Free The Legacy by Stephen Frey

truth-serum effects of anesthesia. Both of his knees were stiff from arthritis and he needed a cane to walk. He spoke in a soft voice tinged with a pleasant Virginia accent, and lately he seemed to forget a word now and then or address one of his students by the wrong name. In private, some faculty members speculated that he was on the precipice of senility, but they were gravely mistaken. Behind wire-framed glasses, Sewards dark eyes burned brightly, and behind the dark eyes was the mind of a twenty-year-old. His senility was simply an act. People expected a man in his eighth decade to forget a name every once in a while, so he gave them what they expected. He couldnt risk stepping out of character.
    The silver sedan pulled up outside the cabin door. Seward heard the driver cut the cars engine as he relaxed into a large leather chair positioned on one side of the stone fireplace. Seconds later there were two sharp raps on the cabins thick wooden door.
    Come in, Seward called sternly as he rested his cane against the arm of the chair.
    Commander John Magee entered the cabin, nodded formally, closed the door and sat down in the chair opposite Sewards.
    Good afternoon, Commander, Seward said.
    Good afternoon, Magee responded tersely.
    The thirty-nine-year-old Magee was five feet seven inches tall, had dark hair and dark eyes and maintained a wiry, steel-strong build with a constant and rigorous exercise program. Acne scars covered his ruddy face, and through this pocked visage ran a long scar extending from the bridge of his nose all the way down his left cheek to his jaw. He was an ex-Navy SEAL, having attained the rank of full commander at the youthful age of thirty-six, and was now on loan to William Seward from an elite special-forces unit of the CIA. In that unit Magee had been extensively trained in everything from high-tech explosives to germ warfare. He was coldly efficient at whatever task was at hand and possessed an intelligence quotient of 164, an IQ he was not shy about marketing.
    How are you, sir? Magee asked.
    Seward noticed subtle derision in the way Magee articulated the word sir. Fine, Commander Magee, Seward answered calmly, exhibiting none of the irritation gnawing at him. Seward knew that the young commander considered him long overdue for an appointment with a Florida continuing-care facility. Seward knew this through his extensive Pentagon grapevine, of which Magee was not aware. However, it wasnt the lack of respect that so angered Seward today. It was something far more important.
    Through four decades Seward had made it a point not to initiate friendships with any of the six men who had previously held Magees position. Becoming friendly with those men wasnt a good idea, because it made the unfortunate accidents at the end of their tours of duty with him all the more difficult. Still, in most cases Seward hadnt been able to resist developing a sense of companionship with the men.
    Magee was different. Magees attitude was so overwhelmingly offensive that Seward was actually looking forward to the day Magee would suffer his inevitable accident. The attitude was highlighted by an abrasive aura of invincibility and utter confidence, combined with an all-knowing, all-seeing demeanor. Given the slightest opportunity, Magee would launch into a self-serving oration, trumpeting his unparalleled knowledge of everything from aviation combat tactics and incendiary devices to predicting human behavior. Seward had worried over the last two years that this supreme self-possession might ultimately lead to trouble, but his direct superior, General Avery Zahn, had steadfastly maintained that Magee was the best man for the job.
    Now, however, Sewards instincts had proved correct. Magees behavior last night in Manhattan had almost precipitated disaster. He should have listened to his instincts, Seward now realized. General Zahn should have as well.
    How was the drive down Route 29? Seward asked hesitantly. He hoped this