It felt great to step on something that did not move. Albert stood on the train platform and took a deep breath. Harris exited behind him and dropped their luggage. An escort of soldiers approached. At the same time, the Admiral’s buggy pulled up. “Will I see you again?”

“Don’t know. It depends on VP Roosevelt. I hope to visit the farm, tell the family about our adventures. You, too?” He nodded at the waiting buggy.

“Yes, he will want to hear everything. Well, this is goodbye.”

“Until the next time.” Harris picked up his bags and walked toward the soldiers.

Henry, his father’s aide took his hand luggage. After a terse, “Admiral is glad to have you home safe,” he pitched them in the open buggy door.

“Father alright?”

“Just anxious. He gave orders to meet at his club.” Henry studied him for a moment. Reaching out, he straightened Albert’s tie and coat.

Albert sat in the carriage and ran a comb through his ruffled hair. A smile crossed his face. Not much changed. His father still gave commands and expected them to be carried out. Though he was never officially named an admiral, many of his friends and fellow officers argued he should have been picked as Vice Admiral instead of David Farragut. Raised with strict Naval discipline, the boys accepted the title and along with the rest called him, The Admiral.

At the club, a doorman approached and opened his carriage door.

Henry said, “I’ll take the luggage to your house and return. Lunch will take an hour.”

Albert stepped down and followed the doorman into the building. His father waited in the smoking room, a cigar between his fingers. One of the staff bent over prepared to light it. He was waved off as Albert walked into the room.

“Early to be smoking.”

“Humph, you’re late” was the Admiral’s reply.

The room was full of elderly military leaders. Feeling like an errant schoolboy, he stood at attention and waited to be invited.

“Sit,” his father ordered.

After easing down into the cushioned chair, Albert studied his father. New lines around his mouth and eyes bothered him. Instead of asking, “Are you alright”, he commented, “New haircut, looks good. And there’s a different shape to your mustache.”

He answered in a frustrated voice, “Just the usual. Barber knows better than to change anything.”

Albert waited; he knew from his father’s irritated expression there was more to come.

“Don’t like the way Roosevelt sent you off, and with Jack out to sea, my family was gone. I would be in a better mood if my sons would stop wandering off, though Jack is due back soon. Noticed the limp is gone.”

“Japanese herbs and daily foot massage. Still have twinges, but nothing like before. I brought samples of the herbs for a medical friend at the University to study them.”

The clock ticked in the background. At eleven fifty-five, his father, along with the other men in the room started the slow effort to stand. The double doors opened. They trooped with military correctness by rank into the dining room. As a civilian, Albert was the last to enter. The doors closed quietly behind them.

He ate the overcooked chicken and limp vegetables. Dessert, as usual, was the best part of the meal. Sipping his coffee, he leaned back to relax.

“Sir,” the steward approached him followed by a man dressed in black.

Both the Admiral and Albert glanced up.

“Dr. Timmons, I have a summons. Vice President Roosevelt sent me to escort you to his office.” The man stood stiff and waited for him to respond.

“Father?”

“Go. Don’t let Roosevelt send you off somewhere else before we talk. Henry will drive you and return for me.”

He rose and followed the man out.

****

Roosevelt glanced up from a letter he was reading and said, “Glad you made it back. Harris’s reports praised your abilities. The description of your dragon design makes me want one too. But, not now,” he grinned at Albert’s panicked expression.

“Sir, I hoped Lieutenant Harris and I would have the opportunity to sit down over a meal. He left quickly.”

“Not able to do that, he is already on another assignment. This is a letter of commendation for your service. All I can do. There will not be a public announcement. Hush, hush, and all that.”

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“Thank you,” Albert almost bowed and caught himself. After all those months of bowing to everyone, the habit was hard to break.

“What are your plans?”

“The university semester starts in a week. I telegraphed the dean of engineering at one of the train stops. He is eager for me to resume teaching.”

“Good. You will be nearby when I need your assistance again.”

Albert was not sure what Roosevelt meant, but a surge of excitement sent a sharp shiver down his back.

The Vice President rose, shook Albert’s hand, and indicated the meeting was over.

Their meeting seemed strange. Roosevelt held something back. And there was the veiled comment about needing his assistance again. He popped his hat on, slipped the cane under his arm, and left the building with a brisk step.

****

The past adventure faded from his mind as Albert waited for his class of engineering students to enter. He sat at his desk and focused on the students filing in. Matt, his TA took their names and checked them off his list. The bright, eager ones always sat in the front. They already had paper and pen out, ready to get started. The others, well they were just there to get a grade. Those were more prone to gossip and laughter with friends. His engineering lab would weed them out.

Two men, the last to enter caught his attention. They could be twins or at least brothers with the same stocky build, long black hair tied back, and dark intense eyes. Unconcerned, the men dressed more like workers than students. Each handed a paper to Matt, who read it, and then indicated for them to sit in the back. They were not students but paid privately to attend his lectures for no grade.

When Matt closed the doors and nodded to him, Albert rose. A memory flashed across his mind of the Japanese workers excited to work with him and learn. For some reason, he felt irritated. “I’m not going to put my name on the board. If you don’t know it by now, you are in the wrong class.”

The eager students stared at him with fascination while others fumbled through their bags searching for pen and paper.

He started with the basics of steam power and progressed to how it could be controlled. Throughout his lecture, the two strange men did not change expression. They studied him with a disturbing intensity. When Albert turned to write on the board, he experienced the weird sensation that their eyes drilled holes in his back. As the bell tower chimed, signaling the end of class, they quickly slipped out.

A group of students surrounded him and asked, “Doctor Timmons, can you tell us about your trip to Japan?”

Albert answered their questions for a while but finally closed his satchel. “No more. Time to go.”

On the way home, a brisk wind flew against his face. Feeling invigorated, he waved as friends and colleagues passed by. A few stared at his even stride with no limp. He grinned and waved his cane at them and kept walking.

Up ahead, the two dark-eyed men loitered against a store wall. After he passed, they casually stepped out and followed him.

He pulled the string on his pulser to build a charge. Next, the weapon slid into his hand. Arriving at his house, he climbed the steps and turned the metal bird perched on Napoleon’s head. Albert spun around, prepared to defend himself, and discovered the men were gone.

After the intrigues in Japan, I could be imagining danger, but cannot deny that tingling of warning on my neck.

He entered the hall and breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. On a windup timer, a spark already ignited kindling in the fireplace. Another one started a reaction to build up steam, turning on the lamps and the coffee pot sitting next to his chair.

The only thing non-mechanical was his sandwich the housekeeper left him. He unwrapped it and set the plate on a table next to his chair. Kicking off his shoes, Albert poured coffee into a cup and leaned back in the chair.

He analyzed his first class. Five, maybe six students looked promising. Albert smiled. Tomorrow’s class will be more interesting. They were third-year students and had projects assigned to them while he was gone. A smaller group, they jostled each other for his attention and praise. Their designs should be outstanding.

His mind dwelt on the two men who followed him home. They needed to be checked out. Harris would have done that for him, but Roosevelt implied he was not to be contacted. Oh well, his father’s aide could help him. Henry had connections to many individuals. He sometimes cautioned Albert about the people approaching him.

Picking up a tablet and pen always within reach, he wrote out a note:

Henry,

I think two men are following me. Can you help identify them?

A.

Sealing it in an envelope, he put his father’s address on the outside with attention ‘Henry’.

The next morning before class, he gave it, along with some money to his TA, and asked, “Can you have this delivered?”

As the last student left after his lecture, Matt handed him a note. Albert grinned at the reply.

A,

Pick up some rolls on the way home.

H

As he entered the bakery, a ferret-faced man shoved past him. Brickly, Albert remembered, was Henry’s go-to man for information.

Nibbling on a roll while leisurely strolling home, he stopped to dust off a crumb from his coat. A stealthy glance behind him confirmed the two men still followed. Brickly, an expert at shadowing, was nowhere to be seen. Their surveillance went on for over a month. They seemed content to only track his movements.

Settled in his chair after a tiring classroom session, he read through the mail while munching his sandwich. Albert slit open an impressive looking envelope and pulled out an engraved invitation.

The Honorable

Tateno Gozo,

Japanese Ambassador to the United States

Invites you to a reception at the Japanese Embassy

On the 18th, Tuesday at 8:00 pm

Please Reply

The whistle, attached to his front door pull, echoed through the house. He rose and glanced through the spy tube to see who was there. A man dressed in black uniform stood at attention and waited. Obviously one of Roosevelt’s guards, Albert flipped a switch, and with a swoosh of steam, the door opened.

“Dr. Timmons, Vice President Theodore Roosevelt asked me to hand deliver your acceptance to the invitation.”

“Come in while I write my response.”

The man stepped in, and for a moment, broke his stiff expression when he saw Jarvis, the mechanical butler.

Albert smiled at his reaction and reached for a paper and pen to scribble his reply. He did not even try to guess how Roosevelt knew about the invitation.

Honorable Tateno Gozo,

I respectively accept your invitation.

Dr. Albert Timmons.

He held the folded note to the man. He took it, nodded, and turned. Albert flipped the switch again and opened the door. He watched Roosevelt’s man walk in stiff precision down the steps.