Season of the Witch

by David L. Golemon

“To bring the Event Group out into the light of day.”

  “As I said, we can’t get into their complex for full-scale operations.”

  “We don’t need to. We bring them to us. We kill all those they hold dear. I have read their compiled dossiers. Once I start to move, there is no way this Director Compton can ever control that American boy scout, Jack Collins. Collins will be the first domino to fall. If I read this Colonel correctly, he will expose his own Group through his temper after our new friend does its work.”

  “Why Collins? I thought he was the one person we would steer clear of,” Number One said. “I have met him in the field, he is most formidable.”

  “Without knowing it Collins has always been this Group’s weakest link.”

  “How?”

  Sokol smiled. “We meet him and his capable men on the ground of our choosing.”

  “Again, Number Ten, how?”

  “By eliminating in the harshest terms those friends of his we can get to.”

  Chapter Two

  Event Group Complex,

  Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada

  The sixteen department heads met in the large conference room on level seven inside the cavernous underground complex. The man sitting at the head of the table, Director Niles Compton, was silent throughout most of the reports from his people regarding the incident at the Desert Rose Cemetery the night before. The director had darkened circles under his eyes as most did most department heads who attended that day. All saw him rub the long scar that ran from his eye-patch to his jawline. All knew the Director was still self-conscious about the wounds he sustained in the war.

  After the report from the security department delivered by Major Will Mendenhall, claiming that the FBI and local authorities were still baffled by the theft of the body of the Group’s friend and adopted member, the Matchstick Man, the men and women of department 5656 started to lose hope that this was just a prank and started to seriously believe a horrid mistake had been made after the murder of the small alien. Blame was readily volunteered by all and guilt for not truly understanding the small alien’s amazing bodily capabilities.

  As Will finished his report, the double doors opened, and a naval signal man entered and gave assistant director Virginia Pollock a note. She read it and then excused the young man who left. She cleared her throat, not once but twice, as if she were chocking back some awful shot of alcohol. With one last attempt, she looked at Niles Compton. Niles nodded. It was Alice Hamilton who sat to Compton’s left who visibly encouraged Virginia to continue.

  “This is from the lab. The DNA recovered from the empty grave has been confirmed to be Matchsticks.” Virginia’s eyes moved as she finished reading and then she placed a hand over her mouth and suddenly stood from her chair and turned her back on the gathered department heads. Alice saw her distress and went to her as she sobbed behind her hand.

  Jack Collins, Carl Everett, and Will Mendenhall all exchanged looks. Virginia was about one of the strongest women the men knew personally and whatever news she had gotten had shaken her to her core. Jack looked over to his new wife, the former U.S. Army Lieutenant Sarah McIntire, who exchanged worried looks with the people sitting next to her, Charlie Ellenshaw and Major Anya Korvesky. Jack could see they all three wished to join Alice to assist in consoling Virginia but held back.

  Virginia, with encouragement from Alice Hamilton, the oldest living member of the Event Group, the Assistant Director wiped her eyes and turned back to face the Group.

  “Apologies. The report continues to state. The DNA recovered was from an active and still viable alien specimen.”

  “You mean he is alive?” Charlie Ellenshaw asked what everyone else feared.

  “My God, what have I done?” Virginia let loose with tears and a moan.

  Alice decided enough was enough, she looked at Niles who just nodded his head and she took a now openly sobbing Virginia Pollock out of the conference room.

  Jack and everyone knew it had been Virginia to make the final call on forgoing the autopsy which would have found that Matchstick had not succumbed to the bullets that they all thought had ended his life. Collins eyes went along the table until they lighted on the Director. Compton had confidently signed off on a straight burial and the decision not to dignify cutting the small alien open for study. Jack could see that it was not only Virginia near collapse for the decision, but the Director as well. Secretly every member of the Event Group, including Collins himself, had felt relieved at not having to go through the gruesome science of discovery with an autopsy.

  “Mr. Director, perhaps it’s time we take a break and get some rest,” Jack said from his end of the table.

  Niles started to speak, but then just nodded his head in agreement.

  As everyone started to leave, Jack nodded at Xavier Morales suggesting the computer genius stay.

  “Carl?” Jack said as he and Will were getting ready to join the others.

  “Yes.”

  “I need to talk to Niles and Doctor Morales. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up here, but I would like you, Will, Ryan and our new Lieutenant Tram to get your asses out to Chato’s Crawl. If our little green friend is alive, he may just try to get home. It may be a distance for the little guy to travel but you can brief the security detail there to be one the lookout. Put extra men on all sites, the town, Gus’s old house and the Superstition Mine.”

  “You got it, Jack. But do me a favor, tell Niles and Virginia it’s not their fault. Tell them we need them on this.”

  Jack nodded. He had never seen Carl without his having a snappy comeback or a witty comment from Will. The event was affecting everyone at Group and Jack didn’t care for it, because it was effectively eating at him also. He watched until the room was empty.

  Collins walked over to Niles who was deep in depressive thought. Jack started, and then stopped to put his hand on Niles’ shoulder to get his attention but sat in the chair usually reserved for Alice Hamilton. Xavier Morales adeptly moved Virginia’s chair and rolled into place on Nile’s right side. Unrestrained like Collins, Xavier did place his hand on the director’s back and attempted to comfort him. Compton looked up from his closed eyed thoughts.

  “Rough night,” Jack said.

  Niles removed his glasses and looked at Jack. “I’m sorry Colonel. We managed to turn what should have been the happiest night of your life into this nightmare.”

  “It wasn’t as if it was done intentionally, Doctor. Besides, Sarah just may be tired of me already. I tend to wear on those who love me.”

  Niles feigned a smile.

  “Should we send someone out to Arizona to see—,”

  “Already ordered, Niles. Everyone knows what they have to do. As a matter of fact, with Virginia so upset, I have his next in line here to order some mandated rest for the Director. Do you agree Doctor Morales?”

  “Exponentially.”

  Jack just looked at the young computer whiz.

  “I mean, yes,” Xavier stuttered.

  “Perhaps you better see this,” Niles said as he flipped a switch on the small console on the table. “Europa play news footage of this afternoon please. Baton Rouge rally.”

  Jack became curious as he saw Xavier shake his head.

  ‘Yes, Doctor, file 8967.03, recorded this date,’ said the Marylin Monroe voiced supercomputer.

  Jack turned when the monitor at the center table rose and the footage started. It was the view of a large crowd standing in light rain in front of a covered stage. A rather bulbous nosed man in a black suit that Jack recognized as the minion of the man who assumed the presidency after the alien attack on Camp David, was speaking and American flags were prevalent everywhere. Placards that read, ‘No more secrets,’ and ones that said, ‘Briggs for Order and Oversight.’

  “…and I swear that once in office I will expose this hidden agenda by my past predecessors inside the Oval Office. From Republican to Democrat, I will prove to the American people that we have all been l
ied to for over a century by the very men who claim to be our protectors. How can one man in power hide a large agency and not have approval for such from the Congress of the United States. The men of the Presidency do not believe in Congressional oversight just as they don’t believe in the Constitution itself. How can any agency be hidden and prove to be working for the American people as the Constitution calls for? I say they can’t, so believe me my fellow Americans, I will expose this corruption for what it is—an assault on the rule of law from every President from Woodrow Wilson to Barrack Obama. Corruption as they steal from other needed agencies for their budgetary needs. Ladies and gentlemen, I promise you this one thing, jail time for the criminals that so blatantly disregard our Constitution!”

  One the screen the crowd in Baton Rouge, the capitol of the congressman’s home state, went wild. Europa shut down the footage.

  Jack leaned back in his chair and Xavier rubbed the attacking headache assaulting his brain.

  “The president can’t do anything about this maniac. You can imagine the fight on our hands if he pulls off the nomination of his party. But what can the president say? Defend that which he officially has no official knowledge of?” Niles shook his head and replaced his glasses. “With this mess and that of the Matchstick situation, I just don’t know.”

  “Mr. Director, with Europa’s rather sneaky ability I could—”

  “Don’t even think about it, Doctor. We don’t play this particular game that way. The day we interfere in an election is the day I shutter this place. Understood?”

  Xavier looked from Niles to Jack with disappointment etched on his face. “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, let’s try something that is in our charter, shall we.” Niles turned to Collins.

  “Orders Mr. Director.”

  Niles stood and went to his large desk. He opened a locked door and brought out a thick manila envelope. He walked over and offered it to Jack.

  “I have a favor to ask Jack. I need you to send Sarah to do a distasteful chore. One that you won’t like more on a personal basis than professional.”

  Jack took the thick envelope. He placed on the table waiting.

  “I usually don’t like anything coming out of this room, so shoot, Niles.”

  “Who is the greatest tracker of valuable assets in the world?”

  Jack got a sick feeling in his stomach as Niles failed to look at him.

  “I need Sarah to go to London, that’s where an associate is clearing something up with our friends from MI-6 as per the deal we made. Tell Sarah to give him that and bring back Colonel Farbeaux. I need him as well as I need you. That envelope should go a long way in convincing him.”

  Jack felt the eyes of Xavier Morales on him as he reached for the envelope. He opened and saw the cash inside.

  “That’s from my private holdings. Family money. Five million dollars.”

  Jack pulled out another smaller sheet of paper and scanned it.

  “Henri’s complete pardon for crimes committed in the United States. No stipulations, no small print. That’s the President’s contribution. After all of this time he has officially kept his word to Farbeaux. He was reluctant to let Henri completely off, but he knows how much we need both you and him for what’s heading our way.”

  “Niles, are you sure? We could be working on this Congressman Briggs debacle.”

  “Jack, find Matchstick. To hell with everything and everybody else.”

  * * *

  Lake Charles,

  Louisiana

  Congressman and presidential nominee Harold Briggs faced the large crowd and they seemed to anticipate his next comments and the buzz began. The prop flag slowly rose behind him and the gathered throng cheered wildly. The flag was one of America’s most enduring symbols which had recently been seized by far-right and far-left wing zealots for purely political purposes. The coiled snake with the banner ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ rose high and Briggs turned and saluted while it traveled to the top of the flagpole. He turned back to the angry attendees and awaited the quieting of the large assembly.

  “Now, a subject that should concern all Americans. That subject is, what is too much secrecy? I’ll tell you when it is too much, and that is when agency’s or departments are created by people in power that have no Congressional oversight and ones who refuse to answer to the American people. Men and women that work behind the scenes in a shadow government and only answer to one man—The President of the United States. Yes, you know the rumors. And I guarantee you and I have witnessed this so-called group in action during the unpleasantness of war. Such an agency actually exists—one among a possible many that usurp much needed funds from deserving areas of lawful government. I am going to expose this criminal front and eliminate them from the national foundation. No more lies, no more stealing and no more Presidential powers that seek to undermine the legitimate intelligence and military goals of the nation…”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later Congressman Harold Briggs was hustled from the stage and into a dark limousine for his next rally in Houston, his third for the strenuous day. He was met in the back seat by his chief advisor Conway Fleming. When Briggs saw that Fleming had joined him after a quick flight from Washington, he excused his campaign manager and told her he needed alone time with his chief of staff. She angrily stepped out.

  “Conway, what brings you south?”

  Fleming waited until the stretch limo was moving. The bearded man looked anxious. Briggs saw that as an opening to voice his feel-good moment.

  “Well, did you come all this way to tell me how much you liked the speech? I would damn near give up the Presidency to see the face of that self-righteous son of bitch in the Oval Office. Next up Houston and then on to California.” He slapped Fleming on the thigh. The friendly gesture was hard enough that the assistant jumped. “Is the president still claiming his standard line?”

  “That he is,” Fleming said as he rubbed his leg. “Think-tank, privately owned and funded.”

  “Yeah, well that dog just won’t hunt,” Briggs snapped and looked out of the tinted window. “A think-tank with government subsidized military personnel and a scientific community absconded from every prestigious university in the country. Yeah, right. And I’m a Yankee from that cesspool in New York.”

  “Oversight is not what brought me down here, Congressman.”

  “What then, someone hang the wallpaper upside down in election HQ?” Briggs said with a chuckle at his own wit.

  “Our friend in Europe has passed along a request. He would like you to spare a friend of theirs some time—this afternoon.”

  “As much as I like our new friends in Europe, do they realize we are in the midst of a presidential run?”

  Fleming turned and looked out into the misty afternoon. He had warned Briggs not to get involved with a foreign entity this close to the election. But he knew the arrogant man had his stubborn ways and an infinity to self-grandiose his power. He turned back to face the congressman.

  “Turning the man down is not an option.”

  “To hell it isn’t, does he know—”

  “Congressman, this is a trap you saw coming and stepped in anyway. I warned you that once you accept help from these people it leaves the door wide open for them to ask for favors.” He looked angrily at Briggs. “Favors that they expect you to grant.”

  “What am I supposed to do, cancel a major rally in Houston because my European overlords says to?”

  “To put it bluntly, sir, yes. You’ll claim the weather got you down today and you have to postpone. I’ve made arrangements with the networks to rework their schedules so it shouldn’t cause too much concern.”

  “What if I just say no?” Briggs asked as he glared at his chief of staff.

  Fleming faced down Briggs and his face told the congressman all he needed. Fleming told him anyway. “As I said, not meeting this friend of our friend is not an option.”

  Briggs bristled at being told what he could and could n
ot do. He pounded the seat between he and Fleming.

  Chief of staff Fleming hit the switch and the partition between the front and backseats slid down. “Driver, we have a change of plans. Inform security that the Houston rally has been postponed a day. Get us to Houma right away.”

  The driver just nodded his head and then the glass partition slid up.

  Chief of staff Fleming opened his locked briefcase. He removed a small computer disc.

  “What’s that?” the congressman asked angrily.

  “Its what our friends requested. Perhaps it will be enough to satisfy them for a while so we can get down to political business. Try to make that point to whoever this person is you’ll be meeting. This is a favor that if the current President gets wind of it, we may just vanish like so many others that mess with this strange group under the desert.”

  Briggs reached out and started to take the shiny disc from Fleming, but the chief of staff held it firmly and made sure the congressman was looking into his eyes to see the seriousness of what he was about to say.

  “These are the names of American citizens, and if the rumors are true and our investigator at CIA is correct, the names here are known only to the President of the United States.” He relinquished his tight grip on the disc. “You must understand Congressman, if this list gets into the open with all of our hollering and scandal talk about hidden agencies, they’ll rightly suspect where the list came from.”

  “This deal is getting worse by the damn minute.”

  The limo turned off and started south toward the oil town of Houma and a meeting that would explain in minute detail how Harold Briggs life was no longer just his own.

  * * *

  Apache Junction,

  Arizona

  The U.S. Air Force Learjet Challenger 350 had gently set down at a small airstrip in Apache Junction only and hour and thirty minutes after the order from Colonel Collins had been given. The airstrip was small and mostly unmanned with the exception of the refueling truck that had been ordered before the Learjet had left Nellis Air Force Base. After landing they had met their contact who had delivered the Bell 700 helicopter from Phoenix-Mesa airport. Ten minutes later Jason Ryan had them speeding toward the legendary Chato’s Crawl.