Chapter 6

Raul Hernandez was worried. Reiner Kurzbach was supposed to call him once his visa was granted to enter Poland. He'd only made the one call, telling him he was required for a second interview at the consulate.

When Raul called the hotel, he was told the German gentleman had abruptly checked out. A foreign woman had settled the bill. The LAPD were no help at all and the Airport refused to release passenger lists without authority.

Raul then called Representative Hartman and told him no-one had seen Kurzbach after he'd gone back to the Polish Consulate. He told him he felt something was wrong as he'd promised to call. It wasn't like Kurzbach to neglect such a promise.

Hartman had been upset after hearing Kurzbach's request to immigrate to Poland. It seemed to him that the German had spurned US hospitality. It was the sort of thing the left-wing press would love and they'd savage the congressman with it.

On the other hand, if he'd been snatched by the KGB and taken back behind the iron curtain, this was the sort of thing the Administration was looking for. Clearly this was another example of the brutality and untrustworthiness of the Soviet Union and her reluctant allies. Hartman immediately called the FBI and demanded they investigate.

The security check by the FBI had been Arnim and Fuller's biggest hurdle to overcome before being granted permanent residency in the United States. Kurzbach's change of mind had placed them in an awkward position and they faced some hard questioning.

But Representative Hartman had placed his marker in their square and he was very close to senior members of the Administration in Washington. The FBI privately believed the pair were weaving a tissue of lies but saw no apparent security risk. They concluded their motive for coming to the US was probably economic, but that was hardly an exceptional case for a refugee.

For their own safety, however, an FBI detail was placed to keep them under surveilance.

The search for 'JF' had drawn a blank, much to Ben Shepherd's frustration. The Website had closed down and the Webmaster promptly decamped. Dr Jordan Freeman had been an independent consultant working out of a small office in downtown Seattle, Washington. The FBI reported he was used by several companies in the aviation field, including Boeing. Ben had no doubt he was Jurgen Fuller.

Meanwhile, he continued the search of the sea floor using Ferruno Salvage. He concentrated on the area of the volcano crater and hired a Geologist to examine some core samples they'd taken. But he was having to go carefully, NTSB Adminstrators in Washington would need him to account for every dollar spent.

Ben worked on the theory that the crater was some kind of 'Temporal Flare Emitter, ' a TFE, as 'JF' had described to him in one of his Emails. 'JF' couldn't say, though, whether the thing was man-made or a natural phenomenon. A TFE required immense amounts of stored energy to build up a sufficient charge. 'JF' believed the energy source would have to be an anti-matter reactor, as nothing else could supply that kind of power. However, what an 'AMR' looked like, he, again, couldn't tell him. Could an AMR occur naturally was a question for Astro-Physicists, but he couldn't find any with the time or inclination to risk their reputation on his bizarre exploration.

Flight 1070 had been caught in a temporal rift caused by the TFE releasing a burst of energy. The rift resulted in anomalies caused by a strange displacement of time and space. 1070 had dropped from the sky, but it's temporal echo had continued while receding backwards in time. By falling the way it did, both within range of the rift and without, 1070 was held for a period within two times. The 2006 wreckage had then been pulled clear of the link causing the contradiction to destabilise. The result was that the wreckage in 1986 couldn't be sustained and resolved back into time.

As for the cockpit, 'JF, ' had explained, the likely reason that the cockpit section remained receded in time was also the same that marooned Kurzbach, Strauss and Fuller. The cockpit had crashed in such a way that it was completely absorbed into the rift. The reverse had occurred to the rest of the aircraft. The cockpit had remained locked in 1986 while the 2006 aspect had resolved back.

Ben Shepherd now supposed that theory was at least as likely as any other. There was no way, however, he was going to destroy his career by inserting that into the official report.

The Geologist's report and been completed for the area of sea floor where most of the plane wreck had been located. Ben was interested in what seemed to be an old volcano crater or perhaps a meteor.

The Geologist determined that it was neither, but he couldn't give any further clue. Something had left an imprint of heat and magnetic energy and he decided it had to be external. Considering the rate of decay, he thought it had been a long time ago when this event occurred.

It looked to Ben like the temporal flare was caused by a man-made machine. Somehow it had then been removed, but how?

Meanwhile, Washington were starting to call in their chips, and Ben couldn't justify continuing with this part of the crash investigation. Insurers needed answers so they could find someone to sue. He was told the families of the crew needed closure, although Ben doubted that three families would have much to grieve over.

In fact, Kurzbach, Krauss and Fuller's families had been remarkably silent. They elected not to travel to the States, even though ACIS was quite willing to pick up their costs. Fuller's wife Anna, however, appeared on German TV, curiously composed, considering she'd just been told her husband was dead. She'd thanked everyone for their thoughts and asked the media to leave the families alone. When asked what she intended to do, she replied she was going off the have their baby. The German media described her performance as 'courageous.'

On Sundays the Hernandez family traditionally came together for a family meal and get together. These occasions were a time to talk family business and offer help and support. Today, the extended family had much to discuss.

Present was, not only all four of the sisters, but Suella's husband and the two time-stranded Germans. Ariana sat draped over Arnim while Rica looked on sniggering. Ella sat next to Fuller, smiling at him frequently. Suella's husband, a junior lawyer, shifted uncomfortably while Raul and Connie presided with serious expressions.

"Kurzbach's gone!" Raul announced, "according to the FBI he caught a flight to Moscow, they believe unwillingly."

"Moscow? Are you sure?" Arnim exclaimed.

"Yes, Arnim. He wanted to go to Poland... I... lent him the fare. I should've stopped him."

"How? Tie him up? He's a grown man. Kurzbach's always been a bit of a dark horse," explained Fuller, "he does what he does. He's... stubborn. Would you agree, Arnim?" He nodded.

"What would the Russians want with him?" Raul asked, "that's what I like to know. Do you two have any clue?"

"No," Arnim replied, "and I have less clue why he wanted to go to Poland."

"He told me he wanted to go home," explained Raul, "He said that he now had the chance to change his life. I kind of understood what he meant, so..."

"Well, who know's what the Russians want? I could never understand them. Even after the break up of the Soviet Union, I always found them a strange people."

Suella and her husband stared at each other in confusion.

"Fuller and Arnie's from the future," Rica proudly announced. "In their time the Russians are friendly."

"I think that's an exaggerration," smiled Arnim.

"What are you saying?" Suella asked, dismayed. "Rica, are you trying to be funny?"

"It's true!" Rica insisted, "my future brother in law is younger than me. Isn't that cool?"

"What?"

"Family business!" Raul solemnly announced. In the Hernandez household that traditional call swore the family to secrecy.

"Brother in Law?" Suella looked at the pair. "Dad, what's going on?"

Ongarchug, or Ongarchuk, didn't exist 40 years ago. Then, there was absolutely nothing except a forest of stunted Siberian pine. Foxes, sable and bears once roamed through the trees unmolested, too remote for even human hunters.

Ongarchuk was planned back in the thirties as an artificial town; a science community dedicated to pure and unfettered research. There, anything could be possible for a scientist with any weird idea.

For this was supposed to be a showcase that would put the Soviet Union at the forefront of scientific research and cast a single digit gesture at her detractors in the West. Unfortunately, the Soviet Institute of Sciences ran up against huge problems and it took many years to come to fruition.

First came the Great Patriotic War and the USSR's energies were devoted to Nazism's destruction. Then came the post-war building program, changes of leadership and bureaucratic squabbling. Lastly, few scientists were found willing to leave their comfortable facilities in large Soviet cities for a wilderness, 800 kilometres from anywhere. Huge incentives needed to be found to persuade Russia's brightest to apply, and not just a little arm-twisting.

Throughout the fifties, Ongarchuk slowly developed. By all accounts it was a miserable place to work. Scientists and their support staff were paid up to four times what they were earning in Leningrad, Kharkov or Moscow. They were given generous amounts of leave and many maintained two homes, one in the city, and one in Ongarchuk. Families often remained behind in the city, there being little to appeal to them in Ongarchuk.

A veil of secrecy descended on the town. Much highly controversial research took place there and it's not certain whether Western Intelligence had any clue of its existence. Certainly, few in Russia had any idea.

It was in the fifties, too, that work began on Russia's time travel project. The theory was well known and waited to be tested. Like their Western counterparts, they found the problem was the huge amount of energy needed for a field generator to produce a sufficiently intense time/space effect.

The KGB had dosed Reiner Kurzbach a little too heavily and, after touching down at Moscow, he had to be stretchered off the plane and taken to hospital. There, under guard, he was brought back to health after 24 hours. When he was fit enough to travel once more, he was escorted to a military plane and flown out to Ongarchuk.

The KGB had been unfriendly, uncommunicative and bullying. Kurzbach was cuffed, pushed and shoved, and it was never explained where he was and what was going to happen to him. He demanded to be allowed to contact the German or American Embassy, however, his only reply was a thin smile.

At Ongarchuk, he was turned over to the Soviet Institute of Sciences. Like emerging from some dark prison, Kurzbach was surprised by the sudden change of environment.

Firstly, he was shown comfortable quarters that weren't locked. He had the dubious honour of being allowed to go anywhere in Ongarchuk that he wished. Unfortunately, there were few places anyone could go and, because of the climate and isolation, nowhere to travel to. A personal assistant/translator was assigned to him and she was friendly and talkative. She wouldn't answer any questions about why he'd been brought there, however, suggesting he ask a Professor Sumilov. Sumilov, though, was always busy or otherwise unable to see him.

On the third day, his 'assistant, ' Marina, woke him up early. She told him hastily that, 'he must come. They wanted to see him.'

Kurzbach hadn't been feeling that well since being taken from the plane in Moscow. He'd supposed it was the after effects of the drugs. He needed food, he told her, and Marina stood nervously by while he fixed some breakfast. As he took his time, Marina grew more agitated. Kurzbach smiled inwardly, 'two can play mind games, ' he thought.

Eventually, he followed Marina outside, all the while complaining he had difficulty walking. The woman clicked and sighed with impatience as he dragged himself after her. Apparently, 'they' were very important people who expected their requests to be performed at once.

Marina took him to a brown stone building, double storied, with a high pitched roof. Another aide, a man, waited for him at the top of the steps and ran down to take his arm. He babbled rapidly in Russian to Marina who seemed to be apologising profusely. Kurzbach almost felt sorry for her; almost, but not quite.

He was led into a room with black curtains over the windows and artificial lighting. A man of about 60, wearing shirtsleeves and a long white beard, extended his hand in greeting. Another man sat at a desk in the corner dressed in military uniform. He tipped his head towards Kurzbach and appeared to be scrutinising him.

"My name is Professor Sumilov," the white beard said in English, "this is Colonel Polkryshkin... he wants to meet you."

Kurzbach stared straight at the Colonel. His eyes were cold and calculating. Reiner knew enough about Soviet military uniforms to recognise the badge of the Strategic Forces. He was curious as to what a missile Colonel wanted with him.

"Tell me," began Sumilov, "why did you want to go to Poland?" He'd been asked that question by a succession of people already. He presumed this was an opener, but he was determined not to be co-operative.

"For the beaches," he replied, "and the warm summer nights!"

"Then you are travelling at the wrong time of the year!" Sumilov chuckled. He spoke to the Colonel in Russian who smiled briefly. 'Clearly, ' Reiner thought, 'the Colonel doesn't speak English.' He filed that fact away for future reference.

The Professor spoke to the back of the room and the lights dimmed. A slide projector stabbed the darkness and flashed a picture onto a screen high up in the corner. It was himself, twenty years younger, preparing to board a Transall. He didn't recognise the airport. It could've been anywhere in the, then, West Germany.