Season of the Witch

by David L. Golemon

  Wilkerson saw the slight shake of Anya’s head warning him not to even go there. He stopped.

  “Suffice it to say we are going to assist Colonel Collins all we can. That comes direct from the President.”

  Jenks remained silent as he watched the comings and goings outside of the office window. To Anya it was if the Master Chief were just a passenger with no more anger than a simple flight delay. She knew then that if she didn’t do something drastic Jenks would do something that would be irreversible.

  Wilkerson looked at his four men and then nodded. “Bring the cars around,” and then he excused his men and they left the office.

  Xavier saw Anya out of the corner of his eye move ever-so-slightly in her chair.

  “Now Master Chief,” Wilkerson started to say when he saw the pistol aimed right at his right eye. Xavier felt his heart rate speed up as he watched Anya stand and pull the Master Chief to his feet.

  “Jenks, you’re going to have to help Doctor Morales to learn to fly,” she said as Xavier’s eyes went wider than before.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Wilkerson asked as he started to lower his arms and hands. Anya frowned and shook her head.

  “Agent Wilkerson, there’s more ways to use this gun than just shooting you with it.”

  Wilkerson cleared his throat. “I uh, see your point.”

  Anya moved to the window without the stolen nine-millimeter moving an inch in either direction. The former Mossad Major unlocked the window and then slid it open.

  “You don’t have to do this Major—I can handle this myself,” Jenks said as he started for the window.

  “Yes, I can see that. You’ve done so well so far. Now assist Doctor Morales please. He may come in handy,” she explained as she quickly and expertly cuffed the FBI agent who was shocked that Anya would go against her own boss in Nevada. She then used the same cuffs to cuff him to the large desk, knowing he would be free soon enough when his agents returned. She then pulled the phone cord from the wall and stomped on the connector. She then rummaged through Wilkerson’s pockets and removed his cell phone. She angrily looked at Jenks. “Look, Special Agent Wilkerson is only going to give us a half hour to get over the desert as a head start and as a professional courtesy.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes, you are. You said earlier you know how the Master Chief must feel. Now we’ll see. I thought I knew how he felt also, now I see we both don’t know what in the hell we’re talking about.”

  Wilkerson lowered his head. Jenks nodded his thanks.

  “Besides, you don’t want the word to spread around Las Vegas that you were disarmed by a wheelchair-bound Doctor Morales, would you?”

  “That’s low.”

  Anya heard Xavier yell as Jenks unceremoniously tossed him from the window followed quickly by his backless wheelchair. Then Jenks leaped.

  Anya patted Wilkerson on the back. “Thanks agent. For the head start that is.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said embarrassingly.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jack and the others refused any offer to wash-up or change for dinner before they had a chance to confirm that Charlie and Matchstick were unharmed. As the group of six reached the top of the stairs they saw the long hallway. At least ten bedrooms lined the hall on either side.

  “This is like the damn House of Usher,” Mendenhall said as he eyed the medieval armor here and there and the crossed swords and axes. “Did they go out of their way to make this place creepy?”

  Suddenly a door opened at the far end of the hallway and they watched as a small black-clad blur burst from the bedroom there. The head was bulbous and the eyes wide and large. Matchstick screamed as he ran toward the newcomers.

  Collins, for the first time in years, choked up at the sight of the small alien as he went to a knee. Matchstick crashed into him and hugged Jack like there was no tomorrow. Mahjtic took turns hugging each. He gave Henri a curious look at first and then hugged his long legs. Tram, amazed at the sight of the small being in an even smaller dinner jacket and bowtie, bent over and introduced himself.

  Then they saw Charlie Ellenshaw approach. Jack shook his hand as did the others.

  “Is it true?” Charlie asked Collins.

  Jack could only nod his head as he knew exactly what Ellenshaw was referring to. Charlie removed his glasses and dabbed at his eyes.

  “Alice?” he asked.

  “Barely hanging on was the last word from Niles. Sarah and he are with her as we speak. They’ll let us know if anything changes, Doc.”

  Charlie placed his glasses back on and looked from Collins to Everett. “Without those two women the members of the Group would have ran me off years ago. I owe them everything.”

  Everett reached out and took Ellenshaw by the shoulder and squeezed.

  “We going to get the bastards that did this?” Charlie asked, growing firm.

  “So, you believe this crazy woman?” Jason asked as he picked up Matchstick and cradled him.

  “I don’t know how to explain it. I do know she reached out mentally and somehow chased this entity out of Nevada before it had a chance to kill Alice.”

  Jack grew silent as he took a few steps away. He turned. “We didn’t come here for dinner parties. So, let’s bypass the offer of clothing and go down and see for ourselves.”

  “Speak for yourself, Colonel,” Henri said as he opened the first door to his right. “We just came from a most deplorable liaison with some rather shady and disgusting people. We need to wash before you go shooting everyone in this strange but beautiful house.”

  “Sorry to have to agree with Colonel Farbeaux here, but I do need to wash up,” Will said as he relieved Ryan of Matchstick. “I missed you buddy.” Matchstick hugged Will’s neck tightly and when Jack saw that he relented.

  “I guess we should all wash-up.”

  He looked at Henri as he started to walk into the first bedroom.

  “Ryan, go with our friend here and make sure he keeps his hands off the antiques in this place.”

  “Colonel, you act as though I haven’t mended my ways,” Farbeaux said as he smiled.

  “Maybe when it comes to material things, Henri. Its other precious valuables that concern me.”

  Farbeaux knew exactly to what precious valuables Jack was referencing.

  * * *

  Moscow, Russia

  The apartment building sat just a few blocks from the glorious Christ the Savior Cathedral on Butikovsky Pereulok. The most recent sale reported by the Moscow Times stated an available apartment recently sold for thirty million American dollars. For the most part if you wanted to live anonymously in Moscow, the complex wasn’t the best way to achieve it. With western-style doormen and twenty-four-hour services, most of the buyers were of influential stock. This included movie actors and film producers.

  Regev Slivinski didn’t live the affluent life. He lived across the street in a rundown shanty that was due to be demolished in favor of a new complex for the rich and famous Muscovites by the same conglomerate that owned the expensive high-rise across the way. As he eased into a chair at his rickety kitchen table, Slivinski unbuttoned the top of his light-brown colored tunic. On the shoulder-boards of the jacket was the three stars and double red stripes of a Russian army colonel. He watched the comings and goings of the rich men and women being allowed into the expensive apartments across the street. He heard movement behind him and relaxed when he saw the reflection of the young woman trying to sneak up on him from behind in the window’s reflection. He turned suddenly in his chair and jumped up.

  “Ahhh!” he yelled.

  The young woman screamed and giggled as Slivinski picked her up and hugged her. She playfully slapped him on the chest, jingling the many medals adorned there.

  “I can never sneak up on you!” she said laughing.

  Slivinski put the small woman down. “If you could, that wouldn’t make me a very good soldier would it?” he said smiling.

  “
Well, you’re late for dinner. For that Mr. Colonel, I ought to deny you the pleasures of my company.”

  Slivinski looked at his daughter and smiled even wider than before. The Colonel was proud of her. She lived and made her way through life without a complaint as so many other young people did these days. He knew for a girl born out of wedlock the odds would always be against her in a world that frowned on the sins committed by the father.

  “If you were to do that I would hurriedly volunteer for duty in North Korea and leave the Motherland forever.”

  She hurried into his arms and embraced him and hugged. “If you did that I would just die!”

  He hugged her back and then turned her around. “If I don’t get some supper in my belly I just might do exactly that.”

  Maleava Belka, the daughter produced years before by a brief liaison with a woman he loved but could never be with, saluted him playfully and turned back to the small kitchen separated by a shabby cloth divider. Slivinski kept his smile as he heard her preparing his dinner. He shook his head and finally turned away and sat once more at the table. His eyes went as they always did to the rich people across the street. His smile faltered as he watched. He wanted that very lifestyle for his daughter Maleava but knew as long as he wore the uniform of the Russian army, he could never give it to her without tongues wagging and higher-ranking officers judging him for his indiscretions. If they knew how guilty he felt about those indiscretions, they wouldn’t be so hard on him. He truly loved the mistake of his life and would someday give Maleava the life she so richly deserved. His eyes sadly left the view from across the street.

  The knock startled him.

  “I’ll get it. It’s probably Pavel with his annoying American Facebook gabble.”

  Slivinski waited as the sounds of his illegitimate daughter opened the door echoed in the apartment.

  “Father, this man said he would like to have few words with you.”

  “Father? How many times have I told you that no one can know—” he stopped his admonishment suddenly when he turned to see the portly man at the door.

  “Even the oldest of friends?”

  “Maleava,” Slivinski reached into his coat and brought out a wad of Rubles and held it out to her, “Why don’t you take the boy Pavel and go see that American superhero movie you’ve been wanting to see?”

  “But you said for me not to waste my time on that drivel.”

  “Take the money and you go now, honey. I have to see this man.”

  “No introductions?” Number One asked as he removed the brown Fedora and admired the girl as she accepted the money.

  “You go now, Maleava.” Slivinski kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll lock up. Tell Pavel to keep his hormones in check!”

  Maleava eased into her threadbare coat and looked Number One over. She had never once in her life seen her father frightened or concerned about anyone before this night. Number One smiled at her and with one last look at her father, she turned and left the rundown flat.

  As soon as the door was closed Slivinski hurried over and locked it. He then placed the chain on and with one last look through the ‘peephole,’ he turned and faced Number One.

  “May I sit, Regev?”

  Without speaking, Slivinski gestured toward one of the two chairs at the table.

  Number One dipped his head in thanks and placed the fedora down on the tabletop and then sat. “Are you going to offer me a drink?”

  “I don’t allow alcohol in the apartment. You know how young people can be.”

  “Forever the cautious one,” Number One said smiling. “Sit Colonel, please.”

  Slivinski eyed the man for the briefest of moments and then placated him and sat. With hesitation the colonel buttoned his tunic all the way to the collar.

  “I suppose you have heard that our army lost Lieutenant Colonel Leonid Petrolovich a few days ago,” Number One said as he toyed with his fedora, spinning it in circles. Slivinski watched this movement with mild irritation.

  “Army’s have never been good at stemming the flow of unfavorable rumors.”

  “That is true. The only reason I mention it is because with the loss of Petrolovich and most of the Fifteenth Guards Brigade we…or I…have been placed in a rather tough spot.”

  “What does this have to do with me?” Slivinski asked, still watching the slowly spinning fedora.

  “The Committee has a problem old friend. We need you.”

  Slivinski moved his eyes from the fedora and instead of talking he stopped the hat from turning by placing a hand on the brim. Number One looked at him with mild surprise.

  “I don’t do that work any longer.”

  “When you’re the best at something, you never stop that which you love.”

  “I love my daughter. This is enough.”

  Number One leaned over and pulled back the small curtain in the kitchen window. He gestured outside. “Wouldn’t it be nice to give your daughter what those fools have over there. What you and your daughter deserve far more than those leeches of our society?”

  “We have enough.”

  Number One let go of the curtain and faced the colonel. “We on the Committee know we failed in showing our appreciation the last time we came to you. But now I am in a position to give you all of that,” he gestured toward the window, “and so much more, Colonel. You are the only man that can do this. When you served under me many years ago you grew out of even my control to become the best at what you do. You pulled off the impossible in eliminating the entirety of the corrupt, western kowtowing government. It was you who placed a bullet in Putin’s head. It was you who eventually created the new Russia. After this last mission, we can properly say that you deserve the highest honors of the new world.”

  “And now you want me to kill Putin’s dolt twin brother here in Moscow, is that it?”

  “If I wanted that done, I would get one of his cheap prostitutes to do it. No. This is entirely different. Regev, your nation needs you one last time. Then you and your daughter can write your own retirement orders for any spot in the world you wish to go.”

  Slivinski had done his duty, no matter how distasteful and low that duty had called for him to be. He had eliminated those the Army told him to eliminate and never once balked at an order. But since the birth of his daughter he knew that a portion of his soul had been lost because of his duty.

  “It’s time we settle some old business my friend. A man you know is in a position to hurt not only your country, but also your daughter.”

  Slivinski’s head snapped up. “Who?”

  Number One reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a packet. He offered the first photo to the Colonel. The picture was of a blading man with an eyepatch and glasses. A long scar ran from his forehead to his jawline. He placed the photo down onto the table.

  “I don’t know this face,” Slivinski said as Number One gave him a second picture.

  “How about this face?”

  Slivinski looked down and saw the uniform and the stern features of a man he did recognize. The campaign ribbons on his chest were few and the silver first lieutenant’s bars on his shoulders easily identified the man as a United States Army officer. He would never forget the eyes. This was a photo of the first man he had ever killed as a young officer in the old Soviet Army. After forty-six years it was still the man’s eyes that gave Slivinski the cold chills.

  Number One pulled another photo from the packet. He withheld it for the briefest of moments.

  “We both carry guilt for things we did as young men, Colonel. Now we are faced with something that can bring us both down. I could have possibly achieved this without calling on you by using the man you trained for operations such as this with Colonel Petrolovich, who is now dead, but I guess providence has brought us back to the very crossroads that placed us on the path we are both on.”

  Number One handed the third photo to Slivinski.

  The photo was almost a duplicate of the s
econd one.

  This man wore his hair shorter and had small scars on his face as if he had spent many years in a rough profession Slivinski knew well. The uniform was also of the American army. This man had deep, penetrating blue eyes as did the first lieutenant in the second photo. He also wore the silver eagles of a full Colonel.

  “Are you waiting to play guessing games with me?” Slivinski asked as his eyes roamed over the picture. “Who is this man?”

  “The first man is Doctor Niles Compton. The fact he is a person the Committee needs eliminated has little to do with the second man other than the fact the two work together.”

  “Okay, so the second and third look like each other. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “The third photo is Colonel Jack Collins. He is the son of the man you and I murdered in 1973. The Colonel has learned of our Committee. He is a danger.”

  Still, what has that to do with me?” Slivinski asked, holding Number One’s eyes.

  “He is the son of Lieutenant John C. Collins, missing in action during the summer of 1973.”

  The world Slivinski had come to know flashed before his eyes as he looked again at the face of the man whose father he and Number One had tortured to death in a small room in Hanoi.

  “As I said Regev. I need you and you need me.”

  “What is it you want?”

  Number One smiled and placed the fedora on his blading head and stood as he laid the package of orders on the table.

  “What I want is the best assassin the world has ever seen. I want Colonel Regev Slivinski, the man our enemies know as, the Ghost.”

  Cambridge, Massachusetts

  Randall met the house guests in the upstairs area of the mansion. The giant of a man looked as if he was sent over from central casting with his villainous tuxedo and shaved head. The men of the Event Group had not changed clothing with the exception of Henri Farbeaux, Charlie Ellenshaw and little Matchstick. The later two out of necessity due to the kidnapping from a desert encircled lake in Nevada.