Chapter 1

I had finally finished my helicopter pilot certification course. I was now a qualified private pilot, and was actively looking at helicopters to purchase. I was once again in my alternate identify of ‘Benjamin Porter’. I had trained in that name, and was now licensed in that name.

I wanted a Bell, but new ones cost a hell of a lot more than used ones. Since I didn’t really have a justifiable income of my own, in the ‘new’ range, I would have to make do. I was perusing the internet, searching for used helicopters, when there was a knock on my door. I saved the page, and shut down the computer. After all, I was out in the middle of nowhere. So this might take some time, whoever it was.

I was almost at the door when the knock repeated, this time a bit more insistent.

“Hang on! I’m almost there,” I yelled towards the door.

Whoever it was, was irritating me already. I opened the door, and looked at an elderly gentleman who seemed vaguely familiar. He was my height or close to it, had silvery white hair, and a familiar look. I did a double take when I saw a scar at the corner of his right eye, a scar that matched mine!

“Hello, Tom,” said a voice that was familiar, yet different.

I was shocked, at first. Someone was calling me by my right name, when everyone here knew me only as Benjamin Porter. Also, this guy looked familiar to me. I knew I had never met him before, yet he seemed familiar.

“May I come in? It is getting chilly out here this evening,” the guy said.

I stepped aside and let him in. I looked at his car, some sort of town car, very fancy. While it seemed familiar, I could not place the make or model. I closed the door behind him, and turned around.

He was looking the main room over, the overhead beams, the walls, taking everything in. He strode to the fireplace and held his hands out to the warmth radiating from the fire that was burning within it.

I was about to ask him who he was, when he spoke again.

“Still haven’t figured out who I am? I am you, a little over fifty years from now,” he turned away from the fire, and I stared at him.

If this was true, no wonder he seemed familiar! But how could I be sure? That was the question.

“You’re me?” I asked in an incredulous voice.

“Oh, yes. Want to test me? Want me to run you to a few of the places we have visited in the past? Not to difficult really,” he said in a musing tone of voice.

If he was really me, then he would be able to deliver. If he was just someone who KNEW who I was, then he was fishing for information. Still, he looked damned familiar to me!

“I know,” he said, “How about this?”

He concentrated, then seemed to peer into nothing. He held out his hands, and the field med kit I had put together and placed into storage in the “between”, appeared out of thin air in front of me, firmly in his hands!

That sort of decided me. This had to be me, myself, I was facing! An older me. Wow! I stared at him. He set the first-aid kit down, and walked over to one of the chairs, and sat down. He was sweating a bit. I frowned. It was not that hot in here, even by the fire.

“Where to start,” he began after a moment of silence.

“How about the beginning?” I replied a bit nervously.

“Ah, that’s the key. The beginning. Which beginning? We made a lot of mistakes along the way, Tom. You and I. Mistakes that have cost us dearly,” he said, sighing.

“I have chosen this time in the past as one of the key times in my/our life. Tom, I have taken the action to free you from your notoriety. Also, from your soon to be ‘slave status’ to the state.

“Oh, I realize you have a court case you won; but shortly, you were going to do something that would reveal another aspect of your talent. That was ‘the straw that broke the camels back’, so to speak.

“With that revelation, the government moved in on you, drugged you, and placed a poison in your system that was tailored made. They held the antidote. It took you, us, years to find the permanent solution to that little problem.

“Instead of curing us, they just kept us alive, and working for them. Before you ask, no, we were unable to move back in time enough to counter this. As soon as you demonstrated this ability, all future timelines led to this result,” he said with finality.

Uh oh. Not good. If what he was saying was true, then I was in for a hell of a problem. And it would happen soon, apparently.

“I thought long and hard on this,” he said. “This is a key turning point in our life. Right now, we are not to closely watched or guarded. You were more clever than you knew when you set up this secondary ID.

“However, when the government made us into a state slave, this became useless, as they had a tracking module surgically placed into us. They kindly removed our appendix, and placed a device in our body to insure compliance with their mandates. The result was, that it took several years for me to get all that crap solved,” he paused here, looking at me intently.

“Ok, but why now?” I asked.

“I have run a comprehensive program analysis, and the program identified this and a few other points in time as crucial. After some serious thought, I have settled on using this particular point in time to repair/avoid the damage.

“For two reasons. First, this is a critical juncture in your/our time. Second, I am dying. I am losing my ability to time dive. This was as far back as I could go with any hope of arriving with my mind intact, and my abilities not burned out.

“As I was able to reach this time, so it is here, where I have concentrated my remaining resources to fixing your/our problem. I have already begun. I have dropped a clone off at our home in the Boston area, and a gas explosion has already taken it out.

“Don’t worry! The clone felt nothing at all. It was a medical cadaver, and had no real life as you and I know life. It was there for spare parts, only,” he paused, and wiped sweat from his head. He then continued.

“I have taken the liberty of placing several valuable items in the trunk of the town car outside, that I think you will find useful. The car is specially armored. It would take a medium grade anti-tank weapon, at least, to damage its composite armor. It is loaded with lots of abilities that you will find helpful, even in this time.

“Finally, we need a clear space to set up my computer. I think you’re going to like this one. I ... liberated it ... from the UN space program. It is a command module with all accompanying capabilities,” he said with a feral grin.

He pulled the module from the “between”. It was slightly larger than say a, Dell desktop; but it was not overtly different, as far as I could see. He also pulled several items to go with it. Then it was set up time. While we were putting it up, he told me that my old life, as I knew it, was over.

“Stay away from the Boston area, and all your old friends, offices, attorneys, contacts. Stay away from the Avery-Smythe’s ... in particular, Courtney. I know, you just started getting serious with her, but it is best to drop that association completely.

“I took the liberty of writing a will for you, since we are the same person. Don’t worry about your assets. I think you will like how I distributed them,” we finished hooking up the monitor and a couple other items I had not recognized by then.

I was outraged at his treatment of me, and curious, too. He had come in, and announced a total disruption of my life! I didn’t care if he was an older me or not, he had no right to unilaterally effect my life like this! I told him so in no uncertain terms, too.

He peered at me from behind the computer, where he was finishing with connections.

“I did this unilaterally, because you set in motion a series of events that affected me and my life! Do you know the hell you put me/us through, with your moralistic idiocy? Yes, I have taken the choice from you, but I did it because ultimately it will keep you/us from a good long life of ‘state slavery’!

“If I could, I would go back even farther, and stop you from revealing anything to your college friends who started you on this road. All because you can’t keep your damned mouth shut!” He gasped out the last part.

I was stunned at the vehemence in his voice. It was almost as if he hated me, and he was an older version of me! I was about to reply when he came around in front of the computer desk, and dropped into the chair, heavily.

“Listen, it is time you hardened yourself, and accepted the realities of life. The reality is this. You no longer have a life as Tom Wilshire. You have to stay hidden, as Benjamin Porter, or you will have trouble.

“How do I know? I lived the life you forged for me/us. I didn’t understand the need for a certain behavior, until much too late. I am here in your here/now telling you! I am leaving you with information, and certain knowledge of what will happen, if you keep going on this track. You will condemn us/me to certain ‘state slavery’, if you can’t adjust your moral compass. You must realize the government is not the beneficial doting father-figure you now consider it to be.

“Harden your heart. Resolve yourself to living underground from now on. You have a very good life here, already. Keep your head down, don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself,” he paused, gasping for breath.

I reached for him, concerned. He shook off my hand.

“There is nothing you can do for me. I was exposed to something, and it is finally taking its toll. Listen to me! Turn the computer on. I left messages in it for you. The security of this system can’t be breached or compromised by any current tech standard. Go ahead, hit the power switch,” he said, and I reached down, and flicked my finger against the power button.

The computer whined quickly up into a scale that was soon beyond my range of hearing. A voice startled me.

“System boot: complete. System self-test: complete. Security sweep: complete. AI on line,” melodious tones said from the speakers.

“AI?” I asked aloud.

“Yes, Tom?” answered the slightly feminine tones of the computer. Huh?

“He was probably just startled, and spoke aloud about your being an AI,” my older self explained to the computer.

“Acknowledged. Standing by,” the computer stated and fell silent.

“It seems very accepting of two of us being here, considering it did a ‘security’ sweep,” I said to my older self.

“I had already explained my abilities to it, previously. I explained to it that when I next activated it, there would be two of me: a younger, and an older, together,” Tom said by way of explanation.

“Great. Exactly what did that security sweep do, anyway?” I asked curiously.

“Well, it checked for listening devices, laser beams against windows. It mapped the house as it is with a peculiar type of radar. Did air sampling, temperature, and by now it has hooked into the closest GPS satellites, and has a fix on its location,” the older version of me said weakly.

I looked at him with concern. His eyes rolled up, and he slumped forward in the chair.

“Tom? Damn it, can you hear me?” I yelled, shaking him as I did so.

“The version of you designated ‘Tom’, has expired. This was expected. I have a file for you concerning the disposition of his body, with further instructions, when you are ready to hear it,” the AI stated in an unsympathetic voice.

Chapter 2

It was a grim, freaky feeling, burying my older self. I loaded the older version of me into my jeep, along with a pick ax, a shovel and bag of lime. I drove for about twenty minutes to a spot I knew. It was lonely, but was located on the side of a hill, overlooking a valley that had a river running through it. It was as good a place to spend ‘eternal rest’, as any. It was also on my land, was very private, and was not easily accessed. It took four-wheel drive, and a lot of patience and slow driving to get there, without bouncing the both of us out of the vehicle.

I kept the body (damn! It was hard to think of him as ‘the body’) buckled into the front passenger seat. This was an older version of me. I somehow had to disassociate myself from him, in order to finish the task at hand.

It took me several hours to dig the grave as deeply as I wanted. Then I got a bag of lime out of the back and spread the contents of the bag evenly in the bottom of the grave. Finally, I wrapped Tom, me, in an old blanket I’d kept for emergencies. I placed him into the grave, and filled it. I finished it off by replacing the grass that I had cut away with the ax, and then dumped a couple gallons of water on the resulting end product. This would help settle the earth, and also encourage the grass to grow back and seal the gravesite more quickly.

By the time I was finished, my back and legs were aching, as well as my shoulders. I was hot and tired, despite the chill of the evening air. I put my tools and water can away, and stood above the grave, looking over the view.

“Well, Tom, you made the final sacrifice. You left me richer for having known you. While it was only a short time for me, you have known me longer. I promise, I will not let you down,” I said quietly to the grave.

It took a little longer getting back, as it was a bit darker. The clouds obscured the moon. I pulled my jeep up next to the town car. I looked at it, briefly. Well, that could wait till morning. I was beat.

I got out of the jeep, and went into the house. The computer told me that it was still all clear when I checked on it. I thanked it, and told it I was going to bed, which it acknowledged.

---

The next morning I showered, stripped my bed and put everything I was wearing last night in the wash. I don’t usually go to bed dirty; but digging that grave last night, took it out of me, for some reason.

I went and checked on the computer. It informed me it was functioning normally, and was standing by. It also said it had several messages waiting from my older self when I had time to view them. Great. I went to the kitchen and thought over my yesterday.

While I cooked breakfast and put the coffee on, I considered my new position. If the older version of me was right, he had already taken steps to get ‘me’ officially dead. It still pissed me off, but there was nothing I could do about it. If I showed up, I would start a lot of awkward questions and investigations.

After breakfast, I took a cup of coffee back with me to where we had set up the computer. I asked it to play the messages left for me. The first one was basically a rehash of what he had told me, but in slightly more detail.

The second was a bit more interesting as it outlined the computer’s capacities, and they were huge! First, it was incredibly fast and had incredible storage. It had many abilities. Some equipment that the older me hooked up last night, would provide a lot of legal forgeries, that would pass easily in this day and age! Apparently, I had become something of a criminal in my later years.

The best part, was the information that the computer had about the car that was sitting outside in front of my house. It had the capability of maintaining contact with the computer via secure radio-satellite communications. After reading the specs on the armor, I discovered that while a medium anti tank weapon could damage it, it would not take it out. No, it would take a heavy anti-tank weapon, at least, to seriously damage this car!

It had electronic capabilities that were not to be believed. Its global GPS system was merely a beginning. It had the ability to tap into any satellite known in this day and age. It was powered by a fuel cell that would last approximately three months. There was a spare, fully fueled fuel cell, located in the trunk. It was in a separate container. I also had explicit directions on how to recharge the fuel cells!

Finally, it had the capability of firing an electronic pulse (an EMP) that would fry unshielded electronics for up to a thousand feet in a three hundred sixty degree circle. Though that was its only offensive weapons capability, it was a handy little thing to be able to do, really. The car itself was shielded from EMP.

Once I was sealed inside, it would be a totally safe and clean environment. It filtered the air coming into the passenger compartment down to, and including virus sized microbes.

Hell, the car could drive itself! All I would have to do would be to state where I wanted to go. If it was located in its database, the onboard computer could take over the driving duties. I had an autopilot in my car!

I shook my head as I finished listening to the list of capabilities of both the computer, and the car, which I had inherited from my older self. One of the things the computer requested, was hardwired landline access. It stated that while it could operate without this, it would be much easier and safer for me if it didn’t expose itself to possible tracing via satellite signals. A landline would be ideal for it.

I pondered this. It would cost me close to eighty thousand dollars to have the local phone company survey a line, plant the poles, and run the line. It was far too expensive really, to justify the effort.

I informed the computer that if the older me had been correct, I did not have the money to waste on such items as land lines, at this time.

“I have been monitoring the communications spectrum. I have already picked up several news items concerning a gas explosion at your Boston residence. The cloned body has already been discovered, and has been tentatively identified as: Tom Wilshire, well known local businessman, investor, and philanthropist.

“Do you wish me to download these news items for you?” the computer asked me dispassionately.

“Yes, please. Copy all stories that involve my Boston home, and my supposed death. Let me know when you’re ready to display them for me,” I told it.

“Downloading ... downloading ... finished with retrieval parameters. Did you have a preference to a particular news source? All the local news channels in the Boston area covered the story,” the computer stated unconcernedly.

“No, just run them in sequence,” I said to the computer, watching the monitor.

A few seconds later the screen was showing a picture of my home. A goodly portion of it had been destroyed. Fire fighters were still on the scene.

“ ... r live action news! At approximately 4:15 AM, this morning, two guards that were watching this very house for local businessman, Tom Wilshire, called 911. They said there was an explosion and fire at the home of their employer.

“Police were the first on the scene, but were unable to gain entry, as the home was fully engulfed in flames. The housing area’s own fire department answered the call, but were unable to do more than contain the fire, until the arrival of the local engine company. Between the two organizations, the fire was then quickly put out.

“A body that was recovered only about thirty minutes ago, has been tentatively identified as that of Tom Wilshire. Investigators say it is too early to say for sure if it was his body, but that identification would be a straightforward task.

“This story takes a strange twist with the arrival of an FBI investigator. The FBI does not normally send an investigation team to local fires. The only comments I can get, are that local law enforcement is cooperating with the FBI. They are keeping the FBI in the loop, as to the victim’s identity and final outcome of the investigation into why this fire happened. We will keep you abreast on this story as it unfolds...”

The computer played two more clips that were roughly the same. No new information was added, but speculation as to why the FBI was interested, was running rampant. Well, I could have told them. I was, or had been a government employee. I was a ‘member in good standing’ of the CIA, no less.

Of course, they would investigate.

I sighed. I told the computer to continue monitoring any news reports with my name or containing information about me, or my Boston home.

Then I went back to the kitchen and thought. I poured myself another cup of coffee. This was going to take some thinking. I was now, or would be soon, officially dead.

I decided to go outside and check out this new car I had inherited. Right now, I did not have to worry about my hired help. I had sent them away when I had gotten back from my helicopter course. They were enjoying time with their families, and would be, for at least another month.

The first thing I noticed about the car was that it was a dark blue in color, and that there was no door handle!

“Now how the hell do I get into this thing,” I muttered to myself.

As soon as I had uttered these words, the door swing open. The interior was a regular science fiction movie! Well, the dashboard was anyway. Controls identifiable, and not identifiable, were everywhere. A fairly large monitor screen was located center of the dash, between the driver and passenger seats.

The front seats were leather bucket seats, and the back seat was a single bench style, and was also upholstered in leather. It smelled great inside the car. I had forgotten what a good smell a leather interior had.

“Ok, give me a rundown on the cars controls,” I said to the computer. I mean, if it were voice activated, then it should respond, and it did.

“Steering, breaking, and acceleration, are as is normal for this time. There are additional controls on the steering column besides the normal levers. Blinkers, lights, cruise controls are on the levers. Embedded into the steering wheel itself are control features such as window tinting, and offensive weapons activation.

“The car mounts an on board computer. It maintains constant communications with the base unit, unless otherwise directed. It employs GPS tracking capabilities, and knows its location to within one meter.

“The vehicle also has built in sensors to detect nuclear, biological, and chemical agents in the area, and is running a constant testing program. Sensors also see the dimensions and the surfaces of the roads the car is traveling. It can take over duties as autopilot, with base computer help, if so desired.

“The vehicle does a security check on itself, and the occupants of the vehicle, every two minutes unless directed otherwise. The vehicle will not compromise you in any way, and will remain silent with passengers aboard, unless you authorize it to speak to you at those times.

“The vehicle has several antitheft capabilities, one of which is the release of a colorless odorless gas which will render anyone in the immediate vicinity unconscious for a period of not less than one hour, nor more than two hours, depending on the dose,” the computer responded, running down a list of more of its capabilities.

Ok, so I took the car out for a drive. The engine, I was told, was a new sealed Dalton Two. This meant nothing to me, except that it was rated for an incredible amount of trouble free miles. It had been installed and tuned, just before the trip from their time to mine.

I was actually impressed that the older version of me had gotten something of this weight through time at all! It was HEAVY! The armor made it twice as heavy as the average armored car of this period. We’re talking ‘armored limo’, here, not a Brink’s truck.

It was an incredibly smooth ride. The computer was able to tap into the local ‘Clear Channel’ radio stations, and bring me in some good quality music programming. Yes, this car was going to be a joy to drive and to own!

I returned to the house after cruising for a while. I had gotten the car up to ninety on the asphalt of a main county road, but chickened out after a short distance.

It was smooth acceleration all the way, and the ride was not to be believed!

Chapter 3

One of the first things that I noticed, was a plug in for the phone, which the elder me had connected while hooking up the back end. My new computer was able to do a ‘Caller ID’ very easily. I had to let the phone ring at least three times for it to run a trace. I was working off a satellite phone system, after all.

Twice now, I was saved from answering calls from England. I let my machine answer them, with a ‘leave your name and number after the beep’ message. One was from the ministry house in London, the other was from the hotel where Courtney worked. I guess they were checking to see if I was really dead. I didn’t return their calls, of course, much as it pained me not to.

I still had to get the work finishing my shelter for the helicopter. That meant a heating system had to be installed. The temp got down to well below zero during the winter months, and I didn’t want the machine damaged after I finally purchased it.

I sighed. Everything seemed to be happening at once, and I needed to go somewhere and relax. I also needed to think my future through very carefully. What did I want to do? I knew from personal experience that a previous future me had captured two people who he had then left tied up in my home, leaving me to dispose of them.

Try as I might, I had been unable to access anything that looked like a burglary and that had led me to the conclusion that time had indeed been changed, or my future had changed, anyway. Damn it! Messing with time was a complicated business! My future self had to be very desperate to risk changing my life so drastically.

Something my future self had not taken into consideration, was that I might not want or be able to disassociate myself with Courtney and the Avery-Smythes. After all, they did know my alternate ID, and I had no plans to make yet another one. I sighed. I needed a vacation, and by god, I was going to take one, too!

Come on, Tom ... well, Benjamin, now ... Think!

I had the ability to go back into time. I could go to a nice quiet place, and relax. I just had to do it somewhere in the past, thereby giving myself time to consider and think through all my options.

So that was what I decided to do. I set about preparing for an extended vacation in the past. What better a vacation, than to find out for sure about something that was causing controversy to this day, over a 100 years later.

Yes, I am talking about Lizzie Borden. Did she or didn’t she? While she had been found not guilty by a jury, the prosecution had presented a tremendous amount of circumstantial evidence. In this day and age, it would have gotten someone found guilty.

Lizzie had been born in 1860, and her mother had died early. Her father remarried. Lizzie and her older sister never got along with their stepmother. Bitter arguments had ensued over the money their father spent at the behest of his new wife.

The end result was, in 1892, both the stepmother, and the father had been killed. The elder sister had been out of the house, elsewhere. Her story had been confirmed. She was in the clear.

No, everyone had decided that Lizzie had in fact committed this murder. To explain away the fact that no blood had spattered on her clothing ... why, she must have done it in the nude!

This would be a perfect vacation for me. I was a nosy son of a gun, and had already figured out one mystery: the Kennedy assassination. Here was another mystery that was crying out for me to come and solve.

I easily got some money from the period, and clothing. I took three fairly decent gems to the New York of 1891, and sold them. A ruby and two emeralds later, and I wound up with a couple thousand dollars. This would give me more than enough to live comfortably in 1892. I would only be in Fall River, Massachusetts. The place of the infamous murders.

I placed several useful items in the between, checked what I already had there, and added a few other items. I then bought a ticket through an agency to New York City. It was a long, long trip. I did take extra care.

I was going back to my home state, after all. What made the trip even longer was I was making the trip in the past. I took a train from New York’s train station. I decided that I would travel in 1950’s. That period’s money had been easy to come by, as well as the clothing.

Still, all in all, the trip was not too bad. I made my way to within a few blocks of a local church. Even in the 1950’s, there was more than enough energy gathered to move me to the where/when I wanted to go.

I already knew of a boarding house close by. When I arrived, it was just two days prior to the date of the murders. I spent those two days getting to know the area. I went on walks, and went to the local library.

There were horse drawn cabs, and if you had the money (which I did), you could rent a horse. I quickly found the street she lived on, and the house, number 92. I did some recon from that area that lets me get into anywhere, unseen.

I had been thinking of the ‘almost here’ area, which I can use. It is unseen by the rest of my fellow man, but is accessible to me. I decided it must be part of the ‘between’, but sort of like at the edge. A beginning of the between, near the reality of the main world, so to speak.

I wish there was someone I could talk this over with, but my future self, and my experience of the past, has made me triply leery of revealing anything to anyone at all. Still, this ‘area’ was useful in getting me into, and moving me around freely, in places I had no business being.

I quickly identified Lizzie, and followed her around the house a bit, and on her errands. I also checked out her past a bit. She had a nasty temper. She seemed to be a sweet loving girl one moment; but when thwarted, or denied something she wanted, she became angry.

I spent a day getting this information down on tape, and firmly in my mind. She and her older sister were very close. One moment she doted on her father, the next she would give him that, “if looks could kill” look. I wondered if she were schizophrenic. A multiple personality?

I went back to my boarding house, and ate a very nice meal that evening. I would hate to be a homemaker in that day and age. It was August, and very hot. I can only imagine how hot the kitchen must be!

We had pot roast, sweet corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, and homemade bread. Butter was available and it was not that yellow color we are so used to. It was actually the normal color of butter, which is white. For some reason, modern butter is colored yellow. Since I grew up on a farm, I already knew that, though.

The table conversation consisted of Mark Twain’s writings, and the latest that had been heard about Tom Edison, and what he was doing in New York. I threw in a comment or two on Twain’s books that had already been written. Then, after dinner, I excused myself for an evening ‘constitutional’. i.e., I took a walk.

Fall River was a beautiful place, really. Huge trees line the streets, and people were already out walking. Some were arm in arm, some alone. Kids were playing and laughing. It was a Norman Rockwell time, if I ever saw one!

I decided to travel around this time a bit, and I already knew the date of the murders, so I went back to my boarding house. I informed my landlady that I would be checking out tomorrow. I said I was going to catch a train, earlier than I had expected. She became concerned, but I just said I was homesick. She said she understood.

I went upstairs, and looked at the mattress of the bed. I could only hope it didn’t have any critters in it. Still, the place was clean, and the other guests were wearing good clothing. I don’t think the landlady let in anyone of the ‘wrong crowd’, so to speak.

Everyone turned in pretty early, although there was a small area that catered to the after dark crowd. My landlady, Mrs. Cotter, did not approve of late night carousing, and said that the house was locked promptly at 8:30, and that no one was admitted after 9PM. Boarders who found themselves coming back after that could find another place to sleep. No refunds would be given.

I liked this feisty lady!

I left right after breakfast, the next morning. We had eggs, bacon, more homemade bread, and butter. There was milk, coffee or water for those who wanted them. A choice of preserves, or honey was there for the taking, also. Unlike a modern house, no one tried to read a paper or did anything except eat. The conversation was minimal. Most of the boarders were concerned with their daily cares, or what they would soon be doing.

I went upstairs after breakfast, and retrieved my small ‘period’ suitcase, which contained a couple changes of clothes, long underwear, extra socks, and another pair of period shoes, but more sturdy ones. I came back down and settled with the landlady.

I told the landlady I had enjoyed my stay, and would mention her establishment as the place to stay, to my friends. She hmmph’d at me, but I could tell she was pleased with the compliment.

I took my leave of her, carrying my valise, and walked quickly to a quiet out of the way place I had seen yesterday, and placed my case into the ‘between’ for storage. I then “looked” into the future. I watched for the next day. I saw it and then I ‘time dived’ to the ‘almost there’, and arrived out of sight.

I quickly made my way to the Borden house, and observed it until Mr. Borden left for his daily errands. I went in, and then fast-forwarded through the day until I came upon the time of the murders.

First of all, Lizzie Borden, while much maligned and spiteful, did not directly kill her stepmother. She did watch it happen, though. Yesterday, I had observed her trying to buy a poison, and fail.

She had been followed out of the pharmacy, and approached by a guy who said he could take care of her ‘problem’, for 300 dollars. As soon as he did the job, he wanted to be paid, then he would leave town on a train, the next day.

I had my camcorder handy, and taped the murder, while Lizzie watched from a safe distance. Lizzie informed him that he would be paid tomorrow. The man said he wanted his money now, which was what was promised. Lizzie replied she did not have the entire sum at the house, and she had not been able to get to the bank as of yet.

The guy left, a bit disgruntled. He returned following Mr. Borden in, and locked the door behind him quietly. He watched as Lizzie lied to her father about her mother getting a note about a sick-call on a friend, and helped her father to a couch to nap.

Shortly after that, while Lizzie was upstairs in another part of the house, the man then killed Mr. Borden. When Lizzie returned to the room, she was shocked to see the guy dressed in some of Mr. Borden’s clothing, and waiting for her.

They had a short fierce conversation concerning payment. The guy settled for 172.00 dollars that was on hand, and left. I think Lizzie was surprised to be alive, but she only briefly showed sorrow at her father’s death. Her stepmother’s death had not bothered her at all. Talk about your ‘woman scorned’ syndrome!

So that was what happened to Lizzie Borden’s parents in Fall River, Mass. While she had not actually done the deed, she was in it up to her eyebrows, over her mother’s murder. However, she was not involved except as a shocked discoverer of her father’s death. Of that she was totally innocent.

I then went forward a bit, and followed Ms. Borden as she was arrested, and then as she spoke to her attorney. That law firm is still in practice today, and the confidential files are still sealed and filed away in the firm’s offices, somewhere. The gist of it is this. She explained that she had not killed anyone. She refused to accept a plea, or to plead anything but ‘not guilty’. After all, she was not responsible for her father’s death, why should she take a guilty plea on it?

The attorney tried to get her to change her mind, saying he could site extenuating circumstance in her mother’s case. However, since she had failed to report the crime immediately, it would be difficult.

She said she was responsible for her mother’s death, but not her father’s, and she refused to be blamed for something she did not do. Since the charges were already leveled, and her good name smeared; she would plead not guilty to it all, and let the chips fall where they may.

Everyone knows what happened after that. She was found not guilty, and spent the remainder of her life living in the comfort provided by her father’s money, until her death in 1927. I did go and check on her and her sister once, to discover why her sister had moved out from the mansion they were sharing.

Lizzie finally broke down and told her older sister that she had arranged to have her mother killed, but that she had not had the entire bulk of the payment at hand, and the guy went berserk, killing their father as well. Lizzie loved her sister, and wanted her to know she was not responsible, once and for all!

Well, her sister had moved out immediately, and never spoke to Lizzie again after that. Lizzie had made several overtures over the remaining years, but those were met with silence. The sisters both died in 1927, Lizzie from pneumonia, and her older sister, ten days later, from a fall. All in all, it was a sad situation.

---

Chapter 4

I made the trip back to New York City by train. I spent a few days there looking around, taking in the atmosphere of 1892 in NYC. I decided to go see a show. I went to see one, but was a little disappointed. I guess it was because from my vantage point of a little more than a hundred years in the future, it seemed a bit antiquated and unsophisticated. Still, I did enjoy the experience, over all.

I did use my special abilities to move forward through time, then use modern transport to move through space, and then go back into the past again. I got tired of traveling ‘native style’. Taking the steam train long distances soon loses its novelty. After the first couple of hundred miles, and days of traveling, it gets very boring.

I eventually found myself in the Midwest. I had also gone back a bit farther in time. I was now in the year 1875. What the hell, if I was going to travel, and have time traveling ability, I might as well use all my resources.

For some reason, I noticed that farmers were having trouble getting their crops out to market. It was pretty splotchy, but I recognized an attempt at market control when I saw it. Since I was nosy and had funds, I decided to stick my two cents worth in.

I was in a small town in Iowa, of all places, when I back timed a few weeks. I rented the largest warehouse prior to the arrival of the goon squad. Yes, I watched as they had arrived, and bought up space.

I was sitting in my makeshift office in the warehouse, when a visitor was announced. I was pretty sure what this was going to be. A thinly veiled warning, or a direct threat. Thugs were the same in all the times I had visited, so far.

My office door opened. It was not much of an office to tell you the truth. A plain wooden desk, and a swivel chair were the only things even partially comfortable. A filing cabinet that was old had the three drawers, and a tendency to stick when I tried to open them. Still, I had a lot of corn and vegetables already purchased, and some was even stored.

“Are you Mr. Wilson?” asked the first guy. I was using an assumed name.

“Yes, I am. What can I do for you?” I asked with pretended interest.

The man who spoke to me was tall, well muscled and dressed in a good suit. The two guys flanking him were muscle, and dressed roughly.

“Mr. Wilson, we have gone to a lot of trouble to get these farmers to sell to us at a reasonable price, and you have come in here, a late comer, and ruined a very good profit for me,” the tall well dressed man said.

“And you would be?” I asked, still mildly.

“You may call me Mr. Smith. I am with a small consortium that is establishing itself and you are rocking the boat so to speak,” he replied.

“Well, this is America, and business is business, after all,” I said shrugging.

“Mr. Wilson, I am going to give you an option. You can either sell to me at my price, or I shudder to think of what will happen,” the so-called Mr. Smith said with exaggeration.

I raised an eyebrow at him. It was amusing really. I carefully considered my next words, as I didn’t really want to start a fight, but I wanted him to know I was not intimidated at all.

“Well, Mr. Smith, I will give your offer the consideration it deserves. I’ll give you an answer in a few days. I am sure we can come to an agreement that will let me have a profit and make you and your consortium happy,” I replied with a serious look on my face.

“Mr. Wilson. I am afraid you don’t understand your position. We are not dickering. We spent a goodly amount of money, time, and effort to set things up a particular way, and you came in here and totally undermined our position. I will make you an offer, it then falls to you to take it, or get out of town,” Smith said menacingly.

I sighed. “Well, if it is reasonable I might consider it. However, bullying or intimidation tactics do not impress me. Make your offer and get out,” I finished, snapping at him.

He smiled thinly and offered me a price that was well below current offering prices by the mainstream buyers. I snorted at him and informed him this was not acceptable. He regretted that his two associates would speak to me at length, and he would wait outside to ensure we were not disturbed.

Frik and Frak started moving around the sides of my desk, one from the left and one from the right, trying to box and trap me, while Mr. Smith went out the door. I am glad I still did my regimen of stretching exercise in the mornings.

I got up, and turned to my left. Since that guy was close, I placed my right hand on the desk and used my arm as a lever while jumping into the air. I was now horizontal to the desk my feet lashing out, met the thug with the heel of my work shoes.

I did not watch the guy I had just kicked go flying backwards. As my feet came back down to the floor, I swiveled in time to dodge a punch from his partner. It was a punch that would have taken my head off if it had landed.

I snapped my flattened (2nd knuckle) fist out, and caught him in the throat. He stopped and started gasping for air. Ok, he was out of it, I turned back to the first guy I had sent thudding into the wall opposite, and he was getting to his feet.

I moved towards him, and he put his head down and charged me, with his arms held wide apart, to make sure I didn’t get away. I dove over him. He was not tall, bent over the way he was. I got to my feet, and turned quickly.

He was still recovering from tangling with the chair. My not being there had thrown off his timing. I moved forward a couple steps, turned sideways and lashed out at the back of his knee.

He fell, going down to one knee. I stepped back one pace, and whirled. The solid heel of my other shoe swept in an arc that met his jaw. His head snapped violently to the side. He blinked momentarily at me. Then he fell over, unconscious.

His partner was still busy gasping for air. Elapsed time? Maybe a total of ten to fifteen seconds since Mr. Smith left the room. I walked calmly to the door, running my hand through my hair to make sure it was still in place, and opened it.

Mr. Smith turned, and looked at me in surprise.

“Ah, your friends seemed to have hurt themselves somehow. Perhaps you should assist them to a doctor to make sure they are all right?” I asked with a look of false concern.

Silently, Smith came into my office and looked at his two muscle men. One was still on the ground, stunned from my kick to his jaw, the other was finally getting control of his breathing.

Together, the two who were standing helped the groggy one to his feet, and out the door. Well, so much for the diplomatic approach. I figured I had a day at least, before they tried anything more direct.

I didn’t even try to see if the railroad had rail cars handy for shipping. If these guys followed their schedule, they had already taken steps to ensure that no rail cars would be available to anyone in this area, other than themselves.

In the meantime, more farmers were rolling in with wagons filled with corn. While I did have trouble getting some workers, there were always kids, and teens anxious to earn some money. I had all the unskilled labor I could want.

We transferred the wagons of corn into wooden crates. I’d had them made elsewhen, and then brought them here via the ‘between’. My shipping costs were negligible to say the least. Around six that evening, I called a halt. The last wagon had been unloaded and the farmers were headed back to their homes.

I didn’t just concentrate on corn though. I had spread the word that I was buying bulk bushels of potatoes, beans, tomatoes, onions, basically any vegetable that farmers had in abundance, I was buying.

After I paid off my day labor, I went inside and locked the doors. It was now dusk, and while most of the food stuffs I had bought were loaded into the proper crates, they still needed to be stored. Of course, I had no plans on shipping this load anywhere except to the ‘between’, for storage. It would be handy to have an abundance of food stored for future use if I ever needed it.

I quickly cleaned up the piles of crates that had been placed just inside the huge doors of the loading dock. I simply moved all loaded crates and bushel baskets that were full of corn and veggies to the ‘between.’

As I was hungry, I cleaned up and went to a small restaurant that did a fairly brisk business. I had been surprised that they actually had a restaurant to begin with, but when you considered it was attached to the only hotel in town, it was easy to understand.

After my evening meal, I went out and found a quiet place, and ‘time dived’ back a few hours. I followed my erstwhile thugs, and listened to the plans that Mr. Smith was making concerning my future. They were bleak to say the least.

I went back to my room and thought. Suddenly I started chuckling to myself. What a plan! I laughed out loud. This was going to be good. I was going to approach Mr. Smith tomorrow with a counter offer, an offer I was sure he would accept. I was going to teach Mr. Smith how it felt to be fleeced! I laughed and made ready for bed.

The next day, I rose and went down to the restaurant for breakfast. I was in a good mood. Whom did I run into? None other person than Smith, eating his breakfast. I waved and walked over, dropping uninvited into a chair on the opposite side of his table.

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Smith. I hope your men are doing all right?” I asked, my voice dripping with fake concern.

“Mr. Wilson, I am eating my breakfast and I didn’t invite you to sit. Unless there is something else that we have to discuss, I suggest you take your leave to one of the other tables,” he responded a bit grimly.

“Now, now, Smith. Is that anyway to talk to the man about to do you a favor? Listen. I know your plans to do me bodily harm. I know this evening when I close and lock up; I am to be ambushed, and killed. It will look like one robbery among many. You even made sure to tell your men to turn my pockets inside out to leave that impression,” I said, then launched into his plan in detail.

He blanched and stared at me. He had to be wondering which of his men informed me of the plan, for me to know it so well.

“While you may have ‘connections’ back east that are pressuring the large companies to leave this area to you, I have my own connections. I neither fear you, nor your ‘connections’ to the group you are representing.

“I have my own ways of getting information, and all your people are being watched even as we speak. One unwise move towards me will see you, and them, taken care of. And not in a way you will appreciate.

“So here is what I will do. Pay me for my purchase to date, say as of five PM this evening. You can post men around the warehouse to see that I am not shipping anything out if you like.”

I then named a number that while higher than that he had offered me, would still make him a fairly good profit. He thought it over, and agreed.

“Very well, meet me at the bank at noon, and we will transfer funds there. At five this evening, whatever is in the warehouse becomes your property for this amount. Agreed?” I asked in a genial voice.

He nodded again, and I knew he was wondering what had changed. Well, what changed, was my plan. I would make my money back on what I had already purchased, but I was not going to leave him much in the way of product!

I was only scheduled to take three cargoes today. That would be the end. The last cargo should be unloaded by no later than 3:30 this afternoon. We shook hands, and I went to my table.

Oh, I planned to leave him something. One crate or basket of everything. After all, it was only fair, wasn’t it?

The plan went off pretty much as I expected. After the last wagon was unloaded and I had everything inside, I started moving everything I could into the ‘between’. I did wind up leaving more behind than I had originally planned. It was getting harder and harder to move the produce, and I was developing a splitting headache.

As it stood, I did leave him more product that I had at first planned. Yet still, he wound up over-paying outrageously for the little he received! I got the money out of the bank he had paid me, as well as my own, and left town on the 4:15 PM evening train. As soon as I could, I would get back to my own time, but I was exhausted. I did not think I had the energy available to make the jump back to my time from there.

That was a preview of The Gift - Book II. To read the rest purchase the book.

Add «The Gift - Book II» to Cart