John Schettler - Touchstone

“Buried it?” Nordhausen looked at Maeve, as if she had something to do with the events LeGrand was describing.

“That is what you did—in the previous Meridian—the original time line we now call the Prime Meridian. Mr. Ramer died that night and the grief was too heavy on the three of you to continue the project. It was buried, along with your friend’s body, and the whole matter was laid to rest. Then you all went about the business of trying to survive the horrors that followed. I will not speak any further of that…” His voice trailed off, his eyes now devoid of the mirthful light that had animated them before. LeGrand leaned in, speaking in a near whisper as he continued.

“So it was all found in a graveyard, buried for centuries, and Graves has borne that name with us ever since. He argued that we should attempt the project. We used all your research, and built an Arch with the last of our resources. It was very dangerous for us, you understand. The world bore little resemblance to the days of Western dominance and the reign of Democracy. Sharia was the order of the day. Islam ruled the earth with an iron fist of Koranic discipline. Christianity was all but eradicated. A few of us banded together, in secret, a hidden order struggling to survive in a world where the crucifix was deemed a blasphemy and a certain death mark for any who carried one.”

“Amazing,” said Nordhausen.

“Truly. But Mr. Graves was our own reincarnation of the savior, if I may speak metaphorically. He tested the Arch and found it would work. He created the Order in which we all now serve, and it was his research and determination that set us on a crusade to reverse Palma. It took us years to isolate the vectors and define a plan. The whole project was nearly uncovered three times by the Islamic Fedayeen, but, by some miracle, we preserved our cover. It was Palma… that was the key. But we could not get through the shadow that event cast upon the Prime Meridian. Then Graves had his second epiphany. There was a fully functioning Arch in place before Palma. We did not have to go back through the Shadow to a time well before to the target date to try and alter the event. If we could just reach the Arch in Berkeley, on the night of your final briefing, then we could take action from there, or at least enlist your support. The shadow was not yet formed. It offered us our only prospect for success.”

“Well,” said Nordhausen, “we were certainly happy to be of service but, quite frankly, I can’t think of a single thing we did on that mission to change the course of events. Paul will say the same.”

“Oh really?” LeGrand raised his eyebrows. “Here I was hoping you could enlighten me a bit on that question.”

“Sorry,” said Nordhausen. “We were just stumbling about, trying to find our way through the desert. The whole matter was nothing more than a fit of chance, I suppose. We never even laid eyes on this man we were looking for.” He looked at Maeve, the name escaping him.

“Masaui,” she offered.

“Yes,” said Robert. “Perhaps you could answer one other thing for me, Doctor: What was it that was so special about that man?”

“Masaui?” LeGrand tilted his head to one side, thinking. “Well, nothing, really. He was just a simple farmer and herder of sheep, from a humdrum village in the middle of Turkish occupied nowhere. But you see, that’s exactly the sort you have to look out for. He was the seed of our disaster, to be sure. Oh, it wasn’t Masaui, but his daughter Ada. She was the real problem. If Masaui lived out that train ride, then he goes on to have a daughter, Ada, born some years after the war, in 1922. She was a particularly fetching lady, it seems, and caught the eye of an Arab Emir, one Abu Abas al Sabar. They married in 1942, right in the middle of the second great war, and they had a daughter instead of a son. Now the grand terrorist, Ra’id Husan al Din, was supposed to be born of this Emir but, after the outcome at Minifir was altered, he never comes into being. In the Prime Meridian, time line that led to Palma, the Emir married… someone else. That was the marriage that gave birth to the terrorist, but it was prevented by the beauty and simplicity of Masaui’s daughter, Ada. Once the Emir laid eyes on her, he would have no other woman. Call it love, call it obsession—but whatever it was, it saves the Western world.”

Nordhausen leaned in, somewhat excited. “Then by preventing the destruction of that train, we spared Masaui’s life and allowed his daughter Ada to be born?”

“That’s about the size of it,” LeGrand smiled.

“And the rest is history,” Maeve quipped. “At least the history that we know.”

“Precisely!” LeGrand beamed with admiration. “Saving Mr. Ramer’s life changed everything. He is regarded as the Dean of the Prime Meridian—possibly the most significant life line of any man ever born in the Western world.”

“Well,” said Nordhausen, “he very nearly died at the end of that mission. I understand you people had something to do with his survival.”

“Oh yes,” LeGrand returned. “That’s where Paradox takes shape, a ravenous beast that devours anything that it cannot account for on the newly transformed Meridian. We exerted ourselves mightily to save his life—to preserve his integrity. Thankfully, we succeeded.”

“I see,” said Nordhausen. “Then you had nothing to do with the tampering of the memorial site where we thought to bury Kelly after he vanished?”

“Tampering? What are you speaking of?”

“We buried a video that led to your discovery of the exact spatial and temporal coordinates of Kelly’s last moments.” Again, he looked at Maeve, somewhat apologetically.

“It was Graves who found it—just another ripple from his original discovery, I suppose. His retraction was a timed event. We pulled him out to preserve the Meridian of his own life.”

“Yes,” said Maeve. “I was just about to serve him tea when he turned up missing.”

“We pulled him out,” LeGrand reiterated with a look of pride. “Amazingly, the moment he returned he went straight to the memorial site and found the DVD that Mr. Dorland buried there. Time has a funny way of echoing like that when things change. Do you know that the memorial site you chose was identical to the place you first laid Mr. Ramer to rest in the Prime Meridian?”

“History does not repeat itself,” Nordhausen quipped, “but it does rhyme.”

LeGrand smiled, then a squall of concern clouded his features. Maeve was watching him closely now, an odd expression on her face, as though she were coming to a silent inner conclusion about him.

“But what is this tampering you speak of?” LeGrand went on. “Are you saying the site was violated?”

Nordhausen took a deep breath. “Three days ago Kelly was taken ill—a strange malady. I thought it was my fault at first. I was… doing some research; following up a hunch. Then Paul and I uncovered evidence of tampering at Kelly’s memorial site. Someone dug up the grave and stole the video!”

“What?” Now it was LeGrand who was struck with wide eyed amazement.

“Yes, but it was only fortune or good habits that Paul had a backup file on hand, and we published it all over the Internet. Kelly recovered, but we aren’t quite sure about him.” He looked at Maeve again, but she held up a hand to reassure him that all was well. Her eyes were fixed on LeGrand, a look of suspicion clouding her features now. Then she took the baton herself.

“We think his life is in jeopardy again,” she said flatly. “We think someone is trying to kill him.”

“Good God…” the look on LeGrand’s face made it plain that he knew nothing about the incident. His eyes darkened, and he began to fidget, his hands rubbing together in a nervous activity. “I haven’t heard any of this. The courier said nothing whatsoever about it. If this is true, then we have more on the table here with your arrival than I first thought. This could be a Deep Nexus now; a moment of transformation. We may all have a vital part in deciding things before your mission is over. I was told to be on alert, but I don’t think the Order knows how serious this is. How long are you here?” He asked the question quickly, with a sudden sharpness of mind that set them on edge.