The Windchime Legacy

by A. W. Mykel

  “Then give me the ones that you have and explain the code to me. I’ll take the books and do the rest of it myself,” Justin said.

  “I have to think about it for a while,” Priest said.

  “You may not have a while,” Justin shot back.

  “Well, we’ll both just have to take that chance, I guess. Besides, the entries aren’t here. They’re hidden where nobody will ever find them. It’ll take time to get them.

  “You must understand, also, Mr. Chaple, that my brother gave me a trust. Although I believe that you were his friend, I still have to think about it a little longer. He died for that journal, Mr. Chaple. It was that important to him.”

  “It’s that important to a lot of people, Dr. Priest,” Justin said.

  “Yes, to kill for something…let me ask you a question?”

  Justin nodded.

  “Would you kill me for that journal, too?”

  Justin thought for a moment. “I’ve explained that it’s a matter of national security. Yes, I’d kill you for it, if there were no other way.”

  “I believe that you would, Mr. Chaple,” Priest said.

  “I hope I won’t have to,” Justin said. “I’ll respect your reasons for wanting to think about it for a while. But please, don’t take too long. The sooner I get it, the better your chances will be of staying alive. I’ll help you as much as I can.”

  The two men walked around to the front of the house. Justin stopped just before getting into his car. He gave Priest a piece of paper with his phone number and post box number on it.

  “For whatever it may be worth to you, Dr. Priest, the man who killed your brother is dead. I watched him die.”

  “It matters, Mr. Chaple. Thank you,” Priest said.

  “Call me, Dr. Priest,” he said, touching the piece of paper in Priest’s hand.

  The Impala pulled out of the driveway and drove off.

  Irwin Honeycut walked briskly into the Alpha situation room.

  “You heard it?” he asked Elizabeth Ryerson.

  “Yes, about twenty minutes ago,” she answered.

  “We might be able to handle it your way, after all,” Honeycut said. “Nobody else knows about that journal, and the transcribed sheets are hidden where no one should be able to find them. If Priest is correct about how well he’s hidden them, we should be able to recover all the books, take him out, and be home free.”

  “And Pilgrim?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Not just yet. He has an important role to play in that Yarin-Eagle trade. I don’t want to risk showing any more faces than I have to. Pilgrim can make an on-the-spot identification of Eagle. He knows him better than anyone.

  “Besides, I’d like to find out just how much he does know. That bit about Operation Raptor means he already knows something. He must have found the twenty-fifth page at Bridges’s apartment. If he has, we’ll have to recover it before settling with him. And then we’re out of the woods on this.”

  “That information alone isn’t as dangerous as the journal,” Elizabeth said. “We could survive that if we had to.”

  “You’re right. I’ve already turned Rainmaker around to keep an eye on Priest. If he goes after that transcribed copy, we’ll get it all. Then, once the trade is completed, we’ll call Pilgrim in and hold him until we determine how much about Operation Raptor he really knows.

  “With any luck, it’ll all be over in a week,” Honeycut said.

  “In the meantime,” he began, “I’ve sent in another team to recover the books if Priest should leave the house. He may try to go for the transcripts. Rainmaker will stay with him wherever he goes.”

  “Good, I really think it’s better this way, Irv,” Elizabeth said. “The less Pilgrim knows, the less he can hurt us.”

  “He poses no threat,” Honeycut assured her. “However much he may learn, he’s still only one man. We’ll know everything he does, every place he goes, and everything he says. With that much control, there’s nothing one man can do.”

  Priest’s car pulled into the long driveway and came to a stop in front of the closed garage door. He had just returned from Philadelphia International Airport, where he had put his wife and daughters on a plane to Minnesota, to spend some time with her parents. He had the devil to pay trying to explain his actions to his wife.

  She had returned home from shopping with the girls to find bags packed and loaded into the car. It was hell all the way out and until they boarded the plane. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Not because of the barrage of unanswerable questions from his wife, but because he loved them so much. And, seeing them leave, he realized he would possibly never see them again. He held the tears until they were out of sight. At least they would live.

  He posted a letter before leaving the airport. Rainmaker reported this, then followed him back to Hightstown.

  Once in the house, Priest locked all the doors and windows and went into the study. He prepared to finish decoding the last nineteen journal entries. He took out the ultraviolet lamp and a pad and pencils. Then he went to get the books.

  His heart leaped, and his ears pounded from a sudden rush of blood when he saw the empty boxes. The books were gone!

  He thought for a second, then went to his desk, took Justin’s number from his pocket, and picked up the phone. He read the number and lit the paper, burning it in an ashtray. Then he disintegrated the ashes.

  He touched out the number on the touch-tone phone.

  Then he heard the sound.

  It came from inside the house. Someone was there. His nerves jumped, as Justin’s phone rang the first time.

  His brain raced. He thought about the trust that his dead brother had given him. He had already decided to share it with Justin.

  That’s what was in the letter he had mailed to Justin’s post office box number. In it he told him that he intended to work continuously until the journal was completed, then he would pick up the rest of it from where he had hidden it. Then he’d give it all to him.

  He thought about the parts of the journal he had read, as Justin’s phone rang. He knew what it said, but he couldn’t bring the complete significance of it into focus. There were things that only Billy knew that were needed to complete it. Possibly Justin Chaple knew them, as well, and could make it fit together into the thing that had scared Billy so much.

  The phone rang.

  He heard another sound. It was just outside the study this time.

  Oh, God! Answer it, he thought. Please! Please, answer it!

  “Hello,” Justin’s voice said.

  Priest was sweating, his brain and ears were pounding with fear. His eyes burned.

  “Hello, this is Jack Priest,” he said, careful not to mention Justin’s name. The trust was complete.

  Priest’s eyes watered as he saw the doorknob begin to turn slowly. He was shaking with fear.

  “I…I just called to ask you something,” he said, his voice quivering.

  The door began to open slightly.

  Priest looked away, not wanting to see what he knew was coming.

  Fear had his voice, but he had to tell Justin what he could, without spilling it all to the wrong ears.

  “I…I just wondered,” he began, “if you were such a good friend of Billy’s, why didn’t you visit his grave?”

  There was a soft thud. Then another.

  Justin never heard the silencer, just the sound of the phone falling.

  Then the line went dead.

  Justin sat, puzzled. He began running the strange question through his head again.

  BEEP!

  The tone startled him.

  BLEEP! He responded via eustachian implant after only a moment’s delay.

  Barbara was asleep on the bed beside him. He got out of the bed gently, so as not to wake her, and walked out into the living room.

  “Yes?” he said in a low whisper.

  “Pilgrim, you are needed,” the soft voice said. “Can you leave in the morning for St. Sim
on’s Island?” SENTINEL asked him.

  Justin’s stomach knotted with anxiety.

  Was it possible that someone had monitored the whole thing, right from the first visit to Priest?

  If so, he was a dead man.

  There was little he could do in his situation. He had to go along. There was no running with that implant in his head. He could be found anywhere.

  “Yes, what arrangements have been made?” he asked.

  “You will be leaving from Teterboro Airport at eight-oh-five A.M. on the Lear. Sorry to disturb you on your vacation, but something very important has come up regarding Phoenix. You will be briefed at St. Simon’s. You can plan on returning home in three days.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there,” Justin said.

  “Thank you, Pilgrim. Rest well,” SENTINEL said, ending the transmission.

  Justin sat back on the couch, trying to settle his thoughts. Could being called in have been coincidental? Or was this it?

  Barbara came stumbling into the dark living room.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked sleepily.

  “Nothing, hon. I have to leave for a few days, that’s all. Vacation’s over, I’m afraid,” he said.

  “Is that what the call was about?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “The least they could have done was waited until morning,” she complained.

  She sat next to him on the couch.

  He put his arm around her, and they lay back across the soft cushions. In a few moments Barbara’s breathing became deep and steady. She was asleep.

  Justin held her softly, feeling the rise and fall of her breasts.

  He looked at her for a long time, appreciating her being there with him. He loved her dearly. He just wanted to hold her, and hold her, never letting go.

  Especially in the morning.

  THIRTY-SIX

  I have warned them to watch Titus. I fear he will harm the plan in some way. I recommended neutralization, but they did not listen. I am old, they think going senile.

  My health fails daily. I have great difficulty in writing and seeing the paper. I can no longer walk well or use my left arm.

  I have visions of all those who died. I see their crying eyes. The end is near for me, but I am happy, for, close behind, will come the beginning.

  Entry No. 77 from the partially

  recovered Wolf Journal

  The flight down to St. Simon’s was smooth and routine, but Justin remained ready for the worst possible trouble.

  Richard Wyatt was waiting for Justin when the elevator doors opened at the lower level of the Dials Cardiac Clinic.

  “Hello, Pilgrim. How was your flight out?” Wyatt greeted, extending a hand.

  “Real good,” Justin answered, taking it in a firm shake. “What’s all the fuss about Phoenix?” he asked.

  “A trade has been negotiated,” Wyatt said.

  Justin stared hard into Wyatt’s face.

  Wyatt nodded. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Only half of it,” Justin said. “How the hell come? After all the shit that we’ve been through over this, how can they let him go back?”

  “They’ve got someone we need back very badly, for reasons you’ll soon learn,” Wyatt said, as the two men walked down the long corridor toward the situation room.

  “I don’t believe this,” Justin said incredulously. “He’s seen faces, places, and has to know about Alpha and St. Simon’s. He can still hurt us pretty bad.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “He can’t hurt us at all, or we’d never let him go, no matter who they had.”

  Justin remained on his guard as they walked. Although everything seemed normal, he wasn’t about to let his defenses down. The facts he had learned in the past week had left him confused about what was real and what wasn’t, about whom to trust and whom not to.

  “Who are we trading for?” Justin asked.

  “You’ll learn that, as well as the answers to all of your questions, in just a few minutes.”

  They reached the situation room and walked through the sliding doors.

  Irwin Honeycut was standing there.

  Justin’s defenses were ready to pop. His eyes went quickly back and forth between Wyatt’s and Honeycut’s, assessing.

  “Hello, Pilgrim,” Honeycut said, sticking out a hand.

  “How do you do, sir?” Justin said, taking the handshake.

  “I’m sorry we’ve had to disturb your vacation like this, but it’s a very important matter,” Honeycut said.

  “Thank you, Dick. I’ll take it from here,” Honeycut said to Wyatt.

  Wyatt smiled his farewells and left the situation room.

  The two men stood alone, silent, staring into one another’s eyes.

  “How was your vacation?” Honeycut said at last, breaking the staring match.

  “Just fine,” Justin answered, ready.

  “Have you thought about my offer?” Honeycut asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  Justin didn’t know what kind of game was being played here, or who was on whose side. Playing along would buy time until he learned more.

  “I’ve decided to take it,” he said.

  “Good! Good!” Honeycut said, shaking Justin’s hand warmly. “That was a good decision,” he said, nodding with a broad smile. “Now I’ll tell you what we’re up against.”

  Honeycut gestured toward a chair situated in front of a large desk. Justin moved to it and took the seat. Honeycut moved to the desk and sat behind it. He reached to a center drawer, opened it, and reached his hand inside.

  Justin nearly went for the Mauser as Honeycut’s hand withdrew, but the movement was aborted when he saw a thin metallic plate in the hand as it came up.

  “This is your new ID plate. You’ll see that it bears an SSC-7X security clearance. That is the second highest possible rating in the agency. You can do anything with that X, open any file, request unlimited access to SENTINEL, anything at all, including starting a small war if you had to. You’ll be needing that authority to help us solve our problem,” Honeycut said.

  Justin was stunned and confused. Only seconds before he had thought that a gun was coming out of the drawer. Now he didn’t know what to think. Honeycut was working his magic again.

  “The rating goes with your new job,” Honeycut told him. “You started when you got on that plane in Teterboro.”

  “How did you know that I’d want it?”

  “I knew,” Honeycut answered, a knowing smile on his face. “You and men like you are the future of this agency,” he said. “You’re dedicated to your country and to what this agency stands for. I had the card made before you even went on vacation.” He smiled.

  Justin smiled back weakly.

  “Now I’ll tell you what we’re up against,” Honeycut said, his face grown suddenly serious.

  “You know that we’ve been after the journal that Spartan recovered. We’ve been able to recover about half of it from the ashes in Spartan’s fireplace. It was enough to tell us that we’re in potentially deep trouble.”

  He looked into Justin’s eyes for signs.

  “The agency has been infiltrated,” he said.

  Justin’s confusion showed openly on his face now.

  “Infiltrated? By who? Soviets?” Justin asked.

  Honeycut shook his head. “No, not the Soviets. From what we’ve been able to recover from the ashes, we’ve learned that the journal was written by a man known as Wolf. We don’t know who Wolf was, but we do know what he was. He was a Nazi.”

  Justin rose from his chair and took several slow steps away from Honeycut.

  Of course, he thought, the journal was in German. It was found in Madrid, the known Nazi headquarters in the world. Then there was the twenty-fifth page that he had found at Bridges’s apartment. It had mentioned Niederlage, 1941, and something called Operation Raptor. It also had code names on it, and places: Spain, Argentina, South Africa, Germany, and the United St
ates.

  He turned back to Honeycut, half debating whether to tell him about the twenty-fifth page and Spartan’s brother. Perhaps the information on that twenty-fifth page gave the real reasons why Bridges tried to go over. He decided to wait on telling Honeycut, until he could learn more.

  “Nazis? Are you sure?” Justin asked.

  “Yes. There’s little doubt left by what we’ve found. They plan a Fourth Reich right here in the United States.

  “That’s why it’s so important that we get our hands on the rest of that journal. It could tell us a great deal more, including whom we’re looking for,” Honeycut said.

  “But we’ve got to get this Phoenix deal cleared up first, then we’ll concentrate all of our efforts on this matter. You’ll be given the parts of the journal that we’ve uncovered and all of the assistance we can safely give you.

  “We’ve got to be very careful, however, as we don’t know how deep the infiltration goes or how high up. We do know that it must start high, SSC-seven level or higher, a person with the ability to use SENTINEL exclusively and safely, without detection. Someone in a position to utilize SENTINEL to their aim when the time comes.

  “With SENTINEL to do their bidding, it could be the most formidable movement the world has ever known. Unstoppable.”

  “But how could someone gain that kind of control? I thought that all security classifications were meticulously screened?” Justin asked.

  “They are. But the journal leaves little doubt that someone has gained that potential, somehow. Covers arranged over thirty-five years ago could be flawless. Even impossible for SENTINEL to detect.”

  Justin began to pace again, thinking.

  “And you think that the rest of the journal will give you those answers?” he asked finally.

  “It could,” Honeycut answered.

  Justin’s stomach was doing flips. Maybe he had stumbled onto the same discovery that Bridges and Spartan had made, and what Honeycut was telling him was the truth.

  And there was Fanning. What part had he played in it? Whose side was he really on? How deep did it go? He still needed more answers.

  “I’ll need an absolute classified status,” Justin said. “Can that be arranged?”