“Dr. Wilson, it’s good to see you again. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Vincent offered, walking forward with his hand extended.
Wilson rose and accepted Vincent’s hand. “Mr. Shakespeare, it’s good to see you as well. And please, you can call me Woodrow.”
“Very well, Woodrow. And you may call me Vincent. In fact, I prefer it. It’s not too often that I get called by my first name. They’ve taken to calling me The First Gentleman. Not quite the ring of The First Lady, now is it?”
Wilson smiled. “Not quite.”
“Now, to what pleasure do I owe this visit today? I apologize that my wife is away on duty.”
Wilson started to speak but something caught his eye just outside of the window. There was a man on the lawn and he knew that no one should be that close to the White House. Then, he saw who that man was. It can’t be, he almost said aloud. The man on the lawn was Jack the Ripper.
Vincent started to ask Wilson if he had driven down from Princeton or if he was at his home in Washington, D.C. when he noticed the look on Wilson’s face. “Are you alright?” Vincent asked concerned. Wilson was looking over Vincent’s shoulder, staring out at the South Lawn. Vincent turned to see at what Wilson was staring but as he moved, he caught Wilson’s eye and Wilson turned his focus briefly to him. “Woodrow, are you alright?” Vincent repeated.
Wilson didn’t answer, rather turning his eyes back to the window. Jack was gone. Wilson knew that wasn’t a good thing. He stared out of the window a moment more and then turned his focus back to Vincent. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
The Secret Service agent just outside of the door couldn’t hear their words but had noticed the concern on Vincent’s face through the open door and began to react. Vincent saw the agent begin to step forward but shook his head waiving him back. “I asked if you were alright.”
“No, I’m fine. I’m sorry to have startled you. It looked like there was a man outside on the lawn but now he is not there. Perhaps I am just tired.”
“You think you saw a man on the South Lawn?”
“Yes, but…”
Vincent cut him off and nodded to the agent. The agent came in immediately. “Dr. Wilson thinks he saw a man on the South Lawn,” Vincent said to the agent. “He’s not sure about this but please check it out.”
The agent nodded and spoke into his communication device. He stood outside of the door until another agent took his place guarding Vincent and then took off down the hallway out of sight.
“Again, I’m sorry for the trouble,” Wilson offered.
“No, not at all. If there is a man on the lawn then you have saved us quite a bit of trouble. So I thank you. Now,” Vincent said, gesturing at the seats around the table, “shall we sit and discuss what is on your mind?”
Wilson nodded. In another life he had sat at this table many times. He knew which of the chairs squeaked and which were more comfortable to sit in for long periods of time. It was very strange for him. He had memories of a life he had never actually lived. He had been the President of the United States in another life and could recall that experience vividly.
Once they were seated, Vincent called for some coffee. They spent the next hour discussing various policies on economics that Wilson felt concerned the future of America’s universities. But that was not the real reason Wilson was there. He knew that the President would not be there on that day (she was off meeting with the Prime Minister of Canada). What he really wanted was to have time alone with Vincent so that he could ascertain better what type of person Vincent was. He was looking for certain clues about Vincent that would tell Wilson how Vincent got there in the first place. He knew that Vincent was out of place but he did not share any of this knowledge.
Vincent took notes as the two of them spoke. At the end of the hour, just as they were about to wrap up, the agent came back and told Vincent they had done a sweep of the entire property, inside and out, and had found no one out of place. Vincent thanked the agent for his diligence and then turned his attention back to Wilson. They spoke a few more minutes before calling for the conclusion of the meeting.
As Wilson was getting into his car to leave the White House, he smiled and thought about how welcome he would be in the White House if Vincent or the President knew the truth about him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Washington, D.C. – November 1921
Later, Wilson entered his house in Washington, D.C. It was dark and quiet. His wife was away for a few weeks visiting family so he had the house to himself. Of course, he missed his wife when she wasn’t around but it was nice to have some time to himself all the same.
It was night in America’s capital and he turned on a lamp as he entered. (They were wealthy so they had electricity in their home.) The illuminated room revealed a man sitting in a chair in his living room.
“Hello, Willie,” Jack said.
Normally an unexpected person in his living room would have caused
