Maxwell’s Silver Hammer

by Ciana Stone

  “Sir, Ms. Nikki Morgan. Nikki, Mr. Simon Richard Weston.”

  Nikki cut a quick look at Gaspar in surprise before returning her eyes to the man in the wheelchair who was maneuvering the chair to face her.

  “Ms. Morgan, delighted to meet you, my dear.” Simon extended his hand to her.

  Nikki was stunned. Set within the lined and aged face were eyes that were nearly identical to his grandson Max. The difference became pronounced however when his eyes met hers. Looking into Simon Weston’s eyes was like looking into the well of the past. Knowledge and wisdom and eternal secrets seemed to shine forth from their depths. Simon smiled and the spell was broken.

  “I-I’m sorry.” Nikki stumbled for words. “I guess I’m a little…no, I’m a lot surprised.”

  “Understandably so.” Simon gestured to a grouping of chairs near the fireplace as he maneuvered his chair.

  “Would you care for something to drink?”

  “No. No, thank you.” She took a seat, looking at Gaspar with a puzzled expression.

  “I would imagine that you’re a woman with many questions,” Simon said.

  “To put it mildly.”

  He chuckled. “Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

  She looked from him to Gaspar then back to him. “Okay, first of all, how did Gaspar get in here?”

  Simon rolled over to the bookcase and activated the secret entrance. Nikki got up to take a look. “Does everyone in the house know about this?”

  “No.”

  She reclaimed her seat as he closed the passage. “Okay, that’s the how, now about the why.”

  “Gaspar is here at my request, as are you.”

  “You mean here, in this room, tonight.”

  “I mean on this estate.”

  Nikki leaned back against the soft leather of the chair. “So what you’re saying is the reason the Westons hired me is because of you?”

  “In a manner of speaking yes. You see, my dear, having retired from public life has provided me with the opportunity to use my talents and energy in other directions. Such as manipulating people and events from afar in order to achieve those things I’ve designated as my life’s goals.”

  “Which are?”

  Simon’s genial expression changed to one she saw as fervent determination. “Truth, my dear, truth. Before I leave this world, I fully intend on knowing the truth to certain questions, the most pressing of which is that hidden truth to the identity of the gods.”

  “The identity…hold on. Excuse me for seeming dense, but could you make that a little clearer just so we’ll be on the same page?”

  Simon’s laugh bubbled up, rich and hearty. “I do like the way you phrase things, Ms. Morgan.”

  “Call me Nikki.”

  “Nikki.” He inclined his head. “Thank you. I am, of course, Simon. Now, to clarify, in short, I seek proof that the ancient gods of this world were not actually of this world and were not, in the universal scheme of things, gods at all, but rather intelligent beings from another world, dimension or plane of existence.”

  His answer surprised her enough to create a momentary pause as she considered how to respond. Things just seemed to get stranger every day. What had she fallen into?

  “Oh.” At the expectant look on Simon’s face, she found her voice. “So that’s the goal of this group you and Gaspar joined?”

  Simon seemed amused by the question and even Gaspar chuckled.

  “What?” She looked from one to the other. “What’s so funny?”

  “My dear,” Simon said. “Since the beginning, my family has directed the group.”

  “Since the beginning of what?”

  “Recorded time.”

  She gave him a look filled with skepticism. “That’s kind of a big bite to swallow, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “Yes, indeed it is. However, it’s nothing more than the simple truth.”

  “If you say so. But that doesn’t explain why Gaspar wanted me to come here and apply for the job. Or why he tricked me into believing that I’d have a hope in hell of finding anything in this museum. Or,” she paused for emphasis, “why he seems to think I’m in some kind of danger.”

  “You’re absolutely right. That’s why you’re here now. So that I can supply those answers. First, I asked Gaspar to find a suitable candidate for the position.”

  “You wanted Gaspar to find a—a—companion for Max?”

  “No.” Simon shook his head. “I wanted him to find someone who felt as passionately about certain ideas—about the search for the truth as I. That’s why he selected you. You see, Nikki, I understand you far better than you can imagine. I know your longings for the truth, your search for the truth and your fear in what you may discover in the truth.”

  Simon’s words made her feel uncomfortable, as if he did indeed understand her hopes and fears. However she wasn’t about to let him know that.

  “That still doesn’t explain why I’m here.”

  “Simple. To help me find that which I seek.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that? I know nothing about you or your son or your quest for this artifact. What could I possibly uncover what someone of your obvious knowledge, experience—not to mention wealth—can’t?”

  Simon moved his chair closer, reached out and took her hand. “Maxwell.”

  Nikki jumped up like she’d been shot out of the chair. “What?”

  “I didn’t mean to alarm you, my child, and believe me that of all the members of this family, I alone want to protect Maxwell.”

  “As in keeping him locked up like a prisoner?”

  Simon smiled and raised his hands prayer-like to his chin. “Yes, indeed, you were correct, Gaspar, my friend.”

  “Excuse me, but you want to clue me in?” Nikki asked.

  “Forgive me,” Simon said. “You see, Nikki, what I’ve searched for all these years cannot be found without my grandson, for I suspect he is the only person alive who can point me to its whereabouts.”

  “Max? But if you think that why not just…” Nikki fell silent. If no one had ever bothered to spend time with Max then she was the only one who knew that Max wasn’t some mentally stunted individual who couldn’t communicate. She wasn’t about to divulge Max’s secret.

  “Why did I not simply ask him?”

  Again Simon surprised her. “You mean…?”

  “Yes, indeed I do. My grandson isn’t the simpleton everyone supposes him to be. You might say that he plays a role.”

  Nikki fell back down in her chair. “Excuse me, sir, but this whole thing’s getting stranger by the moment. I have no idea what’s really going on, and probably don’t even want to but…” She looked Simon in the eyes. “But I do know that I don’t want to see Max hurt. In my opinion he’s been hurt enough.”

  “You exceed my dreams, Nikki Morgan.” Simon took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

  “Well, that’s…that’s wonderful, I guess, but it doesn’t make any more sense than anything else I’ve heard or seen.”

  “Perhaps it will help clear things up if I told you a little story. If you’ll bear with me?”

  “Have at it,” she replied.

  Simon drew in a long breath, steepled his hands in front of him with his index fingers touching his chin and stared into the fire for a moment. “By the time my son Richard entered the university, I knew beyond all doubt that he would never share my passion in the search for truth. Whereas I, lucky that I was to be born into a family of means, used my wealth to accumulate more in order that I might indulge in my quest, Richard was attracted to other things wealth provides. Power and status, but most particularly power. Richard knew of my interests, but shared them only in terms of whether the possession of any such artifacts would bestow upon him power over others. Therefore, he was never initiated into The Society, as was I and likewise Gaspar by our respective families.

  “Being the man he was, Richard’s every energy and action was motivated by the accumulation of mor
e wealth, more power. To his credit, I must admit that our family’s holdings, since he took an active role, increased exponentially. The methods he used I am, however, not particularly proud of. But that is another tale in and of itself.

  “Richard and Helen met and were married and he moved his new bride into our home. She was a stunningly beautiful young woman. As cool and caustic in personality as fair of face. From the beginning, I knew that Helen had no great love for Richard. What she saw in him was a rise in social standing.

  “Helen’s family was not poor by any standard. She went to the finest boarding and finishing schools and attended a private college where she received a degree in art history. By marrying Richard, she, in a way, put her education to use and began purchasing art all over the world, socializing with the wealthy and influential on every continent.

  “During the early years of their marriage, I maintained control of the family holdings. Richard worked in a position inferior to mine, something that rankled him no small amount, but Helen even more. You see, Helen wants to be the queen bee in any hive.

  “It didn’t take long for Helen’s icy demeanor to wear thin for Richard, and he began seeking physical gratification elsewhere. Helen, of course, with her vast circle of acquaintances, soon discovered his infidelity. However, like the cunning creature she is, she didn’t confront him directly but sought to ensure that despite his wandering sexual attention, none of his paramours would ever replace her. In short, she became pregnant.

  “To my great sorrow, Maxwell was virtually abandoned by his mother from the moment of birth. She returned to her social activities, leaving her child in the care of governesses, tutors and housekeepers. He was brought out and displayed whenever a—what you might call publicity opportunity arose.

  “My own role was no more admirable than Richard’s or Helen’s. I spent little time with my grandson. Because of Richard’s adept and astute business acumen, I had shifted much of the running of the family holdings to him, freeing myself more and more to my own interests. The family holdings continued to grow, thanks in part to an alliance Richard formed with a young military officer assigned to the Pentagon, Mark Robinson.

  “Those interests, coupled with my son’s and daughter-in-law’s self-centeredness, would incite the most tragic event to happen to this family since the death of my beloved wife.

  “Shortly before Maxwell was wounded in Iraq and sent home, Helen became aware that Richard was involved with a beautiful young woman whom he adored. This affair was different from all the others that had come before. Richard was in love with his mistress Amanda. Helen was livid and set about to even the score.

  “The first thing she did was take a lover herself, Richard’s closest friend and confidante, Mark Robinson. Truth be told, Mark had been in love with Helen since the moment he first saw her. Initially, I don’t think she cared for him, but over the next months, it appears she fell in love with him—in as much as she’s capable of loving anyone aside from herself.

  “Using Mark’s love for her as a weapon, Helen convinced him to have Amanda killed. It was easy enough with his contacts and he would have done anything for Helen. Richard was devastated but, to Helen’s surprise, didn’t turn to her for comfort. In fact, the rift between them grew much wider.

  “What Helen did not count on was the strength of Mark’s feelings for her. He wanted Helen for himself. Not as a lover but as a wife. She wouldn’t consider leaving Richard, however. Through him her status in social circles was climbing higher and higher. A loveless marriage was little to endure for the kind of social status she craved.

  “At any rate, she and Mark had a terrible falling out and she refused to see him. During the time they were estranged a major event happened. One of the members of The Society successfully located the housing device for the Stones. This member, a man by the name of Lucien, was to bring what he’d found to me, here at this house.

  “Unfortunately, I did not receive the communiqué notifying me of Lucien’s arrival, and was in Jerusalem when he arrived. Richard was also absent, on some business affair or other.

  “When Lucien arrived, Osgood contacted me immediately. I spoke with Lucien by telephone and said that I’d leave Jerusalem immediately. I asked him to wait for me here at the estate and told Osgood to make Lucien comfortable until I arrived.

  “Lucien was nervous. No, actually he was afraid. He told me that he couldn’t discuss it over the telephone except to say that our efforts and his find had not gone unnoticed and that his life was in jeopardy. Apparently something had happened before he arrived here at the estate, something life-threatening from which he just barely managed to escape. He claimed he knew who was behind it and warned me that the enemy was closer than any of us had imagined and that he knew our adversary.

  “Needless to say Lucien’s words stuck an anxious chord within me. During the trip home all I could think of was Lucien’s discovery—both of the artifact and our enemy’s identity. How could I have known that Helen, in the midst of her problems with Richard, and her lover, Mark, would see Lucien as a suitable distraction? And yet that is apparently what happened.

  “The events of the fateful night are not entirely clear, but this much I have pieced together over the years.

  “Helen gave orders for an elaborate meal to be prepared. Aside from Osgood and Louise, the rest of the staff were given the night off. Even Maxwell’s nurse, which was unprecedented.

  “Helen and Lucien dined alone, a romantic candlelight dinner, with copious amounts of wine. She dismissed Osgood and Louise immediately after dinner with strict orders that she and Lucien were not to be disturbed.

  “Beyond that, all that is sure is that Richard returned home unexpectedly, and shortly thereafter, Mark Robinson was summoned to the estate. Within minutes of his arrival, the authorities were notified. According to the testimony given by my son and his wife, Lucien, a man unknown to either of them, managed to breach security, break into the estate, and happened upon Helen whom he beat and raped. Richard returned as the rape was in progress, a fight ensued between him and the rapist, and Lucien was killed in the fight.”

  Nikki’s posture had shifted during the telling of the tale to one of rigid attention. When Simon fell silent, she looked at him in amazement.

  “But how could the police have bought the story? Osgood and Louise and I assume the rest of the staff knew that Lucien was a guest. Surely they told the police!”

  Simon shook his head. “As far as the authorities were concerned, Lucien was a criminal, not an invited guest.”

  “You mean they lied?”

  “I believe it more correct to say they did as they were ordered.”

  She looked from him to Gaspar, who nodded in affirmation. Falling back in the chair, she thought about Simon’s story. It didn’t add up.

  “Okay, maybe your son or Helen ordered everyone to keep their mouths shut, but you and I both know that human nature isn’t so easily controlled. People love to gossip. Surely someone would have talked. Maybe not to the police, but there had to have been rumors that came up.”

  “Yes, you’re quite right. Upon my return, I discovered the deception. Immediately I spoke with everyone on the staff. Osgood, being closer to me than my son, told me what he knew, trusting me to protect him should the need arise. Two others of the staff, a young woman employed as Helen’s maid and one of the groundsmen, also told what they knew. Unfortunately, they told it not to me, but to Richard. Essentially, they tried to blackmail him.”

  “Tried being the operative word, I take it.”

  “Indeed. Their bodies were found in the burned remains of a terrible automobile accident two days later.”

  “You mean Richard had them killed?”

  Simon didn’t answer. Nikki looked at Gaspar. “And that’s why you said my life was in danger?”

  Gaspar nodded and she turned to Simon. “So in other words, your son is really nothing more than a cold-blooded murderer.”

  “In a manner of spea
king. But what is more, I later discovered the truth Lucien had found. Richard, my only son, was the enemy.”

  “Well, why didn’t you have him arrested or something?”

  “There was no evidence. Bear in mind that by this time, Richard had forged many strong alliances with many powerful people. Trying to bring him to justice through the legal system would have been fruitless. Instead I sought recompense in another way.”

  “Which was?”

  Simon rolled his chair over to the low-bar and poured himself a brandy. “I will answer that, but first there is more to my story.

  “The night of Lucien’s murder, Maxwell was here on the estate, having been returned home from Iraq and suffering from post traumatic stress disorder over an event that occurred in Baghdad. As I have told you, his nurse was given the night off. Actually forced into it. According to Helen, Maxwell was asleep in his room throughout the entire ordeal. According to Osgood, he was not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that before the police arrived, Louise went upstairs and saw Helen in Maxwell’s room, talking to him as he lay in bed.”

  “Well, that doesn’t really prove anything. Maybe she just went up to check on him.”

  Simon’s laugh was bitter. “Then it would be the first time she had ever done such a thing. No, I don’t think her presence in Maxwell’s room was out of maternal concern. I suspect she was checking to see if he’d heard anything. When the authorities arrived, Maxwell was not only sound asleep, but could not be roused the next day by the nurse.”

  “Well, people sometimes sleep very soundly.”

  Simon shook his head. “The murder occurred around midnight. Maxwell went to bed precisely at ten o’clock. At eight a.m. the next morning the nurse couldn’t wake him. Alarmed, she summoned Louise, who in turn called for Osgood. Nothing they could do would wake him. Frantic that something was terribly wrong, they notified Richard.”

  “And?”

  Simon took a sip of brandy before answering. “And nothing. Richard ordered the nurse to keep an eye out and to notify him when Maxwell woke. She was to allow no one else to speak with Maxwell aside from Richard or Helen. The woman did as ordered and remained by Maxwell’s bedside until he woke, seventy-two hours later.”