The Chemtrail Conspiracy Set (Lady Justice Book 22)

by Robert Thornhill

  On the next placard were the words of Sun Bear of the Chippewa Tribe. “I do not think the measure of a civilization is how tall its buildings of concrete are, but how well its people have learned to relate to their environment and fellow man.”

  Given the tensions in our country between the races, between the haves and have nots, between the gays and straights, and a host of other differences, and the pollution that our air, water and land is enduring, Sun Bear’s words make our current state of affairs a mockery.

  It was totally incredible to me, that these so-called savages had a far better understanding of man’s place and role in the world than the schmucks that are running things today.

  One last poem by Chief Dan George touched my heart.

  The beauty of the trees,

  the softness of the air,

  the fragrance of the grass,

  speaks to me.

  The summit of the mountain,

  the thunder of the sky,

  the rhythm of the sea,

  speaks to me.

  The faintness of the stars,

  the freshness of the morning,

  the dew drop on the flower,

  speaks to me.

  The strength of fire,

  the taste of salmon,

  the trail of the sun,

  and the life that never goes away,

  they speak to me.

  And my heart soars.

  I wanted my heart to soar, but instead, it was heavy. I had come to the Ozark hills seeking refuge from the thoughts that were troubling me, but as we headed back to Kansas City, I knew in my heart that the contents of the manila envelope locked away in my safe, would continue to haunt me.

  CHAPTER 6

  The next day, I was still in a funk.

  My brief commune with nature and reading the wisdom of the ancient ones had rekindled my desire to expose the government’s clandestine program. I knew the means to that end were locked away a mere six feet from where I sat, but I also knew that once I started down that path, my life and the lives of everyone I loved would be in jeopardy.

  The jingle of the phone interrupted my melancholy thoughts.

  “Walt? Kevin here. We need to talk. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

  I was about to protest, but the line was dead. It looked like I’d be speaking to my brother-in-law whether I wanted to or not.

  True to his word, Kevin was sitting in my office thirty minutes later.

  “Okay, what’s so important? Do you have a new client for us?”

  He paused for a moment. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it that way, but yes.”

  “Great! Anyone I know?”

  “Actually, you do. It’s me.”

  Now I was really confused. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I asked Veronica to marry me. We’re getting hitched.”

  I nearly fell out of my chair.

  After not seeing him for fifty years, Maggie’s brother, Kevin, appeared at our door dying of kidney failure. He was hoping that Maggie would be a match and donate a kidney, but when that didn’t work out, Kevin figured his days were numbered.

  At the top of his bucket list, was his intention to dip his wick a few more times before he was sprouting daisies. I wasn’t much help in that department, but Willie still had contacts from his days on the street. After a few well-placed phone calls, Kevin and Veronica hooked up for his death bed tryst.

  In a surprising, almost miraculous turn of events, a kidney became available and Kevin got a new lease on life.

  To everyone’s surprise, Kevin and Veronica became an item. I had heard about May-December romances, but Kevin was in his seventies and Veronica was a voluptuous blonde nearly half his age. It was no big secret why Kevin was attracted to Veronica, but her attraction to him was a mystery.

  Our little circle of family and friends are not judgmental, and soon Veronica was an integral part of our little clique. She even did some undercover work with us on a couple of our cases.

  “I --- I don’t know what to say,” I stammered.

  “You could start with congratulations.”

  “Of course, congratulations! But I’m curious and if you don’t mind me asking, why marriage? Not to be rude, but given your age ---.”

  “Actually, it is rude, but since you’re my partner and brother-in-law, I’ll tell you. Veronica’s old man ran off when she was five. Her mom was a druggie and couldn’t keep things together, so Veronica was in one foster home after another. She was on her own at seventeen. She’s never had a real home or a stable relationship --- until now.

  “What we have together, and all of you having taken her under your wings, are the only family she’s ever known, and we want to make it a permanent thing. Yeah, I know I’m an old coot, but I figure I can give her another ten years before I’m in Depends and drinking Ensure, and that’s good enough for her.”

  “I’m happy for you, Kevin. Maggie will be too.”

  “Thanks, but there is a problem. That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”

  “I don’t understand. Why do you need me?”

  “There’s one big cloud hanging over my head that has to be cleared up before we can get married.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Manny Sorveno.”

  I knew immediately what he was talking about.

  When Kevin was a kid, he got mixed up with the wrong crowd and was riding along with Bugsy, one of the mob’s enforcers, when a collection went bad and a shopkeeper was murdered. The cops weren’t interested in kids like them. They wanted to nail bigger fish, so they got Kevin and Bugsy to testify in exchange for witness protection.

  As a result, Sammy ‘Scarface’ Sorveno was convicted and eventually died in prison.

  Sammy’s son, Manny, never forgot who had ratted out his father, and when Kevin came out of hiding looking for a kidney, Manny found him and was determined to settle the score.

  Manny kidnapped Maggie, hoping to draw Kevin into a trap, but in the end, it was Manny who died in a hail of bullets.

  “What in the world could I possibly do?”

  “Come on, Walt. You know the mob. They don’t forget things. Manny was looking for me for fifty years to get revenge. I was the one responsible for Manny getting whacked and I just don’t want Veronica hurt if they come after me.”

  “It’s been what --- a year and a half since Manny was gunned down? Don’t you think they’d have knocked you off by now if that was their intent?”

  “Maybe, maybe not, but I don’t want to take the chance. If it was Maggie, would you?”

  I saw his point. “So what do you want from me?”

  “Carmine Marchetti. I want you to talk to him and see where I stand.”

  I couldn’t believe what he was asking.

  It was no secret that Marchetti was the godfather of the Kansas City mob.

  Under normal circumstances, I would stay as far away as possible from guys like him, but not long ago, I had not one, but two encounters with the Don.

  The first was right after Jack Carson disappeared. Rumor had it that Carson was working on a story about the mob’s protection racket when he met Calinda, Marchetti’s daughter, and much to Carmine’s chagrin, they fell in love. For some reason, I threw caution to the wind and confronted Marchetti who vehemently denied having anything to do with Carson’s disappearance.

  Shortly after that, I received the two texts with Maggie’s photo warning me to back off. When she was abducted, I confronted Marchetti a second time. He swore on his mother’s grave that he had nothing to do with Maggie’s abduction.

  In retrospect, my bravado in confronting the mafia boss was probably not the smartest thing, but in the end, it worked out. Marchetti was amused by my audacity and curious as what I would do next.

  Maggie had actually been abducted by Angel Alvarez, a Columbian drug lord. Maggie had taken a listing on a house seized by the Feds. The woman who had cleaned the place for Maggie found a computer with
all the Columbian’s drug contacts and information. Alvarez had taken Maggie and offered to trade her for the computer.

  In the end, he had no plan to release Maggie and was in the process of taking both of us when Marchetti’s men intervened, saving our lives.

  I’ll never forget Carmine’s words when I thanked him. “Nonsense! We both simply did what was right. Maybe someday the shoe will be on the other foot and I’ll need the assistance of a fine private investigator. Who knows?”

  He was letting me know, in a not too subtle way, that I was indebted to him. Not a comforting thought.

  “You want me to talk to Marchetti and ask him if you’re on his hit list?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Come on, Kevin. That’s like picking at a scab. You just might be making an old wound bleed again. Like I said, if they wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “That may be true, but I just can’t take the chance. Will you do it or not? Think of it as your wedding gift to me.”

  As much as I hated the idea, it looked like I’d be asking for another chat with the godfather of the Kansas City mafia.

  In spite of our recent encounters, Marchettii and I weren’t exactly best buds. He didn’t share his personal cell number with me and we certainly weren’t Facebook friends. Someone told me he often dined at Antonelli’s Italian restaurant, and that’s where I found him on my previous visits.

  It’s probably not a wise move to interrupt a gangster during his meal and try to have a conversation while his spaghetti is getting cold, but I didn’t know what else to do.

  The first time, I just barged in and soon found myself in a hammerlock, compliments of two of his ever-present bodyguards. I didn’t want to make that mistake again.

  As soon as I entered the restaurant, I asked the maitre d’ if Mr. Marchetti was dining today. When he answered in the affirmative, I gave him my card and asked him to present it to the Don. He didn’t seem exactly thrilled, but he complied.

  A few moments later, one of Marchetti’s goons appeared. “You’ve got two minutes,” he growled.

  As usual, Carmine had a drop-dead gorgeous girl on either side.

  A big smile crossed his face when he saw me. “Walt Williams, my favorite gumshoe. Always glad to see you, even though it always seems to be while I’m trying to enjoy my meal.”

  I thought about suggesting we exchange email addresses, but then thought better of it.

  “Thank you for seeing me. I appreciate it.”

  “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “Well, this may sound a bit strange, but I’d like to talk to you about Manny Sorveno.”

  “Ahh, the dear, departed Manny. What about him?”

  “I’m sure you probably know that Manny was after Kevin McBride who testified against his father, and that Kevin was involved in the gunfight that killed Manny.”

  “And if my memory serves me correctly, you were involved in that gunfight as well,” he said smiling.

  I certainly hadn’t expected that.

  “Uhhh, yes, I might have been,” I replied, suddenly apprehensive.

  “You’re probably wondering why you and your partner are still walking around, me knowing what you did. In a word, Manny was a punk. From what I hear, old Scarface was a stand-up guy, but Manny couldn’t be trusted. I knew he wanted my job and I was always looking over my shoulder wondering when he was going to make his move. Frankly, you two knocking him off was a big load off my mind.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “So tell me again why you’re here.”

  “Kevin wants to get married, but he wouldn’t if he knew he had a price on his head.”

  Marchetti grinned, “I love you two guys. You’re both willing to piss me off to protect the women you love. That’s rare these days.”

  He whispered something to one of his goons who departed to the kitchen.

  The goon returned a few moments later with a bottle of wine.

  “Here,” Carmine said, handing me the bottle. “This is a Chateau Montelena Estate Cabernet Sauvignon, 2010. Give it to Kevin and tell him congratulations for me. He has nothing to worry about.”

  I thanked him, and as I turned to leave I heard him say, “That’s two, Walt. Don’t ever forget.”

  It was a not so subtle reminder that I was in his debt twice over and that scared me more than the apes who escorted me out of the restaurant.

  CHAPTER 7

  Needless to say, Kevin was relieved that his name was not on some gangster’s to-do list.

  Once he had the green light to proceed, word of their impending nuptials spread through the building like a plague.

  Maggie was on the phone to Veronica immediately, offering her services as a wedding planner. The Professor, a confirmed bachelor, reckoned that marriage was the high sea for which no compass had yet been invented. Jerry shared that getting married is like buying a dishwasher: You’ll never have to do it by hand again. Bernice dropped some hints to Dad who quickly responded, “Don’t even think about it!”

  For me, this surprising turn of events proved to be a welcome distraction from the manila envelope in my safe. But once the hubbub died down, I was right back to my melancholy musing.

  Finally, I gave in. I hadn’t really examined the contents of the envelope closely. Once I determined what was in it, I tucked it away immediately hoping that if it was out of sight, it would be out of mind, but that certainly hadn’t been the case. I reasoned that I owed it to Carson to at least see what evidence he had found.

  Included in the envelope were mini-cassettes with recordings of his three interviews with Falcon where the Air Force pilot described his participation in the program known as Indigo Skyfold. Also on cassette was his interview with Kristen Meghan, the military scientist whistleblower who was silenced by her superiors for finding and attempting to expose the chemical stew being spewed into our skies.

  There were photos of the unmarked planes supposedly used to disperse the chemicals, parked in the Pinal Air Park at Marana, Arizona.

  There were many articles on HAARP, the massive high frequency antenna array in Alaska that had been linked to not only weather modification, but also military deterrence.

  None of this was new to me. I had discussed all of these things with Carson as well as Professor Katz. They were all part of Katz’ paper that I turned over to Thornhill, who covered each one admirably in his novel, Lady Justice and the Conspiracy.

  Then I spotted a document labeled ‘Shield.’ This was something I hadn’t seen before.

  The document was purported to be an interview with a scientist involved in Operation Shield, whose official capacity was in direct research of atmospheric issues in relation to pollutants.

  The name of the scientist was not revealed to protect his identity which I totally understood. He was referred to only as ‘Deep Shield,’ obviously a play on ‘Deep Throat,’ from Woodward and Bernstein’s All the President’s Men.

  According to Deep Shield, scientists back in the 70’s were concerned about the depletion of the ozone layer which protects us from the sun’s damaging ultra-violet rays. They calculated that unless something was done, the ever-increasing damaging rays would eventually bring an end to civilization as they knew it.

  Hence, Operation Shield was born. It was a global program whose purpose was to fill our skies with enough aluminum and barium to shield us from the damaging UV rays, but not enough to block the sunlight needed for warmth and photosynthesis.

  This was exactly what Falcon described as Operation Indigo Skyfold.

  Deep Shield said that while the USA and Russia were the primary contributors to the program, many European Union Nations and members of the United Nations contribute to one extent or another.

  To insure that the spray is not used for purposes other than climate control, the spray canisters are distributed in a triple-blind operation, so no nation knows exactly where their particular batch was man
ufactured.

  When asked, Deep Shield acknowledged that he had signed a non-disclosure agreement and had been warned that the program was a matter of national security and any breaches would have dire consequences.

  A final entry indicated that Deep Shield had committed suicide. The method used was a hose run from his car's exhaust pipe into the closed car in his garage. His wife found his body and said that there was no suicide note.

  Another whistleblower conveniently dead or missing along with Falcon, Frank Katz, Louise Shipley, and maybe Jack Carson.

  The reference to all of the countries participating in Operation Shield made me think about the United Nations Climate Change Conference held in Paris from November 30th through December 12th of 2015.

  I Googled the conference and read that 196 representatives had attended. That represented pretty much every country in the world.

  My first thought was that climate change due to the emission of greenhouse gasses must be real for so many countries to participate. Then I remembered Thornhill said Michael Crichton had written a book, State of Fear, in which he totally debunked the idea of global warning.

  My curiosity was aroused, so I went online and ordered the book from Amazon.

  In it, Crichton presented chart after chart showing annual temperatures from 1930 through 2000. While there were certainly changes from year-to-year, when taken as a whole, the charts did not support the notion that the temperature had increased over that seventy year span.

  I loved his explanation that made a mockery of the whole global warming concept.

  “You’ve all heard the claim that something called ‘global warming’ is occurring because of an increase in carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gasses in the atmosphere. But what you haven’t been told is that carbon dioxide has increased by only a tiny amount. They’ll show you a graph of increasing carbon dioxide that looks like the slope of Mount Everest. But here’s the reality. Carbon dioxide has increased from 316 parts per million to 376 parts per million. Sixty parts per million is the total increase. Now that’s such a small change in our atmosphere that it is hard to imagine. How can we visualize that?