Legacies

by F. Paul Wilson

  He wished he had thought to call and arrange for backup, but he dared not get more people involved at this juncture. The situation was too delicate.

  He watched Jack enter the house. Yoshio was desperate. And desperate situations sometimes called for desperate measures…

  2

  "I figure we head up the West Side, catch the Saw Mill, cross the Tappan Zee, and continue up the thruway," Jack said as he put the Taurus in gear. The dashboard clock read 10:33. The morning rush hour would be petering out about now. "Unless you know a better way."

  Alicia shrugged. "Whatever gets us there."

  Jack looked at her. He'd never figured her for a barrel of laughs, but this morning she seemed more down, more subdued than usual.

  "You okay with this?" he said.

  "Yeah," she said with a too-vigorous nod. "I'm fine. I'm just…" She let the word hang.

  "Just what?"

  She sighed. "Just sorry you had to get stuck listening to me yesterday. That wasn't in the job description."

  Tell me about it, he thought, but said, "It's okay. Don't give it another thought."

  "That's just it—I can't stop thinking about it. I've spent too many years not thinking about those pictures, or at least trying my damnedest not to. I sealed up that little girl and the reality of what happened to her behind an inner wall, but try as I might I couldn't forget. Knowing those pictures existed, knowing that I was still being passed from one pervert's grubby hands to another's sickened me. I was damned if I was going to let that define me, but it sure as hell has haunted me. It's been a dissonant, ominous background music to my everyday life. But after all these years, last night was the first time I was able to talk about it. And I know it made you uncomfortable."

  "Well… yeah."

  Sexual abuse of a child… hearing about it from the victim… uncomfortable barely touched how something so awful and so wrenchingly intimate made him feel.

  "But you've got to understand, Jack, that I've never been able to share this with another soul. I've never had close friends because I never felt I could be honest with them. To tell the truth, I couldn't bear to hear them talk about their families, especially about the fathers who were so special to them. Every time I heard somebody talk lovingly about their 'daddy,' I wanted to scream. Even now, when I think of how this flesh is half his, I want to rip it off my bones. I kept asking myself, why couldn't I have had a father like theirs, one who cherished me, who would have willingly died protecting me? But you've seen the pictures, Jack—" , "Some of them," he said quickly. "Just a few."

  "Even one was enough. It meant you knew. And everything I've been holding back broke free. As I said, I'm sorry."

  "And as I said, it's okay. I hope it helped."

  "It did. For a while. For a few moments last night as the negatives were going through the shredder, and later as the collection was dropping into the fire, I felt free. It was a… wonderful sensation. But Thomas's Parthain shot about the Internet brought me back to reality. I see now I'll never be free."

  "Never is a long time," Jack said, cringing at his triteness, but not knowing what else to say. He wasn't a therapist, and he didn't know how to stop Alicia from going where she was headed.

  "Well, as long as copies of those pictures are being traded back and forth along the pedophile networks, either through the mails or zapped through the Internet as GIFs and JPEGs, as long as I know that a single picture of me is circulating, it will never be over. Sure, easy to say 'get over it' or 'get past it' or 'let it go'… but how can I do that when I know that even as we speak some slimy pervert could be ogling images of me doing… those things? How can I leave the events in the past when the pictures remain in the present?"

  Jack could only nod. She was right. Those images were an ongoing violation that would continue even after she was dead.

  "He still has power over me, damn him!" she said, her voice rising. "How do I break that? How?"

  That was a problem Jack had no idea how to fix.

  "Speaking of him," Jack said, hoping to steer the subject back to the purpose of their trip, "why do you think he left the technology to you? Could he have been trying to"… how did he say this?… "make it up to you in some way?"

  A soft bark of a laugh, then: "Not a chance. That would require remorse. Ronald Clayton didn't know the meaning of the word. No, leaving me the house and the clue to the technology was as self-serving as everything else he did in his life. He knew that Thomas would bury it, and he didn't want that. So he put it in my hands, absolutely certain that I wouldn't go along with Thomas." She slammed her fist on the dashboard. "You see? He's still doing it. Still using me, damn him! Damn him!"

  3

  "What's wrong?" Alicia said. "Why are we stopping?"

  They'd cruised north on the thruway with no problems, and no sign—at least so far as she could tell—of anyone following them. Most of the trip since they'd left the city had passed in silence.

  My doing, she thought. She'd awakened this morning feeling tired and drained, and didn't feel much better now. She didn't feel like talking anymore, and she was pretty sure that was okay by Jack.

  So now they'd just paid the toll at the New Paltz exit, and Jack was pulling over to one of the phones in the plaza past the toll booths.

  "Want to get my bearings," he said. "And I want to make sure no one's on our tail."

  Alicia sat in the car while Jack faked a phone call and scratched hurried notes on a small spiral pad as he watched the cars pulling away from the toll booths. Not much traffic this time of day on a Thursday in December.

  Finally, after a good fifteen minutes, Jack hung up and returned to the car. He nodded with satisfaction as he stuck his head in the door.

  "All right. Didn't see anyone I know. How about you?"

  "No one. What are you writing?"

  "Makes, models, color, license plates. I see one of those cars again, I'm going to want to know why. Now… one more thing and we'll get rolling again."

  He reached into the backseat and came up with the Land Rover—fully reassembled now with its black plastic body snapped into place. He took it out to the shoulder and watched it run along the pavement. His dark eyes were bright with excitement when he returned to the car.

  "You know, the thing's running almost due west now. I think we're close."

  Low gray clouds slid across the sky, obscuring the timid winter sun as Jack drove on into the hills of Ulster County. From a distance the denuded trees lent the surrounding hills a hazy look, a light brown fuzz broken here and there by dark green patches of pines.

  At every major fork in the road, Jack would stop and watch the traffic for a while, then he'd take out the truck, see which way it ran, and choose their path accordingly.

  The Rover led them farther and farther into the hills. As the pavement gave way to a hard-packed dirt road, Alicia felt a growing sense of anticipation seeping through her. She fought it for a while—she didn't want to look forward to anything connected to that man—but finally she gave in. Up ahead, perhaps over the next rise or around the next bend in the road, on one of these leafless wooded slopes, something momentous waited.

  But as her anticipation grew, she noticed an increased edginess in Jack.

  "Is something bothering you?" she said.

  He shrugged. "All this wide-open space." He gestured to an expanse of hills and valleys visible through a break in the trees. "Not my kind of place. I like my roads paved, preferably with the option of traveling under them, and I like my trees growing in evenly spaced holes in the sidewalk."

  Just then the tires began to spin and slip on the steep upgrade.

  "Should have rented a Jeep," Jack said. He seemed annoyed with himself. "Should have thought of that."

  But the tires finally caught and propelled the car up to where the rutted dirt road leveled out a little.

  "It can't be too much farther," she said. "There's not much more of this mountain left."

  "Yeah, but what if the
Rover is pointing at the next mountain?"

  Alicia hadn't thought of that.

  A moment later they came to the end of the road.

  "Swell," Jack said.

  Alicia leaned forward, scanning the wall of tree trunks and thick underbrush ahead of them. She didn't want to believe they'd have to go all the way back down that road. And then she saw what looked like a break in the brush.

  "Hang on. Is that a path?"

  Rover in hand, Jack stepped out of the car. This time Alicia followed.

  "Good eye, Alicia," he said, pointing to a thin footpath trailing off into the brush. "Lucky the leaves are gone. No way you'd see that if the brush was greened up. And that's a good thing."

  "Why?"

  "Could mean someone doesn't want it found too easily. Let's go."

  Alicia pulled her coat collar more tightly around her neck. They'd traveled north, they were on a hilltop, the sun was hiding, and a wind was rising. She wished she'd dressed warmer.

  The path threaded left and right around trees and boulders for a good fifty yards before it opened into a wide clearing. Alicia gasped when she saw the old log cabin that stood at its center. Those logs were the only thing old about the scene. The rest was all high-tech. The cabin's roof and much of the yard around it were decked with photoelectric solar panels. Also on the roof, jutting twenty-five or thirty-feet above the solar panels there, stood a strange-looking antenna.

  "I'm going to be very surprised if this isn't the place," Jack said.

  He put the Rover down and let it run. It rocked this way and that as it plowed through the weeds, but it moved inexorably toward the cabin's front door.

  "One more check," Jack said.

  As he carried the Rover around toward the north side, Alicia moved closer to the cabin. She noticed that the windows were sealed… bricked over. Someone did not want visitors.

  "Look at this," Jack called from her right. "I moved it ninety degrees to the north, and now it's running south… right at this cabin. No doubt about it, Alicia. We've found it. This is the place."

  Alicia rubbed her upper arms through her coat. Now she was really cold.

  Suddenly Jack was at her side. "Here," he said, handing her the Rover. "Hold this while I get us inside."

  "Going to pick the lock?" she said.

  "Unfortunately, I forgot to bring my pick set." He bent and looked closer at the lock. "Too bad. It's a Yale. I'm good with Yales. Nope… looks like I'm going to have to do it the old-fashioned way."

  So saying, he leaped forward and slammed his foot against the door just inches from the lock face. The sound of the impact echoed away down the hill.

  But the door hadn't budged.

  "I'll be damned," Jack said, checking out the hinges. "This door opens outward. Weird. And that's going to make it even tougher."

  He took another flying leap at the heavy oak panels, with about as much success as before.

  Three more times in rapid succession, with the noise echoing around them, and still the door stood firm.

  Alicia froze as an accented voice behind them said, "Perhaps I might be of assistance?"

  4

  Startled, Jack whirled and reached for his Semmerling, but held his hands wide when he saw that the newcomer already had a pistol pointing at him.

  Yoshio.

  Jack knew he had to look stupid standing here and gaping at him, but he couldn't figure it out…

  "Where the hell did you come from?"

  "From the trunk of your car."

  "The trunk?" Jack couldn't believe it. "When did you—?" Then he got it. "Oh, hell. Back in Chelsea, right?"

  He wanted to kick himself. He hadn't had the car long enough to notice the extra weight in the rear, but still, he shouldn't have left anything to chance.

  Yoshio nodded with a strained smile. "A most uncomfortable ride."

  "I'll bet," Jack said, remembering all the bumps they'd bounced over and holes their tires had dropped into on the way up here. "Jeez, you must've wanted to get here bad."

  "Yes, Jack-san. Very bad. And what of your promise to share information? What had happened to that?"

  "Our deal was right of first refusal," Jack said, gently as he could. Not a good idea to rile the man with the gun. "And we don't even know what we've got yet." He turned to Alicia. "By the way, this is Yoshio, the Japanese gentleman I told you about."

  Alicia looked about ready to shed her skin. She stood stiff and still, her eyes never wavering from the muzzle pointed their way.

  "Say, 'Pleased to meet you,' " Jack whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

  "Pleased to—does he have to point that at us?"

  "Very sorry," Yoshio said. "If Jack-san will please to give me his weapon, I will put this away. It is only to protect myself, I assure you."

  So damn polite, Jack thought as he pulled out the Semmerling and handed it over.

  But true to his word, Yoshio pocketed the little .45 and then holstered his own 9mm. It occurred to Jack that this was a guy who had to be pretty sure of his physical abilities.

  "Now," Yoshio said, "shall we see what is inside?"

  Jack nodded. "All right. On my count…"

  The door cracked around the latch plate on their first simultaneous kick; the plate buckled on their second, and they were able to pull the door open.

  The first thing Jack noticed was that the lights were on inside.

  But then, considering what this place supposedly housed, why not?

  "Please," Yoshio said. "After you."

  Polite, Jack thought. And not letting me get behind him.

  The single room inside was like Ted Kaczynski meets Radio Shack. A table, a chair, a cot, a couple of throw rugs, and a pair of filing cabinets completed the list of furnishings. The rest, taking up a good three quarters of the space, was an electronic nightmare of wires and metal boxes and blinking lights. And in the center of it all was this glass tube with a beam of brilliant white light shooting through it. The beam looked almost… solid.

  Now Yoshio moved ahead of them, inspecting the humming equipment, staring at the beam.

  "I don't understand," he said. "Is this the Ronald Clayton technology? What does it do?"

  He wasn't putting me on, Jack thought. He really doesn't know.

  He glanced at Alicia. "Should I tell him? He's a buyer."

  She nodded. "Go ahead."

  Jack went to the lamp sitting on the table and checked to see if it had a cord. It did… but it wasn't plugged in. A small aerial jutted up from the base.

  "Here," he said, motioning Yoshio over. "This says it all."

  He handed him the lamp. Yoshio took it and stared at it.

  "I have seen a lamp like this before."

  "Then you should know."

  The Japanese looked at him questioningly. "Know what?"

  "Figure it out," Jack said, then moved toward the filing cabinets.

  He wasn't in an explaining mood. Better to let Yoshio figure it out on his own. An epiphany beat out a lecture any day.

  Alicia had one of the file drawers open and was staring at something that looked like a blueprint.

  "Circuit diagrams," she said. "Do these… mean anything to you?"

  "I can program my VCR and turn on my computer," Jack told her. "Beyond that… I don't do wires. I am the Sergeant Schultz of electronics: 'I know nussing.'"

  Suddenly Yoshio let out an "Ayiiiieeee!" followed by a Sten gun barrage of Japanese.

  Jack said, "The light, so to speak, has dawned."

  He watched Yoshio carry the lamp over to the electronic jumble, where he stood wide-eyed and red-cheeked, his head jerking back and forth between the lamp and the Clayton gizmo as he mumbled in Japanese.

  "This is real?" he said, returning to English as he approached Jack and Alicia. "This is true?"

  "Near as we can tell," Jack said.

  "No wonder Iswid Nahr killed a plane full of people," he said, his voice filled with awe. "They would kill thousands, millions t
o stop this." He stared at the lamp in his hands. "And to think I was this close to an identical lamp and did not realize. I thought they were staring at something by the light of the lamp… not at the lamp itself."

  "Yeah, whatever," Jack said. He hadn't the faintest idea what Yoshio was talking about. He pointed to the file cabinets. "Looks like all the specs are right here. Think your people would be interested?"

  "Interested? Oh, yes, I am—"

  "Hands up! Everyone! NOW!"

  Jack jumped at the shouted commands, delivered with a military bark, but his hands acted on their own, the left rising as ordered, but the right snaking toward the Semmerling—and then he remembered… Yoshio had it.

  And Yoshio's hands were loaded down with that damn lamp. He was no help.

  So Jack raised both hands and slowly turned, knowing who he'd see.

  Yeah… he'd figured it would have to be Kemel and Baker and the remainder of his crew. Thomas Clayton—with his swollen nose and blackened eyes—was a surprise, but not a big one.

  Jack felt his gut tighten. This was bad. Worse than bad.

  Of the five newcomers pushing through the doorway, Kemel was the only one without a personal grudge against Jack. And he wasn't all that sure about Kemel.

  But how the hell had they got here? He damn well knew they hadn't shared the trunk with Yoshio.

  What'd I do—leave a trail of fluorescent paint along the way?

  5

  It is here! Kemel thought, holding back tears of joy. Allah be praised, I have succeeded. I have found it.

  He stiffened his knees as he stepped farther into the cabin. He was weak with relief but wanted no one to know.

  He looked at the three occupants. He knew Alicia Clayton, and recognized her investigator, but the other man… the Oriental holding the lamp…

  "Who are you?" he asked, pointing to him.

  The man shook his head. His quick dark eyes showed no fear.