Chapter Nine
A bull-like private security guard was standing at the gate to the observatory park. Two guards drove through the park on four wheelers looking for any straggling hikers. Guests began to arrive. The guard checked the plates on the car and checked the guests’ ID against a list he had on a tablet computer. He had to turn several park visitors away with a thick southern drawl, “The parks’ closed, read the sign.”
As darkness fell, the parking lot lights came on automatically, then were shut off to keep the event cloaked in darkness. Groups of men stood around outside in the evening air, and sipped mixed drinks, beers and wine. A soft reddish orange glow emanated from LED bars that were positioned in a circle around the gathering.
The attendees travelled from all over the region. Almost all of the men had a day job, a front for their activities in the Brotherhood and they only knew a handful of others. The compartmentalization helped maintain secrecy, and control from the top, and protected all the men from infighting and preying upon each other. None of the men at lower levels knew who their hidden superiors were.
There was an unofficial, unspoken but extremely firm hierarchy in the Brotherhood. Currently, the core of the leadership was stable and on good terms, but from time to time, conflict broke out in a struggle for domination and control of a multi-billion dollar network of industry, trade, and crime. Sometimes the struggles manifested as war between nations, as conflicts that drove enlisted common men and women to kill and die for hallucinated causes.
Judge Ralph and the Sheriff mingled with the crowd. Men from as far away as Indiana and Western New York were present. “I guess this is the Great Lakes region?” Chuck said and looked around. The crowd kept growing. All the men who arrived--just men so far--were dressed in dark suits. The two Israeli operatives recognized them and walked over.
Saul shook hands with the two. Yuri nodded and sipped his drink. “There was a gathering like this in Connecticut a few months ago, except on the grounds of a huge estate.” Saul offered. All of them felt an odd tension between their natural human curiosity and the need to maintain a healthy ignorance about the activities and structure of the Brotherhood.
“I’ve never been to anything like this,” Chuck offered.
“Me neither,” said Ralph.
A few men emerged from the observatory building. They were holding microphones and were dressed in colorful deel and held primitive looking musical instruments. A wan spotlight illuminated them from above. The light formed a faint cone in the dust and insects that occasionally flew through. The ring of orange-red lights began to flicker slightly like a campfire.
They began singing in an unusual style. Each men could simultaneously produce multiple tones with his voice. They stomped and played the instruments in time to a beat. They sang a low growl as a bass line, and a rhythmic, horse-riding melody floated from somewhere in their heads.
“Outstanding!” Ralph was beaming. Saul nodded in agreement.
Chuck raised an eyebrow, “and weird.” Yuri acknowledged him.
Three big flat screens behind the men started showing images. The central screen was a live feed from the main telescope. The unmistakable shape of the planet Saturn took up most of the display. Unlike the spectacular images from the Hubble Space Telescope, the live image was slightly blurred by the atmosphere and the extreme magnification caused the image to vibrate from minute tremors, and the only colors visible were greens and bright whitish yellows.
Ralph put his hands up and swayed back and forth at the image as did a few of the other men in the crowd. Saul slapped him on the back and nodded and smiled at his enthusiasm. The other screens were in sync with the musical performance. The monitors were huge 4K displays and they showed a film of horses thundering over the steppe. It was like gazing through a window to the other side of the planet.
“Spectacoolar!” Saul laughed.
A distant rumble like thunder came from the West. Spotlights that had been setup in the field erupted into the sky and large work lights illuminated the ground with blue-white light. Heavy thumping helicopter blades became discernable, then the black form of the chopper could be seen against the dark sky. The craft landed in the center of the big field.
The ground crew opened the doors. Four men in military garb jumped out. They had M-16 rifles draped over their arms so the barrels were pointed at the ground. A small contingent of the Brothers took it upon themselves to form a greeting committee and walked out to the field. Jerry was one of the men. They waited for an overly long time, until a tall, slightly bent man carefully walked down the chopper steps one by one. He walked on a cane and stopped briefly to chat with the contingent. He shook hands with each.
His hand was slight and he didn’t grip at all. His hair was thin and white and slicked back from his bony forehead. His face was long and angular. His suit was deep red almost black, and the pupils of his light gray eyes were dark and large.
“Welcome to Ohio,” Jerry said. The man just looked through him. Jerry involuntarily sniffed in angry response at being ignored. The man’s gaze focused on him briefly, then he looked away and smiled slightly and made a small gesture with his hand. The men with the guns stepped between him and the greeting contingent and the group started to walk slowly toward the Brothers.
The entire gathering fell quiet as the old man made his way across the field. He stopped to look at wildflowers that lined the path. He noticed a king snake among the stems of blackeyed susans and he poked his cane at it. The snake slithered off into the field. He plucked one of the flowers and put it in his lapel.
Chapter Ten
The Brothers watched in silence as the tall man walked through the gathering. Any glad handing brothers who attempted to get close were waved off by his guards. The man stopped under the television and gazed at the Saturn display for a long time. He turned around and began to address the crowd. Rather than speak through the microphone, he talked in a quiet measured tone of voice.
His voice was smooth and polished, an accent all its own, though a Brooklyn twang occasionally tinged his words. The gathered men strained to hear him as if each word was gold they were panning from the background noise of leaves rustling and geese calling out from a distant pond. The men at the back of the crowd could not hear him at all.
“How fitting to visit Ohio. Cleveland was so important to the Brotherhood, so very important. In many ways it’s like the Cuyahoga River is a tap root of this vast tree,” he gestured to the crowd, “The headwaters are so close.”
“I’m paying a visit because this body,” he motioned to himself, “is reaching its limit. In past generations, unplanned successions caused chaos. At best, that’s bad for business, and at worst, it could mean the end of all things. He fingered the black eyed susan in his lapel and walked around as he gathered his thoughts.
Judge Ralph had a front row place. He was resisting a strong urge to throw himself to the ground and bow. Saul’s eyes were like saucers. He was rigid and resisted a display of any reaction. To the old man, the crowd was just a blur of dark suits and staring faces.
“Many of you are involved in the succession plans, but of course you don’t know it. And you should not wonder if you are. All the work we do is important.The smallest task conducted for the Brotherhood might be the very lynchpin the very key to make it happen...” he slowly shook his finger. He was finished with his speech and gestured to the guards.
They led him into the observatory building and he disappeared. A red glow slowly grew in intensity and illuminated the door. A piano player started playing some American standards, and women wearing sleek dresses walked out and started mingling with the crowd.
“Well boys, it’s time to get some!” Ralph smiled as a lovely young Asian girl took him by the arm.
The gathering turned into a drunken bash. The old man remained out of sight for hours. As things wound down one of the guards caught Jerry’s arm and said, “You can talk to him if you’d like. If so, go over there.” h
e pointed to the chopper.
As Jerry walked away from the crowd, he tucked his shirt back into his slacks and straightened his tie. When he was alone, he said out loud, “I knew this was coming.” He felt the same rush he had when he was first selected for the Brotherhood. “Life’s one long interview for the next job...” he said to the sky.
The guards were waiting for him by the helicopter. “In there.” One of the guards pointed. Jerry bounded up the steps. The guard followed him in. The spotlights on the ground relit as the engine spun up. He stood in the entryway. It was spacious for a helicopter, but he still had to stoop awkwardly. The two guards onboard were inscrutable. Jerry started to step for the main cabin. “Wait.” the man stopped him with a solid shove to the chest.
“Ouch, alright.” Jerry grabbed a strap that was attached to the wall as the chopper wobbled into the air. It climbed steeply up and around the field in an ascending spiral, then returned to hovering over high above the lit landing pad. The spotlight bathed the interior of the cabin in light. “Aren’t you gonna close the door?” he pointed out.
One of the guards grabbed Jerry’s hand from the strap by the thumb and twisted his arm behind his back. The guard shoved Jerry toward the door before he could even process what was happening. As adrenaline rushed he grabbed for the door frame, but only managed to slap at it as he sailed out. His knee struck the staircase and he started flipping end over end as he accelerated toward the center of the field far below. The spotlight illuminated him as he fell, cartwheeling and grabbing at the air for 1500 feet. He only had about 10 seconds to come to terms with his life and his fate until he hit the ground at over 100 miles per hour. The chopper swooped back into a descent. The old man walked past the mangled corpse, boarded and left.
The men who were outside to witness the event were stunned. As the chopper roared away the silence of the country night returned. Chuck murmured, “Fuck me.” They all looked at each other with new suspicion. They contemplated all the small indiscretions they made in recent months, and thought about any missteps and tracks left uncovered. The guards collected the body and cleaned up the scene as the crowd dispersed.
Chapter Eleven
When Sunday rolled around, Keith got out of bed feeling sore from the run. Chloe was already awake. He had a puzzled look on his face for a few seconds as he wondered why she was up.
“Oh, new car girl gets up early, but no car girl sleeps like a vampire…” he smiled.
“Yes, sir. Whole new world of possibilities.”
“No doubt about it, but before you explore in depth, we’ll go do some quick driving lessons.”
“I can drive already.”
“You can ‘drive’,” he air quoted, “but you can’t drive.”
“I admit it, I’m intrigued. Alright, once you wake up?”
“Yeah, this day’s not getting started until coffee gets in my belly.”
They had bagels for breakfast and he brewed a big pot of coffee. “I’m still feeling that run. I am getting old.”
“Well, they say you’re as old as you feel.”
“I feel old.” he turned on the news.
Radio host Jerry O’Sullivan died in a car accident late last night. He lost control of the vehicle and crashed into a concrete retaining wall at a high rate of speed. Reports indicate that alcohol and possible drug use were involved. O’Sullivan leaves an ex-wife and two children behind.
“Wow, nothing left of that car.” He pointed at the TV. “The advanced driving skills can come in handy..”
“Yeah, and it probably wouldn’t hurt to drive sober, right?”
“There’s that, too. I know I don’t have to say it, but I will anyway: don’t drive drunk… call me any time. I don’t care about you drinking or any friends drinking… well I do, but not so much that you should risk your life.”
“Yeah no kidding. Gimme some credit.”
“Even more important, don’t let some other dummy drive drunk while you’re in the car… Sometimes people choose to do stupid things no matter what you say. Just stay out of their car.”
“But then they won’t think I’m as cool as I really am right?” she stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes.
“I’m serious. I know you’re a strong person, but when people are in a group--adults or kids--it’s like the collective IQ drops to mongoloid levels.”
“Mongoloid? is that the politically correct term?”
“I doubt it, but I’m pre-PC, Baby, and I don’t care. Let’s go!”
Chapter Twelve
They drove way out into the country. Keith pointed at a quiet industrial park and said, “That’ll do. Head back there.”
She turned into the driveway. It was a couple miles long. “Speed up.” he pointed down the road. She put her foot down. The car accelerated to about 50 mph and he cranked on the handbrake. The rear tires locked and the car fishtailed.
“Shit!” she wrestled with the wheel but the car spun out and hopped the curb onto a lawn backward. They were on the grass. He was laughing and clapping his hands. She was wired with adrenaline.
“You asshole!” she was actually angry.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I had an instructor do that to me once. Your reflexes were good. Good instincts.” he said. She was still scowling and shook her hands.
“Good instincts? But we ended up here, and the engine died.”
She got out and looked around the car. “I think it’s all OK.”
“If we do any damage, I’ll get it fixed, don’t worry. I swear I won’t do that again.”
He showed her some basic maneuvers on the pavement. They panic stopped several times. She learned how to do a J-turn and what it felt like to take a corner at high speed. He had her push the car past its ability to grip the pavement and understeer around a corner. They went onto a gravel road to practice the Scandinavian flick and to feel the car oversteer and spin out. At the end of the session she was a little tired.
“OK. That was fun, but I’m beat from all that anxiety, man! Poor car, too.” she patted the dash.
“Don’t let this little lesson go to your head--you’re no stunt driver.”
“Believe me, if you weren’t here pushing me, I would not want to drive like that.” she said.
He smiled. “Ice cream?”
Chapter Thirteen
When Monday rolled around Tracy had a hard time getting out of bed. She stared at the ceiling for a long time and wondered what the point of school was. She heard Robbie milling around and the smell of breakfast wafted down the hall to her room. She got out of bed. The air wasn’t cold, but she put on a thick robe as if it would insulate against a new, weird reality.
“Morning Perry...” she knelt down by the dog and put her head on his flank and gave him a good rub. He rolled over on his back and eyed her.
“Mornin’’ Robbie was still pretty groggy. The coffee was still brewing and he stole a cup from the stream then put the pot back. “Bacon’s there.” he gestured to a plate where there was a big pile of bacon.
She made some toast and took a few pieces. She ate for a while in silence. Robbie was clicking around on his laptop. His eyes were scanning stories between sips of coffee.
“Uncle Robbie, that stuff was weird. Just weird. I can’t process it all. I am trying to put all the pieces together.”
He glanced over at her. “It’s a lot to take in. It’ll take a while to make any sense of it at all.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this before?”
“There’s really no right time to tell the story--and there’s really no good way to start telling it. I learned about this when I was around your age. David Mathis really opened the door for me. One summer he just got interested in mythology and started reading… He basically lived here for about a month reading and talking to your grandpa. It was mostly over my head.”
“Is that why he’s a little out there?”
He laughed, “I’m glad you met him, what a great guy. Yeah, once you really
see things from this perspective, it can make you very deliberate about the choices you make. And those choices might end up taking you far outside the norm.”
She became pensive and quiet.
“There’s no recipe for dealing with all this. The only thing I can say is don’t worry about it too much. The world is still the same as it was yesterday, you just have more complete information than a lot of other people.”
She just raised her eyebrows and chewed her food. “When I got up this morning, I thought ‘what’s the point of going to school’?”
“Yeah. I get that. David dropped out. I almost did.”
She laughed sardonically, “you’re no after school special!”
“Nope! Not even a little bit.” He laughed hard, then took a moment to provide a more considered response. “OK, look, Tracy, you’re an adult, but you’ve got really limited experience.” She nodded. He continued, “High school. College. It’s a certain type of experience. It’s good. It can give you a certain type of a frame of reference, but it’s one that won’t hold up well against that,” he pointed at the library.
“Yeah, I get that, actually I was going to say, ‘I thought what’s the point?’ but then I realized I was really craving that dumb routine right now. So I’ma go.”
The Chardon Chronicles: Season One -- The Harvest Festival Page 8
