John Schettler - Meridian

“You won’t,” said Paul. “If what you say is true that last name is the needle in the haystack. See how its been underlined?”

“Then it should be easy enough to track him down.” Nordhausen was nosing at his bookshelf again.

“Just the opposite,” said Dorland. “He won’t be in any of your books because he’s a person of absolutely no significance whatsoever—at least to the time and place he lived in. Lawrence, there, is our light post. He’s the great romantic hero of the tale—at least for us in the West. Lawrence was certainly a Prime Mover, but the real mover and shaker of the world is this other fellow: Masaui, and he’s not the 20 thhijacker. I’m certain of it.”

“You’re on to something there.” Nordhausen was still flipping through his volume of the Seven Pillars. “It’s perfect! This was the time and place where the Arab people first rose up in rebellion for their independence against foreign colonial powers. The long conflict with the modern West was just getting started. The First World War just got in the way, and the British, true to form, made the Arabs promises they could not keep while they used them to master the Turks. Lawrence was a bridge between both worlds. He was a British serving officer, but in his heart he had come to know and love the Arabs and he was helping them win their freedom, or at least he thought he was.”

“Yes,” said Dorland. “And the British used Lawrence, even as they used the Arabs. Then they went and made a hero out of him to sweep it all under the rug.” He took a deep breath. “You were right, Robert: we could have never completed the research for a mission in the few hours remaining to us. They had to know that as well. They were trying to reach us here because we have a viable Arch in place on this side of the Palma Shadow. The minute I suspected who our visitor really was I knew he must be here with vital information. Our visitor has given us a nudge in the right direction after all. We’ve got our clue! Bring that book, professor. We’ll need it. Come on, let’s get over to U.C. Berkeley. Something tells me this Masaui has something to do with this. We find him, and we become the dreamers of the day. Let’s move!”

They gathered their things and were soon huddling in Kelly’s Subaru Forester, shivering with the cold yet fired by the urgency of their mission. Kelly started the vehicle and backed it off the curb where it had come to an abrupt halt when he rushed to the scene with his news. The vehicle jolted off the pavement, and Nordhausen complained from the back seat where he sat with Dorland.

“Now have a care, mister, no need to get us all killed along the way.”

“Relax,” said Kelly. “I’ve been living up here for over 30 years. I know just the route to take, panic or no panic. Besides, it seems to be settling down out here. People have gone indoors to get out of this rain. I’ll bet everyone is huddling around their TV sets or trying to call friends and relatives back east.”

Nordhausen folded his arms, and Dorland noted that he gave Kelly a strange look, as if he expected trouble from some quarter. It occurred to him that the professor might be afraid Kelly would suddenly vanish, leaving them all in a driverless vehicle, careening along some rain swept street to their doom.

“I wouldn’t worry,” he leaned over to Nordhausen with a whisper.

“What?”

“He’s a Prime Lever; possibly even a Free Radical now. Didn’t you hear what the visitor said? I don’t think we have anything to fear just yet.”

“Well what if…” Nordhausen lowered his voice. “What if time tries to undo our visitor’s intervention and there’s an accident waiting for us out there? And what happened to Mr. Graves? How can you be sure that time won’t find some way to make amends for his mischief? Perhaps she already has. The man just disappeared!”

“What are you two talking about back there?” Maeve leaned around, her arm draped over the back of the front seat.

“Nothing,” said Nordhausen. “Just running through the history in my mind again, that’s all. How much time will you need to program the temporal locus, Kelly?”

“If that date is good, not much time at all—twenty minutes. I’ll need time for the Arch configuration, however. Perhaps half an hour.”

“How long to U.C. Berkeley?” Dorland was getting worried.

“Maybe twenty minutes, considering the condition of the roads tonight.”

“Then figure an hour on the Arion system, for your calculations and anything Maeve might need. It’s another ten minutes up to the lab. If you need time on the Arch we’re going to lose Bermuda. We’ll only have three hours left!”

“If I go any faster I’ll get us all killed,” said Kelly, but he nudged the accelerator just the same and the SUV sped along, the windshield wipers battling with sheets of rain. The professor gave Paul another worried look.

“What about the spatial locus?” Dorland changed the subject, trying to pull in all the loose threads he could and give each one at least a moment of his own computing time.

“Ask the professor.” Kelly begged off on the question.

“What about it, Robert. Know where we’re going yet?” Maeve was eager to get a handle on the situation so she could start considering her outcome algorithms.

Nordhausen thought for a moment. “Well, we’ve got the date and a few other clues on that note. When we get to the university I’ll look up the references and see what I can find.”

“This is worrying me.” Maeve wasn’t satisfied. “I’ll need time for Outcomes and Consequences as well, Paul, and I can’t do a thing until Robert gives us a target. What are we trying to accomplish?”

“Masaui,” said Paul. “That’s the key name. It’s something to do with him.”

“But how do you intend to find the man? We’ve got a good date, and a general idea of where to go, but we could end up a thousand miles from any place where we could do some good. We haven’t the time to do the research.”

“I’ll find the references,” said Nordhausen. “Just quiet down and let me think. Our friend from tomorrow was very succinct. He gave us the year and he must have given some information on the spatial locus as well. There was another number on that note…” He lapsed into silence and Maeve rolled her eyes, giving Dorland a disparaging look.

“He’ll work it through, Maeve,” said Paul. “You can use the time to run over to the Drama Department and see what you can do for us in the way of costuming. I mean, we can’t very well go barreling through the Arch in these clothes: rain jackets and umbrellas in the desert, not to mention blue jeans and sneakers.”

“Good point.” Maeve was eager to latch on to something to do. “OK, everyone. Give me your sizes for shirts, pants, coats and shoes. I’ll write it all down and rifle the costume wardrobes while Nordhausen fine-tunes the target.” They complied as she wrote the information down. Then Paul returned to the problem at hand.

“What about that last number?” Dorland was still turning things over in his own mind. “What was it Maeve?”

“K17 something,” said Maeve. “But it looked as though it was part of the date sequence.”

“Was it hyphenated?” Kelly spoke up as he took a corner a little too sharply and the tires squealed on the wet pavement. The SUV tilted ominously, but righted itself and revved up as Kelly sped down the road.

“Watch what you’re doing!” Robert gave Kelly a wide-eyed look.

“Don’t worry,” said Kelly. “Some SUVs used to roll over a lot about ten years ago, but they widened the wheel base and lowered the center of gravity. This one never had the problem. It’s got four wheel drive.” He gave Robert a reassuring smile. “Was the number hyphenated after the date sequence?” His hand was on the stick, down shifting as they went around another bend.