Chapter VI: The TimeKeepers

Special Agent-in-Charge Michael Reed threw his long overcoat on the long table as agents scrambled to find a place inside the meeting room in Washington DC. The special team, consisting of highly trained agents known as 'TimeKeepers' from the Federal Bureau of Investigation Intelligence Division, were summoned for a late-night meeting stamped as "urgent."

With his index knuckle, he knocked three times on the plexiglass on his right and got the attention of his secretary. The lady in glasses looked at the sound and saw him with his index finger raising. She immediately knew his boss wanted a black coffee to energize him for the next couple of hours. Reed has been energetic, and he doesn't realize it's already past 7 p.m.

When he received his overtime coffee, Reed went on to the conference room's steel podium, drew some papers, and passed it on to the agents seated across the room. He gazed left and right, and when he's sure everyone has a copy, he clicked on his laptop and played his presentation.

Reed, at the age of 57, is one of the aspiring candidates for FBI Directors. Despite his generation, his muscular physique is still comparable to Arnold Schwarzenegger. His white mustache matches his already snowflaked hair. Standing at 6'3, his appearance and built can even turn on women in the department to take notice of him.

"Agents, I know I have put a lot of stress on you all lately, but believe me, the particular case that this team has been following for years now must come to an end," Reed firmly said. Agents looked at him straight and puzzled, waiting for him to continue.

"For the benefits of those who were not here yesterday, Agent John Mclemore and I jumped into the timeline as stated in those papers you're holding right now."

Agents looked at the papers and read them in silence. After a minute, Reed asked Agent Mclemore to play his presentation as he moved towards the center and near the listening agents.

Mclemore clicked on the first slide, and a famous logo appeared on the screen. Without even looking, Reed continued his discussion.

"With our latest jumped, we cemented the necessary evidence that Gemini Auction Company is behind the glitches in the timeline. Their latest, as you already read, was robbing the RMS Titanic."

Impressed agents nod, and created low murmurs with themselves. Reed waved his hand at Mclemore, and the latter clicked again for the continuation of the presentation.

"We are a hundred percent sure that Gemini will be auctioning tomorrow the Titanic's portable compass owned and named after its captain, Edward Smith. The report we have received from our reconnaissance agents, this compass will be the auction's star as they celebrate their 34th anniversary."

Reed sauntered at the other end of the long table. The presentation continuously displayed other historical artifacts that are supposedly salvaged from the past and auctioned by Gemini.

Agents fell in awe as the figures shouted whooping billions of dollars' worth of auctioned artifacts. For only three decades operating, the Gemini's growth in net worth was a staggering 4000% up.

"We checked on every timeline we suspected they went, " Reed continued. "And each of that has time residue left." The monitor now displayed a photograph of a passed-out Captain Edward Smith, with a green chemical-like orb hovering on his chest.

The low murmurs turned into loud gasps—Mclemore secretly jubilant since he was the one who took the photo when they visited Titanic's timeline.

"You mean, they are touching and dealing with people from the past?" one agent at the left side of the conference table could not help but ask.

"Indeed!" Reed agreed as he went back to the center of the conference table. "And it's proven how dangerous it is to alter people's actions from the past."

The Domino Effect, as everyone called it. The supplementary theory that parenthetically overpowered the classic grandfather's paradox: what if one were to go back in time and kill one's own grandfather before one's father was conceived?

One puzzled senior agent raised his hand. Reed looked at him and acknowledged him to speak.

"How come Gemini has this technology? I thought we're only the ones in possession of this breakthrough?'

Reed smiled and felt satisfied that somebody in the meeting asked what he was expecting during his rehearsal. Without answering the question, he gave another nod to Mclemore, and the presentation displayed a portrait of a middle-aged man, who was in a white lab gown with a patch of NASA attached on his chest.

Everyone recognized the familiar image. The man was a former astrophysicist working at NASA and was behind famous space exploration. With hundreds of accolades for breakthrough inventions and discoveries, he became a household name. At the peak of his career, he surprisingly resigned from the government and focused on his longtime passion – auction.

"The man behind Gemini's time-traveling spree – Dr. Arthur Jhonson."

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Maya combed her hair in front of her room's vanity mirror. She remembered the last time she had it long, below her shoulder. Her Mom became hysterical when she cut it when she started working as an auctioneer.

"You just work with your mouth, not with your hair. So what's the point of cutting it short?" Alicia asked her three years ago. She vividly recalled how her Mom wept for it.

However, she cannot tell her the real reason. At least, not yet. Her father, Arthur, reminded her to keep their Mom out of it. He never wanted her to be stressed.

Maya tried to convince her deceased father, but he was too naïve for it. Your Mom has a quiet life here. Let's keep it that way.

Maya was about to put on her earrings when she heard a short buzz on her door. She can't remember calling any room service tonight. She stood up and pressed her elegant maroon cocktail with her small hands, fitting it to her and contouring on her toned body.

She grabbed and twisted the door handle. As it opened, Maya saw a standing Sylvia Baron in pink cocktail dressed and a glass of champagne in one hand. In split seconds, Maya was surprised; her mind resorted to any earthly reason why such a human being will be visiting her.

"Is there a problem?" Maya asked.

'Aren't you gonna let me in?" Sylvia replied. Maya doesn't see any reason not to either. She stepped aside and let her in. Sylvia walked and looked around as if she lost something inside Maya's hotel room.

"What do you need?" Maya felt weird as she never acquainted herself with her. Their relationship is purely professional: no hi's, no hello's – nothing. And this lady - who almost made her shortlisted in the company- was the last one on her mind to make an unsolicited visit.

"Boss said I give this to you," Sylvia answered as she handed her a folded slip form. Maya took and unfolded it. She read it silently, and it made her angry. It was a solo mission scheduled tonight, ordered to Maya.

Tonight? Is this official? Is this a joke or what?" Maya asked, agitated. She hoped that it was something of a prank. But with Sylvia, there would be no joke between them.

"Yes, it has stamped, authorized by The Board," Sylvia replied, in a formal tone. "One of our honored guests requested to include World War II katana – the details will be forward in your – "

"You want me to fly to Gemini right now?"

Sylvia put down her glass of champagne on the side table of Maya's bed. She unzipped her sling bag that matches her dress then put out a rectangular box with Gemini's logo on it, which Maya immediately recognized.

Maya realized Sylvia was dead serious as she handed her the Alcubierre Metric Drive, the device that the auctioneers like her used to travel back time. Sylvia smiled at her and walked toward the door. Before she exited, she turned one more time and left Maya insulting parting words.

"Dear Maya, the party starts. And I guess you're not invited."

Maya crumpled her paper and let it fell on the floor. As she activated the device, she saw the coordinates in the timeline and was horrified. Her heart pounded, and everything around seems to shut down in a snap.

Someone wants me dead! She furiously thought.

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"The Alcubierre Metric Drive was an ingenious invention of Dr. Johnson before he left NASA," Agent Reed narrated to his companion beside him. Both men were seated at the back of the Chevrolet Tahoe, driven by another agent in Boston who fetched them.

"Is it the same Alcubierre we use at the headquarter?" asked Mclemore.

Reed gave the direction to the driver before answering Mclemore's query. "It's not. It's a prototype. It's portable and tiny compared to our bulky one. I have seen one in a photograph, and old intelligence suggested that Gemini have been using Johnson's device."

The car exited MA-1A S and continued to Storrow Drive. It will be a 14-minute drive to Hotel Le Meridien, enough time for Reed to lecture Mclemore on the Gemini's case.

"Why did he left?" Mclemore asked, rigidly taking down notes in his head every detail.

Reed threw a shady conclusion. "No one knew why. Some said Dr. Johnson got tired of NASA's politics – you know, the red tapes, the cover-ups. Maybe he felt he was being used by many who wanted his portfolio for their own ambitions."

The car traversed on the Massachuset Drive as Reed looked out of the window into the neon lights. Mclemore was amazed at how passionate his boss in pursuing the case. He wanted to let him know that he was also doing his assignment.

"I heard that someone has stolen his idea on a space exploration project. Instead of crediting him, the government-funded the wrong person who stole his hard work," Mclemore added.

Reed was less impressed with the young agent since he knew what he was referring to. But he tried his best to narrate the result of his investigations on Dr. Johnson.

Reed recalled that fateful day when NASA had the press conference launching of the Kepler Mission. The mission, which everyone knows until now, was a success by locating earth-like planets within the galaxy.

However, everything went south for Dr. Johnson, as his co-scientists never let him speak; and credited the launching to the Chief Scientist. As seen in his face turned red, he was disillusioned and forced to kept mum on the podium as he helplessly watched how the other experts delivered in public all the things he discussed with them regarding the mission.

The very next day, Dr. Johnson went AWOL.

"A year and a half later, Dr. Johnson resurfaced as a wealthy auctioneer," Reed concluded.

The younger agent was astonished at what he heard from Reed. But everything is still oblivious for him as he tried to connect the dots.

"Let's say all of these are on point, and Dr. Johnson is long gone. So, on what grounds are we pinning down all the rest of the Gemini?"

Mclemore received no answer from Reed. Instead, the older agent pulled a folder and handed it to Mclemore. It was a warrant of arrest issued by the federal court, with a long list of Gemini Auction Company employees.

The already vague subject for Mclemore to understand even became murkier upon learning the grounds of arrest. He wanted to ask for more, but the intercom attached to the car beeped. Reed answered the incoming call from the agent who mixed with the party at Le Meridien.

"This is Agent Red. What's the development?"

"Boss, you won't believe what I see right now!" the agent shouted at the end of the line.

"What is it?"

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At the top of the Le Meridien bar's makeshift stage, the spotlights focused on the glass box. All the Gemini's invited guests can't help but cut their dining and take a photo of the historical artifact waiting to be auctioned tonight. This served as an appetizer, and it's a sign of even 'larger-than-life' items to be auctioned tomorrow.

The stunned undercover agent, who is disguised as a waiter, was lost for words. With the loud disco music playing along at the bar and the chatting guests' noise, he didn't hear Agent Reed, who was shouting already at the other line.

"Sir - do you hear me? " the agent stammered, breathing heavily, as he covered the mouthpiece of his hidden intercom with his palm. "They will auction it tonight –

"Goddammit, what is it!" shouted Reed impatiently.

"It's Muammar Gaddafi's golden pistol!" the agent finally replied.