrecy. He’d seen no one’s face that he could recall. He’d had strange dreams
of course, in the darkness--the mirror, being chased by his own reflection. The
girl had said they were being drugged. It was probably in the food or the wine.
How long had he really been down in the darkness?

He heard the man’s whispering begin
again, but this time there was a new word, put with the first and repeated over
and over. “Danni Flamen Danni Flamen Danni Flamen.”