John Cross was traveling under a false identity. The flight on a British airliner from Heathrow to JFK on Long Island was perfectly boring. And while he did perform his usual chat up of a stewardess in the First Class section he would not have time for any extracurricular sexual activity on this mission.
To an external observer he was an example of an increasingly rare phenomena, the aging and well off British financier traveling on business. Unfortunately with the Labour Party in power in the United Kingdom this facade was becoming less credible by the day.
Cross had his travel documents ready when he stepped up to the young woman at the customs station. There was a cursory examination the documents and his luggage.
The young woman smiled.
“Welcome to the United States, Mister Rose.”
He smiled in return.
From JFK Airport he took a cab to a Hilton Hotel in Manhattan. Once he was in his room he made a phone call to a local number.
“This is Jack Rose, I’ve arrived.”
A woman’s voice responded.
“Thank you Mister Rose.”
Roughly an hour later there was a knock on the door of the hotel room. He answered it.
It was an old friend in the intelligence service, Richard Drake.
“Jack, it’s damned good to see again, even under the circumstances! So they pulled you out of retirement for this?”
He had met Drake when he was a newly commissioned subaltern in Korea. Drake was now covered as the British press attache in New York.
“Dicky, you know a training slot is not retirement.”
“It may as well be.” Drake responded. “I brought your stuff.”
Drake carried a large suitcase into the room. When Cross closed the door the case was opened.
“Here you go,” said Drake, “An M1911A1 pistol with shoulder rig, daylight and infrared cameras, and some American silver coins and paper currency.”
Drake then pulled a set of keys from his coat pocket.
“And your car, a new Ford Mustang with a large bore engine and four speed manual gearbox. God only knows why you’re getting all this American...stuff.”
“You should know why, Dicky.” Cross replied. “It fits in here in the States and I can resupply locally. This isn’t one of those silly James Bond movies.”
To actual intelligence officers the James Bond series, both the literary works by Ian Fleming and the movies based on them, were a series of bad jokes.
In part this was because working intelligence officers didn’t get laid as often as the fictional Secret Agent 007.
Drake spoke again.
“Awful mess in Minneapolis, what?”
“Yes,” Cross replied, “But it’s not our problem. The PM wants to knew why these people are not talking to us.”
“It’s very obvious,” Drake replied, “all he has to do is look in a mirror.”
It was no secret that the Uptimers were averse to socialism.
“What the PM wants is a politically acceptable answer.”
“Well what can I say to that?” Said Drake. “Good luck.”
Across Manhattan the scene was repeated three times with one French and two Soviet intelligence officers who were also operating without legal cover. The Frenchman would drive a Chevrolet Camaro to Nevada while the Soviets were issued Chrysler products for their mission. In each case for the Soviets it was a standard four door Plymouth sedan.
Later in the evening aboard the SS Apollo, the flagship of the Sea Organization of the Church of Scientology--L. Ron Hubbard--the founder of church was opening a large manila envelope that was addressed to him.
The contents of the envelope were pages containing text and photographs. Hubbard then read the cover letter.
As a practitioner of Ayn Rand’s philosophy of Objectivism I would not normally care about any aspect of Scientology or Dianetics. However, as a result of our accidental journey backwards in time we have information that does concern you and the COS. After your death on the original timeline in 1986 a young man, David Miscavige, had in a fashion contrary to your instructions taken control of the COS. As the head of COS Miscavige had practiced Black Dianetics and brought the church to the edge of extinction. Normally I would not be concerned about this but his actions would ultimately result in the inflicting of needless suffering on members of the Sea Org and at least one senseless and preventable death. As an Objectivist I cannot in good conscience allow this to happen without an intervention. I fully recommend that Miscavige be permanently disconnected from the COS. As to the question of if process R2-45 should be carried out on him I will leave this to you.
Evelyn Boatman, Mission Commander of Starship Eagle
PS: RAH says hi.
Scientology process R2-45 was the termination of a life with a M1911A1 pistol. Hubbard himself had personally described it as, “an enormously effective process for exteriorization but its use is frowned upon by this society at this time.”
Some people in the audience had found this statement humorous.
Hubbard now sat back in his chair and examined the primary contents of the package.
In Nevada right after the sunset Evelyn Boatman sat in a wheelchair outside of his hospital room. He was pondering the events that were now in motion and wishing he had a couple of double cheese burgers from White Castle.