by Mari Collier
* * *
MacDonald was practicing fighting moves with LouElla in the exercise room of the Golden One when Lorenz entered. Some of the selected crew, men and women, were trying to emulate the two Thalians. Another group was watching them while lifting weights.
'Papa, we need to have a conference.' He used mindspeak rather than try to yell over the noise.
MacDonald grasped the arms of his mother, and spoke softly into her ear. “The laddie says we need to hold a conference.”
LouElla looked around, sweat pouring down her chest and back. She had lifted weights prior to the practice with Llewellyn. She scowled at Lorenz.
“Canna it wait till after we finish?”
Lorenz smiled. “No, Grandmère, it can't. I've already alerted Melissa and Margareatha. They're on their way. You all can shower later.”
* * *
Lorenz sat down after giving a quick explanation of what had occurred in the woods earlier. He did not use mindspeak as LouElla and his grandson Andrew were at the captain's command table. Neither one would have heard him.
“Thank ye, laddie, it seems we are compromised.” Llewellyn's lips gave a slight twitch, but it was not a smile and the amusement had fled from his dark eyes.
“Since the man twas from the FBI, they must be ready to launch a physical inspection of this area. Everything can be hidden, but I suggest we leave now.”
He swiveled in the captain's chair and looked at Red. “Are the supplies sufficient for five years?”
Red shrugged. “According to my calculations, yes. I've included everything that would be needed for a sailing trip of four to five years with the amount of personnel we have, plus extra flour, rice, and beans. Our biggest worry will be the canned fruits, meats, vegetables, and water. If they go bad and we cannot replenish our supply, we're in trouble. Even vitamin tablets won't change that. We don't have anyone here with the knowledge to run the bio-garden level. It's possible we could use some of the equipment, but the resulting mass may or may not be palatable.”
LouElla's face was one of contentment as she looked up. She was going home after urging Llewellyn and Lorenz for years. “I have done what I could in that level, but we twould need four or more fully trained crew members to maintain the correct temperature, water content, humidity level, and rotate the type of plant materials growing there. I have nay of those skills. Mine are but basic to keep it running should the bio personnel suffer a mishap. The water I can keep recycling.” She watched in amusement as distaste flicked across Margareatha's and Lorenz's face before she continued.
“Howe'er, I believe ye are all forgetting something. We twill be picking up Toma from the Ayana's Dominion. He twill nay wish to starve if he tis on his way home, and he kens how to run the system.”
“Then it's agreed, we twill leave Elizabeth and Benton in charge until Priscilla, Charles, and Jerry are old enough to begin sharing in the responsibilities. Gary has trained Matthew Rolfe, Jerry's older brother to take over as the family doctor. David, Kendall's great-grandson, tis far too young to consider at this time. The others twill make the decisions about his care and training till he tis of age.” MacDonald looked at Randall.
“Do ye object?”
“No, Grandfather, Elizabeth may not be Justine or Thalian, but she was the only one clever enough to ask questions and connect Mina's Story to her family. Benton also realized there was a deeper meaning.” Randall at eighty was still slender, his red hair white and considerably thinned, but his face was unlined.
“Mayhap, it twould be best if ye took the Justine liquid after we adjourn, Randall. We are still here and yere hunger twill nay deplete our resources.”
Randall nodded. Since Iris died, he really did not care whether he was old or young, but his body continued to live. He was startled to discover that he and his father were alike. Without the women they loved, neither considered remaining on Earth.
Margareatha was grim faced. Her emotions were ambiguous. Bianna was only nineteen. True, she was in college and would marry Jerry Rolfe as soon as she graduated. She had already started a life of her own. Rita wasn't sure she wanted to miss the wedding. Then again, Rita didn't relish the idea of becoming a grandmother, nor did she wish to remain and hide her true identity.
Melissa, almost four years younger than Randall, was slender; her step youthful, but her shoulder length hair, styled into a pageboy, was grey. She had taken the Justine elixir months ago, but her hair did not darken. Like her Great-grandmother LouElla, she was looking forward to the trip.
Andrew was an accountant with a penchant for starting new companies. He had no fear of the unknown. He had defied his mother to read Jules Vern and Edgar Rice Burroughs while still in his teens. The first time he visited the Golden One, he was filled with awe and the desire to see the stars and new worlds. At forty-five that desire burned as strong as when he was fifteen.
“They are old worlds.” Lorenz had pointed out when Andrew told him of his passion.
“It doesn't matter, Pawpaw. It's something that most men will never experience. I'm going.”
Lorenz quit his musing and listened to his father.
“That leaves the matter of smoking. Tis agreed that one area, and one area only, tis to be used. One of the double access doors twill remain closed and sealed. We canna scrub or recycle that air. It twould gum up the ventilation system. Have all the members of the crew agreed?” MacDonald looked at Red.
Red grinned. “They have, and everyone realizes I'll confiscate their smokes if they don't. They've been going outside the Golden One or using that room now.
“Then we have two more nights. We twill say our good-byes to those that are here and ken us. The rest dinna ken that we are here and twill nay miss us.”
Gary stood. He was still stocky and his jowls full, but he worked diligently to keep his body fit. His hair, like most of the MacDonald's at forty-nine, was rapidly graying. The dose of elixir had not halted its advance. Vanity made him use hair dye, often having one of his lovers apply it for him. “If that's all, I need to check over the list of the medical supplies. I've added some of the remedies we're familiar with. I don't believe the medical area was stocked for as large a crew as we are. There were only eight aboard when Grandpa Mac came here. Krepyons are smaller than most Earthmen and have different physical requirements.”
“They are Kreppies.” LouElla spat the word out. “We have nay finished. Ye have checked those supplies twenty times.”
Gary smiled at her and Llewellyn before sitting back down. It wouldn't do to walk out if LouElla was already upset. He was sure his great-grandparent's world would be more accepting of who he was. He had to be part of the command sector to impress the members of their hardened crew. That appointment with Darryl would have to wait.
Chapter 41: Plans
Michael Prentice dialed his contact the next morning. “I can't go back there. They've seen me.”
“Who was it, O'Neal?”
“I don't know who it was. He was unreal, like some cowboy out of a bad western movie.”
“How close was he? Who did he look like?”
“I can't remember.”
“Why not? Did you talk to him?”
“I can't remember.” Prentice groaned. “I was on the mountain watching the road into the Lodge, and then I was in town. I don't know how I got there, and the man was gone. I'd seen him riding once or twice, but if I try to remember more than that I feel like I need to get in the car and drive far away from here. His grey eyes are looking straight into me. That's all I remember. I can't go back there.” Desperation and hysteria cracked his voice.
“Wait, don't say anything more. Just tell me where you are and stay there.”
* * *
Creighton looked at the agents assembled before speaking. “You have all seen the files on the MacDonald family, their cohorts, and the location of where they are. They were able to get to the man we had posted there. How much they know, we can't be certain. We can be certain that
they have added to their security. We need to go in now before any of them leave.” He studied them again. At least Andresen wasn't smirking over the fact that he, Creighton, had capitulated, and Andresen did add stability to the younger agents.
“The two agents stationed in Albany to watch Judge MacDonald's movements reported two months ago that Mrs. MacDonald had passed away and the Judge had moved to the MacDonald Lodge. His daughter and her child live at the Judge's home, but four days ago they went to the lodge. It is likely that the family is gathering there as General MacDonald and his family have also arrived at the town a few miles from the lodge.
We'll take six cars with four men to each car. We will all take turns driving and sleeping in the car. We want to hit them before they know we're there. Any questions?”
“How many are there?”
“We estimate at least twenty to fifty. Since they discovered the man we had posted there, we haven't had any new reports. His previous reports tell of seeing about twenty to thirty men at different times, but they rarely leave or even show themselves. There also were over twelve hard looking women there, but we can't say how long they stayed. This makes it difficult to achieve an accurate count. The staff and visitors fluctuate any time of the year. We think there could be as high as sixty or as few as twenty. If the family is gathering, many of them will be women and younger people.”
Creighton looked at each one. “We prefer to take them alive, but if necessary, every one of you has permission to use your revolver. Our office is getting a search warrant right now. It will be ready before we leave.
“Go home, get some rest, and meet tomorrow morning at six a.m. sharp. Take a change of clothes and a traveling kit.”
Chapter 42: General MacDonald
Creighton led his men up to the front door. Bailey was at the rear of the house with four others in case someone tried to run, and two more teams were sent to either side. Andresen was in his group. Once the door chimes stopped the door was opened by the maid.
“We're from the FBI and my name is Creighton. I have a warrant to search this place and arrest warrants for some of the people here. Please step aside. You will need to answer questions later.”
The maid stood there staring at them, and they pushed their way in. It was five days after the MacDonald conference aboard the Golden One. The foyer turned directly into an informal sitting room equipped with a rosewood desk. The chair in front of the desk contained a slender woman and she stood to face them.
Creighton noticed her high boned cheeks, a finely chiseled nose, and medium curly, beginning to turn grey, brown-red hair cropped in the shorter modern style. She was clad in a green riding habit and white blouse. About forty or forty-five, thought Creighton.
“I'm Mrs. Elizabeth Chadwell. May I see the search warrant, please?”
“The one to search the house is right here. Please be seated. We'll have questions once we're through.”
Two people dressed in bathing suits entered the room from the dining area and Creighton swung to look at them while keeping a firm grip on the warrant. The young woman looked at them. When she saw Walter, she gasped.
“You're my father. Why are you doing this?”
Walter was at a loss for words. It was one thing for his mother to tell him this was his child and that she looked like him, but it was a shock to see how true the assessment rang.
The young man with her was huge, a good six feet five inches tall, his chest massive, and muscles rippled down his torso and thighs. He put his arm around her and drew her close.
More people started filing into the room. Some entered from the dining room and others were coming down the stairs. A tall, graying, red-headed man dressed in a military uniform came forward.
“What is going on, Elizabeth?”
“It seems these are FBI agents and they wish to arrest someone or several some ones, Wesley.”
“In that case, I believe we should call a lawyer.”
“You can do that after we leave.” Creighton stepped forward. Something was wrong. He wasn't recognizing any of them other than the two bathing suit clad young people and Randall's children, Wesley and Elizabeth.
“Where is your mother?” Creighton stepped closer to Brianna. “I have an arrest warrant for her.”
“She left three days ago.” Brianna seemed to move closer under Jerry's protective arm.
“We'll see about that. Everybody have a seat in this room. If there isn't a chair, I suggest you sit on the floor. No one leaves until we're through.”
Creighton and four men went up the stairs, two guarded those in the room and two others stood by the open front door, watching for any fleeing man or woman.
The lodge was huge: eight bedrooms and three baths were on the second floor, the third floor had more bedrooms and bathrooms. The attic held a sleeping loft and several trunks of old clothes. The ground floor consisted of a sitting room, music room, formal parlor, informal living room, a powder room, two dining rooms, a conference room with a round table and ten chairs, and a kitchen large enough for two stoves and two refrigerators. The basement level contained a gym, showers, two bathrooms, and another meeting room.
They opened closet doors, pulled out drawers, pounded on walls, and looked for a hiding place. They found nothing.
“Did you find any paperwork?” He asked the man coming out of the lower conference room.
“Nothing, except the MacDonald Corporation minutes and some paid invoices; otherwise, it's been stripped clean.”
Creighton hurried back upstairs. The papers he would save to compare with what the IRS provided next year. It looked like he was going to need to take some of these people in for questioning, but he needed some pretext. He also needed more warrants for Randall's adult children, the company auditor and the lawyer. Those might be difficult to come by. What made it worse, he knew Wesley MacDonald was a two star general assigned to the United Nations. If he took him in, there'd better be a good reason or his career was over. He walked through the kitchen and opened the back door to give orders to the men outside.
“Start searching all those outbuildings. Look for anything that might not belong.”
The men looked puzzled, but hurried off. Creighton narrowed his eyes as he watched them. Where had those people gone?
He walked over towards the rocky cliff that ascended to the northwest. Just below the crest was a shadowed opening to a cave. Prentice had claimed there was radiation in there, but whatever had been there was taken out years ago. Creighton rocked back and forth on his heels staring at the mountains and outbuildings. They had proof that men and trucks of supplies arrived here. But where were the men and the truck loads of supplies? They had made certain that the trucks that left the mountain town were empty and no humans or other cargo inside.
It was eleven a.m. when one of the men at the gate came into the yard looking for Creighton. He found him outside staring at the timbered lodge with a slate roof. There was an outdoor swimming pool and modern bathhouse on this side. The bathhouse held towels and extra suits, but nothing to indicate illegal activities.
“Sir, I've got the local sheriff telling me that his people are complaining about not being able to get to their jobs. He's also threatening to call his congressman if we don't let these people alone.”
“Do you think he's on the MacDonald payroll?”
“No, sir, I think he's related to half the people that work here. They won't be paid if they don't work. The whole town thinks the MacDonald's do a lot for the community. They don't want any problems; plus, they are all jumpy since that report of a flying saucer three days ago. All sorts of reporters are in town questioning people.”
Creighton's face flushed. He didn't need a bunch of reporters up here interviewing people about nonexistent space craft and then asking the people why the FBI was here. Without proof, he couldn't afford publicity.
“Tell him this shouldn't take much longer.” He stalked back into the house and entered the sitting room where the mem
bers of the MacDonald clan were seated.
Wesley stood. “This has gone on long enough. We're becoming hungry and we're expecting more guests. Either you tell us why you are here, arrest someone, or leave this place.”
“General, we have reason to believe certain people connected with this lodge and your family corporation are bringing in contraband and may be plotting treason.”
Wesley's lips thinned and his face flushed. He was always ramrod straight and he stood at least three inches taller than Creighton. “In that case, I suggest you name that person or persons right now.”
“Margareatha Andresen, a certain “Red” O'Neal or Neal, and two other people we cannot identify. They were seen coming onto this property or on it. Where are they?”
When no one answered, Creighton turned to Brianna. “Where did your mother go?”
“She didn't say.”
It was Creighton's turn to flush. “Get dressed. You'll be coming with us.”
“No, she isn't.” Jerry stood like a rock; his blue eyes were hard and cold. He sent his mind into Creighton's to forbid Brianna leaving, but he spoke aloud. “You have nothing against her or her mother. It's a bluff.”
Creighton wanted to smash his fist into the young man's face, but that one he knew was clean.
“She also knows about that O'Neal person. He's a dangerous man. She'll be interrogated and if, and when, we're satisfied, she'll be released. If you try to interfere, there will be federal charges against you.”
Jerry's blue eyes lit with amusement. “I don't believe you listened to General MacDonald. He is not happy with your accusations.” With his mind he kept forbidding Creighton to take Brianna. No one noticed his eyes blink. He took time to look across the room at Priscilla, Elizabeth's red-haired daughter. She winked at him. He was right. His cousin from the other side of the family could enter minds too.
General MacDonald walked to the desk and picked up the telephone.
“Put that down,” commanded Creighton.
