Two days later, the group reassembled in their headquarters. Ernest lay on the couch, having left the hospital against doctor's orders. Monty leaned against a cabinet, Graham was in his chair, Deanna sat on a counter, and the rest of the women stood.

"So, let me see if I have this," Monty said. "If we do nothing, Washington goes, which is maybe one hundred thousand killed. If we stop the Monument bombing, Atlanta goes, which might result in million or more dead, right?

"Correct," Sheshai agreed.

"And we always get our information after the fact, and this time, there is no after the fact, correct?" A nod was his reply. "So maybe we track the first group of bombers, see if they lead to the second group."

Sheshai shook her head. "Since yesterday, we've tried different variations, informing the government weeks, days, even hours before the Monument attack. Every time, if the bombers didn't succeed, the nuke moved to Atlanta. No exceptions."

Monty sighed. "And there's no reason for the first group to know about the second attack. Anyone sophisticated enough to acquire a nuclear weapon probably keeps their people compartmentalized."

"This leads me to another thought." Graham interjected. "I have a timey wimey wibbley wobbley idea here. We all think that the first time Ernest looked ahead, before he met any of us, he saw a year in advance, but you were only unconscious for a day or so, right?"

Ernesto nodded. "Right."

"And it takes more than a day to experience a day in the future, right? An hour in the future takes at least an hour in the real world. Well, what if you didn't see in the future, but that time was real? What if, before your abilities, you really lived up until Memorial Day, and your mind sent you back, or you communicated your memories back? What if what happened to you doesn't stop with, but actually started with the nuclear explosion? You think that you can't see past Memorial Day, but it seems too damn coincidental that a guy with your new ability just happened to die from a nuke. Isn't it more logical that something as epic and cataclysmic as a nuclear detonation caused everything? You might have been right in the heart of it, and some force, pulse, energy, pushed you back to an earlier point in time.

"It's like your survival skill. Every time you try to go past eleven o'clock on that day, you're knocked back to the new restore point you create when you lay down. The explosion always stops you, so maybe if you stop the explosion, you can jump to a further point, or maybe your ability is only tied to the time period up to the bomb."

"That, or you die." Deanna pinched lint off her purple shirt. "That's still possible, right?"

Jane turned less to see Ernest and Graham than to ensure Deanna was not even in her peripheral vision. "It's a theory, but how does that help the situation?"

Graham tilted his head towards Ernest. "One less thing for him to worry about."

"Well, from what I'm hearing," Jane continued, "the government investigating the first bombing yielded no results, and we can't investigate the second before it happens. That leaves only one option: contact the government." Sheshai, Monty and Graham offered individual protestations, but Jane waved them down as she approached Ernest. "If what you say is true, then this is bigger than all of us. You want to save lives? Everything you want to do with this group for the next twenty years could not compare to what you could do with help on this one day. We can't be nearly as effective as receiving information directly from the source."

"You're asking him to forfeit his freedom," Sheshai said.

"Well, then, I'm sorry, but that's the price that has to be paid. We're talking about a million lives lost or a million lives saved. Face it, what you're doing is not working. You need every arm of the government working for you, not in opposition. If you fail because you're afraid of going to jail, a jail that's most people's dream of an overindulgent retirement, and if because of that, hundreds of thousands die because you didn't do everything possible, could you live with yourself, because I couldn't. Tell me I'm wrong."

No one had an answer. Sheshai looked to Ernest. "What are you thinking?"

"She's right," he said. "We're wasting too much time trying to break in places, while the government has all the files, experts, and stuff."

"Not to mention the air gapped systems," Graham volunteered. "Computers with sensitive information that can't be accessed from the outside."

"That's what I mean," Jane said, exhaling sharply, not realizing that she hadn't breathed through their deliberation. "It's the only way to ensure you did everything possible."

Sheshai remained impassive, but her eyes flickered hatred at Jane before she shook her head. "Well, he's not going there alone."

"He's not, but you're not going either," Jane said. "I'm sorry, but they may consider you a security risk and that may convolute things." To Monty, "You have other responsibilities, and we don't know if they'll let us go after we find the bomb. That leaves only three of us."

"Graham can't go," Sheshai said, and Jane saw enough silent agreement among the others for her to realize that she was missing something.

"Well, then." Jane turned to face Deanna directly, "It's down to the two of us."

"What 'us'? I don't see an 'us' in this."

"I thought you liked things like this. One day's work, save thousands of lives."

"Do you have all the names yet?"

"It's saving D. C. You want names? We'll pick up a Yellow Pages on our way out."

"You're not getting this," and she strolled over to Ernest. "To the parts I listened to, you can't see anything after the bomb goes boom, and you can't see what happens to us, right?" Ernest nodded, so she continued with, "And this time, there are no guarantees we survive?"

Ernest shook his head. "No."

"Yeah, I'm not doing that. What's the point in saving a million lives if I get killed in the process?"

Jane glared at her. "The fact that you'd be saving a million lives."

"Okay. You're missing the big picture here. Let me explain this clearly." Deanna picked up her purse, made a show of retrieving her keys, and left the room. The various surveillance monitors followed her exit to the garage and her car, and then her departure, speeding away.

Jane smiled. "Good. To hell with her."

"She's just scared," Ernest said. "And you shouldn't go. You have family. We don't."

"This is my idea. I've been asking for this for a while. I'll take the responsibility."

"If we do this," Monty added, "once the two of you show up, two lottery winners, they may start to figure out about us, and this place."

"Maybe. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Just leave my name out of it," Graham said. "I had money before all this started."

"And you can't mention the Monument," Sheshai inserted.

This threw Jane. "Wait. Why not? That's the whole point."

"The second they find out, they will stop it. They can't allow a national monument to be destroyed on the hope of stopping a nuclear bomb from going off, especially without evidence. If the location of the nuke is moved and we fail, those deaths are on us."

"But there's a connection between the two. If they can't investigate the first attack, the people involved, how are we expected to stop the second?"

"It's data," Graham offered. "Right now we have two sources to pull from; Washington and Atlanta. Once they know about the Monument, we lose anything we can glean from D. C. Maybe you find people who were in Washington that appear in Georgia during the second attack. We need both options. Second you tell them, the first option disappears."

"We can't guarantee the three names will lead us to all five. And if it's last minute, even if we know who they are, it doesn't mean that we can find them in time."

"That's how it has to be. You'll need every bit of information you can find."

"And what if we get close but not there? What about everyone at the Monument?"

Monty sighed. "As you said, it's a nuclear bomb, and sacrifices may have to be made."

***

PICK US UP HERE, followed by a place and time, was meant to underscore Madrigal's seriousness, but to those receiving the message, it was an unknown of highest importance. A group of absolute anonymity and unimaginable connections asked not only for a meeting, but transport for multiple individuals. Since Madrigal apparently had resources, the enigma of what could drive them out of hiding and to the government caused apocalyptic speculation.

Jane guided the BMW inside a dilapidated hangar on an abandoned airstrip outside of Hattiesburg. She and Ernest exited the car to a greeting of a gentle patdown. Items were plucked from their pockets, examined, and returned, save for their wallets, which held their real names. There was no need to conceal their identities, and it was the first step in building trust.

The oldest of the men stepped forward with an extended hand and a smile. "I'm Deputy Director Herse. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Is one of you Madrigal?"

"We are Madrigal," Ernest said, "and we need to talk as soon as possible."

"Of course."

"We have bags in our car. Clothes, toiletries..."

"We'll have someone take care of it. Please," and Herse waved them to a private plane.

They climbed inside to plush leather seats, sitting in the back with Herse facing them. A woman, possibly a secretary, took a seat next to him, a tablet at the ready for notes. One of the men returned their wallets and shut the door.

"If you have an urgent matter to be discuss, if you know who I am..."

"We do."

"Then you should know that I have the highest of clearances, as will anyone you meet from this point onward. You can speak freely."

Ernest cleared his throat. "A nuclear device is going to be detonated in Washington D. C., Atlanta, also, in the next three weeks."

A small intake of breath from their host. "Is this from your contacts, or network..."

"I have neither."

"I don't mean to question or insult. You've provided far too much actionable intelligence for us to do that. If I could ask how you know?"

"I know things before they happen. I can see the future."

Herse's eyebrows raised. "I'm sorry. What?"

Ernest sighed, reached into his pocket, and withdrew two decks of cards.

***

The flight lasted two hours, where Jane explained how Madrigal operated and some of their actions. She had been nominated spokesperson for expediency; she wouldn't stammer as much, and she could relay things while Ernest was 'away.' They weren't sure how much their hosts believed them, so they threw in the Dow and NASDAQ closing changes as well as two of the night's playoff scores. The agents appeared to entertain the idea that what Jane said was true, though a bone of contention was blanket immunity for anyone involved with Madrigal. Herse balked at the idea of amnesty for unknown persons for unspecified crimes.

"I don't see what the problem is," Callie, the assistant said, emphasizing the same idea again in different terms. "If they're just civilians..."

"The fact is, they're no longer involved. If you don't have any reason to prosecute them, then you shouldn't have any need to talk with them."

"We can't give unfettered immunity for an unlimited number of people."

"Six in total. Myself, Ernest, and the individual you already know as Madrigus." Madrigus was the handle Graham used during his time with Madrigal. "Three others."

"I'm sorry. That's going to be a sticking point with us. We don't know who we're dealing with. Have any of them ever killed anybody?"

"Yes. Why, is that a problem?" The agents looked at Jane as if she were mad. "How many murderers enter Witness Protection with clean slates after their crimes? Has the government ever made deals with known terrorists or brutal dictatorships? I'm neither accusing, nor saying that's wrong; I'm saying you have a history of acting in the cause of a greater good. If anyone was killed by someone associated with Madrigal, it was only a mass shooter, a serial killer, or a terrorist." Jane stated this plainly, despite her thoughts going to Donald Sygnestryski. He wasn't deceased, but nearly brain-dead, with no hopes of recovery, but the rest of the team didn't think Deanna should suffer alone for a group mistake. "Our members had performed a litany of other smaller daily crimes, enough to gain a lifetime of years."

"Such as?"

"Theft, assault, battery, breaking and entering, and so on, all in the service of the job. Over time, a few every day, it adds up."

"Anything violent?"

"Some, yes."

"You can't expect immunity for unknown individuals without our even talking to them."

"Right now, your interest should not be in the past, but a more pressing future."

"You don't think we can figure out who they are?"

"You'll probably guess several of them. That doesn't mean we burn if we don't have to. We're already screwing ourselves to help you."

The director scratched under his lower lip. "Ever operated outside of the country?"

It was Ernest's time to speak. "No."

"Anything ever involving foreign nationals?"

"Don't think so. Didn't think we had to check"

"Mmm. If you're telling the truth and we are successful, we will have the bombs as proof. You help make that happen, and you can have blanket amnesty for those in Madrigal up to this point. Any new crimes, and we don't promise anything."

Jane nodded. "Fair enough."

"Okay. So, you investigate events in the future. You need access to what we find afterwards in our classified investigations, so you can bring it back to us in the present."

"Yeah. The afterwards." Ernest said with a wince. "That's another problem."

***

The flight ended in a Maine airport, followed by a short drive to a defunct telephone booster station established during the Cold War. They navigated the thin corridors of exposed piping and concrete to a large room filled with antiquated mainframes and large modern monitors. Three of the four available desk chairs were occupied, and there was little personal space for the seven people there.

"We can receive all sorts of data from here almost instantaneously," Herse said.

"What's the difference between the time something happens and the time that we see it on screen?" Jane's question was at Graham's suggestion.

Herse looked to one of the men seated, who answered, "Within the continental U.S., under one second. If it's outside North America..."

"Washington D.C. and Atlanta," Herse said.

"Under a second. Our data transfer rates beat the fastest fiber optic standard by a decade."

Jane nodded. "Okay. Every time the bomb goes off, wherever he's at, Ernesto gets sent back to present time. The closer he is, the more accurately he can pinpoint the location, but at the same time, the more injurious it is to him. Further away, and he doesn't experience any discernible ill effects, but he is unable to zero in. We have an idea on how to do that."

Herse waved a hand in front of him. "Please."

"First, are you able to get a satellite view of Washington D.C and Atlanta? Only one city at a time, so if we need to have one over Washington, we can move it later to Atlanta."

"We can do that."

"We need to have a view on one screen dedicated to Washington first. Since satellites move, is it possible to lock on one image precisely?"

"Sure," the technician said. "We can make it look virtually still. Wait, when you were talking about data rates, if you're talking about satellite imagery, there will be some lag. That can't be helped. Two seconds at least, maybe more."

"Didn't you say he's never lasted six seconds beyond eleven o'clock?" Callie asked.

"We already thought about that. He's going to do this visually."

Herse looked to Ernest. "Can you memorize an image and location that quickly?"

"We're hoping he doesn't have to," Jane said. "On a screen with the satellite image, we need the image of a square. We understand that a nuclear explosion would not be perfectly symmetrical, and with all the structures in the area..."

"You're going to try and put a circle in a square," Callie said.

"As close as possible. If there was a square on the screen and a circle appears for just a second, he may not be able to tell you how big it was or when it was exactly, but he would be able to say whether it was left or right or above or below."

"You make the changes here, try again, and keep adjusting."

"Right, making it bigger or smaller until it fits as close to perfect. Hopefully, it would be good enough to get a bead on the heart of the explosion within a block or two."

"And how long are you expecting this to take?"

"Anywhere from thirty to eighty minutes each time. We're hoping no more than eight times, and then we do the same for Atlanta,"

"So we're looking at most of the day."

"That's our guess. However, once we start Atlanta, you can be analyzing data from D.C. Another thing. Each time he goes, he'll be weeks ahead of now. Before he comes back, you give him a piece of information, small and easy to remember, that would have been important if you had it now. An assassination, an attack, an agent in trouble, whatever's most pressing or the one that can be diverted first. That way, each time, you can get a jump on other things going on in the world. We have less than three weeks left. If we're going to start..."

"Yes. Go ahead."

In a bunkered room, a comfortable bed awaited Ernest. There was the fulfilled expectation of tests and monitoring, and sensors garlanded his head to report brainwave activity. A two-way mirror allowed technicians to watch both his person and the readings provided.

The adjustments took longer than expected as they worked through the day into the night. After twelve hours, Jane headed to the building's small break room that was furnished with a couch, refrigerator, and a small card table with a chess game abandoned in mid-play. To the right of the board, each side had three pieces; on the left, a black pawn lay on its side. Jane examined the game for a moment, figuring it was still in the early stages, as the only rook out of place was obviously moved to castle and both queens were still huddled on the back row. She had a moment of contemplation before someone cleared their throat. Callie approached, tablet in hand.

"I had to leave. Hours of watching a guy sleeping; I don't know what I was expecting, like I thought sparks would jump off him or that his body would float over the bed."

"Your technology show anything?"

She walked over to the board and inspected the pieces. "It's like you said. His brainwaves show nothing different than if he was daydreaming. Nothing remarkable. Black's move."

"How do you know?"

"The pieces to the right are too nicely placed, captured with care. My guess, White had the pawn in hand, but was interrupted and had to leave." She looked at Jane. "Do you play?"

"I used to."

"No one's been here for months. They're not coming back, or if they do, they won't care. The stuff's community property. Wanna have a go?"

"I'm probably not in your league."

"Just a recreational player, I swear." She sat down and tapped her tablet. "Besides, I'd like to talk to you."

Jane took the opposite chair. "About what?"

"You asked for immunity agreements without revealing any names."

Jane picked up Black's remaining bishop and took one of White's pieces, placing hers in the dust-free circle where the knight had sat. "No one wanted to come out and say they were in Madrigal, but we thought you'd probably figure most of them anyways, and if you already knew who they were, the immunity agreements are better with their names on them."

"Winners of lotteries exceeding a hundred million, I suppose for financing. People with minimal profile afterwards and no extravagant spending; it's a short list, and then when we looked for patterns, it became far shorter. Do you mind...?" and she pointed to her tablet.

"Go ahead."

"Okay, but first," and she took Jane's bishop with her own. "I really feel I should take a pawn so we'd start even with the same pieces on the board, but I lose a knight that way. Check." She scrolled through her tablet, then, "So, Benjamin Reverte?"

"No."

"Montgomery Vance the Third?"

"Yes."

"Patrick Dupree?"

"No."

She seemed confused a moment before, "Deanna Faustino?"

A sigh. "Yes."

"Sheshai... Jesus, Sheshai Al-Masri?"

"Yes."

"Wow. That's something. Cassandra Berlioz?"

"No.

"Were any of the following Madrigus?"

"No." Jane moved her king to the side.

"All right. Thank you. We can start on the immunity agreements, with blanket immunity for 'the individual referred to as Madrigus' during the time period that Madrigal was operating."

"That would be fine. What about the others?"

"Left alone, as requested; no surveillance." Callie moved a piece. "Can I ask a question?" When Jane didn't object, she asked, "Why are you here?"

"Someone had to come with him. I advocated his doing this, despite the consequences."

"There will be no consequences. No one's going to hurt him. If he can truly do what he says, regardless of the outcome, he's a hero. He'll be treated better than the president."

"He's been down this road; he knows what's ahead. Do you imagine he'll ever be able to go to somewhere on a whim? If anyone knew of his existence, he'd be a constant target of kidnapping or assassination, and you know it. He described this as his life being over, despite the lavish surroundings, a prisoner the rest of his life, but he believes in the country and the sanctity of life, and he's willing to make that sacrifice because that's who he is."

Jane rolled a captured pawn under her finger. "He's the best person any of us have ever met. He saved us from... well, ourselves. He believed in each of us, gave us the chance to make things right in the world, a little piece here and there."

The game was forgotten as they stared at each other. "And what of you? What do you believe?"

"Me? I believe you'll let me help out within reason and tolerate me to keep him happy until the bomb is found so as not upset him, but after that, I don't know."

"I promise we will do whatever we can to accommodate you. Within reason, of course."

"Right now, all I care about is that my team is protected. Nothing more."

"Of course. I'll start the arrangements immediately," and she typed into her device. "I'll tell the boss when I see him. Oh, one other question. I'm just curious."

"Yes?"

"Based on some descriptions, has Mr. Vance ever been to Philadelphia or Detroit?"

"Are the immunity agreements in place yet?"

"No."

"Then I have no idea."

"Okay," and the analyst tried hard not to smile as she placed the tablet aside and reached for a piece. "But back to this."

There was a small period of quiet as they played for a few moves, interrupted as one of the analysts appeared in the doorway. "The Director wants to see you."

She sighed and smiled at Jane. "Just when it was getting good." She picked up her tablet and stood. "I'll mention what we discussed with him right now."

"Thank you," Jane said as the woman exited.

Callie's smile remained until she exited the room, dropping it as she headed to the Director's improvised office. She entered and shut the door behind her. He held up his phone with the text she had just sent, CALL FOR ME NOW. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Something is really off. I think they're lying to us."

"How so?"

"Something Berden said. She said she thinks we'll let her stay here and help out until we find the bomb."

"The bomb?"

"Bomb. Singular." She rubbed her cheek. "Any chance they're lying about how he gets his information?"

"Right now, I'm doubtful. He says we're having him relay one piece of information each time, something innocuous, but that we would understand. The first dozen times, we've been able to line things up perfectly, stuff's checking out, but as it's gotten later, the information's not been as reliable. One time, he got a name horribly wrong; another time, a reference to eight-digit file heading had the last four numbers mixed."

"The file they sent mentioned memory issues may occur. Maybe we should test him, ask for things he could only know in the future."

"I knew it. The moment they said something. No. We're not asking for any more playoff scores."

"I'm not talking about the scores," Callie said, "Just the point spreads..."

"Stop; it's not happening. As I was saying, we've been able to figure out what we were trying to relay, but we're treating what he says like corrupted data; true, but incomplete or faulty. He only cares about the bombs, or bomb, and seems focused squarely on that."

"So one bomb, two locations. The bomb is originally in D. C. and moves to Atlanta, or vice versa. This is important enough to expose themselves. Why would they lie to us?"

"Maybe for the same reasons we'll probably end up lying to them. Either it's because information is need-to-know..."

"They don't deal in classified or top-secret. Anything they know, we need to know."

"Or for some greater good, to prevent something worse, maybe. What's your opinion?"

"I don't think they're being deceptive to cause harm, so perhaps the best course is to just ask. However, we'll need a plan first. Also, I've confirmed three of the four names, but not the computer expert."

"We said no surveillance, but I'm thinking about having their names red-flagged in case they come up again in some event. It's not breaking our word, and the fact is, we don't know what they will do after this."

"I know exactly what they'll do. They'll do what people like them have done in the past."

"We've never encountered anything like this before."

"Of course, we have," and Callie looked to the ceiling for a moment before continuing. "Three of the four, I can pretty much say, were in terrible circumstances when Summers showed up in their lives. He told them they're good people, and that he can help them be better. He gives them financial support, a surrogate family, convinces them that he's a wonderful, kind person, which he may well be, and shows them prophetic abilities."

"I see," Herse said with a nod. "But in those other instances, those people couldn't really see the future."

"Which is what makes him all the more convincing. One of the four has a serious military background, a second accidentally killed a child, and another might be linked to several heinous crimes. They all have major psychological problems, which I don't think they've ever dealt with. They didn't grow or move on or get any counseling. They were approached at the lowest point in their lives, given incredible wealth and a purpose, and made into heroes.

"And now, we're taking their leader away, the only person in the world that can provide that purpose. You ask about flags? If their names ever appear in our computers again, there should be so many flags, it should look like the U.N website."

"U.N website? Really?"

Callie shrugged. "Top of my head. I thought it was funny, but it doesn't belie my point. They're a goddamned mess, and that guy in there, believe it or not, was the psychological glue holding them together. We're connecting their descriptions to vigilante acts around the country. Assaults, mutilations, and some murders; we're finding a lot, and now they're on their own. But that's a problem for later. Let's find out what's going on with our singular bomb. I have an idea how to approach Summers."

"Fine, but, maybe, they're not as bad as you're making out."

"From what Berden implied, Montgomery Vance..., Philadelphia and Detroit."

"Mother of god. We're dealing with loons."

***

Ernest stifled a yawn as he entered the main room. Herse stood with Callie and waited until all information had been related to the analysts before he asking, "So, how's it going?"

"Good." Ernest stretched his arms out. "Maybe one or two more times to get it narrowed down."

"That's good. If it's okay, I need to ask you something."

Ernest looked around, but Jane was nowhere in sight. "Okay, sure."

"Ms. Berden indicated that there was only one bomb that moves locations. Is that true?"

"She said that?"

"That's what she led us to believe."

"I don't know why she would tell you that. We agreed."

"Can you explain why you didn't tell us this earlier? We want to trust you, but this is not a good way to start this relationship."

Ernest blustered before mentioning how an unspecified attack led to a change in venue to Atlanta, mentioning the theory about the CDC and the hurricane. His colleague entered the room to hear, "Jane, why did you tell them there was only one bomb?"

"I didn't."

"Two bombs didn't make sense," Callie said. "It was a guess."

"If there is an attack in Washington," Herse said, "you have to tell us. If the President is in danger, you have to tell us."

"The President is not in danger," Ernest said.

"Okay. So, is it the White House, or Congress? The Supreme Court?"

"We cannot tell you. Maybe later, as the time gets closer, but not right now."

"How long until it happens though? If we have to clear the area around the Washington Monument or the Lincoln Memorial, we need advanced warning. Things like this take time. If there are is a large crowd around the Mall..."

"Please, I swear. You need to trust us. We are trying to do what will save the most lives."

Herse crossed his arms, trying to decide what to do. He looked to his co-worker, who gave a slight nod to indicate her agreement with the two Madrigal members. "All right, fine. We are not going to push it now. Tell us when you're ready."

"Thank you," Jane said. "Believe us, it's for the best. Do you have enough to start working? He really should get some rest."

"Sure. We'll have someone show you where you can sleep and get something to eat."

Jane and Ernesto extended their thanks before departing. The metal door between rooms sealed on their exit. Herse turned to Callie. "So?"

"With her, I get nothing. It's like trying to read the mind of a corpse, but, with him..."

"Yes...?"

She nodded. "The Washington Monument."