Majestic

by Unknown

  Allison wondered if it had been unanimous. Wondered if anyone had spoken up in her father’s defence, just as she had done on behalf of Senator John Hartford.

  Her father had never seen it coming. He must have thought that he’d covered his tracks in his conversations with Sheppard. But, somehow, they had found out.

  Maybe Sheppard had told someone, or perhaps communications between the two of them over the internet had been monitored?

  But, judging from the file Allison had read that was in that briefcase hidden in the wall of her dad’s study, it seemed as if all contact had been through written reports, or over the phone. She didn’t see any evidence that the internet had ever been used and, knowing her dad, he would have avoided that like the plague. He hated technology. But, surely they must have met on the sly once in a while, so maybe they’d been under surveillance?

  Right after the deaths of her three family members, Allison had taken over her dad’s seat on Majestic 12. She remembered all the condolences and expressions of grief and compassion from the other members at the very first meeting she’d attended. Even from Chad Powers.

  All fake.

  They all knew they’d killed her family vicariously.

  Killing was an easy thing to do when you were sitting around a boardroom table simply raising your hand in a vote. It reminded Allison of the ‘thumbs up’ or ‘thumbs down’ gestures from Caesar at the Coliseum from the movie Gladiator.

  That was really, in fact, what they were on Majestic 12—all little Caesars.

  The dilemma in Allison’s mind was tugging at her—she had given the ‘thumbs up’ herself to numerous murders over the past five years. Killings that she had been convinced were justified, in line with their mandate. Protecting Americans from the painful truth demanded hard decisions, and she’d been entrusted to participate in those decisions. She’d taken that responsibility seriously, all for the common good. For the greater cause. A few individual deaths to prevent chaos.

  And, she had to admit, it was easy to do when you were just sitting around a table talking like businesspeople, talking as if it was just like a simple merger or acquisition discussion.

  There was a certain detachment to it all.

  They never even had to get their hands dirty. All they had to do was raise their hands and vote. No personal contact with the victims, no consideration of how decent those people might be, what good fathers or mothers they might be. None of that mattered. Not having to consider those things made the decisions relatively easy.

  The people who’d died were generally unknown to the ‘deciders.’

  Most of them were scientists and astronomers, along with a few journalists. People who’d had a conscience attack, and were preparing to blow things wide open. Each of the Majestic 12 members knew that would be dangerous, if they allowed it to happen, so they’d had no choice. That was their job—their sacred trust.

  But, it was a different story when it hit close to home.

  Knowing her own family had been killed due to the ‘deciders’ voting on their fate, was more than Allison could handle. Suddenly, she started seeing the faces of the people she’d voted to kill, imagining the families they’d had, and the heartbreak all of them would have endured. She could feel their pain, because it was a pain she herself had endured.

  A pain made only worse now that she knew it hadn’t been an accident after all.

  And, here she was, serving out her father’s wishes on the Majestic 12 cabal, doing her duty. When, in fact, her own father had been preparing to blow the lid off the secretive and murderous society. He’d had a pang of conscience. He’d had regrets over the deaths he’d voted in favour of.

  Or, quite simply, he may have decided instead that the American people—indeed everyone in the entire world—deserved to know the truth.

  The plane landed smoothly and began its taxi toward the executive terminal. Allison turned on her iPhone and read once again the article that she’d saved in her ‘favorites.’

  The article that announced the mysterious disappearance of oil executive, Charles Farmington. He’d vanished into thin air.

  There was background information in the article concerning details that had just surfaced in the last few days about Farmington being under threat of indictment for his company’s reckless endangerment of the environment. That at least fifty percent of the damages to the Gulf of Mexico that British Petroleum had been held responsible for were actually caused by the leaking wells of Farmington’s Tempest Energy Corporation.

  Allison knew that for years the prick had avoided prosecution for his company’s negligence, due to the influence-peddling he’d been doing in Washington. Washington had repaid his monetary favours by holding BP totally responsible, instead of Tempest.

  Something must have happened to cause Farmington to start sharing information about Majestic 12 with Senator Hartford. And, something must have happened to cause Washington to suddenly leak information to the press about Tempest’s negligence and that Farmington was facing indictment.

  And, coincidentally, he’d just disappeared into thin air. Majestic 12 now had one less member, a seat soon to be filled by Farmington’s son, Kevin.

  The article surmised that Farmington may have fled the country to a safe non-extraditable haven, to avoid the massive fines and decades in prison.

  Allison knew that wasn’t true. The evil Farmington would never be seen again. And, neither would his dead body.

  At the very end of the article was one paragraph that gave Allison the chills—convinced her that the assassination of Senator John Hartford was imminent.

  Chad Powers, as usual, was moving fast. Just as he’d done with the bullet in the head of Darren Sheppard, followed later that same day by her father’s car being chased over a cliff.

  The very last paragraph in the article dropped the subtlest of hints. It stated that Senator Hartford was a close friend of Charles Farmington, and that there were unsubstantiated rumors in Washington that Hartford had paved the way over the last few years for Farmington to avoid liability for his transgressions in the Gulf of Mexico. The article even went so far as to hint that possibly money had changed hands between the oil executive and the good senator from Vermont.

  Yes, the backstory had now been created. The character assassination had already commenced, to be followed soon by a real assassination.

  Allison knew in her gut that the promising presidential candidate, the respected senator from Vermont, would never be allowed the opportunity to go out on the campaign trail.

  In fact, Senator John Hartford might not even see another Vermont sunrise.

  Chapter 25

  Willy watched as his son swung into action. Wyatt ordered several of his officers to conduct grid searches of the areas north, south, and east of the city.

  To check out abandoned farmhouses and summer cottages.

  To check them all. No exceptions.

  The officers didn’t question why Wyatt hadn’t asked them to cover the areas west of Nelson.

  Willy had seen the look on Wyatt’s face in the alley when he’d shaken his neighbor Sharon’s hand, thanking her for the information about the vehicle.

  Sharon had seen it, too, and was clearly concerned that something was wrong with him. It was impossible to miss—the blank look in his eyes, the seizure-like posture of his head and body.

  Willy knew for sure that something was wrong.

  He’d been accustomed to weird things about himself for most of his adult life, ever since that horrifying incident in Korea.

  Willy had acquired powers that were beyond belief. And, he knew how it felt to go into trances when he was possessed by the need to create sculptures.

  That power had come to him from above, that awful night way back in 1950.

  When he went into his trances, he knew his face was devoid of expression—he could sense that. His eyes glazed over and his hands moved of their own accord. He had little control over what he was doing. Everything seemed
to be automatic, beyond his comprehension.

  When a sculpture was finished and his trance had ended, he would always look at his creation and wonder how the hell he’d done that. And, why.

  A few minutes ago, he’d seen in his son what he knew he himself always experienced. Wyatt’s eyes had glazed over and the blank expression on his face was exactly as Willy always pictured he looked when those weird things happened to him.

  Willy knew without a doubt that the intense experience of his mom’s disappearance had caused something to happen to his son. In his gut, he knew it. Something had been triggered.

  For all of Wyatt’s life so far, Willy had been waiting for something to appear. Wondering when that would be and what it would be.

  Willy’s DNA had undergone a dramatic transformation twenty years before the idea of conceiving Wyatt had even been a topic of conversation.

  Helen had wanted children, but Willy had never been as enthusiastic about it as she’d been. For one very good reason. He’d been afraid of what a next generation of the altered DNA would look like and be like.

  But, after a while, he relented. He’d loved Helen so much and she’d been so excited about the two of them raising a family together. It was her fondest dream. So, he let her have it, despite his misgivings. He couldn’t live his entire life in fear, and having a child was one of those wonderful experiences that he didn’t want to miss out on. Worth taking a chance.

  So, Wyatt was born, and Willy was so relieved at first that everything looked normal.

  Wyatt grew up as a normal child, with no apparent abnormalities. He didn’t have the extreme strength that Willy possessed and no special talents such as art or music. He seemed…normal.

  He’d had several x-rays done during his childhood—the usual broken bones acquired from falling out of trees or from fights in the schoolyard. And, those hadn’t generated anything freaky. So, he’d been lulled into a kind of panacea, with his only child exhibiting nothing but normal behaviours. A panacea that he’d allowed himself to get used to.

  Until today.

  Deep down inside, he always knew in his gut that one day he’d see it. Didn’t know when, but he knew that it was inevitable. The DNA was real, and it obviously had its own plan and timetable.

  Willy was sitting in the living room while Wyatt barked out final instructions to his officers.

  Suddenly, the house was empty—the bustle of activity was over. They all had their jobs to do, and sped off in their police cruisers to carry out their assigned duties.

  Wyatt came back into the living room from the front porch and sat down in the chair opposite Willy.

  “Dad, everything’s going to be okay. My officers will find her. Don’t worry.”

  “Are you going to stay here with me?”

  Wyatt shook his head quickly.

  “No, I have some patrolling of my own to do. I’m going to call Jan, my sergeant back at the station, to come over here and be with you. You’ve met her—a lovely lady. She’s very efficient—will be a big help to you if the kidnappers phone with any ransom demands.”

  Willy frowned. “I can’t just sit here waiting, Wyatt. I need to be doing something.”

  “You will be. They will no doubt call with demands. You need to be here for that.”

  Willy looked up into his son’s eyes; eyes that he could tell were on fire with anger and determination.

  “You have something specific to do, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Dad.”

  “I can see it in your eyes right now. And, I saw it out in the alley, too. Something happened to you, didn’t it?”

  Wyatt hesitated, then shook his head.

  “I’m curious. Why didn’t you assign anyone to search the area west of the city?”

  Wyatt fidgeted with his fingers. “I intend to patrol that area myself.”

  “Why? You’re the police chief.”

  “I know that area well. I’m the best one to cover it.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  Wyatt raised his voice. “No. You have to stay here for the ransom call.”

  “There won’t be a ransom call, will there? Because you’ll get there before they have a chance to make the call. Am I right?”

  Wyatt stood up. “This is getting silly, Dad. I have to go.”

  Willy stood as well.

  “She’s west of the city, isn’t she? You saw it, didn’t you? Out in the alley. You had some kind of vision, didn’t you? I could see it in your eyes, on your face. You blanked out for a few seconds. You left us. Went somewhere else.”

  Wyatt didn’t reply. Just stared down at the floor and sighed.

  “I’m your father, Wyatt. You can’t fool me. We’re too close. And, don’t forget, I know things about you that no one else knows. I’ve always known that certain gifts would show themselves one day. I’ve been watching for them your entire life. I’m guessing that one of those gifts just made its first appearance today, out in that alley.”

  Wyatt stared back, unblinking. Then, he nodded.

  “Yes, Dad, it did. I saw the whole thing. I know exactly where they are. But, no one else can know how I know. I’d be a freak. You’d be a freak. I have to just deal with this, end it, get Mom back.”

  “Yes, you do. And, I’m going with you. I won’t let you go alone. We’ll do this together, just like we always have.”

  “Dad, it could be dangerous as hell. And…I’m afraid you might not like what you see when we get there.”

  Willy nodded, tears forming in his eyes. “I’m prepared for that. And, that’s okay—what will be, will be. But, I have to be a part of this. You’re not going to do this alone. She may be your mother, but she’s my wife. The love of my life.”

  Willy then stepped forward and gave his son a big hug. Wyatt hugged him back and kissed him gently on the cheek. Then, he rested his hands on Willy’s shoulders and stared into his teary eyes.

  “I’m gonna use this freaky gift, or whatever the hell it is, to make this right. I can’t explain what happened out in that alley, but I’m going to use it tonight for all its worth.”

  Willy wiped away a tear from his eye.

  “Let’s go get your mom.”

  Chapter 26

  Allison drove slowly and contemplatively along the highway south of the city of Burlington, heading towards the wooded area where Senator Hartford lived.

  John Hartford was a lifelong resident of Vermont, and had served in the U.S. Senate for a decade. The former Chairman of the Armed Services Committee was one of the most respected Republicans in Congress. He was one of two senators representing the state of Vermont in Washington, and was known for being one of the most outspoken elected officials.

  He was known also for his integrity. He’d bucked the party many times by voting with the Democrats. He didn’t believe in stonewalling for partisan politics reasons. John simply believed in good government and took his responsibility seriously.

  It was a well-known fact that he was preparing to run for president, and the rumors were so strong that he was already getting media attention. Particularly for the fact that he was planning to run as a third party candidate.

  An Independent.

  Which was tantamount to heresy for the old guard of the Republican party.

  Already being branded a traitor, attempts to sully his record in the Senate had also begun—because the Republican party was afraid that he was so popular amongst Americans that he would draw votes away from whoever the Republican party nominee ended up being. No one thought he actually had a chance of winning, but he would certainly cause enough disruption to allow the Democratic party nominee to win in the general election.

  Senator John Hartford was a major conundrum for the Republican party.

  The latest implications in the press about his relationship with the missing Charles Farmington, hinting that he might have received some payoff from the oil executive to keep the man immune from prosecution for the Gulf of Mexico envi
ronmental nightmare, was, to Allison’s mind, perfect timing. It not only set Hartford up for some kind of reasoning if he happened to disappear just like Farmington, but it also discredited him in case the assassination failed. Any hint of payola and corruption was poison to a presidential candidate.

  According to Chad Powers, Senator Hartford was planning to use the information Farmington had leaked to him about Majestic 12 as a launch pad for his campaign. But, Allison knew Hartford well enough to appreciate that if he was going to use that information, it was because of his strong sense of right and wrong. He was a man with more integrity in his little finger than in the entire two houses of Congress.

  He just didn’t know how dangerous it was for him to bring that information to light.

  Allison couldn’t help but wonder if Chad Powers, the leader of Majestic 12, had allowed a political connection to creep into the group’s decision-making. Did they really vote in favor of killing the senator because of his plan to whistle-blow the group, or instead was this an assassination to eliminate a strong presidential contender that no one in the back rooms of power wanted to see in the race?

  Her mind was whirling as she drove south of the pretty city of Burlington. It was the largest city in Vermont, but that wasn’t saying much. A scant 45,000 people lived there, but the state itself had only 600,000 folks. It was one of the least populated states in the Union. No wonder, though, since beautiful forests covered more than 75% of its territory. Not much room left for people.

  It was bordered on three sides by Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and New York. Quebec, Canada was directly to the north.

  The state was famous for being a haven for skiers—in fact, the good senator was a skier himself, living fairly close to Sugarbush, one of the more popular ski resorts.

  As Allison drove south of Burlington, she couldn’t help but drool over the scenery—Vermont was indeed a special place and, as a city, Burlington itself seemed to have the best of both worlds. At its doorstep was the massive Lake Champlain, and in its rear-view mirror were the gorgeous Adirondack Mountains.