The Windchime Legacy

by A. W. Mykel

Justin had learned to watch out for men who didn’t smile. They were thinkers, and, in this business, that usually meant that they were dangerous.

  Rainmaker offered assistance as Justin limped painfully down the steps.

  “Let me take that for you,” he offered, reaching for a small navy-blue flight bag in Justin’s right hand.

  “Thanks,” Justin said.

  Rainmaker looked at the patch over the eye and only then noticed that a piece of the right ear was also missing. The bullet that grazed his head had also done this. The use of the ear was lost due to neural damage from the implant.

  The two men walked slowly toward the car, Justin limping with a slight twisting motion against the outside edge of the right foot.

  “How’s the foot coming?” Rainmaker asked.

  “Pretty well, actually. I’ve had two operations on it. Lost most of the arch and a piece of the heel. But Waith says that I should walk normally, without any trace of a limp, once I learn to use the outer edge of the foot properly. He says I’ll be able to run, too, at about ninety percent. I can’t wait till it doesn’t hurt so much, so I can start running to get myself back in shape again,” Justin said.

  Justin’s tone was cheerful, friendly, and relaxed. But inside he was as tight as a crossbow cranked near to snapping. He no longer had the Mauser, the months of recuperation had been long, lonely, and much thinking had been done. He was still confused by the facts, the contradictions of certain bits of information, and the disarming openness of Irwin Honeycut. A warning signal flashed in the back of his consciousness.

  “It’s good to have you back,” Rainmaker said.

  “It’s good to be back,” Justin lied.

  The sliding doors opened to the control center of Sigma. Justin walked in, limping, wary.

  “Justin, it’s good to see you,” Honeycut said warmly, taking Justin’s right hand in both of his own. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like a million bucks hot off the press—a little stiff and in need of some bending, but good just the same,” Justin replied with a wide smile.

  “You’ve lost too much weight,” Honeycut said. “We’ll put it back on you quickly.”

  Justin smiled and looked at an unsmiling Elizabeth Ryerson. The expression on her face fed Justin’s suspicions.

  “Hello, Pilgrim,” Elizabeth said, forcing an unconvincing smile, as she remembered, in spite of herself, the erotic fantasies of so many months ago.

  “Hello, Dr. Ryerson. This is some place you’ve got here. Much more impressive than Alpha,” Justin said.

  He looked around the large oval room. To the right of the door was a long counter situated on a raised platform that circled almost the entire perimeter of the room. The blue floor in the center of the room and entranceway matched the hallway floor outside. This was Blue Deck or the main level, located far below ground level at the Sigma site.

  Behind the counter was a huge global map on a plexiglass panel.

  Honeycut watched Justin as he looked curiously at the panel.

  “Why don’t you give Pilgrim a quick rundown of what we’ve got here,” Honeycut said to Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth looked sternly at Honeycut for a moment, then forced another weak smile. “Be glad to,” she lied.

  She stepped up onto the platform, Justin going up with her. They stepped behind the low counter. A forest of switches and buttons presented itself on the other side of the counter.

  “This is internal security, here,” Elizabeth began. “From this panel, we can direct intruder control systems for the entire complex, which is nearly three times the size of Alpha,” she said.

  “The defensive systems are basically the same as the ones you saw at Alpha. We can control them manually or set them on automatic, in which case SENTINEL will control the entire system, except for this room. There are no intruder control devices in this room. It would be impossible for any intruder to get this deep into the complex, no matter how well versed he was in the defense systems.

  “That panel in the back is a global display board, which can show positions of attacking missiles, locations of fleets, agents, sensors, satellites, essentially anything that we need to see on a global scale. The circular design of the room allows it to be seen from any position.”

  She moved along the platform to the next huge panel, with Justin limping behind her.

  “This is the command-control panel. This is for weapons control in time of war. That huge black panel behind it will give simultaneous visual printout data for over a thousand separate systems at any one time.

  “This wall-to-ceiling display panel, to the left of the command-control section, can show anything that is requested, from visual satellite surveillance to additional weapons-control data if it’s needed.”

  They walked around to the other side of the oval room, to another equally large instrument panel.

  “This is satellite-control and sensor-input analysis. Essentially the eyes and ears by which we can watch the entire world.

  “To the left there are the communications center and the life-support control center for the entire complex, and that last station is for external security control for the outer perimeter of the complex.

  “I dare say that this is the most well-protected site in the world, next to the actual location of SENTINEL not too far from here,” Elizabeth concluded.

  “Very impressive,” Justin said. “You can control it all from right here. Very, very nice.”

  He walked back to the command-control panel. There was a large red switch with a key slot in its center. It was encased in glass.

  “What’s that?” Justin said, pointing to it.

  “That’s our safety insurance that I told you about at Alpha. The off switch,” Elizabeth said.

  She produced a large, flat metallic key from a chain around her neck. “This key activates the switch. Pegasus also carries one, as would the President if he were in this complex. There are only three keys in existence. They are each specifically calibrated to the impedance of the person carrying them. Anyone else inserting the key would not be able to activate the switch without knowing the specific sequence of positional settings of the key.”

  So, it really can be turned off, Justin thought. “Very interesting.”

  “You’ve had a long flight out,” Honeycut said. “Why don’t we show you to a place where you can shower and relax for a few hours. When you’re rested and after you’ve eaten, I’ll join you to discuss some matters of importance.”

  “Fine,” Justin said.

  Honeycut pushed a button next to the security-card plate on the wall near the door. The door opened, and a military guard walked in.

  “Would you please show Pilgrim to his temporary quarters?” Honeycut said.

  Justin followed the guard out to the small three-wheeled electric vehicle that had transported him through the maze of immaculate blue and white corridors.

  The small vehicle rolled away with its passengers.

  The doors to the control center closed.

  “You’ve gone too far with him,” Elizabeth said tensely.

  “I’ll decide how far to go concerning Pilgrim,” Honeycut snapped. “I’ll know better how far to take him after I’ve talked to him, alone.”

  Justin had showered, shaved, taken a two-hour nap, and eaten the most fantastic club sandwich he had ever sunk his teeth into. Now he was beginning to get restless. He looked carefully around the room for visual monitors. He couldn’t see any, but he was certain that they were concealed somewhere. His senses told him that he was a prisoner.

  Just then, the doors slid open, and Honeycut walked in.

  “I trust that you’re well rested and have had something to eat?” Honeycut said.

  “Yes, thank you,” Justin replied.

  “Good. I’ve got several important matters that I’d like to discuss with you. If you don’t mind, I’d just as soon talk here,” Honeycut said.

  “That’s fine,” Justin returned.

  �
��The first thing I’d like to say is that I’m very sorry about what happened to Steve at Dieppe.”

  Justin felt a sudden pang of remorse and guilt. The uncertainty of his situation had kept it in the back of his mind. The sudden snap back to its reality was painful.

  “I can only hope that you fully understand why it was necessary. We can talk about it if you’d like,” Honeycut offered.

  Justin shook his head. “No…I understand,” he said.

  “It was one of the most difficult things a man can be asked to do. I admire the way you tried to work it out to Steve’s benefit. I’m just sorry that it didn’t work out as you intended it to,” Honeycut said.

  “So am I,” Justin whispered.

  “Were you filled in on the events that occurred after that?” Honeycut asked.

  “No,” Justin replied. “Everyone was vague about it. I knew that Steve was dead and that I was hit in the eye by a ricocheting fragment. I was kept in a type of isolation status at St. Simon’s for the whole time I was there.”

  “Yes, well that was imperative, as well. It was important that you be fully recovered before you learned the facts. They’re not pleasant, I’m afraid,” Honeycut said almost apologetically.

  Justin looked at him, head slightly right of center, still not used to seeing through only one eye. He waited for Honeycut to continue.

  “Your shot killed both Steve and the Russian escort who was trying to pull him back to their side. The shot hit Steve in the throat, passed through him, and into the chest of the Russian. The Russian lived for about twenty minutes. Steve died instantly, without pain,” Honeycut said, to help ease Justin’s guilt.

  Without pain, Justin thought. How the fuck can anybody say that someone died without pain? How would they know what the dead man felt? Justin could not imagine death in any form as being painless. Some were “less painful” than others, but none without pain.

  “After you were hit,” Honeycut continued, “Dr. Waith ran out under the white flag. He found you alive, but declared you dead. No one doubted it, either. The combined head wounds made it look like you had been shot right through the head.

  “You were quickly carried on board the plane, along with Steve’s body, and flown back to the United States.”

  Justin was suddenly filled with the realization of the unpleasant nature of what Honeycut was trying to tell him. He stood up abruptly, a look of shock and painful realization across his face.

  “I’m dead. They all think that I’m dead. My father, Barbara, Susan, and Michael, everyone. I’m right, ain’t I?” he said, his tone pained, angry.

  “I’m afraid so,” Honeycut said.

  Justin sat down slowly, his eye staring into the floor, seeing nothing but the grief in his father’s heart, and in Michael’s. His son was probably old enough to understand that death was final and forever. Only after his visions of his father and Michael, did he think of Barbara.

  He let out a painful sigh and raised his hands to his face. He felt a heavy, sickening ache inside. He wanted to cry, not for himself, but for the people he loved, for the pain they suffered.

  He shook his head, tears rolling down his left cheek. It was so much to lose. To never see them again.

  “It was essential that everyone think that you had died at Dieppe,” Honeycut said. “Essential for the good of the agency.”

  Justin jumped to his feet. “I don’t care about the fucking good of the agency. I’ve given it enough,” he raged. “And what has it done for me? What has it left me? One eye, one ear, one foot. It’s taken everything!”

  “No, not everything,” Honeycut said calmly. “Nothing, in fact, that can’t be given back. Your family will learn soon that you’re alive, as soon as the investigations are completed. It was for their good, as well as your own, that we decided to handle it this way.”

  Justin looked at Honeycut, the rage still burning.

  Honeycut raised a hand. “Before you speak, I want you to think about something. Think about what they would be going through a year from now, with you a national disgrace, on trial for murder. The United States government publicly disavowed your actions when the news media ran wild with it.

  “What about the pain they would suffer from the long-drawn-out publicity and the cruelty of ignorant people?

  “A year from now it will be ended, forgotten, the motivation behind your actions forever secret. And your family will still have you, alive. They’ll know it and will be given a reasonably safe explanation of what happened and why,” Honeycut said.

  Justin stared hard at him, confused, breathing heavily.

  “And I did say, ‘Nothing that can’t be given back,’ which brings up another of the matters I wanted to talk to you about.

  “You’ve lost an eye and the use of your right ear. We can give them both back to you,” Honeycut said, pausing for effect.

  Justin leveled a heedful stare at him.

  “That’s right, Justin. We can give you an eye and the use of your ear again.”

  Justin was again deeply confused. “I…I…”

  “All you have to say is, ‘yes,’ ” Honeycut said.

  Justin was speechless.

  “When your eye was removed, an artificial receptacle was installed. The muscles responsible for eye movement were repairable. With a little reeducation, the muscles will move the receptacle exactly as they did your eye. The eye we can give you will be vastly superior to your natural eye. It will give you advantages that you couldn’t dream possible, like long-range sight, perfect night vision, and others.

  “Your hearing on the right side will be remarkably acute, beyond the range of normal human hearing.

  “You only have to say ‘yes,’ and it will all be yours,” Honeycut tempted.

  Justin thought.

  Honeycut waited, watching him.

  “The eye. Will SENTINEL have vision through it, too?” Justin asked.

  “Yes,” Honeycut answered. “Another major advantage,” he said.

  The implant had made Justin feel uncomfortable, “occupied.” There was no sense of privacy.

  It was a difficult decision for him to make. He wanted desperately to see with two eyes again, to hear with both ears. But the sacrifice of all personal privacy was an enormous one. Everything he saw, everything he heard, to be shared with a machine—to look at Barbara, to make love to her, all shared with SENTINEL. But to see again and to hear. It was a disconcerting situation.

  The gains were obvious, the price for them high.

  “There are only two requirements,” Honeycut said. “You will have to remain in the field. With your newly acquired advantages, we would ask that they be utilized where they would be most useful. Your pay will still be the figure that I quoted you in my offer. Even higher if you wish,” Honeycut said.

  Another major concession to weigh.

  “You said two requirements. What is the second?” Justin asked.

  “It’s quite simple, actually. You must turn over the journal and the twenty-fifth page.”

  Justin was rocked, suddenly flushed.

  “We know that you found the twenty-fifth page at Bridges’s apartment,” Honeycut said. “We know what was on it. Division Two removed the ribbon from his typewriter. It was all there. And we know about Spartan’s brother, and the books, and the ultraviolet code that he used.

  “We also know that he mailed you a letter the day before you were called to St. Simon’s Island. We think it will tell you where the journal is,” Honeycut said. “Just turn it over to us, that’s all that we ask.”

  Justin was stunned.

  “I received no letter,” he said.

  “Shall we be entirely honest with one another?” Honeycut asked.

  Justin paused, then nodded. “All right.”

  “We know that you went to see Priest. We know that he mailed something to you. We also know that you must be maintaining a post office box somewhere.

  “We haven’t found it. We don’t think that we will. But we
know that one exists—somewhere.

  “Turn the twenty-fifth page over to me, help us locate the transcribed journal, and the subject will never be raised again. Everything will be forgiven.”

  “We’re telling the truth, right?” Justin asked.

  “That’s right,” Honeycut said.

  “The journal. You know half of what it contains. The day we talked about it, was that the truth? About the infiltration?”

  “The complete truth, Justin. I swear to you. Our problem still exists, exactly as I told it to you. I was unable to get absolute clearance for you to conduct your investigation. That means that it will be a great deal more difficult to find our man.

  “I don’t think that our infiltrator has the means to take control, yet. And it will be harder for him now. All personnel involved with or having knowledge of SENTINEL and the agency are being implanted. That includes the President of the United States and his entire SENTINEL advisory cabinet.

  “It’s going to be a race against time, but we still have control of SENTINEL, and that will be our main advantage.

  “You’re the best agent I have, Justin. The only person I would dare discuss this with, besides Elizabeth Ryerson. I need you to help save the program and possibly the whole country from a forgotten menace.

  “You’ve saved the program once, in Dieppe, by your courageous actions and tremendous personal sacrifices. We need you to help do it again.”

  Justin was silent. He thought for a long time.

  Honeycut waited patiently.

  Then Justin broke his silence. “I have just one more question for you,” he said.

  “Shoot.”

  “Why did Ted Fanning kill Spartan?”

  Honeycut’s face suddenly reddened. He had been caught by surprise. He stood up, his eyes narrowing into a tight squint.

  “What makes you think that Fanning killed Spartan?” he asked.

  “That’s not important. What’s important is that I know that he did. And I’m asking you why.”

  “Ted Fanning was a good agent, loyal to this program and to his country. He was acting on my orders,” Honeycut said.

  “We had certain information that there was an active and seriously viable Nazi movement alive in this country, one that went deep into our government. We also knew that a document pertaining to this movement existed.