Mirror, Mirror at 1600 D.C.

by Edward Galluzzi

  Yet, this mission was not a typical one. It involved the President of the United States directly. The role of the Presidency was difficult enough for Elizabeth Ashton without the added political burden of being the first woman President. On all counts, President Ashton demonstrated her capabilities in leadership and politics, silencing most of her critics. Harrison grew comfortable in his role of serving Elizabeth Ashton. He hoped that she was safe, but he understood all too well the brutality of people involved in extreme factions. Priority one in Harrison’s mission was to uncover President Ashton’s whereabouts and, if feasible, develop contingencies to rescue her either alone or in cooperation with his colleagues. As difficult as this goal was, he knew that Mentor had a more difficult responsibility in keeping the mission covert from the alias President Ashton and her coconspirators. Even a bogus President could not successfully infiltrate the oval office without the assistance of men and women of power in Washington.

  Ferreting out the treasonous individuals in the scheme was not a priority for Harrison. Discovering the whereabouts of the genuine Elizabeth Ashton, alive or dead, was foremost. Unfortunately for Ashton, either alive or dead, would provide the necessary evidence to discredit the alias President. President Ashton could speak for herself and the events leading up to her capture and confinement if found alive. If dead, the evidence of her demise would discredit the fictitious President and interfere with the objectives of the extremist faction. Harrison believed that Elizabeth Ashton was still alive if for no other reason than the role of a bargaining chip should their terrorist plans go awry. However, the extremists may not realize that they have met their match in President Ashton. Of what Harrison knew of her character and position, she will not be a willing hostage in bargaining over what she views as the venerable role of the Presidency. Ashton undoubtedly would sacrifice her life in belief of her principles before endangering the office of the President of the United States.

  Harrison would concentrate his efforts on uncovering the status of the President and her whereabouts. Although contact with Mentor was risky, he knew that he would make at least two such contacts: one, to determine if more detailed information was collected on Clona Hawthorne, the assailant who died at her own hands or those of her comrades rather than be interrogated by the government of the United States; and two, to confirm plans of engagement and rescue when he discovered the status of President Ashton.

  Harrison continued his journey up interstate 95. He glanced at his watch and noted the time of 8:05 p.m. Darkness was encroaching from the East. It would be another hour before Harrison arrived in Sarhea. He was still formulating his plan on infiltrating whatever group lay ahead. He knew from past experiences with radical cults and extremists that they were not difficult to locate in remote rural areas in specific regions of the United States. If he exhibited sufficient interest in their assembly without arousing suspicion, he thought he might feign interest in affiliation as he sifted through information gathered by his espionage. However, the time requirement to gain their trust concerned him. It would not be possible to seek membership and attempt to develop friendships. There was no time to lay such groundwork. Harrison’s mission might be uncovered at any moment by the alias President or her coconspirators.

  Harrison determined that he would locate the terrorist’s organization and with the aid of listening devices, hopefully gather sufficient clues that would lead to the status and whereabouts of President Ashton. Harrison knew the risk was high and it was up to Mentor to divert suspicion from his mission. The alias President Ashton would monitor Mentor carefully as she designated him to carry out her ten point plans in assimilating the country’s conservative radicals. Harrison must make sufficient contacts to gather solid intelligence and implement whatever contingencies were feasible in rescuing President Ashton.

  As Harrison passed a road marker, he glanced at the sign indicating that Sarhea was twenty miles ahead. He would arrive there in about fifteen minutes. Harrison hoped to find a cabin or some other unoccupied structure to use as his safe house. In most missions, such places were scouted in advance by intelligence and identified to the agent. The rapidly unfolding events, however, did not permit such indulgence, as Harrison knew he was clearly on his own. He did not care whether the commandeered accommodation was rustic or luxurious as long as it was vacant and appeared it would remain so for a period of time. Harrison did not intend to remain there long, even if he chose to do so, for the terrorists likely patrolled the area surrounding Sarhea.

  It was time for Harrison’s first contact with Mentor. He hoped to gain valuable information about his assailant, findings that he expected would expedite identifying targets and leading to the whereabouts of President Ashton. Harrison slowed his rented vehicle and pulled over to the safety apron of the road. He retrieved one of his briefcases in which he packed his scrambled cellular phone. Harrison dialed the number that Mentor secured prior to the mission. There was a lengthy pause as if the dialed number was being transferred and rolled over. Harrison knew that security was high. He listened to several rings and then a familiar voice: “Please do not identify yourself by name or location.” “Yes, s—.” Harrison caught himself before identifying Mentor by sir thereby revealing that he was his superior. “Listen carefully,” said Mentor. He continued, “I have the following additional information on the individual in question. Marital status of Clona H. reported previously incorrect. Married. Suspected one of multiple wives of Jacob H.” Mentor paused and rightfully so. Harrison surmised that his assailant was the wife of, or apparently one of the wives of Jacob Hawthorne, real estate entrepreneur and suspected leader of the AAF-A (America Always First-Always) splinter militia faction thought to operate out of rural Montana. Mentor continued the briefing: “A bonus…alias Elizabeth A— a.k.a. Marilyn H—, suspected wife of Jacob H—.” There came a pause from Mentor. As if reading Harrison’s mind, Mentor added: “Will advise how later. It is important that you infiltrate the faction. Try to discover the circumstances and status of our intelligence. You will have no chance otherwise to locate, perhaps rescue genuine article. Watch your step. Be cautious of Mary Lou H., also suspected wife of Jacob H. Given what we know of the others, must suspect third has a role in the plot as well. Genuine article must be pinpointed at all cost and returned to her rightful seat. Do what you have to do to resolve. Do you understand?” Harrison recognized the grave tone that Mentor adopted in formulating his question. Harrison replied, “Yes, understand fully. What if assistance is required?” The reply was quick and cold from Mentor: “None.” Silence punctuated their conversation until broken by Harrison: “If genuine package located, how do I mail it?” Mentor replied, “Not previous location or route. Contact me when package is ready for mailing. Will have a post office address for both of you.” Harrison countered, “If package is broken?” “Same procedure” was the response. Mentor continued, “Need to sign off. Good luck.” Harrison managed a “thank you” and disengaged communication. He stared into the darkness in front of him and sighed as he pondered Mentor’s intelligence.

  Harrison started his jeep and slowly left the apron of the highway. He picked up speed as he returned to his northwesterly course on highway 95. As the night advanced, the road was desolate with little-to-no traffic to navigate. Harrison judged that he was about fifteen minutes away from Sarhea and the AFA-A militia camp. He knew from previous intelligence reports that the AFA-A was armed heavily and considered U.S. laws and the constabulary as both restrictive and unnecessary. The AFA-A membership was known to routinely commit munitions violations and disregard the laws of the land that ban paramilitary forces. Members were prone to threaten others and commit individual acts of violence, all spurred and festered by the rhetoric provided by the leadership in the movement. Common law courts and tax evasion were more the rule than not. The AFA-A membership perceived themselves as answerable to no authority at any level of government. Their brand of domestic terrorism was motivated by conspiracy theories, typically unsubst
antiated and sinister in nature.

  As Harrison reviewed what he remembered about this particular faction, he glanced at a highway marker identifying the route to Sarhea as ten miles ahead. Harrison slowed to insure that he did not miss the exit. He had no intention to enter the town of Sarhea, but knew that he must quickly find a country road, preferably an unmarked path, one that would provide him access and cover. Harrison hoped to find some unoccupied structure to designate as his temporary base of operations.

  As Harrison neared the highway exit, he quickly recounted the information uncovered and shared by Mentor. He wondered if the extremists already knew about the death of Clona Hawthorne or were in recent contact with the seated President Ashton, a.k.a. Marilyn Hawthorne. A greater risk perhaps was an accidental contact with Mary Lou Hawthorne. Was this wife of Jacob Hawthorne in the area and on a mission of her own? What alias was she using? It was reasonable to conclude that Mary Lou would have adopted an alias as did the other Mrs. Hawthornes. Harrison knew that if he did gain information regarding the whereabouts of the genuine Elizabeth Ashton, he could expect no aid in extracting her from her hidden location. Such an extraction would be less complicated if she was alive and ambulatory.

  The moment had arrived as Harrison found himself at the Sarhea exit. He merged to the right and headed up the inclined exit ramp. The jeep naturally slowed to a stop given the interactive forces of gravity and the incline. The sign to Sarhea pointed right and identified that the traveler had yet another twenty miles to the rural town. In the opposite direction thirty miles away was the town of Cut Bank, Montana. Harrison steered eastward toward the small town. He darted his eyes right and left in search of a path off the main road. Harrison determined that he must find such a road within the next five miles, as he did not wish to be any closer to Sarhea than fifteen miles.

  A mile had passed during which time Harrison witnessed no useful paths. He continued scanning both sides of the road for an offbeat path that led hopefully to a serviceable base of operations. Harrison eyed his odometer and noted that two miles had passed. He continued his search with some anxiety as the miles ticked off. Harrison glanced at the odometer as he was approaching the third mile from the highway exit when he caught a fleeting glimpse of a dirt road. He stopped the jeep and headed in reverse. Harrison stopped the vehicle once again at the mouth of the off-road. Things that might be revealed were hidden by the darkness; however, he was able to observe that traffic on the road appeared very light. The bright glow of his headlights disclosed the presence of high grass on the dirt path. Harrison stretched his neck to its functional limits in order to determine that he was not followed or approached unexpectedly by a passerby. He dimmed his lights and now only used his orange-glowing running lights. Harrison remained still and silent, stretching his neck once again to inspect his surroundings.

  Five minutes had passed and Harrison was still waiting. He looked around again before finally turning right onto the dirt path. Harrison knew that what he perceived could be deceiving and townspeople or terrorists might reside on the rural land ahead. He glanced at his odometer before proceeding down the path. As his jeep crept the distance passed slowly. The orange running lights glowed eerily as he struggled to steer the vehicle on the thin road. Ten minutes had passed as the odometer confessed that he traveled one mile. Harrison expended one mile with no side path off the road or visible structure in the darkness.

  Harrison continued his slow pace and stopped quickly. He noticed a side path off the thin dirt road. From what he could see in the moonlit darkness, grass was overgrown in the path similar to the main dirt road. Harrison steered his jeep left onto the side path. The boundaries of the road were less discernible than before requiring an even slower pace. Harrison steered carefully to maintain his position on the road. He did not know if any ravines lay ahead, but did not want to begin this portion of his mission seeking a local tow truck. Harrison continued his snail’s pace deeper into the rural setting. The barely visible road took him through curves and bends. Upon traveling the path for fifteen minutes, the road straightened and ended abruptly. Harrison turned off his running lights and killed the engine. He would travel the rest of the path on foot to determine if a structure lay ahead that was uninhabited and suitable for his base of operation.

  Chapter 18

  One Dead? One Alive? One…?

  Harrison grabbed a small high beam flashlight from his brief case. The dim moonlight afforded little illumination on this cloudy night. He no more desired to careen down a ravine than his jeep. Harrison stepped out of the road path at the point where it ended abruptly. He illuminated the land in front of him and noted it lacked the boundary collar of a main road. Harrison walked cautiously, swinging the beam of light back and forth in hopes of spotting any object that afforded clues or rendered him a warning.

  Harrison continued this swing pattern for thirty minutes. He came across nothing except the scurrying of rural night creatures. Then, a structure rose up in the distance although appeared uninviting in the night sky. Harrison turned off his flashlight, quickened his pace and crouched his figure to conceal himself as he traveled the path toward the building. As he neared the structure, it grew in both size and intimidation. Harrison’s adrenalin surged and his senses were alerted as he had not forgotten the hostile incident near the safe house.

  Harrison neared the front porch of an apparently old, abandoned rural farmhouse. For safety and survival’s sake, he assumed that the structure was inhabited. Perhaps it was a baited trap in the darkness lying in wait to spring its surprise. Harrison tiptoed up to the porch and froze, quietly waiting for signs of betrayal or entrapment. Moments passed and nothing was detected. Harrison crept again, which placed him at the first step of the old structure. He stepped upward only to hear the creaking that one might expect from such a dilapidated building. Harrison froze once again waiting for a response from the structure as if the creaking noise required a reply. Yet, no rebuttal was forthcoming. Harrison continued his approach up the stairway filling the still night air with disharmony. In short manner, he found himself at the door.

  Harrison glanced to either side of him as if something might jump out of the darkness. He saw the outline of windows on either side, appearing amazingly intact and unbroken. No light illuminated the insides of the building. Harrison grasped carefully the doorknob. It squeaked briefly as he attempted to rotate the handle, but it did not open. It was locked which seemed unusual to Harrison. It also suggested a warning to him that the structure or its contents were in need of protection. Harrison released the handle and move to his right, stopping in front of the window. He attempted to lift the pane, but it too was secured. He walked left and stopped in front of the other window, but its status was no different.

  Harrison thought for a moment and then headed down the front stairway, filling the night sky once again with a creaking symphony. The structure looked uninhabited to Harrison at the moment. He switched his flashlight to a low narrow beam to assist him in walking to the side of the building. The side that Harrison chose revealed no doorway or window. He walked around the corner to the back of the structure. The dim illumination exposed a door and one window. The door was flush with the ground with no creaking steps to announce his entrance. Harrison grasped the handle carefully and slowly rotated the knob. Again, the door was locked. A check of the window yielded the same. Harrison shined the pale light toward the bottom of the building. He discovered a small window at ground level that indicated the presence of a cellar. Harrison bent down and shined the light in the window. He noticed a slight gap indicating that it was unlatched. Harrison gently pushed open the window and the gap widened. He pushed harder and the breach stretched further. Harrison shined the light inside and noted what seemed to be a dirt cellar, one that was used to store the fruits of harvest years ago.

  Harrison’s beam of light yielded no threat, only an empty cellar. He positioned himself to slide down backwards, moving carefully as to not damage the window and p
rovide evidence that an uninvited visitor had violated its boundaries. The space was snug, but Harrison’s wiry body wriggled through the window gap. He held onto the side of the window as his feet hung several feet above the cellar floor. Harrison released his grasp and he tumbled to the ground below him. Lying on the dirt floor, he shined the beam of light in all directions. He saw nothing obvious. Harrison stood and gained his balance. He shined the light once again hoping to find a stairway that led to the floor above. The cellar was larger than it appeared at first glance. Harrison walked toward a narrow opening in the wall. The wall at that point appeared to be a mixture of dirt and brick. He passed through the opening and discovered another section of the cellar. This partition, however, had a stairway that led upward to the floor above.

  Harrison walked to the stairway and placed his foot on the first step expecting to hear the inevitable creak. Instead, he heard a low moan, barely audible. He soon realized that the cry was not from his weight on the step. Harrison stood paralyzed in the hope that a similar cry would reveal its source.

  He remained still for what seemed like a very long time and was rewarded for his patience. The low moan broke the silence once again and to Harrison’s ears it was distinctly humanoid. His body pivoted toward the sound and he illuminated the cellar in front of him. Another narrow opening in the wall was revealed. Harrison walked briskly while extending his hearing. He paused at the opening and shined his light in the partition. Unlike the previous sections of the cellar, this particular partition was not void. Harrison’s light exposed a number of boxes, broken furniture and other objects covered in cobwebs. Stored on the shelves on the far wall appeared to be 15-20 dusty bottles of wine. Harrison stood quietly hoping once again to achieve a fix on the lonely cry. However, moments passed and Harrison heard nothing. He stepped to the other side of the opening and stood transfixed once again. Moments passed…and nothing. Harrison wondered if the silent and eerie darkness was playing tricks on his senses or encouraging his imagination. Perhaps there was nothing to hear after all.