Season of the Witch

by David L. Golemon

  The driver, a small man in a brown caddie’s cap, jumped from the cab after popping his trunk. The driver held out a hand to take the suitcase.

  “Good evening, eh.”

  “Good evening young man.”

  “Long flight?”

  “Very long and extremely bumpy.”

  The small man placed the luggage in the trunk and then opened the rear door for Slivinski. He resisted the temptation to look around especially after the correct response to his security challenge. The driver put the car in gear and started for the exit. Slivinski watched the passing cars as the driver made no excessive moves to speed off. This was a good sign. A few of liaisons with younger officers had turned out differently in the past and he had to make corrections along the way. Maybe the highly recommended young man would be different.

  “I am very honored to meet you, Colonel,” the driver said, not giving into temptation by looking in his rearview mirror at his passenger. Missing was the practiced Canadian accent.

  “I imagine your vehicle has been swept for listening devices?”

  “Yes, sir, I performed the task myself. I never leave my fate in the hands of others when it comes to doing one’s duty. Especially embassy security staff. I find they are a lazy lot.”

  “A wise precaution.”

  Slivinski had seen the young officer’s credentials back in Moscow. Although not his personal choice, he was satisfied that the boy could do the job as laid out. According to his dossier the young Lieutenant had performed with high marks on three cases thus far in his young career. All three involved the fate of former committee members that went astray. High praise in the filed reports from his Canadian handlers. The boy’s reward was to learn and work with Russia’s premier assassin—Regev Slivinski—the Ghost.”

  “Have the arrangements progressed?”

  The driver, Lieutenant Danie Mediskaya reached back and gave the Ghost a new passport and identity papers. “We will be crossing the border tomorrow and will arrive on schedule in Buffalo for our flight. As you can see you are an executive with the Canadian Gaming Commission on his way for meetings with your American counterparts in Las Vegas. I made the arrangements myself just in case there is a failure in the process.”

  Slivinski closed the passport and looked at the young man’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Just in case I fail?”

  The boy laughed. “As I said, I like to be prepared for any contingency, sir. I don’t expect to be acting in any capacity. I know the Ghost never fails to perform his duty.”

  Slivinski opened his wallet and pulled a photo of his daughter free of the plastic and looked at her smiling face.

  “There is always a first time my young friend.”

  * * *

  Boston, Massachusetts

  The streets of the city were nearly impassable even at this early stage as Lorraine powered toward the coast. Police cruisers had limited their patrols to the hotel and financial districts because of the downing of trees and power lines in the smaller neighborhoods. Even the seedier bars of the city were empty.

  Logan and the other surrounding airports had been closed for the past six hours as flights backed up and hotels filled. Thus far the leading edge of the storm had dumped sixteen inches of water on the city.

  Drake Airfield was a small landing strip near Cambridge. Rarely used because of no ground radar and sporadic upkeep, it was mostly leased out for the daylight testing of drones and other pilotless aircraft. Master Chief Jenks was one of the few in the nation who even knew the airstrip existed. As the executive Learjet approached, the craft was tossed twenty feet in each direction.

  “Uh, excuse me Master Chief, but how long have you been flying?” Xavier Morales asked after he had parked his wheelchair in between the cockpit and the rear cabin as Jenks and Anya sat side by side up front.

  Jenks risked it and looked at his watch. “Five hours, ten minutes.”

  Anya’s eyes went from the storm outside the darkened windows to Jenks and then to Xavier.

  “You lied to us Jenks,” she said.

  “Hey twinkle toes, you’re the ones that decided to come along. All I ever said was that I’ve been around and designed most of the aircraft in the American inventory at one stage or another.”

  Anya turned away and saw her reflection in the side window with the aid of the console warning lights, which were flashing on and off on a terrifyingly regular basis. Her only thought was the fact she knew she would never see Carl again. She turned back when Jenks reduced power and the Learjet went slightly nose down.

  “This crosswind’s a royal bitch!” Jenks said as he fought the stick as one wing threatened to buckle and the other rip free.

  “I better go and strap in somewhere,” Morales said.

  “Yeah, you do that Speed Racer.”

  Anya jumped when she heard the hydraulics of the ailerons deploy. She felt sick as she looked from Jenks to the darkness outside and the rain slamming into the windscreen. She saw no sign of the earth in any direction. Jenks was flying by instruments alone. Again, and again, the Learjet buffeted into and sideways of the powerful wind. The dips and valley’s made Anya feel as if she were on a rollercoaster pieced together by two fly-by-night Carnies named Billy Bob and Pedro. She heard Xavier vomiting in the rear cabin.

  Jenks shoved the remains of a cigar in his mouth as he gripped the wheel of the controls tighter than he had ever held any woman—his Virginia included.

  “Not your cushy little computer center is it, Doc? Bet you won’t bitch so much the next time the air-conditioning goes out, will ya?”

  “Arghh,” was the only sound from the back.

  “Damn rear echelon bastard!” Jenks cursed. Jenks watched the altimeter as the Learjet fought its way toward the ground.

  ‘Pull up…pull up…terrain…terrain…pull up.’

  The computer warning made Anya close her eyes as the Learjet swayed left and then right, went down and then up.

  “Damn it, that wasn’t there two years ago!” Jenks yelled as he pulled back harshly on the wheel as the nose barely missed a small tower.

  Anya felt the small plane bounce. Then it went into the air again and then Jenks fought the wheel and the jet hit the earth once more. The plane jinked left and then right as the crosswind threatened to capsize the speeding ship. Another powerful gust of wind and rain made the Learjet rise once more and this time Jenks yelled.

  “Stay down you worthless piece of shit!” The Master Chief slammed the control column all the way forward and the Learjet started swerving. Jenks used both feet and applied the brakes. Suddenly the right landing gear collapsed, and the Learjet started to slide out of control as it spun in an ever-widening circle.

  Anya squeezed her eyes shut as her mind closed down waiting for the inevitable tree that lined every small airstrip in the world.

  Finally, the plane stopped as the twin turbo charged engines started winding down. Anya opened her eyes just as Jenks peeled his hands from the control column. He clicked open his lighter and lit the stub of his cigar. The only sound was the ticking of the cooling engines, the rain pounding the fuselage and Doctor Xavier Morales continuing to vomit in the back.

  “Welcome to Cambridge, ladies and gentlemen, I hope you fly Air Jenks again.” He snorted laughter.

  “I thought for sure we were going to explode,” Anya said as Xavier wheeled himself to the cockpit door.

  Jenks removed the cigar from his mouth and then used his finger to tap the fuel gauge.

  “Nah, not a chance doll. You have to have fuel for that to happen.”

  “We were out of gas too?” Anya yelled.

  “I didn’t want to make you uneasy Sparky.”

  Anya felt sick as Xavier started to vomit again.

  “Come on kid, now’s the time to get a backbone, we got people to kill.”

  * * *

  Thirty miles South

  of Boston

  Asmodius stared out of the bridge windows and ignored the Philippine
Captain’s curses as he assisted his wheelmen with controlling the giant container ship. It had been thirty minutes since the vessel eased out of the eye and started steaming directly for the coastline. Sokol, white from numerous runs to the head, watched Asmodius smiling as it spied the waves crashing over the bow of the ship. The outer wings of the hurricane were now battering the city with its full force as the eye had been pushed eastward through the concentration of Asmodius. Sokol shook his head knowing the giant ship was near to snapping into two pieces.

  “It will do no good transporting all of these people to Boston if you drown them all before arriving. Anchor now and allow the hurricane to pass!” Sokol screamed at the Grey.

  The Russian had already watched several containers housing his minions, cascade overboard when they were struck by a side wave out of nowhere. All Asmodius had done was smile at the death of so many. Sokol was beginning to understand his value in this plan. He had none.

  “Outer marker!” the captain yelled as the bow of the ship actually ran over the signal buoy to the greater Boston harbor. Still, the lights of the great city had yet to peek out from the raging hurricane. “Slowing to one third!”

  Asmodius lost its smile and turned on the Captain. He angrily stomped toward the helmsman and him and pushed them out of the way. Instead of physically slamming the throttles forward, the Grey used his right hand and waved it over the control console. The levers magically slammed forward until they hit their stops. Sokol heard the engines growl and felt the ship accelerate toward a meeting with the rocks outside of Boston harbor.

  “If we survive this I am leaving once ashore!” Sokol screamed. “You’re going to kill us all!”

  Asmodius slowly turned and faced Sokol. Its head was tilted as if studying the Russian. Sokol backed off a step toward the companionway when he saw the smile slowly fade from the Grey. The alien turned away but with its left four-fingered hand simply gestured behind him and Sokol was taken by an invisible force as his body flew over the command console and into the large hand of Asmodius. The creature brought Sokol up to eye level. Again, it tilted its head as the yellow, flaming eyes studied the Russian Committee member. With its free hand he brought its fingers to Sokol’s face and lightly caressed the chilled skin. It slowly shook its head. Suddenly Sokol jerked as his head was filled with the silent voice of the mental conversation Asmodius used when communicating with precision.

  ‘You will lead the attack on the Ancient One and the Green. I will remain here. Do not fail me or I will make you believe in the power of the night.’

  Sokol started to choke as the smile returned to the mouth of the Grey. Asmodius tossed him to the floor as if discarding a piece of trash.

  Alarm bells started blaring as the hurricane sent the bow of the ship high into the air. Collision warnings flashed and Sokol watched as the Captain and his bridge crew dove for cover. Then Sokol was slammed into the closest bulkhead as the ship hit a rock filled barrier just outside of the harbor. It came to a grinding hull tearing stop as water cascaded in from numerous rips in the hull. Thirty-five containers flew free of their chains and vanished into the breakers smashing ashore. The mighty ship rolled right and then settled onto the empty stretch of beach ten miles from the city of Boston.

  Lightning flashed and thunder boomed as if to announce that Armageddon had arrived, and the black angel of death had come to claim what it knew was his—the world.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cambridge, Massachusetts

  Jack had spent the morning speaking with Sarah and getting his update on Alice Hamilton. He shook his head at Carl who was waiting anxiously for any word on Anya, Morales, and Jenks. Thus far there had been none and there would be no assistance from the State Police. They were busy with the hurricane which had suddenly stalled one hundred and five miles east of the coast. What was worrisome and unexplainable was the fact that the calm eye of Lorraine was actually shrinking as its outer edges became even more powerful. It was getting to be late afternoon when Ryan, Mendenhall, Randall and Tram reported on the meager defenses of the mansion and property. Luckily Lieutenant Tram it said it shouldn’t be too difficult seeing any advance by an unwanted force from the many high vantage points Tram could utilize. As for Elsbeth Barlow’s forces, Randall had reported that for the most part the coven was scared, but ready.

  Jack was at the window watching the wind driven rain when he was approached by Elsbeth, Matchstick and Charlie Ellenshaw. Collins turned.

  “I guess you’re waiting for an apology from me about doubting your abilities and claims?”

  Elsbeth smiled and placed a firm hand on Jack’s shoulder.

  “Colonel if I held it against everyone who ever doubted the fact that witchcraft existed in the world, I would have lost my mind a thousand years ago. The only time the world ever believed was the time when they burned those that followed my teachings. Very disturbing time in world history, I assure you.”

  Jack looked down as Matchstick also patted him on the leg because he couldn’t reach to his shoulder. Jack’s brows furrowed as he caught the whiff of sympathy coming from the small alien.

  “Well, I suspect pretty strongly I would have been one of the ones with the matches back then, because I just cannot get my military brain around the bull—the science of what you are.”

  “Well, let’s hope you have a change of mind. I’m here to talk about something else, Colonel.”

  “What is it?” he asked looking at Charlie who seemed not able to hold Jack’s penetrating eyes.“When I was deep into Matchstick’s head, I was picking up you, Randall and Mister Everett by accident. Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping. Sometimes mind baiting is rather random in its targeting. For instance, I know Mister Everett is concerned about a woman named Anya. Randall was concerned that young Millicent doesn’t even know he exists,” she leaned in with a smile, “its love I think,” she gave a small cackle. “But you were different. After speaking with Slim here I learned that you recently married.”

  Jack shot a look at Ellenshaw who was staring at his shoes.

  “I saw her by accident in your mind as I was speaking with Matchstick’s memory. Three concerns Colonel. One, you may think the Frenchman is a threat to your love. Although yes, he does love your wife, it’s more out of admiration and respect he has than true love. Confusing to a man such as him. But nothing threatening. Two, your hatred of Colonel Farbeaux is a falsity isn’t it?”

  Jack moved his eyes from Charlie, knowing he would have to have a talk with the Doc about keeping personal things zipped inside his mouth and brain. “What makes you say that?”

  “I really don’t know. As I said your thoughts crossed with Slim’s here, suggests an admiration and maybe a little touch of guilt.”

  Jack remembered years back and the horrible way in which Henri’s wife Dannielle had perished in the Amazon and one that Henri constantly reminds him of. He did feel a twinge of guilt, not that he caused her death, but like his lost soldiers it was the fact he couldn’t bring her home as he did the others.

  “Go on,” he said instead of commenting.

  “Now, this may be somewhat disturbing and it’s the reason Slim opened up, so don’t be too hard on him later when you got him cornered.”

  “Well see,” Jack said, and Charlie frowned as Matchstick grimaced in sympathy.

  “Colonel, for a reason I cannot explain, when I was picking up these random thoughts from you, for the first time I couldn’t see your wife. Every time she started to appear—a dark shape clouded my view of her.”

  “Is that normal when you mentally eavesdrop on people?” Jack asked.

  Elsbeth didn’t answer, but Collins could see that she was concerned about something she had gathered from Jack’s mind.

  “Colonel, maybe it’s your failure to see that after all of these years, from the loss of your father to the loss of your men in combat, you refuse to believe you can ever be happy and content. Like a self-imposed punishment. At least that’s what I hope it was.”<
br />
  “If not?” he asked.

  Elsbeth shook her head. “It worries me Colonel that I usually pick up a clean vision of the future. Sometimes murky and sometimes clear. But with your wife, Sarah, I don’t see her because I have fears there is no future for her. That your thoughts may predicting a time of extreme loss.”

  Jack became furious deep inside. He forced himself to calm down as his look went from Elsbeth to Charlie and then back to the Witch Queen of Salem.

  “I was beginning to believe that you may have some form of power that I never knew actually existed. But as it turns out you have no more ability that a reality show hack. From here forward if you have any vision concerning me and my wife, keep them to yourself.”

  Jack turned and left the smashed study.

  “Jack’s the kind of man that you really don’t want to delve too far into his head, Miss Barlow. If you do you better be prepared to discover the man has dark thoughts and maybe even darker secrets. But one thing is for sure, he truly loves Sarah. Hell, we all do. If he lost her, I don’t know what he would do.”

  “I suspect I know exactly what he would do if someone was responsible for the loss of her love.” Elsbeth rubbed the top of Matchstick’s head and smiled sadly. “That I’m afraid, was crystal clear in his thoughts last night.” She started to leave.

  “What do you mean?” Ellenshaw asked.

  Elsbeth stopped and turned and placed the wrap she was wearing tighter around her as she felt the shivers creep up her spine.

  “Colonel Collins won’t be with you long, Slim. His destiny will lie elsewhere.”

  Matchstick watched Elsbeth leave the study and then looked up at a frightened Charlie Ellenshaw.

  “Sarahhhhh, Doctor Charlie…Sarahhhh.”