The Witnesses

by Robert Whitlow

  “And I appreciated it.”

  “There’s no use trying to cushion the blows to Greg. He’s already past the boiling point, and my leaving won’t make the pot spill over any faster.”

  “He’s mad at me?”

  “Furious, of course, but so far his desire for self-preservation and the chance to eat the crumbs that fall from Tom Blocker’s table have kept him chained to his desk. Otherwise he’d be over here yelling his head off.”

  “What about Dolly?”

  “She’s on her way out once she marries Barry, who’s interviewing this week for a new job in Charleston. If he gets it, they’re going to set a date and load up a moving van. With her skills she won’t have a problem finding a position with another law firm.”

  In spite of Greg’s conduct over the past few months, Parker couldn’t help feeling sorry for the challenges facing Branham and Camp.

  “And you feel sorry for Greg and Dexter, don’t you?” Vicki asked. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  “A little bit.”

  “Which is why I’d really like to work for you.”

  Parker had never heard Vicki indicate she worked for him; it had always been working with him.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll give it serious consideration.”

  “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

  Vicki left, and Parker went upstairs to his office. The weight of responsibility for the expectations of other people was a new and unpleasant experience.

  By midafternoon a local office supply company had stocked the shelves downstairs, the communications workers had finished and cleared out of the house, and the company delivering the furniture was in high gear. It was a six-person setup crew, and Parker was impressed with how quickly they filled each room. After they finished, Parker walked through the house. The exquisite decor made him feel like a visitor in an antique museum.

  Frank spent the remainder of the day at the dock working on his boat. He’d learned how to do basic mechanical maintenance on the Aare as a cost-cutting measure when he was making a living on the water, but now he didn’t attempt any boat or engine repair that required heavy lifting. After making sure all the electrical switches on the boat were functioning properly, he checked for loose or corroded connections in the system. An electrical failure on the water could bring the most modern boat to a standstill and result in an oppressive tow bill. Frank methodically moved his volt meter from spot to spot and checked the lines. He located a couple of wires that were beginning to show signs of corrosion and replaced them.

  Close to noon he finished and ate lunch, a slightly green banana and a North Carolina–grown apple. Frank wasn’t in a hurry and took his time nibbling the apple until only the seeds and stem were left. Gathering up his toolbox, he made his way slowly along the dock to the shore. He had to decide if he wanted to go home and take a nap or spend a couple of hours organizing the fishing tackle in the shed behind his house.

  The following morning Parker continued the process of settling in as the only person in the new office. He was surprised how much he missed being around other people. Of course, the absence of Greg lurking down the hallway ready to dump a last-minute project on him made solitude more attractive. Around 10:30 a.m., he called the main office in Wilmington. He wanted to talk to Tom Blocker about Ferguson v. Callaway Club and Vicki Satterfield.

  “This is Parker—”

  “I recognize your voice,” the perky receptionist replied. “When are you going to visit us?”

  “Soon, I hope. Is Mr. Blocker available?”

  “He’s on the phone if you want to hold.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good morning, Parker,” Blocker said when he picked up. “I don’t have time to talk now, but I’m driving up to see you this afternoon. Any chance we could swing by and see your grandfather again?”

  “Uh, maybe. I can check.”

  “Do it. See you at four o’clock.”

  After the call ended, the doorbell chimed, and Parker went downstairs expecting a delivery person. Instead, he saw Creston peering through one of the glass sidelights.

  “What are you doing here?” Parker asked when he opened the door. “You’re supposed to be teaching eager students about pi.”

  “Pi is amazing, but I left early because I have a training session at the central office and thought I would come check out your new digs.”

  “Come in.”

  Parker showed Creston around. His friend was duly impressed.

  “Man, this is fancy,” he said when they stood in Parker’s office. “I feel like I should start calling you Mr. House.”

  “I agree, but you can wait until tomorrow.”

  “And does this mean you and your new boss’s daughter are a legal item? Did he set you up because he wants his future son-in-law to provide for his baby girl in the manner she’s grown accustomed to?”

  “That’s about as far from the truth as possible,” Parker said, shaking his head. “Layla told me if I took the job I could forget about dating her. And so far, she hasn’t changed her mind.”

  “What?” Creston asked.

  “There are some complicated family dynamics in play. How are you and Melissa doing?”

  “Melinda and I are cruising along at a comfortable pace. I think she may be the one I want to run with for the long haul. If I decide to take it to the next level with her, I want you to be my best man. That’s the main reason I stopped by.”

  Parker jerked his head back in surprise. “That’s fast,” he managed.

  “I’ve always been faster than you,” Creston replied with a grin. “But the old saying that you’ll know when it’s the right one is true. Will you do it?”

  “Of course. Have you shopped for a ring?”

  “Yes, and I need a loan from my future best man.”

  Parker pointed to his shiny new desk. “If we can get this down the stairs and to the pawnshop—”

  “No need, but I wanted to make sure of your level of commitment. Do you think Layla would give us a break on the wedding photos?”

  “Why don’t I cover the cost of that for you?” Parker replied. “I’d be glad to do it.”

  It was Creston’s turn to give Parker a shocked look. “You’d pay for it? Do you realize how much that can cost?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Parker replied. “And if you want Layla to be lurking in the bushes to snap a few pictures when you pop the question to Melinda, I’ll toss that in too. Engagement photos are included in any wedding package I purchase.”

  After Creston left, Parker went back upstairs with a smile on his face. It was the first time one of his hunches had cost him money, and for some reason it felt great.

  Frank shaved and took a shower when he returned from working on his boat. After two days’ labor it was in faultless condition and ready for anything. He was eating a sandwich in the kitchen and thinking about taking it over to Ocracoke Island when the phone rang. It was Lenny.

  “Do you want to motor down the river late this afternoon and see if we can find some spots that are hungry?” Lenny asked.

  “No, but I’ve been working on the boat so we won’t get stranded next time we go out.” Frank paused. “Swing by tomorrow around nine in the morning, and we’ll go wherever you want.”

  “Deal.”

  After the call ended, Frank changed into one of his nicer shirts and a pair of pants and sat on the back porch. The phone rang again. This time it was Parker.

  “Opa, Tom Blocker is coming through town again and wanted to see you. Could we swing by your house? Not to eat, but to talk.”

  “What does he want to talk about?”

  “I don’t know,” Parker replied. “It was a quick call.”

  “No,” Frank said as he glanced down at his clothes.

  “That’s okay,” Parker quickly responded. “I need to establish boundaries for people who come into town to bug you, even if it’s my—”

  “Don’t drive here,” Frank cut in. “I’
ll come to your office. I was sitting on the back porch all dressed up with no place to go when you called. What time should I be there?”

  “Around four. Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Have you ever read about Agabus?” Frank asked.

  “Who?”

  “Agabus. He’s in the Bible toward the end of Acts. You should check him out.”

  “Uh, okay. I’ll do that. Maybe we can eat supper together after we meet with Mr. Blocker. I’ll pay.”

  “I’d expect you to.”

  Frank chuckled as he hung up the phone. However, when he returned to the porch his mood changed as quickly as a squall racing across the surface of the sea. Puzzled, he returned to his chair. As if to mirror his feelings, the sun, which had been shining brightly, disappeared behind a cloud.

  Parker and Tom Blocker were sitting in Parker’s new office.

  “How do you like your digs?” Blocker asked.

  “It’s hard to believe this is where I get to practice law,” Parker replied truthfully.

  “Get used to it.”

  Parker checked his watch. “My grandfather should arrive in a few minutes. Before he does, I wanted to talk to you about the Ferguson case.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “It’s about Greg’s involvement. I’m not comfortable jerking the rug out from under him.”

  “Oh, I’ll honor my commitment to him on the attorney fee,” Blocker replied. “But he’s not going to be close enough to the case to mess it up. Admit it. Greg can be toxic, which is not a good quality for successful litigation.”

  “But—”

  “I appreciate your loyalty,” Blocker said. “But that loyalty needs to shift from Branham and Camp to this firm. Will you be able to do that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. I haven’t talked to Greg yet, but I will. Maybe you should be there so you can watch and learn.”

  Parker wasn’t sure it was a class he wanted to attend.

  “Uh, the other thing is Vicki Satterfield,” he said.

  Parker told Blocker about his encounter with Vicki, and the receptionist/bookkeeper’s desire to switch firms.

  “That’s your call,” Blocker said. “I gave that responsibility to you the other day.”

  Parker paused for a moment. “I don’t think we should hire her,” he said.

  “I agree,” Blocker responded immediately, “but you needed to figure that out on your own.”

  “I’m not sure what I figured out.”

  “That experience isn’t the only factor to consider in hiring an employee. The ability to learn a job and perform it in the way you want it done is even more important. This is your chance to mold an assistant to do that.”

  “I barely know what to do half the time myself.”

  “That will change quickly working for me. The crushing weight of responsibility is about to be lowered onto your young shoulders,” Blocker said with a smile. “And whether you survive will be determined by how quickly you grow.”

  The doorbell chimed.

  “That’s probably my grandfather,” Parker said. “I’ll let him in.”

  Frank stood outside the front door of the house on Pollock Street. The sense of foreboding he’d felt on his back porch diminished the farther he drove away from his house. A slightly frazzled-looking Parker opened the door.

  “Come in,” he said. “We’re going to meet in the conference room.”

  “Are you okay?” Frank asked.

  “Yeah, great,” Parker replied and then paused. “No, actually I’ve bounced around so much the past few days that I’m out of sync.”

  They entered the conference room where Blocker waited for them. The shiny wooden conference table was surrounded by twelve ornate but sturdy chairs covered with brocade fabric. A long mirror hung on one wall, and graceful vases rested on delicate wooden side tables at either end of the room. The beautifully decorated space reminded Frank of a European drawing room where money and power met.

  “What do you think?” Blocker asked him. “This is where Parker is going to be taking depositions within the next few weeks.”

  Frank nodded as he tried to recall when he’d been in a similar place. “Impressive.”

  “Have a seat,” Blocker said.

  Blocker sat at the head of the table with Parker to his right and Frank to his left. He turned toward Frank.

  “As promised, I returned via overnight courier the retainer paid by the German lawyer who hired me to track you down. I then followed up with a phone call telling him I wasn’t available to offer any further assistance. He didn’t seem upset, and as we talked, he shared more information about his interest in the Aryan Eagle. Would you like to hear about it?”

  “Not really,” Frank replied.

  “But you probably should,” Parker advised. “I mean, there’s never any harm in having more information.”

  “You’re wrong,” Frank said. “If I never hear the words Aryan Eagle again, I will be a happy man.”

  “I respect that,” Blocker said. “But it was odd that the German lawyer also asked me about Parker.”

  “Me?” Parker asked in surprise.

  “Yes. Your name was added to our firm letterhead as soon as you accepted the job, and it appeared on the cover letter sent with the retainer. The lawyer asked me if your last name was an anglicized version of Haus.”

  “What did you tell him?” Parker asked.

  “That I’d talk to you about it, but I didn’t make a commitment to get back to him.”

  Parker was silent for a moment. “If you made the connection between me and Opa based on the paper I wrote in law school, someone else could too.”

  “Possibly, but the lawyer didn’t indicate he’d done that, and his questions about your grandfather didn’t involve you,” Blocker said.

  “Go ahead,” Parker said. “You may as well tell us what he asked.”

  “All right,” Frank sighed.

  Blocker cleared his throat. “He’s accumulating information about a secret World War II military operation in northern Italy at a place called Siena. The lawyer’s client is interested in finding out what happened there and believes you were involved.”

  The sense of foreboding Frank had felt on his porch descended on the fancy conference room. Both Blocker and Parker stared at him.

  “There’s no use talking about Siena,” Frank answered with a heavy heart. “I saw many horrible things during the war. That was one of the worst.”

  “Enough then,” Blocker replied. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t want to connect with the lawyer about it.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Should I know about Siena?” Parker asked his grandfather.

  “No!” Frank responded.

  CHAPTER 39

  Frank and Parker ate a quiet meal at a local Italian restaurant.

  “I wish we hadn’t come here,” Frank said when they finished.

  “Why? You wolfed down all your spaghetti.”

  “Because of the Italian town your boss mentioned when we were at the office.”

  “I didn’t think about that when I suggested coming here.” Parker hit his forehead with his hand. “It must have been a subliminal thought. You should have told me no. We could have gone someplace else.”

  “You’re paying, so you had the right to decide where we ate.”

  “Then may I order you tiramisu for dessert? I know you like it.”

  “No,” Frank said and shook his head. “I should go home. I’ve not felt right most of the afternoon. Be glad that you’re young and don’t know what it’s like to feel less than one hundred percent.”

  “I am.”

  The waitress brought the check, and Parker handed her his credit card.

  “Would you please tell me about Siena?” Parker asked after she left.

  “No.”

  “I believe I’m supposed to know,” Parker persisted.

  Frank studied his grandson for a moment. “Why?”

&
nbsp; “Because I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind ever since it came up at the office.”

  It was Frank’s turn to be persistent. “What’s been in your mind?” he asked.

  Parker glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear what he had to say. “I saw something. It only lasted a second or two, but the detail was incredible, and I can still remember it.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Parker took a deep breath. “It was a street scene in a city somewhere in Europe. There was a house built with light-colored stone on a narrow street.”

  “Cream colored,” Frank cut in.

  Parker nodded. “Yeah. And the house suddenly blew up and flames were shooting everywhere. At first I thought it might be your parents’ house in Dresden, but then I wondered if it had to do with Siena. Were you part of a commando team that blew up a house?”

  “Not literally, but for all practical purposes that’s what happened,” Frank replied with a reluctant shake of his head. “If you make me tell you about this, it will change our relationship forever.”

  “Please, I want to know the truth.”

  And so Frank told Parker what happened on the narrow street in Siena almost sixty years earlier. When he got to the part about the murder of the three Jewish young people, Frank had to stop and use a napkin to wipe his eyes.

  “Now do you understand why I said you won’t ever be able to look at me the same again?” he asked when he finished.

  Parker started to speak but didn’t.

  “That’s right,” Frank continued. “You can’t try to make me feel better by arguing it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t pull the trigger, but I took the general and his men to the house. I wish I’d died instead of the young people, but that won’t bring them back to life. I’ve had the chance to grow old; they didn’t.”

  “Why would I see this if it happened a long time ago?” Parker asked.

  “I don’t know, but it’s still a bloody stain on my soul.”

  Parker was restless when he returned to his apartment. He paced back and forth and then turned on the TV, but the images didn’t distract him. An extra set of exercises didn’t help, and he resumed pacing. Stopping and staring out the dormer window into the gathering dusk of evening, he closed his eyes for a moment, but the inner image of the burning building was so intense that he quickly opened them. He picked up his cell phone and called Layla.