Mackenzie’S Secret

By S.A. Williams

Mackenzies Paris was the Paris of 1969.

Sent to an all-girls boarding school, feeling abandoned, and leaving the boyfriend she loved behind, she confronted her new world with little trust. Her home became a French chteau fabled to have been a haven for the French Resistance. The Paris she knew was conflicted by its past and by its future. Mackenzie betrayed her own belief falling in love with a man she could never have. This Paris was a Paris full of secrets. The discovery of a hidden passageway and the legacy of a gold coin set off an adventure she would live with the rest of her life. What she found in Paris uncovered a forgotten mystery that haunted the foundation of all humanity. Now she has a dangerous secretone that could change the world or destroy it. This is Mackenzies secret.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Nov 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781480854659

S.A. Williams

Having been educated in Brussels, Rome, Madrid, Paris and London afforded Williams the opportunity to earn her Bronze, Silver, and Gold medals from The London Academy of Dramatic Arts. A member of the Screen Actors Guild Williams worked on the sets of such notable films as The Age of Innocence, Philadelphia, The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, How Do You Know, Rocky Balboa, Silver Linings Playbook and others. Her credentials in global marketing and management from The Wharton School-University of Pennsylvania and from Harvard Business School. After working in radio & network TV, she founded a media-buying company out of the Philadelphia region, noted for the production of radio and TV commercials. Anna’s Secret Legacy is the prequel to Mackenzie’s Secret.

Book preview

PRELUDE

LAOS

LATE SUMMER 1969

The tall burly Caucasian man moved furtively down the dark street through the hot, humid night in Vientiane. He had arrived by helicopter with instructions to the pilot to wait for him on the outskirts of town. Vieng Chan, as the locals called it, was the largest city in Laos, situated on the banks of the Mekong River near the border with Thailand.

The evening’s torrential downpour had ended for now and the mist rose from the streets, while smoke from the many dinners being cooked added to the general haze and the heavy aromas that lingered in the air.

With one hand gripped tightly to his pistol, the man continued his quick glances over his shoulder, looking for anyone following him. He was so deep in thought that he was unaware of the silent footsteps that followed him. He stopped momentarily to wipe the sweat from his brow with his shirtsleeve. His mind was buzzing. Had he screwed up this time? Damn, he was so stupid to dip into his Washington-socialite wife’s stock account! He had blown two million of her money by paying off one of his secret assets for top classified intel on competing pharmaceutical discoveries. Of all times, why now was she requesting to see the account? He had always handled her finances.

But the deal was good. Could still work, he hoped. He had made the deal with an influential member of the KGB, providing him with the resources to make heroin. Yes, he would be nicely compensated. They were going to make it and sell it anyway so why shouldn’t he cash in?

♦♦♦

Peter Stern, along with his prodigious eye for detail and a gut-level confidence, had quickly become one of the top US reporters. But Stern was more than a reporter. Having been trained as a special agent, he possessed considerable investigative skills.

Currently in Laos on assignment, following up on leads of a secret US bombing campaign known as Operation Menu in Cambodia, he had been following the man for almost an hour after watching the helicopter land on a secluded muddy airfield track outside of Vientiane. Despite the Laotian clothes, the man was easy to follow. His large burly frame was in sharp contrast to the smaller-framed locals.

Despite the Laotian clothes, Stern recognized the man. He had been given the heads-up from one of his pilot buddies that flew for Air America, the CIA’s commercial airline, and had been at the company-sponsored Club Rendezvous in Udorn City, a social club for all foreigners, many times. He was friends with many of the pilots, which meant he got to overhear many a drunken discussion, like the arrival of this retired US general.

Stern wanted to know why General Wellesley was in Laos, where America’s military presence was prohibited by the Geneva Accord of 1962. Clearly a violation. The secret presence of a retired US General in Laos and in Laotian clothes was too much to pass up. He smiled at his trusted interpreter, nineteen-year-old Pang. Yes, this could be a big story.

Stern had long suspected that the general was a member of a secret syndicate similar to the Illuminati. His insatiable reporter’s curiosity led him out in this humid Laotian evening to follow his quarry.

They followed Wellesley past the Settha Palace Hotel down the Pang Kham to the Mekong River. Stern knew he would have a hard time following Wellesley through the bamboo and thatched-roof beer gardens, known locally as Beerlao, along the Mekong River. The heat and humidity were oppressive. The animals and people were blocking the roads and the dirt streets were jammed with rickshaws and peddle cabs, called samlors. It started raining again.

Stern suspected that they, too, were being followed, but having been trained by some of the US’s top operatives, he was well disguised as a Laotian and was able to maneuver in and out of the city making it hard to be followed.

Stern and Pang continued their clandestine mission, following the General to a large warehouse surrounded by barbwire, well on the outskirts of town. The rain and threatening thunder would work to their advantage.

Staying well hidden, they were able to cut through a part of the barbwire to see through the cracks in the slats of the warehouse in the back, away from the guards patrolling the front of the warehouse. A helicopter and a jeep were also patrolling not too far from the warehouse.

Pang whispered to Stern, That man is Khamtay. The man we are following is meeting with one of Laos’ most unsavory and dangerous characters, known for his heroin production. I don’t know who the woman is.

As both peered in again, standing next to Khamtay, in guerilla warfare gear with a hammer and sickle symbol on her gear, was a tall Caucasian woman, her blonde hair pulled back and a semi-automatic weapon in her hand. Obviously one of Khamtay’s operatives, Stern surmised.

Stern saw crates of Russian ammunition stacked up in a corner. The meeting was quick. Khamtay was arguing with Wellesley, as he looked at the white powder, obviously heroin—and a lot of it. Stern watched carefully, his camera poised between the cracks of the bamboo slats as Khamtay handed a briefcase to Wellesley. He snapped pictures of Wellesley opening the briefcase and counting the stacks of US dollars. The lightning and thunder hid the flash and whirl of his camera. He got some great pictures of all of it, including the men shaking hands.

Ok, Pang, we got him. Time to get out of here. This is enough to hang the bastard.

Khamtay was, in reality, one of the KGB’s most brilliant agents. Real name Nikolai, his Siberian descent gave him Oriental features that allowed him to mix in and operate discreetly throughout Eastern Asia. And Nikolai had been very careful, more careful than Stern had realized. He had a large network of operatives within the capital and throughout the countryside, not to mention his mother country, Russia. Two of his guards saw Stern and Pang sneaking out behind the warehouse and recognized the Westerner Stern and his interpreter—an easy feat.

Machine-gun fire opened up on Stern and Pang.

Shit! Stern hissed. Come on! He grabbed his shoulder bag and, with adrenaline rushing, they ran under the cut barbed wire and into the dense forest along the river, dodging the enemy.

A small fishing boat floated gently at the edge of the river. Pang spoke quickly in his native language while Stern handed the men a handful of bills. Silently, but as quickly as they could, they made their way down the river in the small fishing boat.

Pang had made sure the fishermen would give their followers the wrong directions. But would that be enough? Stern radioed in for help. Lieutenant Sean Fitzpatrick O’Grady picked up the call for a search and rescue giving them the coordinates for a pickup. Stern then removed the film from his camera and took out the small wooden Buddha from his bag. He had picked it up for his nineteen-year-old daughter Samantha, currently living in New York. He placed it inside a secret compartment in the belly of the Buddha. Pang smiled as Stern put it in the bag.

They pulled the boat out of the snake-infested water into the brush and started running towards the helicopter, now in sight.

A hail of bullets sent them to the ground. Damn, the enemy was right on their trail! They scrambled up and pushed their way through the brush in the now torrential downpour of rain.

Stern tripped and dropped his bag. Pang, right behind him, picked it up.

Keep going, run! Stern shouted as he picked himself up. He gasped Shit! Twisted my ankle! But he could see the chopper in the distance. Not too far. I can make—

The explosion threw Pang to the ground. He looked back, stunned, and bleeding … saw that Stern had stepped on a land mine. Pieces of him were strewn about. He got up, dodging bullets, and ran like hell towards the chopper.

Where is Stern? asked Lieutenant O’Grady, US Navy pilot and Navy Seal, as he pulled a bloodied Pang into the chopper. Pang was shaking and crying.

Sean had been on a mission in the area to locate crewmen that had been shot down on a Navy F4C Phantom jet.

Pang shook his head.

Let’s get the hell out of here. The helicopter gunner was returning the enemy fire.

Pang started crying again. Landmine. N-nothing left. B-blown to pieces.

Alright, let’s get the hell out of here!

The copilot jammed back the stick and the chopper rose.

Machine gun fire opened on the chopper.

Goodbye, you bastards! But not before I serve you with this! Sean pulled the pin and lobbed two hand grenades as they flew over the warehouse. A ball of fire from the explosion rocked the helicopter sideways.

Christ! Must’ve had their own explosives down there! Sean cried.

Pang just looked at him.

The pilot maneuvered well and they were off, despite some fuel leaking from the aircraft.

Pang, shell-shocked and bleeding badly, was flown to a hospital in Korat, Thailand. He kept the Buddha with him at all times.

Pang gave a description of what had happened that night to US officials but omitting the presence of the General for his own protection. However, he felt honor bound to anonymously mail the Buddha with the hidden compartment with the film to Peter Stern’s daughter in New York, after finding the address from Stern’s hotel registration in Vientiane. Pang never mentioned this to his CIA interrogators.

General Wellesley, for his part, had made quick tracks back to his private helicopter, along with two million in cash. The whole incident was never reported. The only mention was that Peter Stern, the accomplished reporter, had been killed on a reporting assignment, leaving behind a wife and daughter.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

1

THE ATTACK

BRUSSELS, BELGIUM

MAY 1969

Mackenzie was so excited about her upcoming senior prom.

That Sunday morning, she sat at the breakfast table with her dad, eating the scrambled eggs that he had made for them both.

Her dad looked at her across the table and saw that she was still sleepy-eyed, her blond hair disheveled, and in her pink bathrobe.

Sleep well, honey? It’s almost ten. I know, I know … I’m such an early bird. It’s hard for me to remember sleeping in when I was a teenager.

Mac laughed. Dad, ten o’clock isn’t sleeping in! Besides, most of my friends sleep in until at least noon on Sundays.

Mac sat down at the table. There were some nuts and bolts on the table. Obviously, her dad was working on some pet project as usual.

What are you working on?

Oh, it’s a project my father, your grandfather—Dr. Johann Cunningham—developed years ago.

Mac saw a fly on the table. Yuck, gross! There’s a fly on the table.

He laughed. No, it’s a mechanical fly that works by radio waves; it can track a location. I’m trying to put it together to see if I can get it to work.

Oh, ok. Mac shrugged, now disinterested. Her dad was always tinkering with something.

Doug gathered up the pieces and put them in a box on the counter. He sat back down at the kitchen table and proceeded to eat the scrambled eggs. He grinned; he always enjoyed his time alone with her. They had been very close over the years.

"Mac, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about something. I have some great news: I’ve been promoted to ‘Executive Vice President in charge of Communications for all of Europe.’ For her own safety, he could not tell her the truth.

Cool, Dad. Congrats.

Thanks. But … I’m going to be traveling almost every week this year. I’m a bit uneasy leaving you alone here in Brussels for so long. Maria will be here handling the cooking and cleaning during the week, of course, and both of you can spend some time at our house in Marbella. And I’ll try to meet you down there for some long weekends whenever I can. But that leaves the summer with no definite plans for you, except golf lessons and tennis lessons with your favorite pros. I’ve been thinking this through. You start at Oxford University in September, right? So I thought about taking you to Paris for a few days, and then London, when I get some time off.

Mac shrugged. And maybe we can scope out the campus at Oxford so I’ll be familiar with it before I start there.

We can do that, and maybe spend a weekend in Paris, too. You know your mom and I spent some time in France during the war. And you know the story of how she was attacked and spent time recuperating in a convent, which was taken over by the Gestapo. She escaped, although the results were tragic, as you know.

Yeah, I know, Dad.

Doug looked away and sighed. I blame myself, you know …

Dad … come on …

For taking you both sailing. It was all my fault.

Mac looked at him sadly, remembering with horror the squall that suddenly came up when they were all sailing off of Nantucket. They had barely survived the storm when her mom was swept overboard after the mast snapped. The search for Anna’s body went on for weeks. She was never found. That was over eight years ago.

Dad, you have to stop blaming yourself. No one could have predicted what happened. I miss Mom, too. She sighed. I’ve never taken her pendant off. She softly touched the pendant around her neck.

Doug glanced at the five-pointed star in a circle hanging around Mac’s neck. His mind flashed to a memory of Anna. He could still picture her wearing it so vividly. He snapped his mind back to the issue at hand at the breakfast table.

Before you leave for Oxford in the fall, there’s your mom’s old trunk up in the attic. It’s filled with mostly science and research books. A friend shipped that trunk to Boston from your mom’s old townhouse in Copenhagen, shortly after we arrived in the United States, and then it was automatically shipped with the rest of our things to Brussels two years ago.

What’s in it?

Mostly biology books and a few knick-knacks. But I think there’s a dress and a few other things. I don’t care to look at them again, but why don’t you go up there today and see if there’s anything you want? Your mom and I had a look when it was sent over to Boston from Copenhagen years ago. We were hoping something would jog her memory, but she didn’t seem to see anything that helped her remember.

Mac shrugged. Okay, I’ll go up and have a look. Do I have to do it today? Matthew was going to come over to go over our math homework. We’ve got a test next week. Matthew had also already been accepted at Oxford for the coming September.

Doug smiled. It’ll only take you a short while. I’d like to start cleaning out the clutter up there. I have to go into the office today for a few hours, but I’ll pick up Chinese food for dinner and bring it home around five. Tell Matthew he’s welcome to join us. As a matter of fact, I’ll call Ginger and invite her, too.

Doug liked Matthew, but he wasn’t completely sure he was the right match for his daughter. Although, he mused, since Mac was his only daughter, he would probably have a hard time with any man courting her.

Okay, I’ll go look, sure. Hey, I was gonna wear the pearl earrings you gave Mom to the prom next week. I think they’ll look great with my dress!

Doug nodded.

Mac sighed. Dad, please stop repeating that story about Mom’s accident, okay?

I’m sorry.

No, it’s okay, it’s just that … I hate seeing you upset.

Doug patted her hand and nodded.

Dad?

Yeah, honey?

Ginger … I—

Mac, please let’s not start on that again.

I don’t know what you see in her. I don’t think Mom would have liked her. Do you have to invite her to dinner?

It’s been eight years since the accident. I know Ginger isn’t your favorite person, but please try. She never had her own children and it’s difficult for her to understand teenagers.

We don’t really get along … I doubt we ever will. Mac put down her fork, leaving the scrambled eggs on her plate unfinished.

Doug groaned. He remembered how consoling his secretary, Ginger, had been when he needed a good listener. He had shut himself down emotionally after the sailing accident. But once in Brussels and away from Boston, Doug started to confide in Ginger when he was in the office. Just little things at first. Then one night, when they were both in the office working late on reports that had to be completed on deadline, tired and hungry, he had asked Ginger to join him for a bite to eat and a drink. It had started as just a way to thank her for working late. But one drink turned into four drinks and before he knew it, he was driving her home from the restaurant to her apartment off of the Grand Place in Brussels, and she asked him to come in for a nightcap. Soon they started seeing each other regularly. Doug found that he enjoyed her smart wit and companionship. A few months later, Ginger brought up the subject of marriage and Doug thought it was a good idea that Ginger would help complete the family. But all along, Mac had resisted the idea. Was it simply because Mac was jealous? he wondered. Because she had gotten used to having her father to herself?

She’ll get used to it. Ginger explained to Doug. But would she? When …?

Mac, please understand; besides, you’ll always be my princess.

Mac had always felt something in Ginger that she didn’t like, and the two of them did not get along. She rolled her eyes. Yeah and she’s the evil queen.

Alright enough, Mac. Ginger will be going to London on Tuesday to see her aunt. I don’t want any fighting.

Okay, Dad, sorry … Her dad was just trying to bridge the gap between them. Hey, let’s talk about the prom! Can I have a two a.m. curfew? Matthew will bring me home on time, I promise. Besides, he’s coming over in a bit and you can make him promise.

Doug had to give her credit for her negotiating skills. How could he say no? Since her mother’s death, his daughter had always been able to pretty much get her own way, he knew. Still, she was the center of his life. And he was a proud father. Not only did she resemble her mother physically, it was her joie de vivre, her energy and enthusiasm that so made his heart ache for the memory of his wife. Mac was so like Anna in so many ways …

Okay. But two a.m. and no later. And I’ll be waiting up.

He knew he was being overly protective, and had been especially in the past few years.

Thanks, Dad. I might take a shower first, and then I’ll go up and have a look at the trunk, but I daresay those biology textbooks are way out of date; I doubt there’s anything in there that I would want.

Well, I don’t know. You may want to keep them: your mom was a brilliant research scientist when she was in Copenhagen; those books are probably from her years at Oxford where you, my darling, will soon be spending long days and nights studying.

Mac rolled her eyes. I promise I’ll look at them. See you at dinner, then. And don’t forget the egg rolls! she added with a wide grin as she hugged her dad.

Doug hugged her back. Yes, she looked so much like Anna. He knew Anna would be so proud of their daughter. How he wished she could be here to see Mac dressed for the prom and be present at her graduation.

Mac finished her eggs and put her plate in the sink, then slowly headed up the stairs.

He added as