SNAFU: Survival of the Fittest
Page 23
It took an hour before I found something useful. Once I did, I woke him and we began to talk.
“Ever heard of The Mothman?” I asked.
“Wasn’t it involved with the Silver Bridge collapse in West Virginia a few years ago?”
I nodded. “It was. Locals believe that it was trying to warn them about the bridge collapse.”
He looked skeptical. “So you think it was The Mothman who came to me?”
“Here’s what we know of The Mothman. He wasn’t warning people, he was looking for something. Special Units Division of the Pentagon had a special detention facility in Point Pleasant. It was well-hidden and ultimately never found. But The Mothman let it be known that he was going to collapse the bridge and kill dozens if not hundreds of people if we didn’t release one of its own.”
“Seriously?”
“It was classified Need-To-Know. The only reason I knew was because I’d just left there for a position at the Pentagon and they called me in to help prepare the prisoners for movement to a new location.”
“When you say special you mean...”
“Yes. Bottom line was that we didn’t give into the blackmailing and a lot of people died. We’ve rationalized that a lot more would have died had the facility been discovered and the inmates released.”
“Why was it trying to—” Then his eyes brightened. “You had someone it knew.”
“There’s a family originally from Stribrna, which now lies in the Czech Republic. Not much of a town, it began as a medieval trading post along one of the mountain routes into Germany back when the country was known as Bohemia. We’ve traced several legends back to this family. They are as smart as they are wicked.”
“What are they?”
“Ever hear of the Spring-heeled Jack?”
He stared toward the ceiling as he thought. “London. 1800s. Killed some men and women. Mysterious figure who could leap incredibly. Flame shot from its eyes. It wore some sort of helmet.”
I chuckled. “It’s all accurate except for the flame part. That was Boniface Zdarsky. Incidentally, the last name means ‘from the forest,’ which was where the family originally came from before they moved to Stribrna. He wore the helmet because he’d sometimes jump so high and far he’d land on his head.”
“How do you know so much about him?” he asked.
“Because he’s the one we have in custody.”
Everett seemed to do the math and said, “But that would mean that he’s—”
“They don’t die.”
He stared at me.
“They lived so long that the locals thought they were vampires, which is why they were run out of town.”
“You said there’s a family?”
“Two other brothers and a sister. We killed the father back in ’42. He was running a concentration camp for the Nazis. Boniface claims the mother died in World War I.”
“Do you know how the family came to be like this?”
“No one really knows. Boniface doesn’t even know. They tell each other that sometime back in the 1400s his grandmother was impregnated by a nature spirit, but I think that’s just something they say just to have an origin story. There’s really no way of knowing.”
“So who was it who attacked me and how did you connect him?”
“In your memory, you said that the man’s legs shook, trembled, was your actual word. It was the trembling that initially struck me. You also mentioned the boots. The family requires stability and a fairly large heel. They’re immortal, but they can still break. His sister, Radana, is missing her left arm, for instance. She lost it to a Russian count who took it for a souvenir. Ever since then she’s been killing off the man’s family line. It’s what’s kept her in the Soviet Union. Boniface was a few beers short of a six pack himself from hitting his head too many times as a child. Rehor, on the other hand, is something else entirely – he’s the one whom I surmise came to you... did this to you.”
Gomer stepped into the room from the kitchen. “Since when did Rehor become a warlock? If that’s the case, it’s the difference between a grenade and a nuclear bomb.”
I nodded. “It does make him a much more dangerous adversary. For all we know he was taught by Crowley himself. Hell, if I can learn, he can, too.”
“But why not just kill me?” Everett asked.
“I’ve been thinking about that. I think he needed information from you and it used the bone demon to get it.”
“What kind of information?”
“Anything. Everything.” I shrugged. “Have you checked all the wards on The Grove?”
“I was so busy with screening people, I wasn’t able to get to all of them.”
“Isn’t tomorrow the big day?”
He gave me a look, then lowered his head. “I need to go check them.” He looked at his suit. “Let me go change first.”
“I’ll have Burgess join you.”
Everett got up, then headed toward the bedroom.
Gomer came in and sat where Everett had been sitting. “Do you know why else Rehor could have used the bone demon?”
I shook my head.
“Maybe he’s still looking for his brother.”
“But Everett wouldn’t know that.”
“But you do, don’t you?”
I stared at Gomer as my mental blocks slid into place. “Think he’s here for me?”
“At the very least, you’re the cherry on the cake.”
“He could also be here to take someone hostage. Who’s the most important person who’s going to be here this weekend?”
“President Nixon.”
“He has his own warlock from Special Unit Division.”
“Doesn’t mean he isn’t a target.”
I slapped my knee with the flat of my right hand. “Damn! It could be anybody.”
“That’s what makes this so much fun,” Gomer said.
“Right. Fun. Oh joy.”
MONTE RIO
July 10, 1970
Morning
Burgess and Everett didn’t get back in until three, but that didn’t keep me from waking them up at seven. After a shower, coffee and breakfast, I sent Everett and Gomer out to The Grove to provide security for the welcome dinner set-up and the Cremation of Care Ceremony. We needed each and every piece of equipment, furniture, caterer, vendor, and contractor checked for supernatural taint.
I kept Burgess with me. I had him plot the locations of the four local catering services and run local background checks to see if there was anything that wasn’t in the files, while I called back to the office and had the remainder of my officers check the caterers in San Francisco and San Rafael. Not that we knew what to look for, but my men were skilled in observing the supernatural, and if there were clues to be had, they’d find them.
It’d been a long time since I’d thought of the Zdarsky family. While Boniface Zdarsky was merely a sociopath, his brother Rehor was a complete psychopath. If he was a warlock as well as a Spring-heeled Jack, we might be in some serious trouble. Our only hope was to find him before he could do anything.
We had to wait two hours, twiddling our fingers until the businesses opened at ten. Everett had taken his own car, which left Burgess with me. He checked our pistols to make sure we had rounds. It wasn’t often we used them, although we carried them all the time. The last thing we needed was to need them and have them not working.
“I didn’t know we had a detention facility,” Burgess said to break the long silence of waiting. “What sorts of prisoners do we have?”
“Sorry, kid. That’s on a need-to-know. It’s a special duty assignment and you have to be read on to the program first.”
“Damn. What about these Spring-heeled Jacks? What kind of powers do they have?”
I glanced his way and made a mental note to have my men review 77’s cryptid database, something they’d clearly been slacking. “They’re exceptionally strong. They’re exceptionally fast, they can leap great distances, and they can live for
ever if they aren’t killed first.”
“Does that make them evil?”
“In their case, evil was a choice. They decided somewhere along the way to use their powers to gain advantage.” I shrugged. “I think it’s probably impossible to have superpowers and not use them to gain an advantage sooner or later. That’s probably why Superman is a comic book.”
“He’s also an alien,” Burgess said. “Which could be the reason he doesn’t have the desire to commit mortal or venial sins.”
I jerked my head around and stared at him.
“What? Didn’t you know Indians read comic books too?”
“No, I just didn’t think you were Catholic.”
“Oh that? I’m not. We just had a lot of missionaries come to the res to try and convert us. We only showed up for the free food and stuff.”
I nodded because it made sense. “You’re right, of course.” Seeing his blank stare, I added, “About Superman. It’s the fact that he’s alien. But I think also that the Zdarskys are as alien. Not that they’re from another planet, mind you. There’s something that makes them not human, therefore they have decided not to follow our laws or morays. Superman could have taken that direction but he chose not to.”
“He might have,” said Burgess, “Had the Kents not raised him. They raised him to be human so he acted human.”
“Whereas the Zdarskys were raised by themselves,” I concluded. I regarded Burgess for a long enough period to make him uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Well, we’ve gone from creationism to dinosaurs to God to Superman. You’re an interesting young man, Burgess. Much more so than I expected.”
He managed to blush, but still said, “Not your everyday Indian with a bow and arrow and a wigwam, huh?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I deserved that, although this business tends to draw some very special people.” I didn’t have to mention what I meant by ‘business.’ I thought about Nancy Drew and how odd a fellow he’d been, and then the juxtaposition of his replacement and how out of sync his dramatic southern accent went with his Asian features.
“What about you, sir? Where do you come from?”
I sighed. It wasn’t often that I opened up but I felt an affinity with this kid. “My father was very wealthy, so wealthy that I was spared a normal childhood by spending all my days at private boarding schools. I probably saw my parents three times a year. It wasn’t until the war came along and I was drafted that I finally found a real family.”
“Sounds terrible. I spent every waking moment with my family.”
I shrugged. “It would be ridiculous to complain. I had the best of everything. I wanted for nothing. By the time I was eighteen I’d already seen Europe.” I glanced at him. “Good thing, too, because it all changed after the war.”
“Is that why you’ve never married, sir?”
The words bit and I couldn’t help but give him a look that said he’d gone too far.
He immediately backtracked. “Sorry, sir. It’s just that me and the boys wondered.”
“Let’s just say that I think the head of a family should be committed to it. Right now, Special Unit 77 is my family.”
“Yes, sir.” Then he pointed out the windshield. “Look, sir. I think they’re opening up.”
It was about time. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable even though it was me who’d opened the conversational door. We got out and went inside. I paused at the door to Mannetti’s Catering Company but didn’t detect any wards. The inside was cool. Across the black and white checkerboard floor were glass cases displaying cakes and various desserts.
A man behind the counter beamed when he saw me. Then his face fell as I began asking him questions and he realized I wasn’t a customer.
Thus began a fruitless effort.
The next place on our list was closed, with a note saying they were busy at The Grove.
In the third place a young man with dirty fingernails and a gold watch on his wrist sat behind the counter reading comic books. On the counter next to him were several Where Monsters Dwell, their covers gaudy with creatures Special Unit 77 would be after had they really existed. In his hand he held an issue of the Silver Surfer – another alien with different ideas of right and wrong. The kid was absolutely non-responsive, mumbling something about no one being around right now, despite the fact that he was around.
The fourth place held a nice older woman who apologized for not being able to answer my questions because, like the boy at the place before, she was merely there to greet visitors, but unlike the boy at the place before, she was willing to get back to me later if I’d only leave my name and number.
By the time we got back to The Grove, I was tired and hungry and upset at our lack of progress. Back in Everett’s office, I phoned Doris for an update. Four of the seven caterers had been checked with nothing to show for it.
I was just putting the phone down when Everett and Montesonti entered.
“Where’s Chan?” I asked Everett.
“We caught them.”
“You caught who?”
“We know who it is? A catering company from San Rafael. Fitzsimmons Catering. They had several dozen chairs which set off all my wards. I’m not sure what was going to happen, but by the greasy feeling I got, they couldn’t be good.”
I felt myself listening in slow motion. I replayed what he said in my head. “Where’s Chan?” I asked again.
“He’s with Major Harold putting the whole crew in custody.”
“Did you recognize one of the men in the catering company?”
Everett shook his head. “I didn’t. But remember, I said his face changed, so it could be any of them.”
Montesonti clapped Everett on the back. “Good work, kid.”
Everett beamed.
Burgess interrupted the happy fest with an odd question to Montesonti. “Where’d you get that watch?”
The large man regarded the gold watch on his wrist. “This old thing? Got it off a dead Kraut during the war.”
“What model is it?” Burgess leaned down to inspect it. “Lange & Sohn. Never heard of them before.”
Montesonti chuckled, the sound like a low rumble. “You wouldn’t have. Jeweler friend of mine said this baby is worth about three grand.”
Everett interrupted. “Looks like the good guys came out on top.”
“It looks that way,” I said, getting out of his chair. I glanced at Burgess. I didn’t know what he was up to with the watch, but I was interested. “Come on. Let’s go find Gunnery Sergeant Chan.”
MONTE RIO
July 10, 1970
Evening
Things moved pretty quickly after that. I met Gomer outside the welcome center. Major Harold and his men had put the Fitzsimmons Catering company in confinement, then came to escort me and my crew off the premises. I thought everyone was acting a little hastily and I said so, but no one was listening. So it was at six in the evening that we found ourselves at a local diner eating burgers and drinking coffee with the feeling that things were far from over.
Burgess was on the phone at the end of the service counter.
Gomer and I sat in a booth by the window.
“You know this isn’t over, right?” I said to Gomer.
He nodded. “It was a pretty convenient setup. You should have seen the look on the face of Mr. Fitzsimmons. He couldn’t have been more surprised.”
“Did you see any of the spells?”
“They were sophomoric and hackneyed. A sea otter could have spotted them from a mile away,” Gomer said.
“Doesn’t sound like the elegance demonstrated by the man who took down Everett. Do you think it could be real? Do you think Fitzsimmons might be a second threat?”
Gomer Pyle shook his head.
“I think the only thing Fitzsimmons can cast is a fishing pole.”
“Then it was a setup.” I shook my head. “Something’s going to go down, I can feel it.”
I couldn’t help ask, “What’s up with the smile, kid?”
He held up a finger as he chewed.
Gomer and I exchanged glances.
Burgess took two more hurried bites, which sort of infuriated me, but the kid was hungry. He finally put the burger down and took a great sip of Coke to wash it down.
He said, “So that watch Montesonti wore is the same brand as the watch worn by that kid reading the comic books.”
“The expensive one?” I asked.
He nodded.
“What watch are we talking about?” Gomer asked.
“Lange & Sohn. It’s the only luxury watch manufactured in Glashutte.”
“And where’s Glashutte?” Gomer asked.
The kid grinned. “East Germany.”
I stared at Burgess for a moment, then said, “Damn. Good work.” I stood to go, tossing enough money on the table to cover the bill and a tip. “Let’s go.”
As we hurried out the door to the car, Burgess said, “Now you know why I ate most of my hamburger and made you wait.”
* * *
It was a short drive to Gerhardt’s. We parked a block away then made our way on foot. The sun was going down and most of the businesses were closed so foot traffic was at a minimum. Regrettable because three men in black suits walking down a California street at dusk was about as conspicuous as could be.
I sent Gomer to the front to check if it was still open. If he was seen, no one would recognize him. He came back.
“Locked up tighter than a drum, boss.”
We went around back. Where the front had been devoid of supernatural taint, the rear loading dock and doors reeked of it. I could see wards glowing everywhere. Whatever was inside, no one wanted us to get it.