The Mozart Conspiracy

by Phil Swann

  “Let her go,” David ordered, gun raised.

  Petrovic didn’t turn around. He didn’t even flinch. He stayed motionless, tightening the tension on the rope. Dani audibly inhaled.

  “I knew I should have killed you back at the house. Very good, David.”

  “I said, let her go. I swear to God I will kill you.”

  Dani gagged as Petrovic tightened the tension on the rope. “Oh, I’m sure you would. But I have your girlfriend in a very compromising position. Do you know how quickly I could crush her windpipe? I bet quicker than you can pull that trigger. Want to race?”

  David pulled back the hammer. “Yes.”

  It wasn’t the answer Petrovic was expecting, but he still didn’t move. Then without warning, Petrovic let go of the rope and opened his arms wide.

  Dani bolted to David’s side, gasping for air, pulling the rope over her head. Petrovic turned and faced them. He’d been shot, the upper right side of the uniform was covered in blood, but still he smiled. “Now what? I’m unarmed.”

  David stepped back and held the gun at Petrovic’s head.

  “No, David, don’t,” Dani begged.

  “He killed J.P.," David said, his arm straightening even more. "He killed Henry, and Charlie, and God knows who else. Why shouldn’t I kill him?”

  Dani squeezed David’s arm and said, “Because you’re not a killer.”

  David held his pose. He wanted to pull the trigger. He wanted to rid this soulless creature from the face of the Earth. Dani was right, he wasn’t a killer, but this thing in front of him wasn’t human. He knew he could send a slug of lead into this man’s head, and no one would question the decision—no one except him. David understood whatever he did in the next few seconds was going to be a decision he’d have to live with for the rest of his life. But as it turned out, it was a decision he’d never get to make.

  “Drop the gun,” the unfamiliar voice ordered from the darkness.

  David’s head jerked toward the voice. He instantly moved Dani behind him, looking quickly at Petrovic and then back toward the voice.

  “I said drop the gun,” the man said, emerging from the shadows beside the mausoleum. He was all in black and held a gun leveled at David.

  David’s head snapped from the stranger and then back to Petrovic and then back to the stranger. He still couldn’t see his face.

  “Mr. Webber,” the man said, “I will shoot you if I must.”

  It took another beat, but David dropped the gun, immediately wrapping his arms around Dani.

  Petrovic grinned. “Well, hello, my old friend.”

  “Shut up,” the man replied, pointing the gun at Petrovic.

  Petrovic’s smile abruptly disappeared.

  “Mr. Webber, Dr. Parsons, time for you to leave.”

  David and Dani looked at each other, but neither moved.

  “Back through the tunnel to the house. Leave now, please.”

  Dani hesitantly moved first.

  “Do you understand? Leave now.”

  The force of the man’s order caused both to run into the mausoleum. As David was helping Dani down the shaft, he looked back into the cemetery. The man was gone, as was Petrovic.

  They slid on their butts down the narrow tunnel until it opened wide enough to stand. David held Dani’s hand and the flashlight as they ran from the tunnel back into the cavern. It wasn’t until they’d reached the other side of the cave that they heard the voices. Both stopped when they saw the lights. Greenfield was the first one they recognized. Then beside him, his shoulder wrapped in a bandage, they saw Agent Fowler. Dani looked at David, her eyes filled with tears of relief. David smiled, took her in his arms, and held her tight.

  Greenfield and Fowler were within feet of the embracing the couple when they all heard it. A single gunshot from somewhere above.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Dani just giggled. David on the other hand, if not flustered, was more than a little uncomfortable by Marcus’s robust display of emotion upon their safe return to the house. He greeted both with an overjoyed, three-way embrace. So overjoyed and so robust, David had to physically dislodge the man’s arm from around his sore neck to breathe. Afterward, Greenfield ordered two agents to drive Marcus home. They could still hear the wired sound engineer as he left the front porch. “Dudes, the guy was like eight feet tall, really. His hands were like baseball mitts. Hey, did you guys ever watch the X-Files? You ever investigate any UFO stuff? Man, I’m jonesin’ for pizza, you guys hungry?”

  The scene in the house had calmed. Greenfield stood by the demolished fireplace and conferred with agents from the tactical unit as Fowler, suffering only from a flesh wound, sat across the room talking on his cell phone. David and Dani took the opportunity to be still. They sat on the couch; neither spoke. David’s arm was around Dani’s shoulder, her head on his chest.

  Greenfield walked over to the couch. “We’ve combed the cemetery and the cave. No sign of Petrovic or the other man. You didn’t see his face?”

  David answered with a shake of his head.

  “David,” Fowler interrupted, handing the phone across the broken coffee table, “someone wants to talk to you.”

  David took the phone, and without asking who it was, said, “Hello?”

  “Oh luv, you’d do anything to get out of paying me back the seven hundred and seventy dollars you owe me, wouldn’t you?”

  David’s eyes filled with tears. He could barely speak. “Jeep?”

  “Hi,” she responded is a weak, slurred voice.

  “Jeep, oh, God…I’m so sorry…so sorry.”

  “They tell me it wasn’t your fault…for once.”

  A smile broke over David’s face as he wiped away the tears. “Yeah, that’s what they tell me too, can you believe it?”

  There was no response.

  “Jeep?”

  “I’m here, just a little tired. They gave me something, I think.”

  He had so much to say, so much to apologize for. But he could tell she was fading fast, so it would need to wait for now. But eventually he would say it. “It’s okay, Jeep. You go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

  “Hmm, okay.”

  David squeezed the phone. “I love you, kiddo.”

  Her voice was barely audible. “I love you too.”

  David handed the phone back to Fowler and nodded thank you.

  “Where is she?” Dani asked, wiping away her own tears.

  “Washington General,” Fowler said, turning off the phone. “She’s in the room next to Dr. Rogers. We don’t think it’s necessary, but we put a twenty-four-hour guard on both of them just to make us all feel better.” He looked at David and smiled. “Doctors say she’s going to be fine. Just needs some rest.”

  David closed his eyes and released a breath he felt like he’d been holding for years. “Thank God. I thought Petrovic…with the phone—”

  Dani took David’s hand. “See, I told you she was going to be all right.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, you did, didn’t you?”

  Dani kissed him on the hand.

  “Well, folks,” Fowler said. “I hate to be the one to get back to business, but we still have a couple of unanswered questions. Dr. Parsons, shall I assume the Mozart piece wasn’t where you thought it would be?”

  Dani shook her head in bewilderment, “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Any chance it was there at one time and moved?” Greenfield asked.

  “A very good chance, but why and by whom? That cave must have been a flurry of activity two hundred years ago. Cook and his lodge of Freemasons probably used it for everything, both practical and ceremonial. You saw the bones in the cave. I’m sure that spot was once a switching junction between two lines for the Underground Railroad. That’s the place where one conductor would pass off the slaves, or freight as they were referred to in Railroad’s terms, to another conductor to continue the journey north. It would have been a place of great importance to the free black Ma
sons who operated this section of the line. I suspect if the Mozart manuscript was ever here, it was probably kept at that spot in the cave.”

  Fowler interjected, “So it’s not a grave as much as a—”

  “A shrine. Those bones are there so we'd never forget.”

  “It worked,” David said.

  “Yes, it did,” Dani agreed, looking up at David.

  Everyone was quiet.

  A young agent walked into the living room and whispered something in Greenfield’s ear. Greenfield nodded. “Show her in.”

  Kathryn Depriest ran into the living room and headed straight for David. “Oh David, thank God!” She leaned over and hugged him.

  Dani didn’t move from David’s side.

  “I was sure—” she couldn’t get the words out.

  “We’re okay, Kathryn,” David said, patting her on the back.

  David’s use of the collective pronoun we did not go unnoticed by Dani.

  Kathryn looked at Dani and then at Dani’s hand on David’s chest. She moved back a little and forced a smile. “I’m glad you two are okay.”

  “Ms. Depriest, can I get you something?” Fowler asked, sensing the situation and remembering it hadn’t been the best evening for her either.

  “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

  Fowler responded with a reassuring smile.

  The leader of the tactical unit rushed into the room. “Assistant Director, Agent Fowler, there’s something downstairs you should see.”

  “What?” Greenfield asked.

  Fowler approached, and the man whispered the information in Fowler’s ear. Fowler let go half a laugh and shook his head. “Well, well, don’t that just pop your buttons?”

  “What?” Greenfield asked.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” Fowler said, “I think we’re about to have some of those unanswered questions answered.”

  They were led out of the living room, through the foyer, and into the study on the other side of the house. Dani immediately realized they were heading to the stairs off the study leading to the lanai music room on the back of the house. Fowler entered the music room first and then Greenfield. Next was Dani and then Kathryn. David was the last in.

  As David entered the room, he saw everyone else standing completely still. Completely still—barely breathing.

  “What’s going on?” David asked.

  Dani was the only one who responded and only with a look.

  David walked up to Dani. She was white. He started to ask what was wrong when he heard a sound coming though the bodies in front of him. He pushed past Fowler and Greenfield and almost tripped over Kathryn, who had fallen to her knees.

  “What the hell’s wrong with—” First he saw her, an elderly African-American woman sitting beside a piano, smiling sheepishly at her cavalcade of visitors. For David, the following seconds moved in slow motion. He looked at the woman for a long moment, but said nothing. Then he looked at the piano beside her and then back at the woman. Finally, almost as if his mind refused to let him take it in, he looked back at the piano. He saw, but didn’t see. His brain couldn’t connect the image to reality.

  He swallowed. Then the image became clearer. At the piano, sitting on the bench slouched over the keyboard, he saw the small man with thin gray hair. The man turned around and smiled sadly.

  David audibly exhaled but uttered no words.

  “Hi, Davey,” the old man said.

  “Hi, Henry,” David replied.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Henry got up from the piano and approached David, saying nothing, only looking into his eyes. The two stared at one another for several seconds; neither spoke. Finally, Henry raised a trembling hand and touched David on the cheek. At first, David showed no reaction. Then after a moment, his bottom lip began to tremble, and the first tear broke free and rolled down his face. Henry reached out his frail arms. David’s eyes widened, and he let out a painful wail, burying his face in Henry’s shoulder.

  Henry held him tightly, stroking his head. “Oh Davey, I’m so sorry.”

  Kathryn was sobbing.

  Dani, her eyes soaked and red, rushed to Sugarberry, fell on her knees, and took the woman’s hand.

  David raised his head. His face was distorted with confusion. He gazed at the ghost in front of him and ran his fingers over Henry’s wrinkled brow. Finally, with a broken voice, David said, “You’re…alive…”

  Henry forced a smile through his own tears. “Oh, Davey, I’m just fine.”

  “I…I…don’t understand.”

  “I know…”

  “But…I…why…?”

  “Oh, Davey, I…I didn’t know, I didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t know?”

  Henry looked desperately around the room.

  “He didn’t know about you, Mr. Webber,” Scott Douglas said, entering the room unannounced. “I’m sorry, it was for his safety. I just learned of him myself.”

  Everyone showed shock and confusion as Douglas walked over to the old man and patted him on the back—everyone except for Agent Tom Fowler.

  “Who are you?” David asked.

  Fowler answered. “This, David, is the man who’s going to answer our unanswered questions. Aren’t you, Mr. Douglas?”

  Douglas ignored the question. “I’m so happy you’re all safe. I’ve just been informed Viktor Petrovic is no longer a threat. Congratulations, Assistant Director and Agent Fowler. Job well done.”

  “Informed by who? And where’s Mr. Woo?” Fowler demanded.

  Douglas smiled. “Just informed by those who know, Agent. I really can’t say any more than that. And Mr. Woo is unavailable.”

  Greenfield was seething. “Okay, Douglas, let’s have it. Why is Professor Henry Shoewalter sitting here in what appears to be perfect health?”

  Douglas shook his head. “Well, as I understand it—and again I was just brought into the loop—Professor Shoewalter has been assisting his government.”

  “With the search for the Mozart?” Fowler shot back.

  “Yes. And to get Petrovic,” Douglas answered. “Mr. Webber, Professor Shoewalter didn’t know about you being involved. He was told you were contacted in regard to canceling the meeting the two of you were to have.”

  David stayed fixed on Henry. He was still reeling. “But…how…you were dead…they found you? Petrovic killed you. Agent Fowler, you told me—”

  “No, they didn’t find him,” Fowler interrupted. “Petrovic killed somebody, but it wasn’t Henry. Was it Mr. Douglas?”

  “For the love of God, who?” Dani asked, sitting at Sugarberry’s feet.

  “Agent Fowler, we really shouldn’t be…” Douglas stopped himself, thought a moment, and smiled. “No, obviously it wasn’t Professor Shoewalter. It was Professor Raymond Sullivan.”

  “Sullivan? Why?” Dani asked.

  “Because Petrovic wanted something Sullivan had, and he had to kill him to get it. The murder was actually committed hours before Professor Shoewalter even arrived in L.A. The switch was made later that night.”

  “Again, why?” an exasperated Greenfield asked.

  “Because, just like you and your little newspaper stunt, it was imperative Petrovic believe we knew more than we did. And, of course, when I say we, I mean the US government. As I said, I just became aware of this.”

  “Of course,” Fowler said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

  Douglas continued, “You see, Petrovic knew someone else was after the Mozart, namely your husband, Ms. Depriest. By putting the man he really killed, Professor Sullivan, in Henry's room and releasing it to the press it was Professor Shoewalter, it forced Petrovic to believe Shoewalter, who he knew was still alive, must be close to finding the Mozart. We made him think the switch was made to protect the professor from Old Nick and keep Depriestiano off track. Also, if we didn’t, we knew finding Petrovic would be next to impossible.”

  “So when Professor Shoewalter called David that night, Sullivan was already dead?�
�� Fowler asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Yes,” Douglas answered without apology.

  Henry’s eyes filled with tears as he looked at David. “I had told Raymond over the phone about you and the sketch I had given you. I told him that he, not me, should be the one to contact you to retrieve it. I…” Henry hung down his head, “didn’t want to intrude on your life.”

  David closed his eyes in shame.

  “I’m so sorry I involved you, Davey. But after Raymond was killed, I knew it was more important than ever to get the sketch from you. I had no choice.”

  David reached for Henry, and the two embraced again. Kathryn, overwhelmed with guilt, put her hands over her face and began sobbing.

  Fowler looked at Greenfield. “That explains how Petrovic knew of David Webber—he’d probably been on him from the get go. And Depriestiano's goons were sitting ducks the minute they landed in L.A.”

  Douglas moved across the room. “Four months ago we got intel that Viktor Petrovic was stateside. He was ID’ed on the UCLA campus hanging around the music department. When Professor Raymond Sullivan was murdered, we knew by whom. What we didn’t know was why.”

  “The Mozart,” Fowler stated.

  “Yes.”

  David chimed in, “He committed murder for a simple Mozart symphony?”

  “How do you know it’s a symphony?” Douglas asked.

  “Because he’s David Webber, that’s how,” Henry stated loud and proud, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief and looking admirably at David.

  David looked back at Henry. It had been twelve years—a lifetime since he’d heard that high, tiny voice and seen those perpetually laughing blue eyes.

  Douglas asked again, “Mr. Webber, how do you know—”

  “It just is,” David shot back. “It’s not a mass, it’s a symphony.” David looked at Henry. “Trust me.”

  “Actually, Mr. Webber,” Douglas said, “we do trust you. It is a symphony. And if Professor Shoewalter and the late Professor Sullivan are right, it’s not so simple. And it’s worth quite a lot of money.”

  “Why?” Fowler asked.

  It was Henry who answered. His expression changed, and he looked at David with boyish excitement. “Because it’s not just a symphony, Davey—it’s the symphony. The Master wrote a symphony just for us.”