Jeremy Robinson - The Didymus Contingency

“How the hell do you know all that?” Sally said, as she stood up.

Spencer flashed his teeth with a confident smile, “You hired me, Sally. You know how smart I am.”

Sally smirked. Spencer was right. He was smart, but he knew entirely too much. “What do you know about David?”

Spencer adjusted his glasses and only made a halfhearted attempt to hide his proud smile. “I saw him.”

“When?” Sally asked.

“Before Tom or David ever went back.”

“So did I. Everyone did.”

“Correction. The David I saw had come back from the past, dressed in clothing appropriate to the early A.D. period in ancient Israel,” Spencer explained. “A closer inspection of the receiving area’s inventory reveals that there was, in fact, one item missing, and the second time signature was no glitch in time space, no random effect created by time travel…”

“It was David…” Sally said.

“Precisely. David gave me instructions to follow-which I did perfectly, I might add-and that included locating you if he and Tom should not return to within an hour of their departure time. I deduced the logical choice of action would be to send someone else back in time, but upon seeing the beefy Captain Roberts slip into the time stream, I knew it was only a matter of time before you took action yourself.”

Sally was growing tired of Spencer’s lengthy explanations. “All wonderful, Spencer, but get to the point.”

Spencer remembered who he was talking to and straightened up. “I’m here to help you, Director McField.”

What good could a skinny little scientist do Sally now? This wasn’t a time for brain storming, hypothesizing or arguing the fate of the universe. She needed action. “Spencer, can you buy me some time?”

“Time is our specialty, Director McField,” Spencer said proudly. “Time is our new best friend.”

Sally went into detail quickly about Captain Roberts’s mission and how he planned to carry it out. She told him about the robot insects with the poison that could kill a man and make it look like an allergic reaction. She told him everything. If David trusted Spencer, she could too.

“What time to you plan to travel to?” Spencer asked.

“Same time as Roberts, but far enough away so that he doesn’t see me.”

Sally threw a robe over her ninja outfit and sneakers. She knew the sneakers might be seen, but she also knew she might have to do some running, and not wearing sandals would give her an advantage. She disguised her watch with some twine as best she could and threw a covering over her head and face. She was pale as a ghost and didn’t want stick out more then she already would. “Can you keep things busy here for a while? Create a temporal emergency or something? Give me some extra time?”

“Can do,” Spencer said with a thumbs-up. “You don’t have to worry about a thing here. We’ve got everything under control.”

Sally thought Spencer’s speech was strange. He had referred to himself in the plural three times now. But he was probably just nervous and there was no time to have a personal conversation.

“Thanks,” Sally said. “You’re a good man.”

After tapping a series of buttons on her watch, Sally said, “Better stand clear.”

Spencer walked to the edge of the room and watched as Sally disappeared into time with a bright flash and a boom. This had been easier than he thought it would be. When the idea to turn the recent events to his advantage had entered his mind, as though from divine inspiration, he wasn’t sure it would work. But Sally had played right into his hands and his recent alliances would make sure he moved up the ladder quickly.

Spencer pulled a cell phone from his back pocket, flipped it open and dialed two numbers. “Director Dwight? Yes, it’s Spencer. Director McField just went back… Yes, sir…same time as Captain Roberts… Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Yes, sir!”

Spencer was all smiles as he hung up the phone. Just like that, he had secured David’s position as lead scientist of the time travel unit. He was moving up in the world! Spencer giggled to himself and headed out the door for Receiving Area Alpha, eager to begin studying his priceless artifacts from the future.

Spencer was feeling too good to notice the voices of congratulations within his mind were not his own. “Good job! You’re so great! But we still have more to do. Yes. Much more work for us to do. Yes! Yes. The future awaits us.”

As Spencer left the room, two shadows followed him. After rounding the corner, the second shadow detached and moved down the hallway, toward Director Dwight’s meeting room.

Director George Dwight and Jake Parrish sat across from each other on plush leather chairs. The room was small and lit only from above. It was the kind of room perfect for a meeting such as this. Soundproof walls. No windows. No vents. No doors.

“Things haven’t gone exactly to plan, sir, but I think we have things under control now,” Jake said.

“How’s the throat?” George asked.

Jake rubbed his throat. It hurt like hell. “That woman can throw a punch.”

“And she’s as smart as she is strong, so don’t go assuming she’s out of the game just yet,” George said.

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s the status on our little friends?”

“Prepped and ready to go. We know where and when Sally and Roberts are, and with the onboard facial recognition software, the other two shouldn’t be too much more difficult to track down.”

“Has the poison been altered?”

“Of course, sir. The poison acts the same, but its kill time has been accelerated to a half hour. Sally will have little time to find them and administer the antidote. Of course, by then, it will be too late for all of them.”

“Excellent. What a regrettable mess this is. It’s a PR nightmare, really.”

“Spencer and a team are prepping to retrieve the bodies even as we speak. I think a helicopter crash would be a fitting way to dispose of the bodies.”

George leaned back with a smile. “You’re trying to make director.”

Jake smiled. “I believe we have an opening.”

“Get this done for me… Consider the position filled.”

Jake stood to his feet and headed for an empty wall. “Better have my door etched. This won’t take long.”

The wall whooshed open in front of Jake. He exited the bare room and turned to the right, his pace quickening with every step. The door closed silently behind him, leaving him alone in the cool hallway. George was a blind fool. Jake was far more than an assistant. He ran this company. He was in charge. As soon as he finished cleaning up George’s mess, he would apply himself to usurping his boss and taking this company to places of power never before dreamed of.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Jake asked himself aloud.

“We think so.” Jake answered.

“So do we!”

“Yes!”

“This is so fun!”

Tom laughed loudly at Matthew’s impression of a Pharisee. It was uncanny. Jesus and the twelve had been dining together in a room they had rented for the night. Rarely did they eat a meal so good that wasn’t given to them for free. This meal was different, it was bought and paid for and the men and women who served them were not being charitable. They were being paid. This wasn’t just another meal. It was formal, as formal as a meal could be when you’re all lying around a table, digging into the same piles of food with shards of ancient Pita bread.

How the meal had begun was even stranger. Jesus had washed all their feet. Tom had grown used to having his feet washed by servants; it was customary here in the past where everyone wore sandals and ate while reclining, placing their dusty feet precariously close to the food. But Tom had never had his feet washed by another disciple, let alone Jesus. He was amazed at how humbling an experience it was.