Season of the Witch

by David L. Golemon

  “Well, here we are,” Ryan said from behind the steering wheel of the large van as it pulled off the road.

  The large entranceway looked as if it could have fronted any fancy New England boarding school. The cast-iron scrolling across the gate was more medieval than the three hundred years of the mansion’s history could rightly explain. The trees lining that drive hid the sprawling grounds as Ryan pulled to the gate and stopped. On either side of the drive men appeared. Two on each. The men inside listened to the rhythmic beat of the windshield wipers as they cleared the glass of rainwater.

  “We have concealed weapons,” Carl said as he spied the two on the right. “Small automatics, probably Uzi’s.”

  “Same here,” Farbeaux echoed from the left.

  “Henri, you’re the resident bad guy here, smell a rat?” Jack asked, not kidding the Frenchman in the least.

  “If I were to ambush an arriving party, I would have done it as we rounded the ten bends in the dense woods surrounding the property, not at my own front gate.”

  “Point taken,” Jack said, somewhat relieved as he himself saw traps everywhere. But Henri was far more sensible in being bad.

  “Does the fact that men with automatic weapons having our friends bother you much?” Mendenhall asked.

  Jack saw Tram in the third row of seats back, flinch as he quickly scanned the area in the front of the closed gate.

  “Colonel, the decorative rocks lining the drive just ahead.”

  “What about them Lieutenant?” Collins asked.

  “Claymore mines.”

  “You see Will, there’s always something more to be worried about.”

  “Yeah, the Claymores relax me far more,” Mendenhall rolled his eyes.

  Ryan rolled down the window as the first man, seemingly unaware of the drenching he and his fellow guards were taking, stepped up to the window.

  “Which one is Collins?”

  “That’s Colonel Collins to you, Sparky,” Ryan said as Jack shot the naval aviator an angry look.

  “I’m Collins. Why the heavy artillery?”

  “It’s a big estate sir. We would rather be a little cautious than caught off guard. This is New England after all.”

  “Yeah, those Red Sox fans can be a handful.”

  Farbeaux glanced at Will. The Frenchman was starting to feel the vibes of revenge for Doctor Pollock’s and the security men’s murders, and Alice Hamilton’s assault, starting to bleed through Collins and his men. He also knew that going into the unknown, this vengeance could get them all killed if these men didn’t get their feelings under control.

  “Gentlemen, may I suggest we all relax,” Henri said.

  “I believe we are expected,” Collins said before anyone else could pop off.

  “Yes, sir. Just follow the drive, I don’t believe even you guys can miss the house.”

  “Why you son of a—”

  “Commander!” Jack said to Ryan in warning.

  “Name is Randall, Colonel. Just have your boy here follow the drive. My advice is not to stop until you reach the house.”

  Collins eyed Ryan until he turned away from the security man. Jason rolled up the window and fumed and cursed as the guard named Randall smiled.

  The gate started to open and the van drove through.

  “Tram, give me a count on any hidden surprises that you see.”

  Van Tram with his sharp eyes had already counted over forty Claymore mines disguised as decorative rocks.

  “Whoever their enemy is, they have these people scared to death,” Mendenhall said as his head was also on a swivel for the entire half a mile it took to reach the sprawling mansion.

  “Okay, how can this place exist in New England without the property being on every television show the country over. Lifestyles of the Rich and Worthless,” Ryan said as he bent down to see the five levels of house. Towers of masonry rose high above the ancient trees as they stood guard over the property. Gargoyles that looked as if they could have once adorned the steeples of Notre Dame watched the van roll to a stop underneath a portico that rivaled the great palaces of Europe.

  Another man was waiting for them. This one wasn’t armed as far as they could tell. He was dressed in a houseman’s jacket and white gloves.

  As Ryan opened the door and stepped out, the man, who looked young enough to be a college student, greeted them. The boy was shocked when the woman, Millicent Krensky, the ex-navy pilot who had delivered the message to the Group, was thrust into the butler’s arms. Jack stepped up to the man and woman.

  “Here’s your delivery girl,” he said. “Now, we need to see Miss Barlow and we don’t have much time for her flair of the dramatic.”

  “But that’s what we do here, Colonel. It’s much more exciting than getting straight to it. After all, we’ve been expecting this war for seven and a half thousand years.”

  Jack, Carl, Will, Henri, Tram and Ryan looked up the large set of stone steps and the silver haired woman waiting at the top near the open doors of the mansion surrounded on either side by ten very large men in black tuxedos.

  “Where is Doctor Ellenshaw and Matchstick?” Ryan asked, jumping the gun and not caring about the angered look from Collins.

  Elsbeth Barlow turned to the man to her right. He whispered in her ear and she nodded.

  “We have them boiling in a large pot at the moment.” She crooked her arthritic fingers into claws and leaned forward at the group of guests. “Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and caldron bubble!” Elsbeth Barlow cackled like a mother hen laying an egg. “To quote Shakespeare anyway.”

  By the look on Jack’s face Elsbeth knew the man wasn’t amused by her small joke.

  “For a man who will more than likely be dead in the next few days, you seem to be a serious kind of fella. I was just kidding, I wanted to set the mood. We witches have a reputation to adhere to. It’s a union thing.”

  Millicent Krensky greeted Elsbeth with a hug and then turned and gave the men below a withering look.

  “Glad to see they didn’t take out my misdeeds on you, my dear.”

  “No, they were the models of decorum,” the pilot said as she stepped inside the house. “Just firm believers in science, not fact.”

  “Colonel forgive me. I am a terrible host at times. Slim…or…uh, Professor Ellenshaw and Matchstick are dressing for dinner. Please, gentlemen, my kids will show you where you can wash-up. We have a nice selection of formal wear available. We like to dress for dinner.”

  “Kids?” Mendenhall said as he eyed the very large ‘kids’ standing next to Barlow as the new arrivals started up the massive steps.

  “Ain’t this the shit,” Ryan said. “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Magic.”

  Ontario International

  Airport, Ontario, California

  In the late afternoon, the step van drove into the long-term parking lot of the smaller of the Los Angeles area airports. The kidnapping of Major Anya Korvesky and computer whiz Xavier Morales had been the easy part for Master Chief Jenks as he simply waited for the duo to leave the Event Group complex through gate number two when they signed out to visit Alice Hamilton in the hospital. Now, once out of Nevada and with surmising the entirety of the federal government was searching for them, the Master Chief knew the hard part was now getting them into the air. He waited behind the wheel for a very special engineering student to meet him in the out of the way airport.

  “Master Chief, although we can’t know how you feel and would never assume to, we empathize with you. We loved Virginia too. You know if anyone will bring whoever did this to justice, we will. The Colonel is working on it as we sit here.”

  The Master Chief was silent as he adjusted the rearview mirror to see a handcuffed Anya Korvesky. Next to her with his wheelchair chained to the sidewall of the step van was Xavier Morales who had the good sense to be silent as Anya pled their case. He was frightened because even though his reputation was one of arrogance, Xavier had also read the Master Chief�
��s file and knew that this was the man responsible for training Captain Everett and numerous other extreme killers in the elite U.S. Navy SEALs.

  “Master Chief, you know Virginia would never want this.”

  “Who said Virginia would want anything. This is me. Not her.”

  Anya exchanged looks with Xavier and both looks saw a man in the Master Chief who was slowly dying inside.

  “I could kick your ass for telling Jenks to stay in Paris.”

  “Major, I thought I was helping,” Xavier replied, knowing that the Master Chief was no fool. Quite the opposite as facts go. He may be a gruff cigar chomping navy man but was also one of the brightest mechanical engineers the military has ever produced. Morales knew he should have assumed Jenks would figure out something back home was wrong.

  “You two need to be quiet now.”

  Anya looked up and saw the Master Chief’s dark eyes watching them from the front of the van. His glare was withering. She knew the man’s history as well as Xavier and knew he had a deep-down hatred for the federal government and had never fully trusted his own department. Every member in the Group knew the Master Chief tolerated 5656 because of his love of Virginia. Everyone knew it was Virginia who always calmed Jenks down and their relationship was more like beauty and the beast than true love. But whatever it was, Jenks was taking her loss personally and may go as far as blaming the hierarchy of the department for her murder.

  “Jenks, would it help if I told you the Colonel and Mister Everett is meeting with what could turn out to be the people responsible for Virginia’s murder?”

  Jenks didn’t say a word as he stood and squeezed his bulk between the console and passenger seat and went into the back of the van. He was silent as he pulled a strip of duct tape and placed it over Anya’s mouth. He did the same to Xavier. He looked at them both.

  “I like both you two. I respect what you’re trying to do. But if you try to stop me from getting to the pukes that…that…,” he choked up and they could see him struggle with his next words. “I won’t hesitate going through you, the Colonel, or even Toad to do it. Now shut up.”

  They watched Jenks return to the front of the van. He started to light a cigar and then thought better of it and tossed it from the window. Anya remembered the last time she had seen Jenks and Virginia together. She had admonished him as she always did about his nasty habit of chewing on the cigar instead of smoking it. She was constantly teasing the Master Chief for using the cigar as a prop or a tool to scare people that intimidated him. Now she could see Jenks was feeling guilty about his bad habit. Anya felt the tears threaten to appear as it had several times since Jenks had snatched both of them from the Gold City Pawn Shop in downtown Las Vegas.

  Jenks checked his watch and then seemed satisfied about something. He reached into the glove box to his right and brought out a Beretta nine-millimeter and chambered a round. He reached back and placed it in his pants as he started the van.

  Unbeknownst to Jenks, Xavier had been working diligently and silently on his wheelchair. The spokes were made of steel wire and he had managed to pop free the top portion of one and had been working the steel back and forth and had finally managed to break the top six inches from it. He just prayed the Major was as good as her file said she was in the realm of survival, escape and evasion, as the Mossad was rumored to be. With his chair chained and his left hand cuffed to the chair, he lightly tapped on the wheel to get Anya’s attention. She turned and saw the piece of steel and nodded as Xavier managed to drop into her free hand. Jenks was concentrating on the road as Anya received what she hoped would be their version of the old file in the cake escape plan.

  Jenks spent the next five minutes negotiating the airport’s private facilities. Making sure to avoid the many roving patrols by the uniformed security guards, he finally made it to the gate where his meeting with a young grad student from San Diego State University had been arranged. He relaxed when he saw the battered thirty-year old Camaro waiting. As he pulled up, he saw that the student’s car was empty which was not according to his arrangements. Jenks strained his neck to see if he could view inside the new private departures area but could see nothing through the darkened windows of the terminal building.

  “To hell with it,” Anya and Xavier heard him mumble as he opened the van’s rear door. He quickly ripped the tape from Xavier’s mouth.

  “Ow,” Xavier said.

  The Master Chief didn’t give Xavier a rebuke other than place his index finger to his lips, shushing the kid. He turned and faced Anya. “I have your word that you won’t scream?”

  Anya eyed the Master Chief, and then reluctantly nodded her head. He pulled the duct tape from her mouth.

  “This is where we part company. I’m sorry for how this had to happen, but I know the chief nerd boy and he would have never allowed me access to the bastards that hurt Virginia. This is the way I had to do things. Once in the air, I’ll contact the Group and tell them where they can find you. Tell Compton to let the Colonel and Toad know not to get in my way.”

  “Master Chief, I assume by your attitude your accomplice failed to show up. That means only one thing, either he’s in custody or he crapped out on you. Either way that grounds you.”

  “After all of those years chasing bad guys, do you think I never learned to fly an aircraft? I designed half the airborne ships in service young lady.” Jenks angrily placed the tape back on Anya’s mouth. “Now I fully expect to never see you again in this lifetime, so, take care of yourselves.” Jenks patted Anya on the knee and then jumped from the van and closed the doors.

  “Mmm-um-mm,” Anya said with arched eyebrows.

  “Huh?” Xavier said, and then shook his head in self-rebuke and quickly pulled the tape from her mouth. “Sorry.”

  Anya was wriggling her hands and then suddenly the cuffs came free. She looked at Xavier. “The Master Chief doesn’t know it yet but he’s walking right into an FBI trap.”

  “How do you know?” Xavier asked.

  Anya gave Morales a withering look. “Hello, ex-Mossad?”

  “Right. Again, sorry.”

  “Look, I can get you out of the van, but I don’t have time to get you to where we need to go, times too short.”

  “Wait, wait. What are we going to do?”

  Anya jumped from the van and then pulled Xavier from the back, nearly spilling the large man onto the concrete.

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet!”

  Xavier watched Anya turn and run for the small private terminal.

  Doctor Xavier Morales who wasn’t used to even being outside, used his powerful arms and started wheeling in the chase.

  “Hey, wait for the overweight crippled guy!”

  Once inside the terminal Jenks watched from a safe vantage point the comings and goings of people that could afford to skip the security lines at the airlines in lieu of private flights. To see any city police force in the area was a sure sign that Jenks was being watched. Thus far he had not seen any of Ontario’s finest. He sat behind a newspaper near a small hamburger stand sipping coffee while his eyes roamed the spacious but mostly empty terminal. When he went to get another cup of coffee, he did notice the small Learjet chartered by his student from San Diego State. It wasn’t tied down and looked to be pre-flighted. But thus far the Master Chief had not seen any sign of the young man who would pilot the craft to New England. He tossed the fresh cup of coffee in the trash and picked up his small bag. He wore a hat with a wide brim and his sunglasses would rival any pair Elvis had ever owned. He made for the double doors leading to the plane parking area in the front. He knew it was now or never and couldn’t afford the delay in waiting for his young engineering student.

  The sun was just starting to lower toward the sea only twenty-five miles away which was advantageous as the shift change with ground security was in its process. As he neared the small jet, he refused the urge to look around the area as small planes taxied and others pulled next to or inside hangars. Whe
n he was thirty feet from the aircraft, he at first felt relief and then apprehension as he saw a figure in the pilot’s seat of the Lear. A hand came up and waved and that was when he saw that it was his student. Jenks didn’t wave back. Thus far his prized pupil had failed to do everything that had been meticulously planned. He stopped walking after waving back and went to a knee to tie his shoe and as he did, he looked for where the FBI ambush would come from. He straightened and then started to turn around and return to the terminal when the stairs of the jet lowered and five FBI agents in their navy-blue windbreakers stormed from the aircraft.

  Jenks knew his SEAL days were over, so instead of running, he simply stopped and glared at the agents rushing him with drawn service weapons. The Master Chief knew that if he had to, he could at least disable three of the five before they even got close. He reached behind him and tossed the nine-millimeter onto the tarmac.

  “Master Chief Jenks, Director Compton sends his regards and requests that you come with us.”

  “Special Agent Wilkerson. Fancy seeing you here.”

  “Master Chief,” Wilkerson said as he holstered his weapon and made the other four men lower theirs. “I presume we won’t have any unpleasantness here?”

  “Anytime I’m around Feds it’s unpleasant.”

  “I was informed to prepare for your attitude toward the world in general. But due to the effort you put into the war with the Greys, I think we can handle your insults with mild applause as to your service.”

  Wilkerson didn’t cuff the Master Chief out of respect. One of his agents allowed his apologetic engineering student to go free with no charges as Jenks was led away back inside the terminal. As the doors closed the agent and the others saw the objects of the kidnapping as they looked around the terminal. He waved Xavier and Anya over. Jenks, Anya, and Xavier were led into a private security office. Wilkerson excused the airport security man inside and offered them all a seat.

  “As a courtesy we’re going to hold the Master Chief here for a few hours until we can put his mean ass butt on a plane back to Nevada. Master Chief, I was at the crime scene a few days ago and am aware of the personal loss you—”