A Collision In Time

You have a row of dominoes set up; you knock over the first one, and what will happen to the last one is that it will go over very quickly.

– Dwight D. Eisenhower

June 26, 1914, Sarajevo, Austro-Hungarian Empire

Despite spending the afternoon within sight of Bistro Serbia waiting for Misko’s appearance, their search continued to be futile. Dov had approached a few men who matched the description of Misko, but to no avail.

“Perhaps now is the time to deploy our nanocams,” suggested Ariel. “We can wait at our hotel until there is a match.”

“Whether we wait here or at the hotel room,” said Uriel, “the net effect is identical. At least this way we are mere moments from intercepting him if he makes an appearance.”

Ariel waved his finger. “Fine, but this is becoming monotonous. We have the technology, but don’t use it.”

“I believe most detective work is exactly that—monotonous,” said Uriel. “It’s part of its charm.”

Notwithstanding his initial enthusiasm, Uriel’s passion for channeling Sherlock Holmes waned as the day moved forward. Each hour, Dov religiously checked the time-wave profile. They huddled together to ensure nobody would see them as Dov retrieved the holodevice instrumentation and held her breath for the few seconds it would take for the time-wave to display. So far the results showed no change and yet each reprieve meant the next time they checked, the odds were ever so slightly more against them. They understood time was fundamentally not in their favor, and it was getting worse by the minute.

That evening they chose to dine again at Bistro Serbia. Good fortune and a quiet room provided another opportunity to chat with Boris. He explained that he’d grown up on a farm close to Tuzla and was an acquaintance of Misko. He didn’t know Misko well, but in a small population, almost everyone knew everyone else, at least by name. Naturally, Boris was curious why he had never met Karima, but seemed satisfied with her explanation that she had moved as a young child to Prague. It was a weak excuse, but Boris, who was charmed by Dov, and didn’t press the issue.

Eventually the evening drew to a close with no sign of Misko. Dov and her companions left the café but indicated to Boris they would be back tomorrow.

* * *

The next morning passed without any sighting. Dov and Uriel sat under the shade of a nearby tree and watched Ariel argue with a street vendor.

“This cannot be pure silver,” Ariel said in Serbian. He held a teapot in his hand. “The metallurgical composition is nickel, lead, and trace copper. I don’t think the teapot contains even a trace amount of silver.”

The vendor shook his head, his face flushed. “You are crazy. I am selling…”

Ariel stopped paying attention. His algorithm flagged a man entering Bistro Serbia whose profile matched their sketch. Aware that there had been occurrences of false positives in the past, Ariel did not want to raise Dov’s hopes. But he’d calculated the level of confidence at 95 percent. Ariel handed back the teapot and hurried over to Dov and Uriel.

“Dov,” he said, “a man just entered the café; he looked like—”

“Like Misko,” Dov replied in a hushed voice as she glanced at the café. She put her hands together as if in prayer and touched her lips. “I have bad luck; I don’t think I should question him. Uriel, or Ariel, can either of you please approach him?”

“It has to be you,” said Uriel, once again in a London accent. “Otherwise, Boris will wonder and may become suspicious. You must remember to be careful with your lie. You will need to ask Misko for discretion.”

“Yes, I know, Uriel. You’ve mentioned this to me. But—”

“Quickly now, Dov,” Uriel interrupted.

“Okay, but first,” Dov pointed to her ears, “test your subvocalizer. Make sure you can communicate with me once I’m inside.”

Uriel projected his voice, silent to anyone else but Dov.

“Yes, I can hear you perfectly,” she subvocalized to both Uriel and Ariel.

“I can also hear you,” Uriel said as Ariel nodded. “You are good to go.”

“Do you remember the plan, Dov?” Ariel asked.

“Kind of late to be asking, but yes—do my best to make him reconsider whatever plan he’s working on, and then figure the rest out as I go.” She winked. “I know we rehearsed the safest approach. Keep to the script.” Dov took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes nothing.”

Dov entered the café and recognized the man who must be Misko sitting at the bar at the back of the café. He nursed a beer and chatted with Boris. “Relax and breathe,” she reminded herself. She had planned on Misko being alone, not with Boris, who knew her as Karima. Dov slowed, considering whether to leave, regroup, and come back when Misko was alone. She should have had Ariel put cameras inside the café ahead of this. Why did they not think of that earlier?

A Bosnian accent pierced her thoughts. “Ah, Karima,” said Boris with a smile. “Look, Misko is here. I was just about to mention you, and here you are. We are graced by your presence.”

Misko turned his head toward Dov.

“Do you remember Karima from a long time ago, my friend?” Boris regarded Misko, who remained attentive and focused on Dov.

From the corner of her eyes, Dov caught Ariel and Uriel peering through the windows from across the street, watching the drama unfold in slow motion. Dov smiled at Misko but words failed her as she waited for Misko to respond. Misko raised his glass and took a generous gulp of beer. Dov waited as he hesitated and considered his response, a concerned expression on his face.

“Karima?” Misko questioned. “Ah, Karima.” Rising from his barstool, he stepped toward Dov and gestured at the table near the window. “Let’s sit here, my favorite spot. Would you like to have a drink?”

“Thank you. May I have a beer please?” Dov replied in Bosnian.

“Of course. Boris, two lagers please.”

Once they sat, Misko hesitated. “Obviously, you are not my cousin Karima.”

Dov looked away, embarrassed. It was important to not stray too far from the script and give away too much. Information provided to him may impact the time-wave and trigger the disturbance they meant to prevent. Still, she did need to be upfront. “I am here because you are likely involved in something important in the near future.”

The words on the report remained fixed in her memory.

Anomaly 1

Time: June 26, 1914, Earth Era

Person of interest: Misko Jovanović

She intended to gauge his responses and look for anything indicative of triggering a time disturbance. Every word he said would be analyzed by Ariel and Uriel as they listened to the conversation.

Misko stared at her, his mouth slightly open. “What do you mean? How am I involved in anything important?”

Dov had prepared for this question. “I am a scientist, and I study history and statistics. My field of interest is a new discipline. We have calculated an unusual level of political activity here in Sarajevo, and our mathematics has determined these events are partly initiated by you, Misko. We believe whatever you have planned will result in a negative outcome.” Dov stopped and added for emphasis, “Negative on a massive scale.”

“What kind of unusual activity? Mathematics? I don’t understand.”

Outside the café, Uriel subvocalized to Dov, “I would be vague in your descriptions. He won’t have any idea what you mean.”

Dov acknowledged the advice with a subtle nod. She focused her attention on Misko. “I study a new field of mathematics, made possible by recent advances in…” Dov tried to remember what sorts of mathematics were newly developed in the early 1900s “…in advanced multidimensional calculus and natural language processing.” He would not fact-check her.

He looked at her with a blank expression. “And why does this matter to me?”

“Misko is showing signs of increased nervous system changes,” subvocalized Ariel. “Be careful.”

Dov took a mental note.

“Of course, Europeans notice tension in Bosnia if it concerns their welfare,” Misko continued. “My country is at the crossroads of conflicts. The situation has existed since the breakup of the Roman Empire. I am not surprised by unusual political activity between the Ottoman and the Austro-Hungarian, but I am not an important person.” He smiled mischievously. “Karima.”

“According to our mathematics, however, you are personally involved and what you may decide to do and act upon will further increase tension and create a domino event.” Dov looked around to make sure nobody in the bistro was listening. “Can we talk privately?”

“I am not sure what you mean by domino event.”

“Our mathematics is precise.” Dov elected to not explain the ancient practice of arranging patterns of dominoes to collapse one after the other.

“No, I disagree.” He acted frustrated. Or was he nervous?

Dov and Uriel had discussed the likely possibility that Misko would deny any involvement, creating the need to raise the stakes.

“Are you sure it’s Misko?” she had inquired earlier in the day. “The report has the date tenuous. Maybe we have the wrong person.”

“All roads lead to Misko,” Uriel said. “There is no doubt he is involved.”

“He is extremely nervous, Dov,” Ariel subvocalized. “He may retreat. You must offer him a way out. A way to work with you and save face amongst his potential co-conspirators.”

Dov had no idea where to take the conversation from this point. She felt pressure from both sides—Ariel was expecting her to make progress, and Misko was denying any involvement. Additionally, she had been caught in a lie about her name. She was a scientist, not a criminal investigator. Perhaps she should have studied Arthur Conan Doyle last night. She was out of her element. Nonetheless, here she was.

Her mind raced with possibilities, but nothing materialized. “Misko, please excuse me while I freshen up.” She rose and walked to the bathroom at the back of the restaurant.

She subvocalized to Uriel and Ariel while in the bathroom stall, “I’m not a detective. I’m a scientist. I need a hypothesis.”

“Continue,” subvocalized Uriel on the bench outside. “What sort of hypothesis?”

“Okay, first he needs a way out. If I can make him feel comfortable with another option, a way out, he may admit I’m right. If he loves his home community then I need an idea that helps Bosnia, and helps him.”

“You are thinking like Sherlock Holmes. You are clearly a detective,” Uriel said. “You better return; he looks restless. He is nervous.”

“Okay, I’m heading back now. Jump in with ideas, should something become obvious. I have an idea forming.”

Dov rejoined Misko at the table. She leaned in toward him, so close that she could smell the beer on his breath. “Misko, my companions and I have traveled a long distance to see you. We didn’t do this for fun, to see the countryside, or to try new foods. We agree with you about Sarajevo. The city is an intersection of empires. Actions here have repercussions across Europe. Many innocent people may be hurt or even killed by your choices.”

Dov wiped her palms, slick with perspiration, on her thighs. “I won’t judge your actions,” she said. “You desire a better life for your family and friends. Misko, you must recognize that there is the potential for your actions to do more harm than good, even to those you are trying to protect. I’m not speculating. Our science does not waiver on this point; it’s prophetic. The event you initiate will be disruptive, we are most certain. But you can prevent catastrophe. You must act and change your plans or the consequences will be unimaginable. There must be something you can do?”

Dov fell silent. He needed to be the next voice. Sweat beaded on his forehead, just below his hairline, while he struggled for words. Dov’s quiet forced an uncomfortable tension, as though a heavy force were pushing them apart. He kept shaking his head and biting his lip as he stared at her, perhaps in a mild state of shock.

“I think you overestimate me, but I understand your argument.” He finished his beer. “Okay, let’s talk. But I think you will be disappointed.”

“His breathing sounds a little more relaxed,” Ariel said.

Misko ordered another beer, then began. “I have friends—or I should say workmates—who are upset with the current political order in this country. Our freedoms are curtailed, our taxes are too high, and we see no future for our children. They asked me to help them in planning a demonstration, and I arranged for the importation of a few arms, for their protection. I smuggled weapons packed in sugar.” Misko swallowed his beer. “That’s it. I have no idea what else is planned. I’m not part of the leadership or planning committee.”

“What is the name of the organization?” Dov asked.

Misko’s gaze hardened as he met her eyes. “I think I’ve told you enough.”

Dov subvocalized. “What do I say now?”

“Appeal to his sense of humanity,” said Uriel into her ear. “He seeks a better future for his family, so remind him of the potential impact of his actions.”

“Would you be willing to risk the lives of children?”

“I am telling you the truth,” he shot back. “I cannot stop what I am not part of. As far as I know, nothing is planned, nothing is asked of me.” He paused and looked out the window in the direction of Ariel and Uriel. “I have an idea…” He did not complete his thought.

“Yes?” Dov prompted.

“Actually, nothing.”

“No, what were you going to say?”

Again, awkward silence, then he shook his head. “No, nothing.”

Dov felt her heart beating nervously. Her tone changed, understanding that Misko’s next steps were his alone to make. “Misko, consider the possibility that I am right. What if you can change history, how might you be remembered? Could you live with yourself knowing your stubbornness resulted in the deaths of countless innocent children, men and women from all over Europe and even beyond? Could you live with yourself knowing you didn’t act? It is crucial to consider the costs of holding out. But also, consider the benefits to you should you help us.”

Dov leaned back in her chair and waited. Misko’s demeanor softened and she detected a shift, a flash of understanding or perhaps a sense of possibility.

Misko stood and held out his hands, palms open in a gesture. “I will help, but I am afraid I have visited too long. I bid you farewell.” He paid Boris, turned away from Dov and left the bistro, nodding to Uriel and Ariel as he passed them outside.

Dov also exited from the bistro and joined Uriel and Ariel on the bench. “I can’t believe we did it.”

“Can’t believe you did it, you mean,” said Uriel grinning at her. “You were fantastic, Dov.”

“It’s all a blur, to be honest, but thanks. Listen, I need some time to reflect and some exercise to walk off the beer and clear my thoughts. I think I will explore the city. I’ll be back soon.”

Dov left Uriel and Ariel, feeling proud of what she’d accomplished, but still skeptical of Misko’s intentions. She decided to walk to her lookout point, thinking she would perhaps encounter the elderly woman once again.

* * *

Misko walked quickly toward the small plaza that led to the basement where the members of the Black Hand resided. He rehearsed his arguments along the way. He would lie to them and mention he overheard government officials speaking of an assassination plot in a bid to frighten them into inaction. “Wait until a better time,” he would counsel them.

He reasoned he would be celebrated as a hero by the Black Hand for helping them avoid a catastrophic mistake. He imagined his leader, Danilo, promoting him to political liaison, negotiating a Bosnia of the future across the table from Archduke Franz Ferdinand. He would be interviewed by newspapers and commemorated in schools across Bosnia for years to come. He quickened his pace and smiled. He thought this must be true, for why else would he be sought out by a team of historical scientists? He was to make history.

He approached the door to the basement hideout and reached out to knock. His hand stopped in mid motion, a strong grip preventing his arm from moving forward. Misko glanced behind him, surprised.

“Misko Jovanović,” the tall, pale man said. “You need to think.”

“Modi?”

Asmodi spoke in a smooth, hypnotizing voice. “We must talk, Misko. You have already forgotten our bargain.”