Season of the Witch

by David L. Golemon

  “No Captain. The decisions made here were not mine to make. This comes directly from the President.”

  No one noticed, but Jack almost imperceptibly nodded his head.

  “We all know you could have persuaded him to go a little lighter,” Carl continued, holding the director’s angry eyes.

  “I could have, but I didn’t. Because of their disobeying my direct orders we have lost Matchstick and they placed Professor Ellenshaw in a situation that may cost him his life.”

  Niles challenged Everett directly by making him look away first. None of the security men had never seen Compton this way before.

  Jason, Will, and Carl couldn’t believe Jack had given in so easily without a challenge to the director. They all looked away from the Compton, focusing on anything or anyone but him.

  Niles reached out and pushed a button on the table. “Mr. Jefferson, please send in Doctor Morales, Colonel Farbeaux and Mrs. Collins, please. And inform the department heads that todays meeting is to be rescheduled.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Permission to be excused?” Virginia said with her head lowered.

  “Granted. Sergeant Calhoun, escort them out please.”

  The four disciplined staff members stood. Anya looked at Carl and shook her head indicating he shouldn’t say anything at the moment. Sergeant Sanchez started to walk toward his friends in the security department but lowered his head and left. Alice slowly walked away from the table without a word. She stood at the door for a brief moment as security held it open for her.

  “Mrs. Hamilton?” Niles said.

  Alice half-turned.

  Niles started to say something but stopped short. All could see the love the man had for Alice as he shook his head. It seemed for the first time in the director’s life, he failed to find the words he could use.

  Jack, Carl, Will and Ryan all stood and watched as Alice turned away and left the conference room.

  Niles Compton sat hard into his chair and for the first time the men of the security department had ever seen, the director swiped at his eyes as he stemmed the flow of tears.

  “Sorry, gentlemen, I hated doing that,” he said as he took his time wiping the lenses of his glasses. Then he attempted a smile. The attempt failed.

  “A little damned hard on them, weren’t you?” Ryan asked as he stood angrily just as Sarah, Morales and Farbeaux came through the door.

  “Commander, at ease,” Jack said angrily.

  “Sit down Mister Ryan,” Carl echoed.

  Will Mendenhall tugged on Jason’s sleeve and the naval aviator finally relented and sat. His eyes told everyone that he was far from being over his anger. Then a curious look crossed his face when he glanced at Collins and the Colonel had a small smile on his lips.

  “You didn’t inform the White House, did you Doctor?” Jack asked.

  Niles looked up and a hint of a smile appeared.

  “Are you suggesting I need acting classes, Colonel?”

  “If you’re going to bluff like that, that may be necessary.”

  Ryan and Mendenhall exchanged confused looks. “Don’t mind us mushrooms in the room, but could you big brains explain just what in the hell’s going on?” Will asked, looking from the director to Collins and Everett.

  “I already briefed the Director on what happened out at Lake Mead, and he explained in detail about other matters. Although I wish the Director would have mentioned his intent earlier than he did,” Jack said as he stood, “I didn’t guess at his plan until just a few moments ago.” He looked at Sarah as she and Farbeaux took seats and Xavier Morales wheeled up and placed his chair next to Niles. “Niles, I think you better explain your story.”

  “Its simple gentlemen. By the way, Colonel Farbeaux thank you for coming.” Henri just nodded his head. “I was informed by the President that our good friend Congressman Harold Briggs has a few names he can forward to the press about the Group. One of them is already missing—Matchstick. The others are Alice and Virginia. I wanted them out of here for their own protection and I knew they would give me nothing but grief, and Alice may have just pushed me down an elevator shaft if I ordered a guard to babysit her. Virginia the same thing. By the way Jack, I need a twenty-four-hour guard on Alice’s house.” Collins smiled and nodded.

  “That doesn’t explain Sergeant Sanchez and Anya,” Carl said.

  “That part you won’t like. Colonel would you explain my reasoning?”

  Jack turned and looked at Carl. “It’s just a matter of small concern. Congressman Briggs has gotten his information from somewhere.”

  “Now wait a minute, you can’t be suggesting—,” Carl started to protest.

  “No. However, something you didn’t know. The President has learned, with a little help from Doctor Morales and Europa,” Collins nodded his head in an appreciative manner at the computer whiz, “that Briggs has gotten a hold of several reports about our operations against the Greys during the war. We don’t know how yet, but Anya was mentioned. Probably because of the Congressman’s close ties with the State of Israel and her uncle in the Mossad, we’re not sure yet, and Alice because of his investigation into Garrison Lee. Now, Sergeant Sanchez was my fault, I sent him to Washington during the conflict to keep an eye on Virginia when she was dealing with Congress. I accidentally exposed him to Briggs. We’re sure he noted the name associated with A.D. Pollock during those hearings.”

  “Now the President has full and truthful deniability when it comes to those names,” Niles said. “Call me a stickler for detail, but I will never give anyone the chance to hang the President over us. I will send the President word about this so when and if he’s asked, he knows for a fact that these four people are not on any current government payroll.”

  “As I said, I didn’t know how the Director could get our people protected as stubborn about their own safety as they are,” Jack smiled at Niles, “but he came up with a doozy of a reason. I just hope we can explain to Alice why it had to be done that way.”

  “I think that is a job for Mister Ryan since he decided to talk to his director the way he did,” Niles said.

  “Appropriate,” Collins said. “I think Major Mendenhall should go also to keep an eye on his wayward buddy. I just hope Alice will be in a forgiving mood when they explain why it had to be done.”

  “Now that their security is settled, let’s figure a way to get Matchstick and Charlie out of the mess they’re in.”

  “Mister Everett, perhaps it’s time for you to ask Major Korvesky if she has a moment to explain her witches’ theory concerning Matchstick’s abduction. Perhaps you can also ease her mind about why she’s been exiled to the eighty-seventh floor?”

  “Now, for the real reason I asked Colonel Farbeaux to join our merry band of fools,” Niles said with a return smirk at the Frenchman.

  “I would indeed be interested to learn,” Henri said.

  “Are you familiar with Louisiana, Colonel?”

  * * *

  Hotel Icon,

  Houston, Texas

  The chief of staff ignored the knocking door by an angry staff and continued to pace the large executive suite in one of Houston’s most luxurious hotels, the Icon. Congressman Harold Briggs was on his third glass of straight Jack Daniels and still had not uttered a word to any one of his staff since arriving in Houston from his clandestine meeting in the Gulf of Mexico. He went straight to his suite of rooms, even bypassing the gaggle of reporters that were there to get brief interviews. Now he was ensconced in his room where no one was allowed other than Conway Fleming.

  “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what went on out in the Gulf. Were you threatened or coerced in any way?”

  Briggs downed the glass of bourbon he was holding and then reached for the ice bucket. When he saw that it was empty, he angrily slid it across the wet bar knocking three other bottles off its shiny top.

  “Look, we already have reporters beyond curious about the way you’re acting, and your opponents are
going to pick up on that sooner or later.”

  Briggs ran a hand through his once perfectly coifed hair and then shook his head. But he still remained silent.

  “If it will help, I received an assist from the Pentagon they didn’t intend to give. It seems Nellis Air Force Base has actually refused to renovate a section of the old army airfield on the northern quadrant of the base that the Corp of engineers had recommended. When have you ever known a branch of any service to turn down funding for improvements? Seems a part of the puzzle about this mysterious department may have fallen into place. If you can prove they are hiding something out on that old firing range, a hidden compound perhaps, it may go a long way to forcing the President’s hand and admit to his hidden agenda.”

  Harold Briggs simply looked at Fleming as if he were someone he failed to recognize. His eyes were red, and his suit was a mess. He poured himself another glass of bourbon.

  “Okay, it obviously has something to do with this strange meeting. What happened. Didn’t the information on the disc satisfy them?”

  With the drink halfway to his mouth, Briggs stopped and started to laugh uncontrollably.

  Conway Fleming wasn’t amused as it looked as if his boss were having a breakdown.

  Briggs finally got his laughter under some form of control and then finished his drink. “Russians. Our new friends are Russian.” His glare at Fleming was absolute. “You failed to find that out in your extensive vetting process. If the press gets wind of the assistance and who gave it to us it won’t matter in the least what past presidents have hidden from the public. All they’ll see is Russian conspiracy. Get it genius?”

  Fleming was speechless. He walked to the wet bar and poured himself a glass of straight vodka. When he lifted it to his mouth, Briggs suddenly swatted it out of his hands. The glass struck the wall and shattered.

  “I’m fighting for the presidency and instead I could be going to fucking jail, and you’re drinking vodka of all things. Tell me, do you have any common sense at all?”

  “Now I’m suddenly a Russian agent because I was drinking vodka? You’re the one that was approached with the offer of help and financial backing and with all of your foreign experience you didn’t see who was really behind your benefactors. Give me a break.”

  “Do you know what they have planned with that information?”

  “Exposure,” Fleming said, this time reaching for a bottle of whiskey and a fresh glass.

  “Our original backers would have used it that way, but there’s a new player in the game. This ruthless bastard isn’t out to expose anyone. He’s out for himself. This Dmitri Sokol is a man I don’t want to screw with.”

  “What does he have planned?”

  Briggs drained his fifth bourbon and then slammed his glass down. “He’s going to kill American citizens and we just became accomplices in that!”

  Fleming looked at the drink in his hand and then slowly sat it down untouched. He moved to the couch and then sat heavily. “We have to get in touch with his superior. Are you sure he’s not a part of this Sokol’s plan?”

  “I’m not sure of a damn thing.”

  “Well then, that’s the way we’ll play. If it is Russia we’re dealing with, their history tells us they don’t take to traitors to any one of their causes too lightly. We trade getting the hell out of the agreement we have by giving them their traitor. They have to deal.”

  Briggs paused before pouring another drink. He sat the bottle down. “Do you think it will work?”

  Fleming had gotten up from the couch and was once again pacing the suite. He was thinking and thinking hard.

  “Yes. Only you don’t make the offer. I don’t want you anywhere near these bastards again.” He faced Briggs with a hard look. “Now, is there anything you’re not telling me about this meeting on the oil rig other than this Sokol’s plan?”

  Briggs felt the blood drain from his face. If he told Fleming the truth, he knew he would lose his chief of staff for good. The memory of the power of the giant Grey was still foremost in his mind and even that memory was enough to drive him insane.

  “No. Just what his plans were to deal with this group.”

  “Okay,” Fleming walked over to the bar and forcefully removed the glass and bottle from Briggs hands. “Enough of this. I need you clear headed for the rest of the Houston gig. Do not, under any circumstances, deal with the press. Those fascists have a nose for crap like this. Tomorrow you give your speech and then you go on to California.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ve got a call to make. And I’m not going to settle for this ‘we’ll take care of it’ shit. I want to be there when they crucify this bastard, Sokol. Then and only then will I be satisfied that we’re in the clear. Now, get yourself cleaned up. Meet with the organizing staff about tomorrow and get some rest. Leave it to me.” Fleming walked from the room.

  Briggs, instead of doing what he was told, poured a last drink, and quickly downed it as he picked up the phone to have his campaign manager join him. The memory of the Grey and its ancient power still haunting his thought process.

  “I hope you don’t get to meet Asmodius, or you just may regret your bravado.”

  * * *

  Novosibirsk, Siberia,

  Russia

  The steam room was silent as just the hissing of cold water on brick could be heard. Number One sat alone as he soaked in the moist heat of the steam. Gone was his hairpiece and the corset he wore for appearance sake. He was deep in thought about the strange alert he had received earlier from the night shift control officer. The message had been cryptic and had been from Sokol’s assistant Vexilla Trotsky. Number One had to think about if this was just a ploy or an actual betrayal. He knew Sokol had many enemies on the committee that could be framing him, but he himself didn’t personally fear the young ladder climber. He knew the boy could be useful in future committee endeavors. If he could help it, he would rather avoid killing the young man and possibly losing the powerful Grey.

  Without seeing, Number One felt the temperature change as the steam swirled around in a vortex. He knew someone had joined him. He straightened the large towel around his waste and waited. It was his personal assistant. Behind him was Number Seven, the committee’s foreign affairs officer and the man specially chosen by Number One to conduct the Congressman Briggs operation. He saw the uncomfortable way both his assistant and Number Seven looked as they stood before the reclining head of the Presidium as the steam and humidity began soaking their suits.

  “Sir, Number Seven has received a call from the United States, Houston to be precise,” his assistant said.

  Number One looked up and wiped his sweating face with a towel. He knew it had something to do with the Briggs situation as he knew the Congressman was in Houston. He didn’t like the way things were adding up. First Sokol asks to meet their American political asset, and then the strange call from Number Ten’s own assistant saying Sokol may have gone rogue.

  “Go on,” he said as he took a long pull of water from a clear bottle.

  “Sir, there is definitely something going on with our friend, Number Ten, and the new asset of his.”

  Number One looked at his assistant and then gestured for him to leave the steam room.

  “Continue.”

  “Our Mr. Sokol has plans that go far beyond your orders sir. I was informed by the Congressman’s front man that he plans on eliminating members of the covert American Group for his own gains and those of his new asset.”

  “The Grey?” Number One asked as he lowered the steams flow.

  “Miss Trotsky say’s the Grey is now called Asmodius. Now Fleming says that Sokol threatened Briggs so badly that he asked out of our arrangement as a reward for turning in a traitor.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, sir. Vexilla Trotsky’s suspicion is now confirmed. We could lose control of the whole plan.”

  “Not only that, if he kills members of the Event Group, he’ll be unleashing a man
that could personally cause me very serious problems.”

  “Colonel Collins?”

  “What have I said about mentioning that name in this building?”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  Number One stood and walked to a phone on the wall. He swirled his hand in the air to clear it of steam. He picked it up. “I want to see Lieutenant Colonel Leonid Petrolovich immediately. I don’t care if him and his unit is on maneuvers. Inform him I have actionable intelligence he needs to act on, and I want a viable plan on how to deal with it.” Number One hung up the phone and turned for the shower area.

  “Sir, there is one other thing.”

  Number Seven saw the look on his superior’s face knowing the man was close to showing his anger, something he rarely did.

  “Our friend Fleming, Briggs chief of staff, wants to be present to make sure we deal with this problem properly and then he wants our guarantee that we never contact the Congressman again.”

  “Is that so? Does the fool actually think we’ll just wander off into the American sunset like one of their cowboys in those terrible films? No, Briggs is our man going forward. I think the good congressman needs to be reminded of just who and what we are capable of.” He smiled. “Of course, Mr. Fleming can join our Spetsnatz Commandos in dealing with Sokol and this Asmodius. He’ll serve as a good example of what happens to people who think we are fools.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later the 15th Special Guards Brigade, the most specialized unit of killers in the Russian military, was alerted in Moscow. They would soon be traveling north, over the pole in a flight destined for the United States of America for action on the Gulf coast.

  * * *

  Santa Fe Regional Airport,

  Santa Fe, New Mexico

  The line of cars sat idling at the guard shack just east of the main terminal. The rusty and sun faded red Town and Country Ford station wagon was in the front with the other eleven vehicles behind. The guard for the private plane terminal was leaning beside the burly driver of the station wagon.