Season of the Witch

by David L. Golemon

  Jack looked at Carl after the intercom had gone silent and both men stood and left the conference room. He had hoped to be flying to Boston, but an intrusion at one of the Event Group access points was a serious affair. Behind him he heard the Director call an end to the meeting as he rose to join Carl and Jack.

  * * *

  In the security department the one-hundred-inch monitor showed the old hangar that was gate number one. The camouflaged main entrance to Group was the most heavily guarded point of egress that was manned twenty-four hours a day. As he, Carl and Niles watched, the Air Police had a single person stopped and detained on the desert sands of the northern firing range a mere fifty feet from the dilapidated and secrete entrance to the complex. A helicopter was winding down and they assumed the intruder had come onto the firing range in that manner. Both the intruder and the Bell Jet Ranger were surrounded by ten Humvees.

  “What in the hell, someone fly off course?” Carl asked.

  The security camera zoomed in and the three men saw that the intruder was a woman. All three, Niles, Jack, and Carl raised their brows when they saw the dark-haired woman point to the dilapidated hangar.

  “Mister Everett, tell our men to break cover and bring that person in.”

  “You’re not afraid of letting this person know about gate one,” Niles asked.

  Jack shook his head as he stood from his spot on the desktop.

  “For some reason Mr. Director, I have a suspicion this lady knows exactly what’s under the camouflaged hangar.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Carl agreed. “Anya always said that old lady didn’t look the type to work alone, and the thugs she was at Lake Mead looked a little inept, but this one looks like she knows exactly what she’s doing.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Niles asked as Jack moved for the door of the security department. He stopped and faced the director.

  “I think we’re about to get a message from our mysterious Elsbeth Barlow.”

  * * *

  The two security men holding an arm each were dressed in desert BTU’s, and although the woman couldn’t see them due to the hood over her head, she knew they were heavily armed. In the dark she felt and heard a large lift and by the twitter in her stomach she knew she was heading downward. The mechanical noises stopped, and she heard a large gate slide open. The two security men from Gate number one eased her out politely from the large transport lift. Suddenly the hood that had been thrust over her head in the desert above was removed. She tried to blink the brightness away as her eyes adjusted. When she finally looked up, she saw two men standing in front of her. Both were wearing blue coveralls, and both had military ranks displayed on their collars. She was being greeted by a dark-haired man who was scarred in many areas of his face and who wore the silver eagles of a full-bird colonel. The second man was blonde. He was also sporting a silver eagle on his collar, only this one was one she more readily recognized. The blonde was a Captain in the US Navy, the same branch that she was still part of.

  “Excuse me for the intrusion gentlemen, but I was wondering if you can loosen these handcuffs as a professional courtesy?”

  Jack Collins looked at Everett and both said nothing. Instead Carl took the woman by the arm and he and Jack started walking her past the logistics center where the trespasser had a good view of the Group hangar deck. The woman was impressed seeing the thirty-five Humvee vehicles, the four UH-60 Blackhawks and several other transports. She was about to comment when she was led into a small room with three chairs, a table, and a large mirror. She smiled knowing exactly what was behind the mirror and wondered who would be observing her interrogation.

  “Let me guess, the waterboarding room?” she asked, only semi-jokingly as Carl pulled a chair out for her and then forcibly sat her down. Jack and Carl sat opposite her. The room was silent as the back-haired woman looked from face to face. “Is this the part where I state my name, rank and serial number?”

  “Probably wouldn’t be a bad start Lieutenant Commander Krensky,” Jack said.

  “You know my name?” she asked as she squirmed with her hands still cuffed behind her back.

  “We knew the moment our security cameras got a close-up of your face. Our computer has the best facial recognition software on the planet,” Everett answered for the colonel. “As an active member of the Naval Reserve, I suppose you know you’re still liable to the oath you took, Commander? And that charges could include breaking onto a highly secured military reservation?”

  “Such is the nature of the beast.”

  “Meaning?” Jack asked.

  “I knew what I was getting into when I was chosen to make our first overture to your Group, Colonel Collins.”

  “Chosen by Elsbeth Barlow?” Jack asked as he examined her face for any surprise. As he had suspected before, he saw none.

  “Yes.”

  “Millie, may I call you Millie?” Carl asked. “Millicent seems so formal for someone who seems to know us almost intimately.”

  The woman looked Everett up and down and then Jack. “I think I would rather be addressed by my military rank. I earned it.”

  “Okay, Commander, I agree. Let’s do away with any pleasantries.” Jack’s blue eyes dug mercilessly into the woman’s green ones. “You and whoever Elsbeth Barlow is took two of our friends from us. We want them back immediately. And what you said about waterboarding? We have much better methods. As of right now you are in a place that doesn’t exist. That means Commander, you don’t exist.”

  “After you’re done with torturing me gentlemen, if you still want, you can have your friends back. Alive and well and very much unharmed.” She smiled. “Although I believe it was you who buried your little green friend alive.”

  “And how did you and this Barlow woman know Matchstick wasn’t really dead, just dormant,” Jack continued.

  “That as they say, is a long story only Elsbeth can explain. I believe the answer is above my paygrade.”

  “Why did you and your boss take them?” Carl asked.

  “Number one, we needed to get your attention. Number two, if you failed to see our point of view, we needed…Matchstick I believe you call him?”

  “For what?” Jack asked.

  “I’ll get to that, Colonel,” she said as she leaned forward and slightly turned left exposing her wrists and the cuffs that secured them. Her dark eyebrows rose in question.

  Jack nodded at Carl who stood and used the small key to unlock the cuffs.

  “Now, a friendly gesture has established trust, at least that’s what our book of torture says,” Jack said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  The woman rubbed her wrists. “Thank you. Not used to being handcuffed, now I see why people don’t like it. “Now, we don’t have a lot of time, so—”

  Suddenly the lights dimmed and then went out, but before they did both Jack and Carl saw the woman raise her now freed hands off the tabletop. Then the lights flared back to life. Through the sound of running boot-falls outside the room, Jack and Carl exchanged looks. Then Jack held his right hand up and saw that he and Carl had been handcuffed by the same set they had just removed from the woman a moment before. The door opened and two security men entered with drawn weapons. Niles Compton was right behind them.

  “Jack, what happened?” Compton asked.

  Collins and Everett both held up their hands and Niles saw the cuffs binding the two men together. He looked from the two to the visitor to the complex. He faced the woman, leaning as close to her as he could get without bumping noses.

  “Nice trick, or sleight of hand, whichever magician’s vocabulary you choose to prefer, but if you want to play games I can surely oblige. Five of my people are dead. I will not have one compunction in shooting you in your lovely head if you don’t release them immediately. Then if you still wish to play your little game, I will warn you now that I will track this Elsbeth Barlow down and she will personally pay for what she has done.”

  Jack and Carl had n
ever once heard Niles Compton threaten anyone. His words were some of those you would never have associated with the director.

  The woman looked from Niles to Jack and Carl. She lifted both hands and then spread her fingers. The cuffs clicked open. Jack tossed them onto the tabletop. Niles turned and stood by the door after excusing the two Marines.

  “Doctor Compton, Elsbeth Barlow had nothing to do with the murder of your friends and associates. As a matter of fact, you owe her a debt of gratitude for intervening before the real killer had a chance to finish the job with Mrs. Hamilton.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Jack asked.

  “Mrs. Hamilton was seconds away from falling to the same fate as Ms. Pollock. Elsbeth expended a lot of energy in stopping it.”

  “It?” Niles asked.

  “I suspect you have already deciphered its name?”

  “Asmodius Modai,” Niles said, not as a question.

  “Elsbeth said you people were worthy of hearing the truth. By the way Colonel, Captain Everett, I was impressed when Elsbeth explained your part in the battles for Antarctica and Houston. And Doctor Compton for your part as well. I guess we all lost friends in comrades in the war.”

  The door opened slightly and a marine in blue overalls stepped in. “Colonel, Will Mendenhall’s on the line, says he needs to speak with you ASAP.”

  Collins stood and went to the extension on the wall. He punched a number. “Collins,” he said and then slightly turned away.

  “Okay, now that the mutual admiration society moment has passed,” Carl said, “who was it that murdered our friends?”

  “You’ll have a hard timer believing it. But what I’m about to say is true. You’re dealing with an entity that thinks it’s the Prince of Darkness. A lie he has perpetrated since the dawn of civilization. One it thrives on. A thing that is responsible for the world’s religious communities’ belief in good and evil, heaven and hell. He hides behind the false front of Asmodius Modai, but you call him Lucifer. But you may know him as a—,”

  “Grey.”

  Carl and Niles turned and watched as Jack hung up the phone. “That was Will, he and Henri and Ryan have just checked out of our safehouse in New Orleans where a doctor had to stitch them up. They tracked down a lead on Briggs and some offshore deal he had. They were ambushed. Almost taken out by a giant Grey. Will said he doesn’t know how, but the bastard brought down a building around them. He said it was like the Grey used some form of magic. Our in-house skeptic, Colonel Farbeaux, confirms the Major’s account.”

  Jack stood over the dark-haired woman. “Strange how these magic tricks keep appearing.”

  “If you buy me a drink, I’ll explain some of it.”

  “Try it right now?” Niles said, not in good enough humor to be friendly.

  “Okay, but you will need that drink soon enough,” she said.

  “Commander, our patience is wearing so thin right now it’s damn near transparent,” Jack warned.

  “Magic?” The woman stifled a laugh. “I guess you could call it that. The manipulations of surrounding air, the combination of sounds and letters. The use of both hand gestures, words, or a combination of both. Yes, magic if you will. I prefer one of the more ancient sciences in the history of the world. But if you want, you may refer to it as magic. That’s what the Grey is you see. The great liar taught the human race thousands of years ago when it decided to leave his own race and world for a backwater planet where the barbaric people there could be manipulated easily. Asmodius Modai, the first and only Warlock.”

  “And Elsbeth Barlow, the Witch Queen of Salem.”

  Carl, Jack, and Millicent Krensky looked at Niles. They could all see that Compton was slowly becoming a believer.

  * * *

  Event Group Safehouse,

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  “Damn Doc, what are you using there, a steel cable?” Mendenhall hissed, leaning away from the needle and thread.

  “Oh, come on Major. Six little stitches. You never complained this much when I was at Group. I think maybe you’ve grown soft since becoming an officer. I guess a staff sergeant means tougher, huh?”

  Will looked closely at Doctor Neal Forester, M.D., retired. He decided not to argue the point of who was tougher, officers or enlisted men.

  “Well, I think you’ve lost your touch since retiring, Doc.”

  “Complain, complain.”

  As Will was getting stitched up from the incident at Maritime Welding, Ryan and Farbeaux were in the retired Group doctor’s study. They watched the report being broadcast from Metairie on what the local authorities were calling the mass ritual execution of local laborers. After digging themselves out of the collapsed building, the trio had come within seconds of being caught by the local constabulary which would have created somewhat of a scandal at a time when the Event Group needed even less attention than before.

  “…Many in the sheriff’s department believe the ritualistic murders is either tied to organized crime or the international drug trade. We’ll have more on this story as details become available.”

  Ryan was getting impatient and started to turn off the television when Farbeaux held his hand up.

  “…meantime in a news filled day, the lone survivor of the Mystery Deep oil platform disaster has been transferred to University Medical Center in New Orleans. The survivor who has yet to make a statement, has thus far been the only employee recovered from the largest platform disaster since the Deepwater Horizon explosion of April 2010…,”

  “Commander, where did Director Compton say that the FBI lost the tail on our good Congressman?” Farbeaux asked as he turned the television off.

  Ryan pulled out his notebook as he smiled when Will cursed the doctor once more. “It says they lost him after he boarded a helicopter in Houma Louisiana.”

  “There was a blueprint in the offices of Maritime Welding of the Mystery Deep platform.” Farbeaux walked to the window of the Group safe-house and watched as the sun started to rise out of the east. The clouds were slowly starting to burn off as the storm began to clear.

  “What are you connecting here, Colonel?” Jason asked.

  “I am of the same mind as your director and your friend Colonel Collins. Coincidence is a scenario I rarely ascribe to. I think we need to go see a certain survivor of this so-called accident at sea.”

  “I suspect she’ll be guarded rather heavily being the only witness to a mystery.”

  Farbeaux walked over to a coat rack the retired doctor had near his small office where Mendenhall continued to complain about his stitches in an army sort of profanity laced tirade. Henri pulled three white lab coats off their hooks and tossed Ryan one of them.

  “Your amazing Europa field link can produce identity badges I presume?” the Frenchman asked.

  “That’s her specialty,” Ryan quipped.

  “Shall we go and see exactly what language this survivor speaks. My wager is that she has a bit of an Eastern European dialect.” Henri placed the white coat under his arm. “If the Major is through being poked and prodded, let’s see if there’s a connection, shall we?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Cambridge, Massachusetts

  As Charlie and Matchstick watched from their chairs around the large, highly polished table, Elsbeth Barlow was speaking on the antique phone on the credenza. Matchstick’s large obsidian eyes never left the silver-haired woman even as he plopped four sausage links into his small mouth. He stopped chewing when the old woman turned to the table and held the phone out.

  “Slim, your boss would like to speak with you. I guess he’s doubtful we haven’t boiled you and your little friend in a caldron of toil and trouble.”

  Charlie placed his napkin down on his plate of untouched breakfast. He stood as Matchstick reached over and took his sausage and placed those in his mouth with the others.

  “Yes, Niles, we’re fine.” Charlie’s eyes went to Elsbeth who was watching Matchstick eat and wondering just how much food co
uld fit in the small alien’s stomach. “No, sir, I haven’t observed any ill effects from his recent dormant state. He seems overly hungry, but I guess after a few months in the ground that should be expected. No Niles, no memory of what happened to him after the…,” Charlie turned away from both Elsbeth and Matchstick, … “incident.” Ellenshaw looked at his wristwatch. “It will be good to see some friendly faces. Yes, sir, I’ll watch him.” Charlie handed the receiver to a large man and then returned to his seat and silently placed the napkin in his lap. He began to eat immediately. He soon found he was famished after being reassure by the director that help was on its way.

  “Well, Slim?”

  Charlie slipped a piece of toast into his mouth and faced Elsbeth. “If you’re expecting our Director to automatically give you a pass and say everything is forgiven, you don’t know Niles Compton.” Charlie for the first time in years took a sip of coffee. “So, if you don’t mind, I and Matchstick will remain your captives until our friends arrive. Keep things in perspective, so to speak.”

  “Prudent of Doctor Compton. So, when will your friends arrive?” Elsbeth asked as she stood up, forgoing the effort by the large man in black to assist. She poured more coffee for Charlie. She smiled when Matchstick held out his cup. Charlie shook his head before she could pour.

  “You don’t want to offer him any coffee. It would be like giving a child candy just before bedtime,” Charlie said as he buttered another piece of toast.

  Matchstick looked at Ellenshaw and angrily placed the china cup down on the table. Charlie, without looking at Matchstick’s accusing glare, slid his small bowl of fruit over to the alien as a peace offering. Elsbeth Barlow returned to her chair.

  “We’ve met many times before—you know that my small friend?” Elsbeth said as she sipped her own coffee.

  Matchstick paused with a slice of cantaloupe halfway to his mouth and stared at the silver-haired woman.