…“Yeah well, I’ve really applied myself. Sue’s kept me clean and my work is really interesting, absorbing, labor-intensive and valuable...” Concise, attentive and insightful he had a glint in his eye, groomed well and had a certain grasp-of things. Bo thought he was genuinely, a beneficent of his own resolve. Chris drove along the interstate, down-into the barren territory finding the coordinates off-road, the roar of the engine-sped. Across brush-country, the Mesa-country where was sand, dirt, brush and rock. Chris drove for half-hour more, the bumps and brushes had gotten to him. Finally, he asked Bo to take-over, Bo after general-espousing, took-over. With declarative zeal and ease, he made the trail into a calm-vector straight-toward Malparaiso-country. Indeed, he went across the severest land obstacles with controlled-deliberateness. After an hour, the Malparaiso territory was within-miles of them.
“Okay, Bo you drive so well, we need a panoramic view head-up a mesa and see what we find…” He asked contritely. Bo Jon reacted with pinpoint accuracy, 15-minutes later they sat atop a grassy mesa looking-over 8-miles of open-range. Chris-peered out with binoculars, while Bo decided to get-out and make a more ‘closer’-look… Looking-out over the open-range and then, down at the under-growth for any signs of life. What he found was more explanatory, than Chris’s far-sightedness. Distinguishing the region-below atop the precipice: ”I don’t see anything, yet…” He was attending to what was out-there. Bo Jon paid closer to what lay, at-hand. The sky, Bo had noticed scanning-there, that few birds-flew. And as Bo examined the under-brush he saw something quite-strange. Dead-life: lizards, nesting-birds and bugs were lying dead yet untouched… He continued his justifier-observation. Quite determinatively, he did an exhumation. Dissection of the animal was as, if cooked-alive. Examining several-other creatures, all-superheated-‘alive’. That’s when Jon knew, something quite unusual was going-on, he beckoned for Chris’s attention as he was searching-the-horizon. “Bo Jon, this is quite mysterious. Tell me, how could such things have happened…” His-opinion, of which Chris was more astonished. Bo and Chris looked for external signs. A land-surveillance at first, saw nothing abnormal until Chris found what he was looking.
“Jon, look at this!” -Surprised and amazed, about four-hundred meters away was a seemingly simple blackened-patch spanning 400 by 700 meters. Chris didn’t think it was related but his intuition told him it was something, ‘out of the ordinary‘. Bo had a native’s observing-eye that the spot, was something else. He knew the native-deserts of New Mexico by experience, it was “sand” this was silicon silicate or what occurred when it ‘burns’ at high-temperatures…
They rode onto the plains and toward the area. Chris riding shot-gun tested for radiation, heat and seismography which registered-”normal”. They drew within 200-meters and could see this was no ‘known’ incident. At the edge of the strange-inlet, mordancy-noticed that it was caused-by high intensity-heat. Chris and Bo Jon came to the decision an incredible phenomena, had happened. Bo went closer as the shard, now glass smoldered and the sheen glistened and popped. Chris was setting up measurement-equipment, uploading to his computer and a methodical-relay of point-to-point informative, amassed in data-recording…down-loaded specific relativities; and gave his registry as evidence and test-appellation. He contacted his boss in total-regimentation then closed-off data-reference, possible-labeling and acknowledgements.
Bo, doing something quite as relative; grasped carefully, the physical-characteristics, demonstrated in an unique-query; in his consumptive-relatives. They were eying and listening, with Chris’s accruing technical, adeptness that combined to be with Bo’s stealthy-skills; gave reasoning-explicative and joined-in Chris’s grayish-thoughts… Impressed-by Bo’s ability of concentration, insight, and quite-powerful abilities of observation… Chris had quite-powerful abilities in observing, as well. Chris and Bo Jon came to the result, to the assumption; this was no stigma, impact...
**…The Serbian-base-“Serriot“, in-frigid Siberia inside a deeply-insulated complex, a small arsenal-of soldiers, and scientists-kept for vocation-work, under-impressing. …“Yes, Infiats…you will be pleased-to know we have done-well, by our-leader who is at the “apex” of our army-of-alliances.” “Each of you, are a single ‘Pire’ in the future-pantheon, furbished-return of the Soviet-Empire; climbing from the flames and again bringing the western-world to its knees… Now we, perform another duty to stand another stile, built upon true-visionary and accomplished-by simple-enlistees…” The General, was giving his oration on his-joys-of-ingenuity; despotically, dire; disregarding-genius of another-kind and order. The men within the hidden-army armory applauded while the others looked-on, unabated and disquieted… Then went-back, to enforcement. Thomas, and his-fellow instillers had been getting use to being blockage-bounded; behaving as, if completing planning-contract but they were more than workers, but men. This fact, was expended at arms-length, imposed by guarding-soldiers. While the set-of able and disabled groups; functioned one-to-the-other. There was a neat-separation that gave a degree of ‘self-intensiveness’…
Bolivio Secaro was from Italy, he was department-head at a technology-firm until he-came across more money, more self-appointing… With another-agency that company never-existed; but also easily, caught-up& deceived by such things, Yokito, Sam and others had been divest of an ‘alter’ to their-circumstances. Their imperative, brought on in the motivation-of-seclusion, and sentiment. While pro-Serbian soldiers sat watching the computer-bays, and computer-banks… They had no-idea that a signaled-diode had been placed, ready-for transmission… …“So, what’s for the evening’s meal?”, said the American installing the satellite systems-diodes, containing the laser...
Sam Thomas, was an Ohio professor of Astrophysics with an expertise in space-relativity, an associate at Ohio-State University… How he got caught-up in Serb-insurgence was a matter of self-involving, “cat-and-mouse”… A distinguished-professor from Bulgaria met with him at one of his speaking-tours over-seas. They had interesting-conversations over coffee at a local-shop. He was interesting, an intellectual, fluent in English and provocative; when he left, he gave him his-card. Thomas went home and one-day received a call at his teachers’ office… He had spoke of an opening, in a prestigious-college in Hungary. And would he fly-out and speak with a few of his-operatives. Within six-weeks he was in Hungary, entertaining-thoughts of a contract, a home in the Hungarian city-suburbs with an incredibly, large-stipend for four-years…
He went to sleep in his secured-quarters. Hoping for ‘a-miracle‘. They slept under-guarded, lock and key. The cold-winds blew, the day before was blustery and sub-zero. A General had announced what was being altered, for the twelve sleeping-men… That they-would go to “stage-2”. The burn at 4o,21o, had been an act-of insurrection, as they put ‘first-strike’ for-return of Soviet-supremacy. With all the praise and acclaim by the neo-right guerillas. After which they were to have a feast and begin the next-phase of return of true-Mother Russia. The men-slept still that night.
Steve Rheinstad had began his-review of sent e-mail. Which had been the evidence circulated, across internet scientific-lines… He had retrieved all-messages with as yet, un-corroborating-messages. Then, as he was reading the 12th-message he stirred with titillation at what he felt was his ‘saving-grace’. He immediately, downloaded it for future-study, it was N.W.A.-assistant named Chris Sommers. Who had been retrieving also, as an e-mail report… He read-over what was in his observations, his was dead-on. He immediately, responded. Some replies showed interest-in the instance, and how might they be informed, further. He put out a bulletin-across national-lines, of the event, and sent a special-report to head-departments. This eventually, came to Chris’s supervisor he then, realized something of what had been explained was, in fact-worthy of nation-wide attention.
Chris and Bo Jon, returned to Reno with the registered-data, evidence and parameters. Chris had thought it a
n extraordinary appearance yet Bo had other ideas. He pointed-out to Chris, that where it occurred-on the satellite-mapping his friend brought along-though, the “phantom”-occurred at Malparaiso, it had initiated along an orbit-line at:2o,21o;the orbiting-space near Russian space. He also noticed it was a polymer-burn not natural but an act of device. Chris then, realized what was not a meteorological but ‘technological‘-conscript… Bo and Chris quickly, advanced the prospects of Russian experimental-weaponry. This final-resolve was confirmed, when a signaled-detection was found above 2o,21o, the former-Soviet space-geography… The U.S. Department of the Interior joined-in on the inquiry to the investigation. Over the next weeks the discovery, in what was a “phantom”, was found-out with the aid of a secret homing-device. The plot was uncovered as being a secret operation to overthrow the establishment of the Russia Socialist Republic…
Three months later:
Deputy Russian Envoy Relay-memo:
…“Recovery of militant retaliatory-plan-exposed. All necessary-action has been taken. Please accept our enaction, in this concern….”
-Vladimir Reputnic, U.S.R.-Russia...
The End
A town called “Styx”
[Four]
“Spring-fever”…(Day-One)
8:26 a.m., WPQR-radio: …”This, is a sad event…of a warranted-incident…” …“At 7:46 a.m., two of our dear neighbor-citizens, were unprovoked& viciously, attacked-by an unknown-assailant…” -The unexpected-message of a fatal-attack and burglary at the home of Patricia “Pat” Parson’s is broadcasted…along with ‘civil‘-concerns… …Arriving-at Doc Davenport’s clinic, in the recovery-room now, resting. He medically, informed Susan sitting-beside her aunt’s bed-in bereavement over her helplessness and the undeserved, act-of-violence. Susan had fond-memories of love, caring and support in her-life with her-aunt. Now, she-lay injured and possibly nearing death…
Pete Stewart, was an elder-gentleman gazing studiously at himself in the dresser-mirror. As he dressed, in his well-kept wool-suit, straightened his bow-tie: a crescent 3-piece, garnished with a deep satin-yellow bow-tie, as an accoutrement… Listening to the weather-report, promised the day before. WPQR-Styx was again promising the weather: ‘clear and warm‘, an ‘Indian Summer’… Knowing what the warm Winter-day would create-in the town of Styx. Like so many years, by the event. A time of celebration and Spring-fever. He would drive his ‘68 sedan down the country-lane toward main-street. As typical, he knew Jeb Dawson would be at Paul Somerset’s car dealership-Olds, in his newest-model sitting behind the wheel, ‘just to see how it feels‘... Dave Oleson would be charming the girls at the Eat diner, and a young-cowboy-yoke would be chasing one of Saul Miller’s loose milk-cows down the center of down-town Main-street… Pete finished his guzzling-up with a strong cologne vermouth. He’d picked emerging-daisies from his yard planter, went to the fruit-cellar for a jar of preserves.
…Driving-into town with the warm-morning’s newly-rising sun, he felt its bright-vitality and was invigorated more, in his-mission. The freshly, cleaned auto-shined in the sunlight, as it sped into town limits. Heading-up the town’s structured-lanes he drove passed Paul’s Olds as ole Jeb wasn’t just sitting behind the wheel but rolling-off in the latest Towne-car. Riding on, he passed Joe’s Eat. And there was Dave Oleson serenading a few of the girls, outside in the deepening-sunshine… Pete was a proud, former-welder of iron at Erns Steel mill, up in the next-county. Retiring ably, 3-years earlier supported-by a pension. In awhile, he’d visit the Mill as an over-seer and distinguished-consultant and friend of the owner whose father’s horse-ranch he worked as a young man of 18, eventually starting at Erns Steel Works Inc.
In Seamus county 40-miles Northwest of Styx… Moving to Styx, as his buddies did. A sturdy hard-working diligent employee liked, trustworthy and kind. Becoming an admired gentleman into old-age, in a prosperous bachelorhood. He-lived outside of town, where he chose to settle in a two-story rural Towne& Country while progressing through the ranks-of mill-employee. After earning his senior-prowess through gained competence. He was a strong-willed man, not caught-up in self-ambition but subtle, patience. Which went with his compassionate and understanding-nature. Over the years, this endeared-him impressing his-friends. Pete had never been much of a cajoler or coveter or ladies’ man but he had an appeal women liked. Sometimes making other man, envious but he paid no-mind. Many married-men thought he should marry but as youth, love and passion faded so did the accord of courtship…
Pete Stewart had earned his place in Styx as a single, town-patron. So he had something on his mind burgeoning from long-thought, ‘dim’-roots… In the winter Styx, Nevada was a quiet lonely, place. Though the town was not closed and impassive-it was a town withstanding the harsh-wild, windy and dreary climate. Until Mother-Nature chose to honor its denizens with a day-in the season, like no-other… The sun was glowing, as the cool wintry-freeze gave way in a chain of unfolding warmth that was the crown of local-celebration… As expected, the Triple-(Z) brand cow owned by Saul Miller ran down Main-street, galloping cowpoke from the diary ranch, not far-behind. He let the rambling-two, pass. He felt the warming-sun kiss his shave worn-cheek. A glint-in his eyes, and a neat gentle-straightness to his posture. He was riding to his final-destination. What others didn’t know, was growing-love in a newly found female-interest. It was a relationship-adorned with a respect of dignity, admiration and companionship… He’d been single but well-liked and devoted; an individual of hard-earned honor. Only he had came upon a reason for the delicate-decency and instill of passionate-decorum. Both men and women, became respectful, even as once, they were children-of his distinguished-character… As wisdom of striate decency forged his life of mature-age then, ‘honed-away’, into the delicate-needs he had put aside for others.
Pete and Pat had gotten to know one another over the years. And their relationship warmed gradually. Everyone wanted to see Pete get married. Yet his bachelorship had made other men ‘jealous‘... Eventually, he settled into a respectable, older gentlemanliness. Occasionally, visiting his old job to oversee things. He’d retired as head metal-worker. But the old-days were over. And now his once boss’s grandson, ran the place…
So Pete and Pat spent time together going for rides in the country-side picnics and sightseeing. Pete knocked-on Pat’s door in his personal best. But as Pat went to the door a tall dark-figure, had entered through the kitchen window and now, hid in a closet. “Pete, come-on in”… “I’m catching the last of my talk-show…” Pete and Pat prepared to go when a figure surprisingly, emerged startling the couple just as they were leaving…
***
…Susan Singleton was the niece of the victim. She raised-her from childhood, being her parental-figure. When she was young she-changed her diapers; when she-walked her off to school, in her teen-years she chaperoned her-dates… And when she broke-up with her-boyfriend at college; she was welcomed home to the arms of a empathizing her-aunt… After she graduated school, she returned to work in Styx near her long-time guardian and care-giver… Now laying-in a bed healing from the wounds inflicted-by someone who didn’t care.
Then she remembered a native-American, who’d visited the Central library in Reno while she worked as an intern, he-was courteous and thoughtful. He gave her his-card which she-still had, she-thought she’d call him. It was something to start her hope of finding a killer, and bring him to the arms of the law. If only by herself, this ‘man’ might-hold a-chance of bringing the assailant to “justice”…
Susan was working at the local p.s. library. She was checking out books to the local grade-schoolers, till the last-one. Then she didn’t notice the tall-gentleman with long dark-ramen, standing-in front-of her. “Ms. Singleton, glad to meet you. I’m Bo Jon Littlehorse private-investigator, may I be of service?” “Mr. Littlehorse, uhm… I’m glad to meet you again.” She said trying to muster-up her courage. Bo
Jon peered-into Susan’s sincere green-eyes. She asked him if he would listened to her-case and consider it...
As time passed, they went-over the parameters of what happened… Bo Jon could see that she was ‘sincere‘, and was deeply, moved by what had happened. And that she had a head-on-her-shoulders… She was very self-assertive; and not overly, emotional or too provocative; she was truly, intent-on finding her aunt’s assailant and killer-of her aunt’s friend… She realized that she was not being ‘vindictive’ or ‘vengeful’ but serious and concerned. Bo listened to all she had to say, what was her general-considerations and he-knew it was ‘truly, important’ contentions of the case. …Susan, on her-own, considered using her-talents as a cartiographer to search for possible lead to her assailant. She decided to start a professional-examination of what might lead-to a new discovery… She had connections, she’d see, if something could be done…
***
Bo Jon pulled-up to the lane off the cobblestone-street running along the police-station at Styx. He-walked across the street into what was the newly, remodeled-station. He accessed a visitor-badge and spoke with two of the officers on-duty. He asked questions, on the ‘mentality’-motive of the assailant in the case… He seeing-in Sue the ‘sharpness’ of ‘crystal’; whose sharp glare-‘shined’ with a poised-cut; intense& primed-in precision. It being, what was kept in the ‘un-prone‘-exquisiteness, prerogative-projecting as the “oh-so” profound… The sensing-emotes’ in the fundament& fabric-of vocal…
The comp-server’s input-silhouettes danced& transfigured-across the terminal with each keystroke tandem-relay… With perspective and envisioning-text triangulating and trance, trans-ordinate and transfix in trolling; and finally, trans-positioned and trans-mutated… In a commutate, and relevant, commending; contacting in-retrieval, committing to ratifying compilation and data-convergence… Until reliable-information was, in accumulation-refined, defined and apprised-into a full-emergence… 4-hours later a completing, in consistent compensation had been-fully, actuated. Jon panned through files and came to its relative pretense in the evidential-projection. A perceiving. retrieval being justifying-in articulation composition and configuration… Not lost, or recant in his-deliberation on the registering allot, data log-in. …Absorbed, adjudicated and as well actively, ascertaining…made substantive and authenticated-in ‘allay‘ upon the documents done in an active-mentality…
The Continuing tales of Bo Jon Littlehorse, P.I. Page 4
