Vortex (42 page)

“What did they want?”

He dropped the cigarette onto the gravel and smashed it with his black boot. “To take
me back … where I came from.”

“But you came from here,” I said, understanding his frustration earlier. He had started
to doubt his own story, maybe.

“Right … it all started when I found those pictures of the Russian man and his family.
I swear on every Bible in this state that those pictures were dated twenty years ago,
but the man was here, in Billy’s place, having a drink, looking exactly the same.
Melvin’s a forensic genius … he said it himself.” He took a deep breath looking at
me desperately. “If I hadn’t figured that out … they’d probably be off my back, right?
I started something I never wanted to start, and now I’m stuck with it. And who the
hell do I tell this to? I’ll be shipped off by the men in white coats faster than
you can say Joe DiMaggio.”

You’re gonna be shipped off somewhere … that’s for sure
. I could feel myself fading. This jump was so far back, I’d never be able to stay
long. “I’m leaving now.”

“What? Why?” he asked, eyes darting around again.

I looked at my hands, and the transparency made my head spin. “It’s not by choice …
but I’ll see you again … for sure.”

Blackness swept over me, leaving Dad alone in that alley. Smoking. In 1952.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JUNE 21, 2009, 10:20
P.M.

I could feel the table underneath me. My sweaty forehead pressed to it. The present
day, time,
year,
were very slow in coming back to me. My phone vibrated from my pocket again. I fumbled
around trying to retrieve it before attempting to lift my head. When I saw the glow
of the light, I realized my surroundings had become dark. Like someone had turned
the lights out in the library. I should have gone somewhere safer to do this half-jump,
knowing I’d be leaving my body behind in 2009. Behind and vulnerable to attack.
Idiot.

I blinked several times before reading the text … an address. An old apartment building
a few blocks away.

“I knew it! The second I saw the two of you at Healy’s ball. Double agents never get
away with it for long. She should have known better.”

My heart pounded, the rush of adrenaline giving me the strength to lift my head. Agent
Carter stood in the nearly dark library, several feet away, holding out his gun.

Wait … Agent Carter?

“Thought your little injection trick would work on me, huh?” His vicious grin shone
through the dark. “Just like Flynn … don’t have the balls to go for the kill.”

My eyes darted around the room and I realized Holly was still sleeping beside me,
but starting to stir, turning her head from side to side. My gaze dropped to the floor
a little ways from my feet.

I leaped up from the chair and raced toward the body lying on the carpet. “Freeman!”

What the hell is he doing here?

The nausea and grief rushed over me in one giant wave. His eyes were
open
. Open. How long was I out in the half-jump? Couldn’t have been more than a couple
minutes?

Oh, God … not Freeman, too
.

“Carter! What the hell is going on? What happened to the lights?”

I barely glanced back at the table and saw Holly sitting up, trying to focus her eyes
in the dark.

“You tell me, Flynn. How long have you been working for Tempest?” Carter sneered,
walking closer to Holly.

Her eyes were huge and she sucked in a quick breath. “I don’t … I’m not—”

“It’s a rhetorical question. I already know the answer.”

“You idiot! Is this what you spend all your time thinking about? Seriously,” Holly
snapped.

I tried to grasp on to some kind of a plan to get me and Holly out of this situation,
but so much was running through my head at once. Like the fact that my dad should
be as old as Dr. Melvin right now. And Freeman lying dead at my feet. And who sent
the text message … the address? Were Marshall or Dad back? Would they come looking
for me if I didn’t show up soon? And then there was time travel … kicking my ass again.

I zoomed in on Holly’s face, which was filled with panic despite the anger dripping
from her last words.
Play your part,
Stewart had told me.

So I did. “I think there’s only one idiot in this room, and it’s not Agent Carter,”
I said to Holly.

She stood up fast, drawing her gun and pointing it at me. Just as I thought she would.
“Tell him … tell him I don’t work for Tempest!”

I glanced at Carter and said, “She doesn’t work for Tempest.”

He smirked at me. “Uh-huh.”

“Think about it, Agent Carter.” I moved closer to Holly with a few slow steps. Her
gun lifted a little as she ground her teeth together. “Just a few carefully placed
situations, and I’ve turned an agency against one of their own. And I didn’t have
to do anything. No messy cleaning up, no bodies to hide or cover stories to create.”

Holly’s mouth literally hung open. “You’re such a liar.”

“So, you
are
a double agent?” Carter asked her.

“No!”

“Then shoot him,” he said. “Shoot him, and this conversation will be over.”

The pounding in my heart echoed into my ears, making Carter sound far away. I didn’t
know what I was more afraid of—Holly shooting me, or Holly
not
shooting me.

“Do it, Flynn!” Carter repeated. “If you’re working for Tempest, they’ll kill you
if you shoot their precious Agent Meyer. But if you do it … I’ll say it was me.”

Holly’s eyes locked with mine and the hatred poured from her to me. She lowered her
gun, just a tiny bit, aiming it at my knee.

“Not the leg, Flynn,” Carter said. “Head or chest … you pick.”

She took a deep breath, tapping her finger against the trigger. Adrenaline rushed
through my veins, giving me the energy to make a move. I dove for her legs, grabbing
her around the knees, causing the gun to fire into the air.

I sucked in a breath as we tumbled to the floor, and the stray bullet shattered a
glass light next to us. I wrestled the gun from Holly’s hand and immediately stood
and backed away, pointing it at her.

Carter laughed, this booming sound following the drop of silence we had had after
Holly’s gun had fired. “This is fun. Not much of a hostage, Agent Meyer. You think
we can’t spare a trainee or two … or a dozen?”

“It might not be your decision to make,” I said, reminding him that I was also now
armed.

Carter laughed again, shaking his head as he walked closer to Holly and ignored me.
“And here I was truly impressed, Flynn … Collins’s little wing girl had actually learned
some skills. But unfortunately, that’s just not true. You’re worthless, Flynn … worthless
and easy … very
easy
.”

“Fucking asshole,” Holly said, staring daggers at him.

She looked pissed, but I could see her trembling … see the brand-new wave of fear
that swept over her when he said the word “easy.”

“You know that little game we play in our division?” Carter said, taunting her further.
“The point system?”

“Cut the bullshit, Carter,” Holly said. “I know the point system … and I know what
you’re going to tell me. So, which is worth more? Turning in a double agent or killing
a weak trainee?”

“You know what got me the most points so far?” A sly grin spread across his face.
“Nailing a virgin spy. Apparently it’s off the charts … easiest points I ever got.”

All the color drained from Holly’s face at the same time that blood rushed to mine
as I strung all Carter’s statements together.
It wasn’t Brian
. She never even said they were together … I just assumed.

“Poor Flynn, your best friend’s dead … need a shoulder to cry on … how about a few
drinks, too,”
he said, reaching out to touch her hair. She shrank back from him. “It couldn’t have
been any easier. And I think I’ll probably go with the dead double agent … just to
put my rank up top as it should be.”

Blood pumped through me fast, obscuring any apprehension I may have had.
He’s gonna kill her.

The decision was both difficult and easy. In a millisecond, the gun I stole from Holly
went from aiming at her to firing right at Agent Carter’s chest. He fell as fast as
he had been shot, a puzzled expression frozen on his face.

He didn’t think I’d do it.
He’s been studying me
. My arms, my legs … everything shook. Holly gasped and then looked up at me, a horrified
look I’d probably never forget.

Ever.

Play your part, or someone else will assume the same thing Carter had assumed
. I grabbed her and pressed the gun to her temple, and the shock and numbness that
followed, killing Agent Carter, seeing Freeman dead, was almost welcome. I didn’t
know if anyone else was here, listening in and waiting for me to show some compassion
toward Holly so they’d know exactly what to do with her. I couldn’t let that be my
fault, no matter how much I hated being the villain. “We’re getting out of here, and
if you try to run, I’ll find you. I have methods of hunting people down that you’d
never be able to prevent.”

There were no tears from Holly this time, there was no anger. Nothing. She walked
slowly, a step or two in front of me, as I held her gun to her back, but low enough
so no one would see once we got outside. “Where are you taking me?”

I didn’t answer her, because I wasn’t exactly sure where this place was. My fingers
gripped her upper arm as I steered her toward the address from my phone.

Both of us acted the part of agents once we were outside in the warm night air, eyes
darting around every corner, studying the scene. My pace picked up, forcing Holly
forward fast as my toes hit her heels. When I reached the back door to the old building,
I tightened my hold on her, letting the gun return to her temple. The door was slightly
cracked, so I pushed it open with my foot, not wanting to risk an escape from Holly
by using my hands.

We walked into a nearly dark hallway. The dirty wood floor, chipped, cracked, and
peeling, creaked under our weight. The musty smell was so thick, I had to breathe
through my mouth. My shoulder brushed up against the wall and I felt a large photograph
there start to peel off. I stopped to examine it and nearly dropped the gun, seeing
the image personified along with an entire row of photos.

It was me … and me.

The first image was a version of me strolling down the sidewalk on Ninety-second Street
wearing jeans and long-sleeve blue polo shirt. I loosened my hold on Holly’s arm,
practically pressing my nose to the wall. The next image was the same version of me
but two strides closer to my destination … and just behind him, turned around, facing
the other direction, was another me … one with his arm in a sling and a bruise streaked
down the side of his face … and a tear in the knee of his jeans from climbing around
a rooftop at a hotel in Martha’s Vinyard.

These were the surveillance photos from March 15, 2009. From the street-corner camera
Adam had told me to check. The photos that had mysteriously vanished.

And there it was, plain as day. Proof that I had done a Thomas-jump. Two versions
of me in the same photo … But then what happened to him … to me … the other me?

I saw the cell, much like a jail cell at the very end of the hallway, before I could
tell what was in it.

Rusty metal bars ran from floor to ceiling. I squinted into the almost-empty space,
trying to make out the shadow of a person in the corner.

“Oh, my God … is that—?” Holly whispered under her breath.

My arms fell to my sides as I stared in disbelief. “Holy shit…”

A haunted, dirt-covered, unshaven, and in-great-need-of-a-haircut version of me huddled
in the corner of the cell, head leaning against the wall, eyes closed, knees pulled
up to his chest.

There was no World C. Just like Eileen had suspected. I really, truly erased me and
009 Holly in the most permanent way possible. A new kind of grief swept over me. All
this time I think some tiny part of my brain had hoped that I could jump back to World
A … someday. Even if it never worked out, I wanted the choice, and yet some part of
me must have known that I’d debate going back … cheating on my promise to myself.
Now here I am still in World A, not World C. But the World A I knew and left is completely
gone.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from this version of me, even when I heard shuffling
feet behind me. But some part of my brain remembered my cover … my plan. I quickly
grabbed Holly again, keeping her hostage so she wouldn’t run or become someone else’s
hostage.

“Agent Freeman led you here after all.” Healy … Healy was behind me … and I still
couldn’t turn around.

“How … I mean … who…?” My mouth was so dry, I could barely form words.

“How are there two versions of you? And it’s not a half-jump?” Healy said, moving
beside me.

A dim light turned on above our heads. The other me in the cell stirred, his forehead
wrinkling from the light, but he didn’t wake up.

“You can let her go,” Healy said to me. “She works for us.”

My stomach plummeted and I peeled my eyes from the other me and turned around, dragging
Holly with me. “Us?”

“Yes … us.”

Oh … damn. I glanced down at Holly, who looked slightly relieved after seeing Healy.

“Relax, Jackson,” Healy said. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“That I’m screwed,” I spat.

“Now,
that
 … is up to you,” Healy said. “Tell me how it’s possible that you are here, on this
side of the cell, and over there, inside it.”

The shaking in my legs returned as his words and the pictures sank in …
complete jump
.

Healy nodded as if he could read my thoughts. “Yes, that’s right. On March fifteenth,
2009, you landed here from a few months earlier under the impression that you had
created a new timeline. But tell me, Jackson, when you left the date August sixteenth,
2009, what was your goal? What did you feel you
needed
to do?”