The Harvester

by Sean A. Murtaugh

  Avianna stops. “This was the first place we picked up a Vega reading.”

  “There might be a secret room or passage around here,” Dorian says to everyone.

  I pull out one of Djinn’s new, brilliant creations.

  They look like night vision goggles, but they can see beyond any sort of wall and pickup geologic anomalies like a secret room of some sort. I scan the whole area and finally discover an anomaly beyond the catacomb wall.

  “Right here. I found an anomaly,” I comment.

  Everyone immediately searches for some sort of hidden mechanism to reveal the secret room. Did they so quickly forget the equipment I’m using that found the anomaly. Once again, I scan the area for the triggering mechanism. I look at the ground and finally spot it out. It appears to be a few feet underground.

  “Right here,” I step on the spot and tap it a few times with my foot.

  Avianna draws her sword and uses it to dig for the triggering mechanism. A sword can be used in a variety of ways, not just killing. She keeps digging, and all of a sudden, we hear a metal hitting metal sound. She drops to her knees and reaches for the mechanism.

  “I got it,” she tells us.

  She pulls up a lever and part of the catacomb’s wall gives way to reveal the secret room. With eager anticipation, we move to the room and peer in. We see a stockpile of various weapons and ammo. It’s basically a cornucopia of weapons, a hardcore cache if you will.

  I look over at Kelly Marie and Dorian. “You know what to do,” I say to them.

  They nod and each pull out an explosive device more powerful than a hand grenade. They toss them in the room. Avianna pushes the lever down and the door closes. Shortly after that, the room explodes and destroys everything within it.

  “On to the next place, Avianna,” I instruct her.

  She leads us further down the catacomb to another one and we head down it. Avianna knows these catacombs as if she was raised in them.

  “Are there any catacombs that are located near or even under Vatican City?” I ask Avianna.

  “There are indeed,” she informs me. “They go right by and underneath it,” she continues.

  “Take us there, Avianna,” I say to her.

  “Does the pope have any outdoor speech engagements happening soon?” Dorian asks the Italian Harvesters.

  Avianna abruptly stops in her place with a worried expression on her face.

  “Tomorrow he does,” Antonio tells us.

  “We need to search all the catacombs near and under the Vatican immediately. I have a bad feeling,” I state to everyone.

  Two hours later, and we find ourselves obstructed by a concrete wall.

  “This wasn’t here a few days ago,” Avianna informs us.

  “This is definitely Vega’s doing. Who knows how thick that concrete is?” Kelly Marie states.

  “Is there a way to circumnavigate this barrier?” I ask Avianna.

  “No. We need to warn Vatican City of a possible imminent attack on the pope,” Avianna says with a concerned tone in her voice.

  She sprints off in the other direction with the twins in tow. We’re not far behind them.

  Back at the Italian command central, Avianna speaks on the phone incredibly fast due to her being incredibly frustrated. She slams the phone down and it breaks into pieces. She angrily paces.

  “What did they say?” I ask her.

  “They don’t believe us. The bastardos don’t believe us!” she exclaims.

  “This stinks of a cover up,” I tell everyone.

  “Of course. Vega must have his people within the Vatican who aren’t ever going to deliver our message of danger,” Fabio states the ever so obvious.

  “That’s correct, Fabio. Thanks,” I say without trying to sound sarcastic.

  “We should bring the message to the pope ourselves,” Kelly Marie states.

  I turn to Avianna. “Is that possible, Avianna?”

  “Possibly. But most likely, Vega has his people as a part of the pope’s Swiss guards,” Avianna says.

  “In which that would make our plight impossible,” Kelly Marie remarks.

  “What can we do?” Antonio inquires.

  “We could abduct the pope before he steps up to give his speech,” I give an insane idea.

  Everyone gives me a “say what?” look.

  I shrug my shoulders. “He’s your pope, not mine. If you got a better idea, I’d love to hear it,” I further add.

  They all pause and think for a few moments, then agree with me with silent head nods.

  “Okay. We agree. However, this could bring a lot of heat on the Agency. We must pull it off correctly or we’re screwed,” I tell them. “We might even get the pope killed.”

  “If we’re thinking about doing what I think we’re about to do, we must do this without a green light from our Agency’s approval, right?” Kelly Marie inquisitively asks.

  I nod my head at her, and she appears perplexed.

  “If you don’t want to be a part of this plan, we’ll understand,” I tell her. But I know what her response will be.

  “Hell no, Harv. We are a team, and that’s that,” she retorts to my comment.

  I smile at her with a head nod. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” I say to her to make her try to feel a bit more comfortable with what we are going to do.

  “So what’s the plan, Americano?” Antonio asks me.

  “I have a few ideas of how this should go down,” I tell him.

  All heads turn to me for an explanation. They know what is at stake and would like some sort of explanation.

  Their careers, their second lives are on the line here. And it’s all due to my idea. Stress on me? Uh, well . . . A little bit, yeah. Considering I don’t really have a plan yet.

  Yeah. Feeling the stress.

  The day of the pope’s speech, which is televised for the world to see, we ready ourselves for what is an anticipated attack of some sort by Vega. We have a plan, but we have no idea if it is going to work. We weed our way through the masses of people crowded into the square waiting for the pope. I glance up to the stage and now realize what Vega is going to do. On the stage sitting in chairs are twelve of the world leaders. He’s going to take ’em all out in one fell swoop. I stop the others and tell ’em what I think is going to happen. We try to hurry to the stage, but the masses of people slow our speed.

  The pope is escorted to the stage by his Swiss Guards and several armed, suited men. The crowd cheers for the pope as he steps to the front of the stage. We try to hurry to the stage, but the excited crowd inhibits our progress.

  A massive explosion from under the stage rocks the premises. The whole stage area explodes and falls into the catacomb. Mass mayhem and chaos erupts like an atom bomb.

  Sirens blare. Hundreds of dead bodies are scattered everywhere. People scramble for safety. A plume of dense smoke clouds our vision, but we don’t need to see in order to know what we will see soon. We collectively make it to the blast zone and peer down to see several dead people, and numerous body parts strewn about in the catacomb. Media reports that this was a terrorist act, and with what Vega did, I’d have to agree.

  “This is going to cause complete chaos around the world,” Avianna states.

  “The pope and twelve of our world leaders killed by a terrorist attack,” Kelly Marie replies.

  “Some terrorist cell like Al-Qaeda or the Taliban will be blamed, and they’ll jump at the chance to take the false credit,” I add on.

  “We need to let the world know who really did it.

  Then, the Agency will have even more funding and backing to dispose of the Underworld once and for all,” Fabio remarks.

  He does have a great point though. We need to contact all six Heads, let ’em know who really did it, and to arrange an immediate press conference. I pull out my cellular phone and quickly dial Mr. Herald’s number.

  “Who you calling, Harv?” Dorian asks.

  “Who do you think?” I
sarcastically ask.

  Mr. Herald answers and man oh man is he upset.

  “Mr. Herald, we witnessed it all, and we know for a fact that Vega is responsible for it,” I clarify for him.

  I listen to him rant and rave for a few moments and I decide I must cut him off.

  “Listen, time is of the essence here, Gerald. You need to set up a press conference to notify the world who really did this terrorist act. It’ll help the Agency out to no ends,” I inform him.

  I listen for a bit more. “Yes, sir. See you soon,” and I hang up.

  Avianna looks at me for some sort of explanation.

  “Mr. Herald wants us to meet him at the United Nations headquarters in New York for the press conference. You and your crew keep tabs on Vega and keep us posted,” I tell her.

  “You got it, Harvey,” she replies, and she and the twins walk over to one of the Swiss Guards to get any sort of info that would prove useful to our cause.

  Our destination, the United Nation headquarters, located in the Turtle Bay neighborhood of the borough of Manhattan, on spacious grounds overlooking the East River.

  Its borders are First Avenue on the west, East Forty-Second Street to the south, East Forty-Eighth Street on the north, and the East River to the east. Its actual address is 760 United Nations Plaza. There are three subsidiary United Nations. One is in Geneva, Switzerland. The second is in Vienna, Austria. And the third is in Nairobi, Kenya. But this one is the main headquarters. And outside is humming with media activity.

  The police control the situation the best that they can.

  Inside the UN, Mr. Herald and I exit a conference room and are immediately inundated by questions from the media. There are so many of ’em it is quite suffocating. We stop in front of several of ’em and allow ’em to ask a few questions.

  One reporter shoves a microphone in Mr. Herald’s face. “Can you tell us how you know without a doubt that the Underworld is responsible for the bombing in Rome?” he asks him.

  “Like we stated to the UN representatives, our field survey team found numerous details that pointed right to the only ones responsible, the Underworld,” he answers.

  A different reporter places her microphone in front of my face. “Everyone knows that you are the best Harvester who has worked for the Agency for centuries,” she comments.

  “Do you have a question, or are you just wasting my time?” I ask her.

  “My question is, were you part of what Mr. Herald is calling the field survey team, and if so, what was your role in discovering it was the Underworld?”

  “That’s two questions by the way. However, yes, I led the field survey team. And as far as how we found out it was Vega and the Underworld, well, I’ll let the UN inform you of all the details. Now, if you don’t mind, we have a lot of work to accomplish. Shall we, Mr. Herald?” I ask him in order for us to leave quicker.

  He gets what I’m doing because we’ve done this so many times in the past to avoid wasting time with the media. We try to be as polite as we can be about it, but some times, the media can be as annoying as the paparazzi to the stars.

  “Yes, we shall,” he replies.

  We walk through the crowd of reporters and toward the exit. His cell rings, and he answers it.

  “Yes. Yes. Of course,” he states and then hangs up.

  “Problem?” I inquire.

  “Not sure. That was the president. We’re going to DC. Tell Dorian and Kelly Marie to meet us at JFK Airport immediately,” he instructs me.

  It’s just shy of midnight and Mr. Herald, Dorian, Kelly Marie, and myself meet with the president in the Oval Office. The vice president and General O’Malley are present for the meeting. I’ve only met General O’Malley once, and he seemed like a good person with a good head on his shoulders and more importantly, he wholeheartedly backs the Agency.

  “Once again I wanted to thank you for saving my life, gentlemen,” the President addresses us.

  “It’s our duty to do so, Mr. President,” Mr. Herald replies.

  “One topic I must address first. My campaign manager says I’m losing numbers for my reelection due to what happened in Italy. The only person who stood in my way for a second term was, as you well know, Jonathan Jacobs. And also, as you well know, he was one of the thirteen on that stage in Rome. Rumors are being spread that I had something to do with it because they think I’d do anything to be reelected. Even with the UN press conference explaining who really did it, the rumors run rampant.”

  “We know you had nothing to do with it, Mr. President,” I say to him.

  “Be that as it may, Jacobs’s vice president nominee Michael Winters has decided to takeover where he left off and run against me. I’m being told he has a very good chance of winning. Now, to move onto the present situation. From all the facts you have given me, it seems to me that the Agency is having a problem tracking the one responsible for all this anarchy and chaos, Vega.”

  “He’s a very elusive character. He has the use of his own Master Hole and White Door, not to mention time-shifting, regenerating body parts, and mimicking others. We can’t pinpoint him down to one location,” Mr. Herald explains.

  “That’s why I wanted to meet with you. General O’Malley here is a miracle worker when it comes to Intel and locating undesirables. He helped with Bin Laden and Hussein. He will now be a part of your team, Mr. Herald.”

  “I welcome his service, Mr. President, but he must understand who he will be working with and what we’re about,” Mr. Herald informs him.

  “He has been brought up to speed and knows plenty about Harvesters, Mr. Herald. You’ve been having a problem tracking Vega, well, he and his team will be the ones who’ll pinpoint his locale, and that’s when you boys do your thing,” he replies. “All of you will now have a debriefing on all pertinent Intel on the Underworld. Let’s bring them down once and for all,” he continues with.

  Everyone nods in agreement with the president. This could actually work for us. This General O’Malley cat has the use of every militaristic spy technology available, including highly advanced drones and satellites in space that can zoom in on a dime on the sidewalk with a perfect visual. I’m excited for the Hunt again.

  I shake General O’Malley’s hand. “I look forward to working with you, General,” I tell him as a half truth to make him feel welcome and the other half because I do want to work with him. I’ve heard good things about the general.

  “It’s my pleasure to work with the great Harvey the Harvester,” he returns a compliment. “It’s a pleasure to work with all of you.”

  He hands us security passes. “These will allow you to get onto Andrew’s Air Force Base. That’s where we’ll meet in the morning. Say 08:00. Just ask for me,” he instructs us.

  “Andrews, huh?” I ask.

  “Want to show you just what we can do,” he replies.

  In a rental car, I pull up to 1677-D Street, Andrew’s Air Force Base. The president himself flies in and out of this base all the time. If it’s safe for him it must be safe for us. Dorian and Kelly Marie hand me their security clearance passes, and I hand all of ours to the armed military police guarding the entrance.

  “Do you know where we can find General O’Malley? We have an important meeting with him,” I inform the MP.

  “Yes, sir. He’s waiting for you in the drone command center in building 213. Just take D Street down to California Avenue. Make a left, and it’ll be the second building on your right.”

  “Thanks,” I reply.

  The gate opens, and I drive down D Street. There’s plenty of activity on the base. Groups of soldiers run fitness drills. A large group of airmen stand at parade dress rest and then practice marching drills. We drive by a colonel who gives a sergeant a serious ass chewing on the sidewalk in front of everyone. We can’t help but to laugh.

  “There’s California Avenue, Harv,” Kelly Marie tells me and points to the left.

  I turn onto it and already see building 213. I pull into the p
arking lot and park this brand new, bright red rental.

  I look at my crew. “Showtime.”

  A chief master sergeant, that’s an E-9, leads us into the drone command center, and it is very impressive.

  General O’Malley waves us over to a drone controller sitting in front of a screen.

  “Great timing, guys. We’re tracking an undesirable as I speak,” he tells us.

  We walk to the other side of the command center, and he shows us what they’re doing. On the screen is a video feed of an area of Pakistan’s desert with dwellings and people doing their daily activities.

  “The terrorist we’re tracking is number two on the CIA’s and FBI’s most wanted list. Our satellite spotted him driving right outside that small village. We’re close, very close. He won’t even know what hit him,” he comments.

  None of us have anything to say. We are caught up with what we see on the screen. The drone’s video feedback now zeroes in on the terrorist’s van.

  “Here we go!” he exclaims. “Hit him,” he instructs.

  The drone operator simply hits one button, and now we see a rocket get dropped, and it zips its way toward the van. And just like that. Boom! The van explodes into a fiery ball of metal carnage. The drone flies off.

  “And that’s how we do it, boys,” he joyfully states.

  “We’ll find this Vega, and you’ll finish the job and send him to the After,” he adds.

  “Very impressive, General. I’ve known about drones and what they can achieve, but I’ve never seen it in action like this,” I state.

  “So not to be rude, but why did we have to come here when we could be on the Hunt for Vega,” Kelly Marie asks the general.

  The more our relationship becomes a more intimate one, I realize my love for her grows deeper and stronger, especially when she has the balls to ask such a question to such a powerful three star general. Now the only question is how the general is going to react.

  “A straight shooter, and she’s female. I admire that. Why, you ask? Well, the best way, fastest way, to find Vega is for one of you to learn all the ins and outs of working the satellites and the drones. You three decide. I’m going to the cafeteria for breakfast. When you’ve decided, let me know,” he explains to us.