The Killing Collective

by Gary Starta

  “Mr. Silverman, you are truly insane if you think this is not about the ultimate in power and control. Living in Eden requires fear, ignorance, punishment, and a complete reliance on God for everything. I know you prefer it that way, but every garden is full of snakes. One way or another, man will find a way to regain what he’s lost. We weren’t meant to live in fear and ignorance.

  “Sure we have our differences, and we fight them out way too often, but we’re still here, and we’ve earned the right to design our own future. What gives you and your cronies the right to play God, even if you can? There are bound to be snags and glitches in programming that allows some thought through. How will you keep humanity from forming a resistance and overthrowing you like any other dictator?”

  “You forget, Mr. Montgomery, might makes right. I have an army of dedicated followers. The meek will never inherit the earth, so I must.”

  ***

  Agent Carter knew back-up finally arrived but had no way of knowing whose side they were on. Carter had a sixth sense for these things, though. His intuition told him that the total absence of natural noise in the surrounding woods meant he was surrounded.

  He was near the front entrance when several spotlights glued him to the spot.

  “Agent Carter! Halt and put your hands slowly over your head! Do not make any sudden moves or we will shoot to kill!”

  Here we go.

  Carter raised his hands but kept on walking until he was positioned directly in front of the opening to the house. He wanted to be there in case Monty had no choice but to come out that way. He faced the S.W.A.T. team head on and did not speak. He waited for what he already knew was coming.

  Fischetti was stunned. “What the hell are you doing? He’s one of us! I told you to protect him unless it was the only way to shoot Montgomery! The ones we want are inside that house! Now stand down or I’ll bust every one of you morons down to a Level One!” The veins on his neck and forehead bulged with his sudden rise of blood pressure.

  Suddenly the deputy director knew he’d been used. The director, his superior, obviously wanted Carter and his team out of his hair. He must have briefed Fischetti’s men privately because they were no longer taking their orders from him.

  ***

  Mr. X arrived at Admiral’s Row just as Montgomery got the rest of the story on his lapel cam. He crept around to the back of the building, knowing Agent Carter would have gone in through the front. His silencer took out the two men at both corners quickly and quietly. The one remaining door may have been old, but it was bolted, deadlocked and carved entirely from one single slab of black oak. He couldn’t even guess how thick it was, but hoped he could blow it open with what he had on him.

  He held the C-4 explosive in a very shaky right hand. With infinite care, as if he were handling a Fabergé egg, Mr. X removed an M67 grenade from a small, steel box he’d confiscated off a dead Syrian terrorist leader almost two decades earlier. He liked to think that was his personal contribution to a brighter, happier world. He looked up toward heaven and gave the stars a sharp, jaunty salute.

  Stepping back behind a boulder as big as himself, he threw the C-4 at the massive, oak door. It exploded on contact, projecting slabs, javelins and splinters in all directions. What was left of the black iron door fittings swung from side to side as if they’d been hanged.

  The explosion shook the house. A mass of dense, coal-colored smoke flooded through the first floor and floated, unimpeded, up to the second. Mr. X raced through the hole and into the foyer. One of the enforcers was already halfway downstairs when he tossed his grenade up them. The thug saw a small, hard and round object fly toward him and caught it easily with one giant paw.

  “Hey, this looks just like a…”

  Mr. X turned back to the hole he’d made with the C-4, but there was no time to escape the blast. The walls fell in on themselves like a ruined soufflé. When the smoke finally cleared, nothing at all was left of the strong-arm and most of the pink marble staircase was a now just pretty pile of rocks. Mr. X was gone.

  ***

  It sounded to Monty like the house got up on its hind legs and roared. The one enforcer left ran out into the hallway, gun drawn, looking for his partner. Monty didn’t think twice; the distraction was a gift from heaven. He shot out of the chair like a cannon ball and knocked over the Silver Man’s chair with him still in it. Once he was out of the way, Monty ran back to the door of the drawing room, pulled his coat completely over his head and ran straight into the stained glass picture window.

  Three survivors made their way through the wreckage to the stairs and carefully picked their way through the rubble, a step here and a jump there. They reached the foyer just as the rest of the marble came crashing down behind them. They moved forward as a group and stepped onto what would have been the front porch had it still been there.

  ***

  The impact of the blast threw Carter to the ground. He waited until the earth was still again and then patted down his entire body to make sure he still had all his working parts. When he was satisfied with the results of the survey, he rose and stood his ground.

  Fischetti shouted orders to one of his men. “Put the cuffs on him, Lieutenant Rafferty – that’s all. Then start searching the grounds for Montgomery. Agent Carter is here on my orders.”

  Rafferty answered by spitting on the ground. He barked his own orders into the bullhorn. “Agent Carter, lace your hands behind your head and kneel. We will only say this one time! You have five seconds to comply or we will shoot to kill.”

  Fischetti grabbed the bullhorn out of Rafferty’s hands, aimed it at his entire team and shouted, “I am Deputy Director William H. Fischetti of the N.Y. F.B.I. and your superior officer! I order you to stand down!

  “Stand down now, Goddamn it!”

  If Carter had been no more than five feet away from this spot before the blast, he’d have remained safely hidden in the brush until the smoke cleared and the brass headed back to headquarters, taking the two surviving JASONS and their paid enforcer with them. As it turned out, he found himself standing right in front of them. He never got a look at the Silver Man, but he knew the voice well enough. Galatea still wore her mask. Even now, anonymity was her only concern.

  Carter wondered where the rest of the Silver Man’s organization was hiding out, but he didn’t have to care anymore, now that the voice and video recordings had been safely transmitted to the White House. All he was interested in was finding Monty.

  He remained standing.

  If they want to shoot me, I’m not kneeling down for it.

  The lieutenant snatched back the bullhorn. “Cuff Fischetti, Agent Moreno, and keep him out of my way.”

  Rafferty resumed command. “FIRE AT WILL!”

  Bill Fischetti could do nothing but stand there and stare as he witnessed the cold-blooded execution of Agent Carter by his own men.

  ***

  Aiming for the heart, a sniper fired three successive shots at Carter. All three bullets were direct hits. Seacrest knew the sound of F.B.I. sniper guns by their sound - Pew, Pew, Pew!

  She started running and didn’t stop until she saw Carter standing in front of a house without walls or a roof. She sank onto the same bench where he’d rested earlier.

  He’s O.K.! He’s O.K.!!

  Carter remained standing, tall and proud, never taking his eyes off Fischetti. Then, like a rag doll, he crumpled up and collapsed.

  Seacrest clamped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming and giving away her position. Time stopped. In a dream, she rose and ran to him, willing her legs to move faster and her heart not to burst.

  ***

  Even handcuffed, Fischetti could move and use his hands to a certain degree. He grabbed the gun out of the sniper’s hand, took quick and careful aim and shot the enforcer in one knee cap. The behemoth screamed like a little girl and fell to the ground beside Carter, begging for his life.

  Fischetti lowered his gun. When he looked up, t
he Silver Man and Galatea were gone.

  Rafferty bellowed, “Don’t move, Fischetti! We have orders to shoot you if you interfere in any way.”

  Fischetti marched toward Carter, refusing to acknowledge Rafferty’s last warning or recognize his authority.

  Go ahead! Shoot me, you sorry piece of shit!

  He’d made his decision before they left H.Q. He had no choice concerning Montgomery’s capture, but he would go on record as having taken responsibility for the protection of his agents, or die trying. Had Carter lived, the deputy director would have blown the whistle on the whole damn organization and gone willingly to prison to pay for his part in it. But all bets were off now, and Fischetti was ready to make his last stand right here and now.

  ***

  From her vantage point, Seacrest had a clear shot at Rafferty’s head. “Cease fire! Federal Officer!”

  If she pulled the trigger, Rafferty as well as every other man on the team knew that she’d hit the bullseye. She never missed. Bill Fischetti was risking his own life to guard Carter’s body, and she would not leave him there undefended. Carter told her to save Monty any way she could if he didn’t make it back to her, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

  Rafferty heard her cock her gun and started to sweat. He wasn’t willing to die for a has-been deputy director, and didn’t doubt for a moment that she’d kill him before his team could take her out. He told his men to lower their weapons and waited to hear her terms.

  Seacrest placed herself in front of the deputy director and the body of her husband, still aiming for the spot between Rafferty’s eyes. “Anyone who takes one step towards my husband gets his head blown off!

  “Now, you listen to me! All of you! You’ve done enough. Enough! You have the ones you came here to protect, and I have the big ape on the ground for insurance purposes and Bill Fischetti. They belong to me now, and I’m taking them out of here. You can’t have them or anyone else on this property, so go home before I kill every last one of you, myself!”

  The S.W.A.T. team had no real reason for staying, having the two JASONS they came for. Agent Carter was no longer a problem. Several men had already combed the area searching for Montgomery, but he was nowhere to be found. They’d have to get him another day. The team dispersed slowly, sheep-faced and sullen, without waiting for confirmation from Rafferty. Seacrest never backed down, and they knew it. Not one man among them wanted to fight her tonight.

  ***

  Seacrest dropped to the ground and cradled Carter’s head in her lap.

  Fischetti laid his hand softly on her head and said to the man lying perfectly still in her arms, “Thanks, Agent Carter, and good-bye. You were the conscience of the outfit. You never gave up, and you never gave in. Rest easy now, son. We’ll get them all. I promise.”

  He knew Seacrest needed to be alone with her husband before help arrived, so he moved the sobbing giant to a nearby tree where they’d be sheltered from the bitter wind. Fischetti tore a long strip of cotton off the bottom of his own shirt to use as a tourniquet for the man’s knee. The next order of business was to call 911 for a couple of ambulances. He sat down next to his prisoner, and without saying another word, waited until help arrived. Fischetti road in the ambulance with the enforcer and stayed with him all night at the hospital, desperate to give him the comfort he couldn’t give to Carter.

  ***

  Seacrest bent her head down to Carter’s face and stroked his hair. He was so handsome, even now. The catharsis came upon her in an overwhelming storm of tears. They cascaded over the sharp curves and smooth plains of her face and down onto his. There was so much to say, but the words just wouldn’t come yet.

  In a voice strangled by grief she’d never been prepared for, Seacrest sang to him. It was Stardust, their song, the one they danced to at their wedding reception, every New Year’s Eve since then, and at the Jazz Standard just a few nights ago. She knew the lyrics, but had never given serious thought to them; it was the melody they loved so much. But now, she heard herself singing words that came from a place of deep sadness and regret for things left undone and the loss of a love so profound that the wound would never heal. She understood the lyrics for the song Stardust now, because they were written in her heart.

  …And now the purple dusk of twilight time steals across the meadows of my heart

  High up in the sky the little stars climb, always reminding me that we’re apart.

  You wandered down the lane and far away, leaving me a song that will not die

  Love is now the stardust of yesterday, the music of the years gone by.

  Sometimes I wonder why I spend the lonely nights dreaming of a song.

  The melody haunts my reverie, and I am once again with you,

  When our love was new and each kiss an inspiration.

  But that was long ago, and now my consolation is in the stardust of a song.

  Beside a garden wall, when stars are bright, you are in my arms.

  The nightingale tells his fairytale of paradise, where roses grew.

  Though I dream in vain, in my heart it will remain

  My stardust melody, the memory of love's refrain.

  She threw herself across his body, crying for all the years they’d never have together and all the days and nights she’d be alone with nothing but her broken heart as a reminder of how much his love had transformed her life.

  You were my heart, Carter. How can I live without my heart?

  Seacrest had made a promise to Carter long ago. She remembered it now and kept her word. Looking up at the heavens, she said a prayer:

  “Please God, take care of him. He was a good man, and he loved me so, so much! He died the way he lived, protecting other…p…people. Every soul he touched was a little kinder and gentler for having touched his own. Bestow upon him your divine grace now and forever. Amen.”

  Searching the sky, she saw, or thought she saw, a group of stars in the shape of a tree with many branches. At the very top, one star glowed just a little brighter than the rest. Seacrest smiled, knowing that wherever he’d gone, Carter was content.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Still sitting on the cold, hard pavement with his head still resting in her lap, Seacrest’s mouth stretched itself into a sudden, hideous mask of grief. Both hands flew to her face and stayed there. She rocked back and forth over him, screaming and crying. After a long, long time, her cries became more quiet and subdued. They gave way to the ragged breathing and hiccups that mark the end of a catharsis. She relaxed the vice-like grip on her face to brush away the tears on his. This would be her last chance to stare at him all she wanted without him asking her what she was doing.

  I’m just looking, Carter, that’s all. Just looking.

  Finally, she sighed, and leaning over him once more, kissed him tenderly and hugged him tight. Her voice had to work its way past the lump in her throat. “I needed you, Carter, and you left me. You left me here all alone. If you had to go, why didn’t you take me with you?”

  She needed to tell Carter something she’d never known about herself until this moment. Lowering her head until her nose touched his, she whispered, “I’m not as strong as you thought I was, Carter. I can’t make it alone.”

  Sniffling, she looked down and willed him to come back. “My tears are still on your face, baby. I’ll pat them dry again.”

  My tears...still on his face. Pat them dry again. Dry them…again?

  Electrified, and her eyes flew wide open. “I already wiped my tears off him! They’re not mine! They’re not my tears!!” She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him frantically. “Carter! CARTER!!!”

  With a sharp intake of breath, Carter shot up into a sitting position. Unable to speak, he pointed to his chest while sucking in huge, gasping, gulps of air.

  Seacrest seized both sides of his collar and ripped his shirt wide open. The buttons flew into midair and hurled themselves at the pavement with unbelievable force. Carter had been wearing a Kevlar ves
t under his shirt, which absorbed the impact of the shots. Tearing himself out of her arms, he flipped over onto his hands and knees and coughed like a chain smoker.

  Seacrest threw herself on him, knocking him flat. She hugged him so tightly he thought he might pass out again.

  He wheezed, “Hey, what are you trying to do, kill me or something?”

  Laughing and crying, she kissed his whole face.

  “Hey, hey, what’s all this? This isn’t the first time this vest has saved my bacon. Don’t tell me you didn’t know I’d have one on…”

  “If you ever do that to me again, Carter, I’ll, I’ll…”

  Carter smiled. “Yes, well, that’s already been tried. Do you think you can ease up on the strangle hold? Why are you crying? Your face is all red and blotchy, and your eyes are practically swollen shut! Were you badly hurt tonight, honey?”

  “Yes. By a husband who forgot to tell me he was wearing a bullet-proof vest.”

  He hugged her close and smiled gratefully.

  He still thinks I’m the strong one, but that’s what he wants, isn’t it? Well, I am. And I’m not. He’s always telling me that you have to find balance between the Yin and Yang and that’s it’s not healthy to seem like one thing but be something altogether different inside.

  This isn’t fair, this hiding my need for his strength. From now on we’re both going to take his advice and communicate more honestly. He has to know who I really am and how I feel about him, and I need him to express himself instead of stuffing everything into a box in his mind that he never opens.

  “Carter, like you say, we have to accept that we’re both yin and yang. You are not the man who tried to kill me, do you hear me? You are not the monster you think you are, but honey, when you squash everything down like you do, you’re bound to explode sooner or later. Being a man doesn’t mean you have to hide how you feel from me.

  “Neither of us has been much good at pretending we’re something we’re not. You’re not as cool, calm, and collected as you’d like to be, and I’m much more sensitive than anyone knows. Sure, I put on a great show of it. I’ve had years of practice, and I’m used to wearing the armor, but I need your strength. I need you!