by Brian Meeks
There was silence for a few minutes as the four of them looked at it and marveled at all the trouble such a little notebook had caused. When Henry finally spoke, all he said was, "Ok, I hope this works." They all nodded solemnly and settled in for a long afternoon.
CHAPTER 31
The afternoon slipped away. Henry felt the weight of time as if each grain in the hourglass were piling upon his shoulder. The wait was almost unbearable. He wondered if DA Mark McKinley would be on time. He suspected he might be early, but, with it already being 10:45 pm, that ship was almost out of the harbor. He sat with his feet up on the desk. His left hand mindlessly tapped a well-chewed Dixon Ticonderoga against the edge of the open drawer.
The drawer was the second one down on the left side of the desk. It wasn't open very far, just far enough that he could see his revolver lying there, waiting to be called upon if needed. The gun didn't seem at all concerned with the passage of time or the stakes of the gamble Henry was taking. It had just one job. It knew it and would do it when called upon, end of story.
Slowly, tap, tap, tapped the pencil. Henry listened to it and to the sound of traffic outside. The window was shut, but a city like New York didn’t let itself be muffled by a lousy window. The familiar wail of 'Taxi,' the splashing of puddles, and the honking of horns all shouted that the Big Apple was alive and well and was going about its business. The city marched to its own beat of time as it had for longer than Henry had been there and as it would long after he was gone.
10:46 pm. Henry thought about the closet. He wondered where it went to, its relationship to time. The last clues, which he hadn't had time to truly study, puzzled him. He thought about why he hadn't had time to study the bevy of tools and how Mike was still lying in a hospital, broken. He thought about the little girl willing him back to health.
The pencil paused. Was someone coming down the hall? He listened, then heard the muted banging of a door somewhere near the other end of the hall closing and the faint metal clicking of the lock being turned. The footsteps walked away, and only the city noises remained. Tap, tap, tap. The pencil found the same measure of time, and Henry settled back into waiting.
Winston stood in a doorway down from the office building, his collar turned up against the cold, night air. He could see the little restaurant down the street where Sylvia sat at a window. She was not eating, more nibbling on her food, but her senses were alive. She made sure she saw everything and everyone passing outside. As the hour approached 11:00, she felt her stomach tighten. Luna had gotten a room at a hotel in the opposite direction from Henry's office and had perched in the window. She could see the entire street and the alley behind the strange triangular building. They had all the angles covered.
When the pencil stopped this time, Henry set it down. The soft leather of expensive shoes padded its way down the hall. McKinley was early but not so much as to seem desperate. Henry didn't like the DA. He didn't like the way he wielded his power, and he didn't like the way he hadn't even asked how Mike was doing.
There was a pause outside the door, a slight shuffling as if the DA was checking to see if he was at the right office, then the knob turned. The DA walked in like a cat that was up to no good. Henry had left the door between his office and the outer office open. When the DA walked in, Henry stood slowly and walked over to shake his hand. He grabbed the outstretched hand warmly with both hands, displaying not a sign of his dislike.
"I see you made it," Henry said and returned back behind the desk.
"Yes, you thought I wouldn't?" the DA asked as he removed his hat.
"No, I knew you would show up. This is too important. Did anyone follow you?”
"Follow me? No, why? Nobody knows I am coming here. Why would anyone follow me?" he replied with more verve than seemed appropriate. The DA seemed to sense he was going on a bit and quickly regained his composure. He demanded, "So, let's have it.” His voice was now much more measured.
This only seemed to confirm Henry's suspicion. The effort the DA was making to control his emotions and to hide his secret agenda made it clear. Henry pulled the lower drawer further open, reached past the revolver, and removed the journal. He looked at it for a moment just to see if McKinley would get anxious again. He didn't. Henry handed the journal across the desk.
"You have done a great thing, Mr. Wood; this will be the end of Tommy and his gang. Now I've got them," he said. He opened the journal and held it under the desk lamp. He flipped a few pages, then a few more. "This looks like it is some sort of code."
"It is. That is what has been taking me so long. I have been looking for the codex which will let me break it." Henry said and sat down and leaned back in his chair.
"You don't have the key?" the DA exclaimed, although he didn’t seem too concerned.
"No, and I don't know where it is. But I will keep looking."
"Good, good. Of course, we can't proceed until we know what this says, but at least it is safe now," he calmly stated as he closed the journal and tucked it into his coat. "Thanks again, Mr. Wood, for keeping this safe; the city appreciates it."
"Yes, well, I will keep looking for the key, and, when I find it, you can lock that bastard Tommy up." Henry stood.
The DA quickly shook his hand and said softly, "You don't worry about a thing, Mr. Wood; I will take care of it."
And, with that, he left. Henry listened to the footsteps walk down the hall. He stood by the window to watch which way he left the building. A moment later, the DA exited onto the street below, looked around nervously, and turned to the left. He was heading towards Luna's vantage point. Henry hoped he was wrong about the DA, but he knew, in his gut, he wasn't.
CHAPTER 32
There wasn't much to look at now. The DA was out of sight almost immediately, but Henry still stood and looked down to the street, almost in a trance. He was sure the next few minutes would be important; he hoped he had misjudged the DA because that would make life a good deal easier. Henry was shaken out of his daze by the ringing.
He grabbed the phone and put it to his ear.
“I see him, Henry; he is going into the alley,” Luna said.
“Can you see all the way to the other end of the street?” Henry asked.
“Almost, but there is a car half way down, and four men just got out of it. They look serious.”
“Keep watching,” Henry instructed. He was almost certain he knew what was coming.
Luna continued her commentary, “Ok, the men are standing by the car doors; Mr. McKinley is still walking towards them. The driver has just walked out to meet him. They look like they are talking. He just handed the man the journal and ohhh,” Luna gasped.
“What is it?”
“The man he gave the journal to just hit him. He went down, and now the other guys are dragging him to the side of the alley. Oh, one guy just kicked him,” Luna exclaimed with concern.
“Don't worry Luna; I am sure he is ok. I suspected this was his game.”
“Ok,” she said in a quiet voice, obviously upset by the violence.
“You best head back to the office; I'm going to go get Sylvia and Winston. I'll be back shortly.”
Henry hung up the phone after he heard something resembling an ok but much quieter. His suspicion had been confirmed; the leak in the department was the DA. Henry walked around the desk and reached towards the lamp, but he decided to leave it on for Luna. Henry put on his overcoat and hat and walked out of the office. He listened to his own shoes; they didn't sound the same as the DA's expensive ones, and he wondered if he should check on him. Though he now hated the DA and knew that Mike lay in the hospital because of his betrayal, he wanted to make sure the thugs hadn't been too rough. Henry wanted McKinley alive and well. He needed McKinley to think that Henry believed he was robbed by some random thugs. Henry thought he should go check on him but decided he just didn't want to. He was sure the DA would have planned for this. There would be a phone call tomorrow explaining what had happened and how the DA’
s office was doing everything in its power to recover the journal.
Though Henry didn't like thinking about the DA being corrupt, it did mean one thing: Tommy would back off now. He had the journal, and life would return to normal. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Tommy had 'a' journal, not 'the' journal.
Winston, with the help of Luna and Sylvia, meticulously filled a journal with jumbled letters and numbers. Now, Tommy 'The Knife' would get a coded journal just as he was expecting. Once he burned it, the problem would be almost completely solved except for the one loose end. The loose end, of course, was Luna's father.
Henry didn't know where Luna and Sylvia's fathers were, but he figured that if Tommy's boys hadn't been able to find them yet that they were probably safe. The plan was simple now. Find the rest of the codex and unravel the real journal. Once Henry knew what Luna's father had on Tommy, he would be able to play the end game. He would be able to get justice for Mike and to put Tommy and the DA behind bars for the remainder of their lives.
Henry waved to Winston across the street, then knocked on the window where Sylvia was on the lookout. As the three of them walked back to the office, Henry brought them up to speed. Neither Winston nor Sylvia had much to say. Something about learning that the DA was in cahoots with the worst gangster in town dampened their mood considerably.
Luna was sitting on the edge of the desk when they got back. Henry laid out his plan for putting things right. He wanted to sound confident that everything would turn out just fine, but he didn't think he could pull it off. He just said his piece, and they called it a day. Tomorrow they would all gather and look over the most recent clue.
CHAPTER 33
Luna, Winston, and Sylvia stood in the hall as Henry locked the office door. The idea that the District Attorney was on the take hadn't fully sunk in. His fall from grace was just the start, and they all knew it. Sylvia broke the silence, "I could use a drink." Luna nodded in agreement.
Winston chimed in, "I could go for a spot of brandy and perhaps a bite to eat. I am feeling a bit peckish."
"Charlie's is just down the block. It is quiet, and I know the owner. He will be happy to fire up the grill," Henry said. He turned around and led everyone down the hall.
They came out onto the street. An ambulance rushed past them and headed towards the alley. The lights of half a dozen patrol cars painted the sides of the building with frantic movement. People were starting to gather around to see what had happened. Henry and the others walked in the opposite direction towards Charlie's, a stiff drink, and the start of the next chapter in their lives.
The preceding days had been especially trying: the fire at his old office, getting jumped by Tommy's thugs, seeing Big Mike all broken and bruised. It all had taken its toll on Henry. Bad as it had been, it was nothing compared to what Sylvia and Luna were going through, not knowing what had become of their fathers and living each day in fear. Henry was glad Winston was around. Though he was older, he had assured Henry that he could keep an eye on her as he had been a crack shot in the war.
The room smelled of cheap cigars and loneliness and was mostly empty. A pool table in the back had two sticks lying across it and looked like it had seen better days. The bartender, Charlie, was wiping a dirty glass with a dirtier dishtowel. He looked up, shifted the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, and nodded at Henry.
"Hey, Charlie, can you fire up the grill for my friends? We've had a long day."
"How about some steaks?"
Henry looked at Luna. She said quietly, "Sounds good to me," and she looked at the others. Sylvia and Winston didn't put forth any objection and slid into the booth by the jukebox.
As Winston took a sip of brandy, which Charlie had begrudgingly served him, Harry, Luna and Sylvia drank their ice-cold beers in silence. Luna said it first, but they were all thinking the same thing, "What do we do now?"
Henry took a pull from his beer. He had known that this moment would come. He had to tell them about the closet and what his gut was telling him. "I have something to tell you and your inclination to think I am crazy is, well, to be expected."
Sylvia smiled and said with her sultry voice, "Oh, Henry, we would never think you are crazy." She reached across the table and took his hand. Luna took a pull of her beer and looked off into space.
Henry continued, "I had been drinking a lot a few months back. Business had been slow, so I spent my days down in my shop and my nights, well, mostly here.” He gestured toward the bar. “One night when I went home, I passed out on the couch in the basement. I thought I was dreaming when I heard sounds coming from the closet. I woke up and just stared at it. There was a brief flash, and the sound stopped. I was sure I had been dreaming, but I decided to look anyway. All of the old boxes were gone. The interior was spotless and on the shelf sat a magazine."
"A magazine, sir?" Winston said, raising one eyebrow as he swirled the brandy in its snifter.
"Yes, it was a copy of Sport magazine." Henry paused and took a sip from his beer, "The November...1955 issue to be exact." He paused to let this sink in.
Winston seemed to be a bit skeptical of his claim, "November of this year, eleven months from now?" He took a sip of his brandy.
Sylvia and Luna looked at each other, then back to Henry. Charlie brought over their dinners and set them on the table. Nobody started eating.
Henry continued, "I didn't believe it myself. It said the Brooklyn Dodgers win the World Series, and Johnny Podres wins something called the MVP."
Sylvia smiled, "The Dodgers beat the Yankees? Now I know you are kidding."
Henry reached up and pulled the magazine from the inside pocket of his overcoat, which was draped over the back of the booth. He dropped it on the table. Nobody touched the magazine; they just looked at the cover and the date. Henry took a few bites of his steak. Slowly, each of them started to eat. Charlie hollered from behind the bar, "How's the grub?" Everyone raised their drinks in a toast to the chef. Charlie went back to fiddling with the glasses.
Henry continued, "There's more. The magazine wasn't the only thing that showed up from the future. Over the next few weeks, there would periodically be all sorts of interesting things, mostly tools. It was as if the future knew what I needed. After a while, I just accepted that I had a benefactor, but I didn't know who it was or why I had been chosen. That is, until I started receiving clues regarding your fathers' cases."
They all listened and ate and theorized about how it might work. Henry felt better having shared his secret. Luna reasoned that it was their fathers who had been sending the clues. Henry wasn't sure, but he felt the theory gave her hope, so he kept his opinion to himself. The rest of the evening was spent drinking and even laughing. By the time Charlie was ready to close up for the night, they were all pretty liquored up, so Charlie called a cab for Sylvia and Winston while Henry and Luna went back to the room at the hotel.
Henry opened the door. Luna walked in, spun around, and flung her arms around Henry. "You have been wonderful. I can't thank you enough." She gave him a big kiss, and Henry let her. Luna looked into Henry's eyes, then excused herself and went into the bathroom. Henry walked over and looked out the window. The police were still milling about. There were a few photographers trying to talk their way into the alley. The police kept everyone at bay. Henry heard Luna come out of the bathroom but didn't turn around. Playing the whole evening over again in his head, he wondered how much the thugs had roughed up the DA. He was sure that it was likely just a few good pokes for show, but he hoped it had stung. The papers would be all over this, and, if Henry was right, the balance of power would be restored. Tommy's gang, with the journal in hand, wouldn't feel threatened; thus, their strangle hold on the Big Apple crime scene would be secure. This meant the other gangs would stop trying to take over, and Tommy wouldn't have any reason to go after Luna or her father.
But it wasn't over, not by a long shot. He turned around and, on the bed, splayed out, was a very much passed-out Luna. He
put a blanket over her and returned to the window. As he watched the city, the sky started to sprinkle a fresh coat of snow over the filth below. He pulled the worn November issue of Sport magazine out of his pocket as he laid his coat over the back of the chair. As Luna slept, he read again how his beloved Dodgers were going to put it to the Yankees.
CHAPTER 34
Mark McKinley lay in the alley with some cracked ribs and a busted lip. He thought he might have a concussion, so he focused on staying conscious. The ambulance arrived after a few minutes, closely followed by a legion of patrol cars. He felt the January cold grabbing him. He wanted to sleep, but the medics kept bothering him.
On the ride to the hospital he thought about his wife and kids briefly. He imagined them standing by his bed. The still images, in his mind, made him think about the news. He could milk the attack and get some sympathy press. The idea of running for mayor or governor had never been one he entertained. If he were to consider it, though, this would be the time. The sirens sure were loud. He wondered if they would make him stay the night. What time was it anyway? He closed his eyes, and the man next to him started yelling again. He really wanted to grab a quick nap. What about the mayor's office? It could be possible. If he was the governor, though, and made deals with the five families, he might have a shot at the presidency. Nobody would need to know; he could keep crime at an acceptable level and be a hero. He was sure the families would listen; he had just saved the day.