A story exploring time travel and societal issues in the wake of 9/11. This is chapter 16. See previous posts for chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, and 15.
Twelve foot windows revealed a dreary autumn noon outside. Having managed to lever one of these windows open a few inches, T2 smoked a cigarette next to it while Ana showered. He smiled at the thought. After all this time, they'd finally slept together. It was as if, all of the sudden, the mood shifted between them. Had he made the pass, or had she?
Tempering the pleasure of these considerations was a grim awareness of current events. No one had heeded his many warnings about the hurricane that had just devastated New Orleans. T2 recalled that Blackwater mercenaries were somehow involved, and remembered all of the shady contracts awarded in the disaster's aftermath. What a mess that was.
A vibrating phone distracted T2 from these thoughts. He answered. "Mr Barabos?" came a gravely man's voice. "Brad Wachuski. Your partner Ana Jennings has been working for the FBI this whole time. There is a town car waiting out front for you. Please, take a meeting and hear our offer."
"I'm going to need more than that to go on," said T2.
"We'll meet at my office in Tribeca," said Wachuski. "Shouldn't take more than an hour. I really think you'll like what we have to say."
The line went dead. T2 looked around, as if surveying the room would help him make sense of the information he'd just received. Could it be true? Could Ana be an undercover agent? She'd been with him for years!
Scrawling a note for Ana about going out for a walk, T2 dressed quickly and exited the apartment, finding the car waiting. He rode in silence. By the time they pulled up to an unmarked doorway in a giant building in Lower Manhattan, T2 had convinced himself that he was making a terrible mistake. The driver got out and opened the unmarked door for him.
At the door, a man in a knit white shirt and a heavy gold chain greeted T2. "I'm Mr Tyler," said Mr Tyler. "Mr Wachuski is right this way."
T2 followed him through an industrial looking hallway to an elevator. They proceeded to the tenth floor, where a large man in a custom suit awaited him on plush furniture in a vast office. Wachuski stood and shook T2's hand. They sat down while Mr Tyler wandered off.
"Alright," said T2. "What is this?"
Wachuski chuckled. "Don't worry," he said. "I brought you here for synergy, not trouble. Did you speak with Agent Jennings before you left?"
"No," said T2. "I came to hear you out. So what have you got to say?"
"As I mentioned, Jennings has been working for the FBI the whole time she's been in your employ," said Wachuski. "She's undercover, collecting intel on you and using your organization to gather information on the environmental activism movement."
"You say that, but it doesn't really track," said T2. "I mean, she's been with me for years. She's witnessed crimes and nothing ever came of it. Plus, everything I do is above board. And my organization is so transparent that our financials are on our websites for all to see."
"They think you're an agent of a foreign intelligence service, fomenting anti-industry discontent here," said Wachuski. "But we both know they'd have put you away a long time ago if they could prove that."
"And how do you know any of this?" asked T2.
"Our firm is paid to know," said Wachuski. "We're the biggest specialty consulting firm you've never heard of."
"And you've got government sources," said T2. "Assuming you're right about Ana."
"I am," said Wachuski. "Now, let me tell you what we can do for you. Whenever your name comes up from any of our sources, it will be reported to you. Or to an attorney, if you prefer. We can also, on your behalf, look into any party of your choosing. You would also receive our regular newsletter on market conditions."
T2 considered this. His lawyer's office in Panama did that kind of thing, but they'd missed Ana, though in all fairness, he'd never specifically requested that they check her out. "How much?" he asked.
"You move a minimum of one hundred million into a fund that guarantees two percent interest," said Wachuski. "We keep the remaining yields, or incur the losses. You may terminate the agreement at any time by pulling out of the fund."
"Okay," said T2, nodding slowly. "So then, how good are you? And what happens when two of your clients end up on different sides of something?"
"In those rare instances, we try to set up a meeting," said Wachuski. "Get it all worked out."
"And what about potentially sensitive questions," said T2. "For example, does Alan Dershowitz have a relationship with the CIA? What's the real story behind Gary Webb?"
"I can look into it," said Wachuski. "So we're on, then?"
"I'll want to check you out, first," said T2. "But in principle, I could use your service. Any advice on what to do about Agent Jennings?"
"If it was me, I'd be putting distance between us," said Wachuski.
The drive back to Brooklyn was a wordless emotional roller coaster. Returning to the guest room, gripped by fear and anxiety, T2 opened the door. He found Ana wearing a bathrobe, on the bed, reading a paperback thriller. "How was your walk?" she asked.
"I had an unplanned meeting," said T2. "I was given some information that troubles me. About you."
"Oh?" said Ana, her eyes still on her book.
"Ana, have you been working for the FBI this whole time?" asked T2.
"Oh," she said, putting down the book.
"It's been years," said T2. "What ... what are you even doing for them?"
"Mostly giving them information about TAP and your other business dealings," said Ana. "I never did anything to hurt you. Or your companies. My bosses, well, they just wanted the lay of the land."
"The lay of the land?" asked T2.
"They figured you for a lottery scammer and insider trader," said Ana. "Maybe even a spy. But the angle was ecoterrorism funding. I never found evidence of any of that. Somewhere along the way, my reports on the environmental activism movement became important to them. Far as I know, that's why they kept me here with you."
"The part that I'm most upset about isn't the lying," said T2, measuring his words. "It's the possibility of losing you over this. And couldn't you get in trouble just for admitting it to me?"
"I only get in trouble if you don't cooperate," said Ana.
"What exactly do you expect me to do?" asked T2.
"Take off your shoes and lay here with me while I read my book," said Ana.
After fifteen minutes of quiet, Ana put her book down. "There's a bigger picture here that you don't see," she said. "The Bureau collects intelligence on everything. They know who is doing what, where, all the time. When you started TAP, you created a bird's eye view of a movement they'd been trying to piece together from disconnected scraps. They want me here, seeing what you see."
"Shit," said T2. "So you're telling me it's my fault that you spied on me? I guess everything is okay, then."
"I'm saying don't worry," said Ana. "I'm saying we're on the same side. I haven't told anyone your secret, if there was a concern."
"My secret?" asked T2. "That I'm from the future? I tell everybody that these days and no one cares."
"I'm talking about Thomas," said Ana. "I have test results showing that you have the same genetic makeup. The exact same genetic makeup. I know he's your clone. And I haven't said a word."
"Thanks for not telling anyone," said T2. "I'm protective of my clone."
"Where did you do it?" asked Ana. "The cloning. Was it Brazil? United Arab Emirates? Hong Kong?"
"In the States, here," said T2. If cloning was easier for her to accept than time travel, he could live with that.
"How many other people have clones?" asked Ana. "Is it a lot?"
"I kinda hope not," said T2. "So what happens now?"
"Maybe nothing," said Ana. "But maybe something. Who was it that told you about me?"
"My new consultant," said T2. "He said I should distance myself from you."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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