Season of the Witch

by David L. Golemon

  “Clean that up please. Things are rough around here as it is. But soon we won’t have to be cooped up like chickens on a farm. Asmodius wants to see a little of the world. It’s been quite some time since he’s been here.”

  When the two men looked at the Grey it just smiled.

  “Now, Asmodius would like to ask you a few direct questions Number Seven, I hope you are honest in your answers.”

  “Go to hell. You have just placed a price on your head that will send you straight to the same hell that your great-grandfather was sent to.”

  “Where…is…the Green?” Asmodius said.

  Number Seven shook his head and pressed his temples as the shooting pain shot from his brain to his inner ear.

  “What is it?” Fleming asked, wild-eyed.

  “Get out of my head!”

  “I suggest you answer my friend,” Sokol said as he poured himself another glass of wine.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about!” Number Seven screamed.

  “Evidently he has a concern about two very worrisome enemies. One is a Green alien, of which you have most assuredly heard of, the other an ancient enemy who may or may not have joined forces with the little green man. Now, answer my partner, please. I have enough of a mess to clean up in here.”

  “Go to hell,” Number Seven yelled as he pressed harder into his temples.

  Asmodius raised his right hand and extended the four fingers of that hand. He slowly balled it into a fist. Number Seven started to scream as blood started to flow freely from his eyes and ears.

  “Stop!” Fleming said as he started to shake in terror of what he had stepped into. “The Green, he’s been dead for months! The other I know nothing about!” Fleming turned and saw Number Seven as he fell from his chair. Even Sokol was frowning at the display of power from the giant Grey. “The very people you attacked with this…this creature, are the only ones that can tell you anything. Now let him go!”

  Asmodius stood and closed its fist harder as Number Seven started to flop on the steel decking.

  “Asmodius, stop. We can always throw him into the sea later.” Sokol looked at Fleming and smiled.

  The Grey suddenly opened its hand and the screaming stopped. Vexilla stood and was suddenly grabbed by Asmodius. She winced as her arm was nearly broken.

  “Let me help him!” she yelled in pain.

  With a crystal tooth smile, Asmodius let her go. She ran to Number Seven’s side and was relieved when the man took a large breath. He struggled up to his knees and then spit out blood. Fleming once more fought to control his stomach after the brutal display.

  “A reckoning…is…coming…for you!”

  “Number Seven, don’t give away the surprise before the applicable moment arrives, you’ll ruin it for everyone. If you mean the element of commandos arriving from the air, we may have a surprise in store for them. Asmodius, I believe the time has arrived to sever our relationship with the Motherland.”

  Asmodius stood. Its smile was horrid as both Number Seven and the American Fleming realized they had been had.

  The large Grey turned and left the dining room.

  * * *

  The ten Zodiac rubber boats flew high into the air as waves buffeted the assaulting force. The darkened sky opened up in earnest with lightning and rain. Through the flashes of the newly arrived Gulf storm, the lead boat saw the Mystery Deep platform emerge from the mist and rain. The leader of group one held his gloved hand high in the air and swirled a closed fist and then the ten boats started to disperse into a circular pattern as they neared the rig.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Colonel Leonid Petrolovich broke through the clouds, grateful to see the ashen grey breakers striking the legs of the rig. The wind pushed he and his fifty-two men slightly off course, but with their precise body movements they were able to correct.

  He glanced down at his altimeter and was satisfied that he was still high enough to correct any angle of attack he chose. He saw the helipad through the streaking rain and the mist covering most of the large rig. He adjusted his fall and then flared as his altimeter reading started to go into the redline. He chanced a look at the men closest to him and saw the competent way they were handling the high altitude drop. They also adjusted. After studying aerial photos of Mystery Deep, it had been decided that thirty-five of the specially trained commandos would shoot for the three boat ramps at the base of the rig while the rest would attempt to hit the helipad. The danger was of course the tall derrick that was placed in the middle of the platform. If a gust of strong wind came up it could be disastrous for any member of the team that even slightly missed their mark.

  The buzz sounded in his earphones underneath his black helmet. He pulled the stainless-steel handle and his chute deployed with a loud bang. He looked around just as others started their own deployment. He saw the large ‘H’ on the surface of his target landing zone. It was coming up rapidly. He smiled as he saw no resistance forming below.

  * * *

  The Zodiac’s neared the giant legs of the rig. The squad leader that would arrive first was relived not to see anyone through his night vision goggles. He smiled knowing that the way would be clear to reach the ladders that ascended to the lower decks. Like his commander landing on the decks above, the leader of the second team knew they had caught their targets unaware. Now their targets were caught between one team coming down and one going up. The slaughter would commence in the middle.

  After thirty minutes of searching, the Spetsnaz found the lift that descended far beyond the numbered decks. The Colonel knew that was where Sokol and his band of traitors would be. Sending half of the command down the fifteen stairwells and the other half down the two lifts, the strike force made ready for battle.

  The team struck simultaneously. Some from the stairwells, others from the two lifts. They stopped. They saw two men and one woman as they faced the arriving strike force. The three looked shocked and bewildered.

  Petrolovich came forward when he recognized Number Seven. “Where is he?” he shouted.

  “They went up top to wait for you. The bastard knew you were coming,” Number Seven said.

  “There was no resistance there.”

  The lights went out and only the sea was seen through the thick glass. Vexilla closed her eyes knowing this was the last moments of her life.

  * * *

  As the last of the Spetsnatz moved into the stairwells and the lift, their actual targets had been only feet away from them. In a wavering haze of moving air, Dmitri Sokol stepped from the camouflaged cover that was generated by Asmodius. The Grey swirled its large hands through the air and the redirected light defused and then vanished as if it were fog that was lifted and chased away by the sun, and then the fifty men of Sokol’s defense force became visible. The men made ready to cover them if the Spetsnaz returned suddenly before their ruse had been discovered.

  “Very inventive,” Sokol said as he looked at Asmodius. He looked at his Rolex watch. “We have little time—our ride will be here shortly. Deploy to the lower area. The ship should be waiting.”

  The security force moved off toward the stairwells.

  Five minutes later the men of Sokol’s command boarded a crew ship that serviced offshore drilling rigs. It sped away as the sharp bow cut through the growing waves.

  Asmodius was in the ships cockpit and looked to be enjoying the rough ride through the churning Gulf.

  “Asmodius, I think it’s time to show me exactly what you can do,” Sokol said as he opened the cabin door and stepped out into the rain. Asmodius followed. His goat-like legs balancing perfectly in the rough seas.

  As the giant rig grew smaller, Asmodius closed its yellow eyes. The right hand came up slowly as in its mind it saw the Mystery Deep platform. Suddenly it closed its right hand. It squeezed so hard that its crystal nails dug deeply into the sickly skin of its palm. Blood flowed and the wind took it immediately away.

  When the explosion came Sokol ducked a
s the tremendous heat blossomed out like a flower blooming. Giant sized pieces of steel flew into the air as the oil rig ignited and then punctured the fuel and natural gas tanks lining the entirety of the platform. The night sky lit up for several hundred miles and broke windows in Houston, Galveston, and New Orleans.

  When Sokol looked back, the Mystery Deep platform was gone, vanishing into the Gulf storm.

  “Now we can start our real work and save my country from the fools who wish to subjugate it.”

  The Grey watched Sokol duck back inside the ship’s wheelhouse. It turned and looked at the spot where the Mystery Deep platform once rose from the Gulf. Then it turned back to see Sokol inside the warm and comfortable cabin and in the rain of the storm, Asmodius raised the scaly skin over its non-existent brows as it studied the fool Sokol and then the warlock slowly smiled.

  * * *

  Algiers, Louisiana

  The bad reputation New Orleans has in the general view of most of the nation was nothing compared to the view the citizens of New Orleans held for the enclave of Algiers, the closest neighbor to the more touristy and very much larger city. Most citizens of New Orleans steered clear of the seedy underbelly that was Algiers.

  One man who felt comfortable in the darkened streets and seedy bars of Algiers was Colonel Henri Farbeaux. While Jason Ryan and Will Mendenhall had their heads on a swivel looking out for their safety, Henri strode the streets confidently. When he saw the poorly maintained neon lights of green and blue and the flapping Parrott blinking in its oval sign, Henri stopped the two men before entering.

  “Perhaps you gentlemen would feel more comfortable waiting for me in the café across the street. As filthy dives are concerned, the Blue Parrott gives those establishments a bad name.”

  “Perhaps you better let us do our jobs, Colonel,” Will said as his cell phone sounded. He raised it to his ear while watching Henri trying to decide if the Colonel’s heart was really into finding the real story on Congressman Briggs. “Mendenhall,” he said into the cell.

  Ryan watched Will’s face and then saw him stagger and lean heavily against the ivy-covered exterior wall of the Blue Parrott. He watched his friend hang his head and then he lowered the cell. He raised it to his ear again.

  “Keep us informed on her condition. Yes, sir, he’s right here. Give me a second.” Mendenhall rubbed his eyes and then looked at Jason and Henri.

  “Virginia is dead along with four of our security men. Murdered at Alice’s house. Alice is in the hospital in critical condition and her prognosis isn’t good.” Will rubbed his eyes until they turned red.

  “What?” Jason said allowing his temper to lead the way.

  “They don’t know much.” Will held out the phone to the Frenchman. “The Colonel wants to speak with you.”

  “Yes,” Henri said into the cell. He listened and Will and Jason knew that Collins was making the call a one-sided conversation.

  Ryan took Will’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Is that all Jack said?”

  “They have a lead on that old woman that snatched Charlie and Matchstick. Aldo that we are to continue here. They’re not discounting that Briggs didn’t have something to with Virginia and Alice.”

  Henri handed the phone back to Mendenhall. “I am sorry for your loss. I always thought Ms. Pollock was one of the classier people I have ever met. As for Mrs. Hamilton, if anyone can pull through this, it’s her. Now, are you ready to do as your Colonel asks?”

  “What’s that?” Ryan asked with anger lacing his words. “Go after what now looks like a secondary target in Briggs? Not even that asshole would have the balls to go after Alice and Virginia. If you ask me—”

  “I didn’t ask you, Commander. I did ask if you’re ready to do what Colonel Collins has ordered.”

  Ryan, after Henri had brought him around, just nodded his head. Henri glanced at Mendenhall who also nodded.

  “Good. Things are bound to get a little ugly in here. It seems the Colonel has finally decided that some things you can’t fight with rules.” Henri held their eyes for a moment and then turned into the Blue Parrott.

  The club was so dark only the lights surrounding the stage were seen. Black lights illuminated the exotic murals of a false Caribbean landscape, and the people occupying the tables and booths were anonymously hidden in the shadows. Henri watched as Ryan and Will exchanged worried looks. Finally, Henri turned to a cage with a woman who looked to be a cross between a very much older Bette Davis and the wicked witch of the East. He walked to the cage. The woman popped a bubble with her gum and then finally looked up.

  “Three, that’s sixty dollars cover.”

  “We’re not here for your…entertainment. We need to see Madam Prudhomme.”

  The woman in the cage snorted. “No Madam’s here, buddy. You want that you need to go across the street.”

  When no answer came from Farbeaux, the woman with the extreme coifed curls in her obvious blonde wig looked up. Henri wasn’t smiling. She recoiled somewhat when she saw the green-eyed intensity.

  “I do not like repeating myself. If you do not pass along my request, as unpleasant as it would be, I will reach into your little cage and rip out your right eye.”

  The woman started pressing something the three men couldn’t see.

  Ryan and Mendenhall were pushed out of the way as two very large men who appeared from the darkness of the club appeared.

  “You men, out.”

  Henri turned into the chest of the first man. He was at least six foot five inches tall and had a chest resembling a beer keg. The second man wasn’t that much smaller. Henri turned back to the woman who stared back at him wide-eyed.

  “You look lonely in there, my dear,” he said as his right hand went out and took the larger man by his jacket collar and hurled him through the tight bars of the protective cage where his head became wedged.

  The second man moved toward Farbeaux and that was when he was stopped cold by Will Mendenhall as he struck the man in the back of the right knee and he stumbled into Ryan who when the man looked up as he grabbed Jason for support, the naval aviator just smiled down and punched him in the area between his nose and his eyebrows, sending the man directly to the floor where he lay face down in the filth.

  The first man was struggling to free himself as the blonde-haired woman turned and fled through her small door. The Frenchman assisted him in his extrication. The large Cajun immediately took a swing at the Colonel. Henri easily stepped aside and then used the brute’s momentum to sling him headfirst into the tinsel hung wall.

  “I see you haven’t lost your graceful touch, Henri.”

  Farbeaux turned to see a woman enter with the terrified blonde standing far away from the entrance. The woman, nearly three hundred and forty pounds of her, held out her hand. Farbeaux smiled and kissed it.

  “Liza, you haven’t changed a bit,” Henri said as he straightened and then viciously lashed out at the largest man as he attempted to rise from the floor. The foot caught him in the sternum, and he went down and didn’t move.

  “Number one Henri, you’re still a liar of major proportions, I have changed, I’ve lost twenty-seven pounds since we last saw each other. Second,” she looked down at her two bouncers, “those are hard to come by in Algiers. No one wants to work anymore.”

  Henri smiled and turned to Will and Jason. “Liza, may I introduce you to Major William Mendenhall and Commander Jason Ryan. Gentlemen, Madam Liza Prudhomme, a very old and dear friend.”

  Both Mendenhall and Ryan nodded their heads in greeting. Ryan was unable to keep his eyes from the largest bust he had ever seen on a human being.

  Madam Prudhomme blushed like a schoolgirl as she dipped her head and could barely bend for a curtsey. “Henri, you have never shown up here with such handsome specimens before. Why I could take these boys home and feed them nothing but love and gumbo, fatten up a little.”

  Will and Ryan exchanged looks that bordered on terror.

  “Now, Henri,
you’ve made my clientele a rather nervous bunch as we were already visited by the Parrish Sheriff earlier tonight for his…gratuity. What brings you to my place of business?”

  “Liza, nothing goes on in the south that you don’t know or hear about. As I know European rumor and innuendo, you are my opposite number here in New Orleans. Perhaps we can speak more privately?”

  “Look Henri, I don’t conduct business in your field of endeavor any longer, so if you—,”

  “In reference to a certain Congressman from your lovely state, Liza.”

  Suddenly the woman’s rosy cheeks changed from a nice blush to one that was drained of all color.

  “Come with me Gentlemen,” she said.

  * * *

  “Henri, you stay clear of that man, you hear me? He is a snake hiding in plain sight.”

  “We’re aware of that ma’am,” Will said as Henri shot him a warning look about how he and Ryan needed to remain silent as this woman was famous for clamming up when talking to the wrong people.

  “Anything more specific, Liza?”

  Madam Prudhomme slid her top drawer out and pulled out a pistol. It was an old fashioned two shot derringer. “Henri, if you go snooping into that man’s business, you better be packing one of these. You see, I may not know much, but the man that wants to win that God-awful White House has a new set of friends. He may not know it, but those friends do quite a lot of business here in Algiers. Hell, even our distinguished Mr. Briggs doesn’t know, or at least he didn’t at first, who he was dealing with. My people do.”

  “Madam, who are these friends?” Ryan asked and then he stared back at Henri as if challenging him. “Sorry Colonel, we’re short on time.”

  “Let’s just say they’re not the sort of people you go messin’ with.”

  “Liza, as the Commander just said, we’re pressed for time. If it makes you feel better, by the time he gets wind we’re after him, his influence here and his quest for the Presidency will be over. Now, please, who are his friends?”