*In the future, far, far away from
Hawaii. Far away from Trevor and Marin, and far enough in the future that
they’re unaware of what is taking place*
To everyone, he was known only as
the boss, or the Major. He had no first name, he had no last. In fact no one
really knew what his name was, other than the Major. For the forty-five years
he’d been serving to where he was now, there was only one name he’d been known
by when he was promoted. The Major. His real name had been lost years ago, to
the point that he wouldn’t realize someone had said his name when he heard it.
No one knew it anymore, he was the Major.
That is, he was the Major to
everyone but a certain time traveler who had a bad habit of sticking his nose
where it didn’t belong. That man was the only one who knew his real name-and
what he’d done.
The Major sat at his desk and stared
at his laptop. Enter Password, the message flashed, awaiting his secret code to get into the database.
He
merely fixed his eyes on the screen, his mind wandering elsewhere. Where is that dratted Trevor? Why can’t I
smoke him out? The Major was used to having his way, he knew all the
tactics to track someone down and find them. That’s why he’d been promoted at
the young age of twenty-four, not two years since he’d joined the service. He
could find anyone anywhere, his sharp mind could think like any criminal or
lawbreaker. Trevor, on the other hand, was a different case. The Major couldn’t
tap into his pattern or his logic, he couldn’t get his mind wrapped around what
Trevor would do next. It was maddening, the search had been on for two weeks
and not a single clue had been turned up. Where
are you, Trevor? What am I not seeing?
If there was one thing he knew,
everyone leaves a trail. There is always a trail, no matter how cold or hard it
is, it exists. Unlike the rest of the threats he’d tracked down for his
country, Trevor’s trail was unique and well hidden. He knew it was there, he
just had to figure out how to find it.
Enter Password flashed again, jolting the Major out of his thoughts and
back to reality. He leaned forward and tapped in the requested piece of
information, then watched as the screen changed to the homepage of the division
he belonged to. His sharp eyes instantly caught the tiny button on the right
hand side of the screen, he had an email.
Without much enthusiasm he clicked
the icon and waited for the message to pop up. You maniac, how come you can hide from me? Why can’t I track you down? It
didn’t help that his quarry was a time traveler-that alone made him a shadow
that could pop up in any given time period. Still, you’d think there would be some documentation that would give him a
clue as to where he’d gone. Something.
The email loaded and the Major
scanned the page. Regarding your request
for more information on Project Thirty-six, we have turned up no new leads on
Mr. Trevor Trekker… trash. It was nothing. Nothing. Another dead lead .
“You trouble maker,” he growled
under his breath, closing his inbox. “You fiend. I’ll bet you don’t even know
I’m tracking you down, and yet you are able to perfectly conceal any trace of
you. How do you do it?”
He knew he wasn’t going to get any
response, he had to find the answers on his own. If his men couldn’t turn up a
lead it was time for him to get into the field. He had to find Trevor. He had to know where that time traveler was.
If
I was him where would I hide? He tried to reason. The Major had gone down
this track many times before and each time had ended up at the same simple
answer. Somewhere that hasn’t been
discovered.
“Doesn’t help much,” he muttered,
then stood up and sighed. He’d run through a list of aliases they believed
Trevor used. They’d checked on the story of Elizaveta Maklakov, but that didn’t
bring them anywhere as far as Trevor’s case went. Her documentation that the
Nazis had kept simply stated disappeared in
bold letters, blaming it on the resistance for getting her out of
Czechoslovakia.
There was a trail. There was a trail
that he couldn’t see and he had to find. If Trevor realized the information he
possessed…
His career would be over. He’d be
jailed for life, probably put on death row. The Major couldn’t allow that to
happen. It was the reason he’d worked so hard to convince the President Trevor
was a danger to the American people. Why he’d insisted that the Scottish time
trekker was meddling with historical events that could change the course of history,
alter the outcome of wars and the constitution. If Trevor let anyone know about
the information he’d obtained, it was goodbye Major and a good chunk of the
CIA. Which reminded him, his boss was waiting for his response. He stared at his desk phone and bit his lower lip. This was a call he didn't want to make.
He had more power and influence then
anyone could imagine, and he held that above the Major’s head. “If you get out
of line, Major,” he’d say, a cutlass in hand as he twirled the weapon around,
“you can be sure that some very important people will hear about the deed
you’ve done to Harriet.”
And of course that deed just happened to be in writing and in the
possession of the carefree Scotsman, who had no idea he even had the evidence. Stupid man, the Major growled as he sat back down in his seat, how do you do it? How can you lead such a
life where you’re so oblivious to everything around you and who might be
lurking in the shadows, just waiting to stab you in the back? In a way he
envied the man, he trusted that no one would harm him and if they tried he
could escape. A life of freedom. Freedom the Major would never know or
experience. His past wouldn’t allow it.
The Major picked up the phone and
punched a number in, then waited for the secretary to pick up. You could count
on her answering, the man never answered any phone calls on his own. It would
give the Major some time to think up what he was going to say.
“Ah, Major, I’ve been waiting for
your call.” The Major jolted and gulped down a yelp. Leave it to him to do the
unexpected.
“Yes, hello sir.”
“How is it there in D.C? I hear
you’ve had some good summer thunderstorms.”
Why
are we talking about the weather? Why doesn’t he get to the point? He
answered anyways. “Fine, sir. Yes, we’ve had a couple of electrical storms,
nothing to severe.”
“I do love a good thunderstorm, I
enjoyed them when I came stateside last August.”
“Yes sir, nothing beats them.”
“So, Major,” the tone of his boss
had an edge of superiority, like he was rubbing it in that he could control the
Major without having to outrank him. “How goes the search for the Scotsman time
traveler? I’m impressed the CIA hasn’t leaked anything out about it, you know
how eager the press would be to get a scoop on such a case.”
The threat did not fall on deaf
ears, the Major knew what he was implying to. “I have turned up no new leads,
sir,” he admitted. “Though I have been doing my best.”
There was a pause, then a slow
chuckle. “I know. You’re not one to take this job lightly, I’m sure you’ve been
turning up every stone and log you’ve come across in hopes of finding the man.
I’d hate to hear what would happen to you if Trekker were to expose your past.
I imagine it wouldn’t be very pretty.”
“No, sir.”
“Well I have news for you. I
happened across an interesting article that you might want to check out. Look
it up on the internet. Just type in Woody
Guthrie Grand Coulee Dam, you might find some historical documents that
would aid you in your search.”
 |
“I want you to find this time
traveler as much as you do, Major. Now that you have a lead, I expect you to find a way to lure Trekker into the future and nab him and that little girl
he’s adopted. But don’t harm them, no, don’t lay a finger on them.” He laughed
again, then continued, “Take what you want from the man when you find him, but
leave him to me. I’ve got a little surprise for our dear Scottish friend and
his Czech sidekick.”
Whatever his surprise was, the Major
knew it wouldn’t be pleasant.
Part three to come next month at the
end of June!
