A Temporal Trust (The Temporal Book 2) by CJ Martin

Marcus took the proffered hand, Sam focused on the large man who was clearly the one in charge. He was still smiling, but the smile was not simply a friendly gesture; it was the smile of a man in control, someone comfortable with heavy responsibility and eager to take it on. Above a deeply wrinkled forehead, he had bristly black eyebrows that stood in stark contrast to his nearly pure white crew-cut.
    Looking beyond that man, Sam could see the table had three large flat-screen monitors at equidistant spacing. Each was recessed into the wood finish and had an animated globe on the screen. The symbol of the Joint Chiefs of Staff—a wreath with four swords and a shield—was superimposed over the globe.
    “Thank you, Bill. I’ll take it from here,” said the highly decorated man whose large figure easily overshadowed the diminutive Dr. Bracker. He handed a thick folder to the lieutenant waiting beside him.
    “The president wishes…” said Dr. Bracker before being interrupted by their greeter.
    “I’m sure you understand the sensitive nature of what we will be discussing. Unless you have direct orders from the president authorizing your presence, I can take it from here.”
    Dr. Bracker seemed slightly unnerved. “The president will not be thrilled. I was to stay with Marcus until this is resolved—to make sure nothing goes wrong.”
    The general simply raised an eyebrow waiting for a piece of paper affirming authority. Failing that, he waved his hand in the direction of the elevator.
    Sam sensed something was wrong. He could not read the thoughts of the two men, but their eyes were locked like two old tomcats in a standoff over a dead mouse. Dr. Bracker, with his flared nostrils and cold, steely eyes, appeared to be particularly angry and that usually heightened Sam’s senses. The other man kept his cool, but it was obvious he would not relent.
    Sam didn’t understand his own gifts, but while he rarely could hear actual thoughts, he could often at least make out intentions. He was able to see these intentions or feelings materialize as a rainbow of colors—many colors he had never experienced in nature and could not begin to describe in any human language. Dr. Bracker’s signature, however, was simply nonexistent. Sam hadn’t met anyone since receiving his gift that gave off nothing. Dr. Bracker was the first.
    “Dr. Bracker,” Marcus said in a voice intended to defuse the situation somewhat. “I deeply appreciate your offer of help, but perhaps you could coordinate with the president to come back later? I’m afraid time is of the essence.”
    Dr. Bracker relaxed his shoulders and then turned back to Marcus with a smile produced too suddenly, plastic and false. He dipped his head slightly—not in agreement but in bitter submission to the old man’s desire. “Yes, of course.” He turned his head, making eye contact with each of the other Temporal in turn, lingering slightly longer upon Ian before heading toward the elevator door. As the door opened, he turned once more toward Marcus. “Please do contact me if I can be of any service.”
    “Thank you, Dr. Bracker.”
    As the elevator closed, Marcus turned to the man that had expelled Dr. Bracker. “General Gordon, I do not know what that was about, but we have a job to do and not much time.”
    The general didn’t seem to be curious how the old man knew his name. “Yes, sir. Right this way,” the man said sweeping his arm toward the head of the table. “I cannot discuss my concerns about Dr. Bracker in detail, but let’s just say we have no need for a politician right now. This,” he said with a second sweep of his arm toward the man who held the general’s folder, “is Lieutenant Scott Harrison. He will be staying with you at the Berkshire House and providing any personal assistance you may need while the three of us arrange for the worldwide transports.”
    The Berkshire House had been the residence of Colonel John W. Berkshire who, upon being