Chapter 47: Vacation or Runnin' from the Law?

“So, wait a second. You are from the future, and you showed up in their laboratory out of the blue. How did you get into the laboratory?” Margarita, the more vocal of the two sisters, asked.

“I’ll bet the government would like to know that,” George Johnson remarked low enough he thought it would fly unnoticed, but everyone around the table noticed and looked right at him. “Sorry.”

“In my past, the government was much further along in several different scientific fields, among them was time travel. I haven’t been able yet to figure out if my past was ahead in everything or just some things, and I also haven’t been able to find a point in time where the difference changed,” Tim began his explanation, “but, while your time has the theory, you don’t have the computational power to control the many variables. I’m no expert on it, but I heard my friends talk about it many times.”

He looked at the faces of the newly arrived guests, and they were all confused. “It’s kind of like saying I know how to use a cell phone, but I can’t build one.”

Tim continued his story. “Anyway, I went back in time to a date I knew I would be alone and at a place I knew I could talk to myself for a few minutes without anyone accidentally hearing me. I gave myself a couple of nanite delivery units in pill form and also wrote myself a few notes of personal encouragement as well as encouragement for what I thought would come in my future. When I returned to my time, I expected changes, but the changes I got were different than those I got. I was still a fat ass, the two scientists in the embarkation room were two men I didn’t recognize and, a couple of minutes later, a friend I had lost a long time before was still alive and well but staring at me from behind the business end of a shotgun.”

The two scientists, Mike Thompson and Mike Jensen, couldn’t stop full-throated laughs from escaping their mouths. “I still laugh whenever I think about Mike here with that baseball bat ready to swing away,” Jensen shared, pointing to Dr. Thompson as he got control of himself again. The others at the table all smiled at the younger scientist’s admission. The two scientists then explained what happened from their end.

“We were essentially triple checking some minor pieces in the embarkation room. What freaked us out at first was that we had turned off the electrical connections to everything regarding the machine.”

“The time machine, right?” Yolanda interrupted, still confused but mostly following the story.

“Right,” Dr. Jensen said. “The room should have been dead quiet except for the buzzing from the ancient fluorescent overhead lights and whatever we were talking about at that time. The embarkation alarm starts blaring, and the lights start flashing red.”

“Which we both found interesting since we had not, as of yet, put that functionality into the embarkation return macros, so we just looked at each other like, ‘Was that you?’” Dr. Thompson added to the story.

“We hear the locks on the embarkation door shuffle and lock closed then, a second later, a blinding flash of light. We turned away from the flash and, when we looked back, there was a very, large man, bent over in pain and on one knee, slowly working his way back up to standing. I grabbed the baseball bat I always carry in case of four-legged friends who love turning up during the night shift. I’m not ashamed to say I freak out on the little bastards,” Dr. Thompson explained, his facial contortions emphasizing his hatred of any rodents.

He points to Tim and continues, “Tim, here, opens the door and stumbles out, obviously confused, and I think all three of us in the room asked at the same time, ‘Who are you?’ Then George storms in, revved up, spewing profanity like a renaissance painter working on his masterpiece, brandishing a large shotgun aimed right at our new friend here.” Everyone gathered around the large dining room table laughed easily at Dr. Thompson’s retelling of their first meeting. “It was either George’s suave, smooth, and sophisticated way with words or the shotgun he had trained on our new friend here who got us going on anything,” Dr. Thompson finished.

One of the three men who came with the Bolivar sisters raised his hand to ask a question. Yolanda leaned over to him, and he whispered into her ear. She translated, “My brother, Joaquin, would like to know why you keep saying you met him when he was a large, fat man. I have to agree with my brother, but Tim, you don’t look fat anymore. Did they starve you to get information to the point you lost the weight?”

“Um, no. I mean, we had Tim on a smaller diet, of course, but that was not what got him thinner,” George explained. “Tim, I say we can trust them, and I think you should tell them your other secret.”

“Oh, I did not know it was a secret. Please, Tim. There is no need to tell us if you don’t want to. We were just curious. In this life, we understand the importance of having and keeping secrets.” Yolanda said and looked at everybody else in the room and then to her sister and three brothers. It looked like she was taking a census from her family, and each one nodded subtly, seemingly permitting the older sister to speak for them. Yolanda took in a deep breath and began to explain her family background and what brought them to where they were today.

“Intelligence, to us, is a family business,” Margarita declared matter-of-factly.

“Our grandfather, Gustavo, was the first member of the family to go to work for the government. He was brilliant, very handsome, and was always the center of the room whenever he entered. Gustavo’s entire essence was magnetic and drew in everyone he met. He also had an incredible memory and could remember everyone’s name and the name of some of their family on sight, even years later,” Yolanda gushed in describing her grandfather.

“We heard many stories over the years of Gustavo going into a party for some foreign dignitaries, and he could be introduced to someone just once and then meet that person say, in an airport, and remembering the man’s name and something about their conversation from months or even years before. Gustavo did not take notes; it was just God-given ability. Of course, his incredible memory and natural charisma paved the way for him to become politically active in Venezuela. He had friends and acquaintances everywhere, but Gustavo’s true gift was how he also knew exactly how to maneuver someone into doing something for him that they might not have been willing to do before. Not with blackmail or any coercion but Gustavo could get someone to go out of their way to want to help him – even if there was a possibility of harm.”

Yolanda leaned forward in her seat, and serene happiness showed on her face as continued the story of her grandfather. The same look was on all of the Bolivar family in that room. “There was a story of my grandfather that I particularly like remembering. Gustavo had convinced a guard at the maximum security prison to smuggle some innocent contraband into the prison where he was a guard. I remember it was a box of Cuban cigars for a friend unjustly incarcerated. The young guard got caught and, the night before he needed to check into prison, the man broke down crying in front of the goodbye party. He spent most of the night, instead of enjoying his last night of freedom with his friends and family ... he spent a majority of the night apologizing to my grandfather Gustavo that he had broken his trust by not being able to help with such a simple request.”

Yolanda sat back deep into her chair and got lost in a memory of her beloved grandfather. She quickly sat back up and casually wiped a tear that had escaped and tried to run down her cheek. “He spent a few years after that as a fixer in political circles – nothing too heinous or criminal, just finding ways to fix problems for both sides. He took pride in being able to convince both sides to give a little to compromise.

“Gustavo found his way to foreign intelligence and worked for the state until he retired at seventy-five. He put his two sons through college, and they both eventually also joined the state intelligence services and they, in turn, brought their children in as well,” Yolanda explained while making eye contact with her sister and brothers.

“When did you find out about the laboratory?” George asked, quickly changing the subject. “I was always wondering about that. With all your back history in intelligence, it was quite a shot in the dark for your family to open a restaurant not two miles from the entrance to one of our country’s most secret bases.”

“Well, actually, we didn’t know anything about it,” Margarita answered. The mood of the room lit up in smiles from all the people who regularly worked in secret. George’s face revealed he did not believe her.

“I’ve always wanted to know, George,” Margarita asked demurely. “When did you first start to think we had a secret.”

George took a moment and flashed a strange smile of remembrance before beginning his answer. “I guess it was about a month or so after you opened. That place had always had bad luck for others who tried a restaurant. Not all of them had bad food, but a few did. You guys had great food, and the prices were a little more than other places a few miles away, but the quality was worth it.” George finished off a bottle of beer and set it down.

Jose, the right-hand man of their host, Dr. Jensen’s Uncle Justin, grabbed the empty and gave George another beer without him even asking for it. George looked at the new beer and nodded his thanks to the man.

“I saw one morning when you guys were especially busy in a morning rush. I saw how you were moving in a highly organized way. Each worker knew exactly what to do as if they were all talking to each other, but no one was wearing a headset and microphone. Then I saw the throat microphone and the earbuds in pretty much everyone’s left ear. I started noticing other little things like the way you were dealing with the customers and the way you knew exactly how to treat each customer — all little clues in trade-craft of how to influence people. The more I watched, the more I realized everyone who worked in the restaurant had some training. I confirmed it when I came to the club one night and only stayed for about twenty minutes. I acted like I had a date who did not show, but I saw how the bouncers handled a couple of drunks.”

“I told you, stupid. I knew that was him!” Margarita pointed at her sister Yolanda who was smiling but trying to burrow further into her seat. The three brothers behind the two girls each started laughing hysterically.

George wasn’t the only person in the room smiling but confused and was first to ask. “What’s so funny?”

“My sisters have been fighting for a while about when Mr. Johnson here knew about our secret. Margie said she recognized you that night at the club you just said, but Yoli said you would have never been to the club. She always said it wasn’t your scene,” the largest of the three brothers disclosed between bouts of laughter.

An alarm began chirping an annoying, recurring beep in the background. The alarm was not blaring, but it was a constant, from another room. Jose turned to a laptop on the bar where he was standing in a position to serve the guests. Uncle Justin turned in his seat and waited for word from his right hand.

“We have some alarms from our friends online,” Jose announced to his boss. “They are requesting a meeting. Apparently, there is some news.”

“Excuse me, everybody, but the people who paid the bills for my lovely home either know of you all being here or they are monitoring something of which we are unaware,” Uncle Justin explained as he got up from his seat. He reached over to his nephew’s plate and pulled a slice of brisket of the man’s plate and quickly stuffed it into his mouth.

“I’ll be right back. Please make yourselves at home and, if this is pertinent to our current predicament, then I’ll let you guys know.” He motioned for Jose to unlock a door on the other side of the room, which was easy to see as a home office. The wood paneling covering the walls and a large wood desk were visible from where everyone sat.

All the visitors continued with small talk and conversations about the house and the land they could see on their quick tours earlier in the day. Not more than ten minutes after entering his office, Uncle Justin came back, a laptop in one hand and a coiled HDMI cable in the other. “Jose, if you please ... for everyone to see.”

Jose opened a hidden compartment on the table where Uncle Justin was sitting before. There, a panel was revealed with several cable connections. Jose connected the laptop to the table panel via the HDMI cable, and the large TV screen turned into a security monitor. What looked like a solo building just off an intersection appeared with several government vehicles and military-style troop transports parked throughout the parking lot. They were not using any spaces but were haphazardly taking up space. “Is that the restaurant?” Yolanda asked.

“Yes, it is. My online friends were telling me about this raid occurring no more than an hour ago. Half of the vehicles they used are still there, but no one can find any paperwork regarding their mission. Do they want to know if I know anything about this? They are especially worried because of them – this is happening almost in my backyard. I have assured them that I am fine, but I can tell you, they are a nosy bunch and they will soon know about you, and they will probably be using their talents to track you down,” Justin explained.

“Why would they be worried about the government raiding my restaurant? Our paperwork is all done in the clear on this. We all pooled our retirement money together to buy the restaurant,” Margarita confessed to the room.

“Well, like I said, my online friends are a very nosy bunch. When they see the government raiding a normal looking place with no easy-to-find paperwork saying why or at least giving a good lie ... well, they are a very nosy bunch,” Uncle Justin expounded, “but I think I kept their attention away for a while by telling them I was going to look into it since I too am a nosy one.”

The chat conversation Uncle Justin and his online friends had continued for another hour with friend after friend all coming online and inquiring about Justin’s security and, if he needed any help, they were offering it ahead of time. It was a beautiful thing to see how much all these online preppers were genuinely worried about their friend and this secret raid in his vicinity. It was also surprising to see that these people knew how to get information from anywhere on the internet.

A request for a private chat from someone calling themselves “VulcanThor” popped up on top of all the screens. It was not the only request for a private chat the group had seen since Justin brought the chat room out for the guests to watch, witnessing the online anti-government movement discussion. Justin patiently told each private chat requestor he was not talking but was monitoring the main chat room. VulcanThor asked for a private chat again, but this time added: “maybe you could ask the Bolivars why was the U.S. Government is searching and seizing their restaurant.” That got everyone’s attention very quickly.

All small conversations quieted down, and everyone was looking at each other in the room. The Bolivar brothers started looking around the room and windows to see if someone was watching them right now. Jose and Justin began typing fiercely on separate keyboards in separate areas. Jose quit typing first. “Security is set. There are no incursions in our system. I had already checked everyone here, and no one had any trackers or transmitters on themselves or their baggage.”

“We can confirm this. No transmissions are entering or leaving this home except for the single internet portal everyone is watching.” The words dissolved. “End of transmission.”

“No, I am not scanning you nor have I infiltrated your system but I did see satellite visuals of the caravan of vehicles entering your compound. It was a commercial bird, not government. I was the only one on it when it scanned your homestead. I’m the only one who saw them. Please, we need to talk,” VulcanThor typed in a new pop up window. “Secure side room, if you please. Click here.”

“Do you think we should talk to him? More to the point, Justin, do you trust him?” Dr. Jensen asked his uncle.

“Yeah ... um, yes, I trust him. We have worked together. He is one of the original preppers who joined my first site. Good guy. A little paranoid, but it’s only paranoid if they aren’t following you, and they were following him for a while before he cleared up his disagreement with them revenuers.”

“Then it is up to you guys. Do we talk to him?” Dr, Jensen asked everyone else in the room. Heads nodding yes throughout the room got Uncle Justin agreeing to talk and minimizing the main chat room to go into the private room VulcanThor had created.

First, Justin left the main chat, then he brought up a utility screen to monitor the private chat. Since he was the administrator of the main website they were using, he had control over every aspect of the site. Justin could confirm who was in the private chat he was about to enter. He kept that utility up in the upper left corner of the screen for everyone to watch during the chat. “While we’re chatting, please keep an eye on that so we can make sure no one else is trying to get into it and see what we are talking about.” Several heads nodded.

“I can have my nanites help with security if you’d like,” Tim said, getting everyone’s attention immediately. “Trust me, there is no system on this planet they could not get into eventually. They are artificial intelligence from a future far beyond our current capabilities.” He raised his hands to show he was not currently connected to anything. “By the way, they said no other transmissions are coming into the house beside the single connection from this computer. Your level of security is to be commended. That’s from the nanites, not just me.” Nervous laughter broke the tension in the room.

“Why don’t your friends hold up unless we find ourselves in a pickle and could use a hand,” Uncle Justin offered. Tim nodded, and Justin clicked the link to open the private chat room.