Chapter 28- Saxon Justice

Chapter 28

Saxon Justice

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

The news hit them like a tonne of bricks.  They had seen the explosion and seen the wreckage fall.  For a while they hadn’t been sure what it was.  But when Dietz radioed it in, it was no great surprise to Hannah.

“Shit,” she had said.  Wooderson had looked over at her.

“Shit, we are in serious trouble now,” she had said.

“Lieutenant, this mission is fragged,” he said simply.

“Yes it is,” she replied.

Captain Dietz and the others returned, covered in soot and smoke.  Newman’s eyes were pink, his face was sullen and shocked.  Wharton looked the calmest still.  Lt Chung sat down, his head in his hands.

Dietz took up his radio.

“This is Captain Dietz here.  I’m with what’s left of my team.  We require some advice here,”

There was a crackle of radio traffic.

“This is Hotel Twenty-Nine to ground unit, remain where you are,”

“Copy that but we need advice on how to proceed.  We’ve lost half of our team and most of our equipment,”

“Repeat your last, over,” came the crackling reply.

“Hang on Captain,” said Hannah.

“What>” snapped Dietz.  “We’re in serious trouble here,”

“We could be in even worse in a minute.  Cut the comms,”

“She’s right,” said Chung.  “If you tell them we cant manage the situation here, what do you think they are going to do?”

“What?” asked Dietz.

Hannah looked into his eyes for a moment and tried to make contact with him.  But she supposed it was hard enough being thrust into such a horrible situation.  It was even worse when your best friend had just been killed.

“Captain, we need to sort this situation out right now.  Otherwise someone else will do it for us,” she said plainly.  She looked over at Oscar.

“The situation has gotten out of our hands,” said Captain Dietz.

Sergeant Wooderson took hold of Dietz's arm and walked him away from the others for a moment.

“Snap out of it sir!” shouted Wooderson.  “You’re the CO here.  You fucking act like it,”

Dietz lowered his head for a moment.  Hannah saw that Wooderson was getting ready to slap him in the face when Dietz seemed to come back to life.

“Okay, okay.  What’s the sit-rep here?”

“We don’t know which of the villagers is infected.  Equally there are still four missing villagers,” said Chung.

“Okay, if we cant do the blood test, then how do we test the villagers to see which of them is an imposter?”

Hannah had been thinking about this for a while and she had a theory.  She wanted to prove it first though.

“Have we still got any of the infected blood around here?” she asked.

“It’s dried up,” said Chung.  “I think that means its dead,”

“We need to find something, I have an idea for a test,”

“Okay,” said Chung.  The two of them began to move away.

“Uh uh,” said Wharton.  “No one goes away in a pair.  Three men, minimum,”

“Okay, fine.  Wood?”  Sergeant Wooderson followed them.

As the others began to search, Specialist Storm lit another cigarette.  Agent Wharton was stood with him.  The villagers had now largely sat down on the ground.  They wore sullen faces and were tired and cranky.

Oscar had tried to explain the situation to them but they were running out of time for it.  “You must let us get on!  This is madness,” Don Brazzo had said.  Oscar had tried to calm him down, calm them all down.  But it wasn’t easy.  They were stood outside in a village while there were men with guns stood around.  Then there were huge explosions, shootings and shouting.  It wasn’t a very peaceable situation.

“They will resolve this as soon as they can,” replied Oscar, feeling the tiredness in every limb now.

“You don’t know that,” replied Brazzo forcefully.
“What do you propose then?” asked Oscar.

“We are not prisoners here, we have rights.  We return to our homes and wait this thing out.  How bad can it be?”

“Do you want me to show you how bad it can get?  Didn’t you see that huge explosion?”

“That was them, blowing things up,” barked Brazzo. “This is American madness and we should have no part in it,”

“We are in this, whether we want to be or not,”

“We could rush them,” suggested another villager.

“They have guns and you don’t,” said Oscar, bluntly.  “If you move, they will shoot you, they will shoot us all,”

The argument, the debate ended there.  The villagers moaned and cried, they bickered and glared.  But they were without any further moves.  Oscar looked over at Storm and Wharton.  He was sure that those two would sooner just shoot everyone anyway.

“You know Clarence, we could just solve all of this right now,” said Storm.

“What?” asked Wharton.

“We could solve this right now,” repeated Storm.

“I know we could,” said Wharton.

“Why don’t we?” asked Storm.

“You haven’t got enough bullets for that.  And what if some of them are infected?  We’ll be overrun while you reload.  No we’ve got to wait this out now.  Believe me, we’ll have to shoot some of them by the end of this,”

“The thing that’s worries me is that if the brass think we’ve blown it, they’ll just napalm this whole fucking ville back to the stone-age,”

“Yes,” said Wharton simply.

“That’s what I’d do if I was them.  I’ve been wracking my brains for why they’ve not done it already,” said Storm.

“I think they may have other problems to deal with tonight,” said Wharton, his voice tired.

“Worse than this?” asked Storm.

“I don’t think so.  But closer to home.  I was sent out here because we believed that there was a rogue element within the military.  A rogue element giving orders.  I think this unit was sent out by that rogue element,”

“So you think we’re rebels?” asked Storm with a grin.

“No I think that your team was assembled without knowing who you were taking orders from exactly.  But “Briar” was deactivated a long time ago. And to my knowledge no one has put it back into action,” said Wharton.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” asked Storm.  “I thought you Gee-Men were tight lipped?”

“I think that those back in the US are caught up in figuring out who is on who’s side.  They’re all scrambling to find Briar and to see who is involved in this.  But they don’t realize that the real enemy is right here,”

Hannah’s team came back, a lit flamethrower between them.

“Find what you needed?” asked Wharton.

“No we didn’t,” replied Hannah.  “But we’ve got an idea for something we can try.  It’s a bit primitive and may not work.  But I think it will,”

“What’s the plan?” asked Dietz.

“We use the flamethrower,” she said bluntly.

“Now you’re talking,” chuckled Storm

“Each of them, we burn there hands with the tip. It’ll hurt like hell,” she said.  “But you saw how Hunter reacted to fire; he broke apart to get away from it.  My guess is that they wont be able to subject themselves to fire,”

“That’s fucking brutal,” said Newman.

“Can you think of another way?” snapped Hannah.  “We’ve got to figure out which of them is human and which aren’t,”

“You’re mad,” said Oscar.  “You think these people are going to volunteer to be burned, one at a time?”

“They’ve got no choice,” explained Dietz.

“Put it this way Oscar,” said Storm. “Either they get burned one at a time or all at once,”

“Storm!” yelled Dietz.

“He’s right, we’re out of time here,” exclaimed Wharton.

“This is unbelievable,” said Oscar.  “I thought you were here to help us!”

“I’m sorry Oscar.  We’ve got to do this, there’s no other way,” explained Dietz.

Oscar turned around to the crowd.  He took in a deep breath and prepared to explain.  His voice cracked before he could speak.  Wharton stepped forward and explained to the crowd, in fluent Spanish.

“Form a line.  I don’t care what order you come in.  Each of you will be tested to see if you are infected.  It’ll mean a small burn to the hand.  If you are clean, you’ll be treated and be allowed to move to the Church.  If you are infected, we’ll move you to one side and treat the infection,”

The crowd expressed their disapproval.

“This wont work,” said Newman, hefting his flamethrower.  Wooderson tilted the other one so that there was just a thin flame coming up from its barrel.

Storm and McPherson had their P-90 submachine guns on the crowd as they began to form a line.  The small stocky one, the head man, kept shouting at Oscar.  He offered to go first but gradually seemed to vanish into the crowd.

The first person was a man, a tall man with graying hair.  Wharton explained what he had to do.  The man looked at him like he was insane.  Wharton pushed him forward.  The man held his hand slowly towards the fire.  Wharton watched him for a moment.

Then he grabbed the mans wrist and pushed his hand through the fire.  There was a shout and a yell; the man wheeled away holding his hand.  Storm trained the machine-gun on him.

“Wait”” yelled Oscar.  Oscar ran over to the farmer and looked at his arm.

It was a simple, horrible pink burn.

“He is burned,” said Oscar to the others.

“Okay,” said Dietz and moved forward to apply medical care.

“One down,” said Storm.  The other forty looked on with nervous eyes.

The next three came through the fire and then ended up being treated by Dietz.  Accusing, reproachful stares burrowed into the Captain as he continued to subject people to the fire.

“This is nonsense,” shouted Brazzo.  Oscar wondered if he was right, whether the test was really working or not.  A young woman was next.  She walked towards the fire and paused.  Wharton pushed her towards the flame-thrower.

She stopped dead in her tracks and Oscar felt the tension rise.  But who wouldn’t pause when offered to burn themselves.  Who wouldn’t want to avoid the fire?

Chapter 27- Field of Bullets

Chapter 27

The Field of Bullets

Sat-Com, somewhere in Virginia

The alarm caught every by surprise.  General Petersen was quickly to his feet, a generation of experience kept him sharp.  He turned and moved through the crowd towards Sergeant Wilcox.

“What’s going on?” asked one officer.

“It’s a fire alarm,” replied Captain Thomas, “no need to panic,”

“We need a fire control team out there now,” barked Petersen.  He put a hand on Sergeant Wilcox’s shoulder.  “You go with em, just in case,”

“Sir,” replied the veteran sergeant.  A five man team was quickly assembled and began to move out.  There was only a brief interruption to the work going on in the control room.

“What’s that on the board?” asked Petersen as the others got back to what they were doing.  There was a symbol that looked like an upside down pair of scissors.

“Helicopter down, sir,” replied Lieutenant Walker.  Petersen looked over at her, he hadnt seen her for a while.

“Which one?  One of ours?” he asked.

“It was the rescue chopper; Major Dalton’s bird is down,”

“What happened?” he asked.

“Sounds like it was a strike called in from the ground,” came the reply from Captain Thomas.

“They shot down their own bird?  What the hells going on down there?”

“We’re not sure sir.  Do you want me to get com-con status?” asked Lt Walker.

“No, no they are busy and we’ve got work to do and a vanishing window of opportunity to do it in,” replied the General.  “Someone keep communication open with Sergeant Wilcox’s team though,”

Petersen stretched his back out and felt the pain race up and down his arms.  He walked away from the main terminal and paused by Lt Walker for a moment.  He didn’t say anything, just listened to her relaying orders.

He then walked over to another officer, Lieutenant Davis.  “Lieutenant?”

“Sir?” came the jumpy reply.

“Who has been covering Lt Walker’s station?” asked the General.

“I think that was Sergeant Spriggs,” said the young Lieutenant.

“Who asked him to cover for her?”

“Colonel Sickles did sir,” replied Davis.

“Thank you, carry on,” said General Petersen.

“General?” asked Lt Walker.

“What is it?” he replied.

“I’ve got a call for you,”

“Who?” he asked brusquely.

“It’s a General Pierce.  He said you’d want to talk to him,” she said.

“I do actually, put it through to my ward room,” he said.  He began to walk up the stairs to the ward room again.  He opened the door and sat down behind his desk.

He opened the draw and took out his old M1911A1 pistol.  He chambered a round and then holstered the weapon behind him.

He picked up the phone and flicked the answer switch.

“Well, what the hell is going on?” he asked.

Elsewhere, Sat-Com

Sergeant Wilcox lead a five man team with fire extinguishers towards the epicenter of the alarm but it didn’t take long to realize that there was no fire.  There was a small pool of blood on the floor and another splash of blood on the wall.

Wilcox drew his side-arm.  The others, unarmed, stood around in a rough semi-circle. 

Wilcox turned to a junior non-com.  “Roberts, go back to the General and tell him the base has been compromised,”

“Sir,” said Roberts and turned to run.

“Belay that order” came the voice of Colonel Adams.

“Sir?” asked Wilcox.  He tensed his fingers around the pistol.

“There is a serious problem in the cargo bay, I need three of you in there.  The other two with me,”

“Hold on,” said Wilcox.  “The General told me not to take orders unless they were cleared with him,”

“I don’t have time for that chain of command bullshit Sergeant, we’ve got a job to do.  We’ve got a casualty who was wounded by a falling crate.  I need men to help stabilize him,”

One of the other men began to move but Wilcox put his spare out in front of him.

“Negative sir.  Get the General on the line, clear it and we’ll do whatever you ask,”

Colonel Adams was a fine officer, Sergeant Wilcox was always happy to follow him.  But an order from a General was almost the word of God.  Adams looked over the team and took two steps forward.  Wilcox raised the pistol but didn’t aim it at him, he safetied the gun as he went.

“Don’t take another step Colonel,”

“You threatening me?” asked the Colonel

“Sarge!” cried one of the others.

“Shut it,” barked Sergeant Wilcox.

“Put that weapon on safe and place it on the deck,” commanded Colonel Wilcox.

He took another step forward.

“Don’t step forward again sir,” said Wilcox.  He lowered the pistol and aimed at the Colonel.

“I’m putting you up on charges Sergeant,” said Adams, calmly.

“Sarge!” cried out one of the others.

“Shut up!” shouted Wilcox.

“Oh, I see,” said Adams.

“What?” asked Wilcox.

“Only one gun,” he said back.

Colonel Adams sprang forward and scattered the team.  One man was knocked to the side and collided hard with the wall.  Another was pinned underneath the Colonel.  Sergeant Wilcox dived to one side and another of his men simply ran for it.

Specialist Rowlins took a swing with a fire extinguisher and caught the Colonel flat in the face.  There was a cracking sound and a horrible splash of blood.  Colonel Adams waved a hand at Rowlins and stumbled away holding his face.

“Oh fuck,” said Rowlins.  Wilcox rolled to his feet and checked on the downed man who had hit the wall.

“Jesus,” said Wilcox.  “Rowlins, he’s….” Dangerous was going to be the word that finished that sentence.  Adams, or someone who looked like him, turned around and grabbed the wrists of the unfortunate specialist.  There were a series of cracking sounds and a terrible scream.

Rowlins fell to the floor, his broken wrists useless.  Adams stepped around him and walked at Wilcox.  Wilcox aimed down the barrel of the gun and fired, twice.  The first round took Adams under the jaw and threw his head back in a spray of blood.  The second caught him in the forehead.

A forty five caliber bullet is a big one, nearly half an inch wide.  A hit to the head would normally stop anyone or anything.  But Adams kept coming forward.  He reached out with long, clawed hands and grabbed hold of Sergeant Wilcox.

Wilcox put the pistol into Adams chest and unloaded the other five rounds in quick succession.  Adams was thrown backwards by the impact and slammed into the opposite wall.  Wilcox turned and ran.  Adams’s bloody doppelganger followed him.

“Get down!” came the shout.  Sergeant Wilcox threw himself to the floor.  There was the rattle of small-arms fire and he turned to see Adams blown off his feet.  At the other end of the corridor was Captain Thomas and four men, all of them carrying sub-machine guns.

“What the hell is going on?” asked Captain Thomas.

“We’ve been compromised,” wheezed Sergeant Wilcox.

Captain Thomas lead his men forward, a smoking MP5A1 in his hands.  He looked down the sights at Colonel Adams, by now a bleeding mass on the floor.  There was a strange burbling sound coming up from his body.

“Don’t get too close to him,” shouted Wilcox, still getting his breath.   Captain Thomas stopped short.  A long thin rope of red came out of the bloodied form on the ground and wrapped itself around one of Captain Thomas’s men.

The surprised soldier squeezed the trigger, rounds exploding into the wall and then down the body of the man next to him, who was blown backwards into the wall.  The rope then began to draw the man towards the bloody mess on the ground, which was still moving.

“Fuck me,” whispered Wilcox.  He reloaded his pistol as the air filled with gunfire again.  Three men opened fire, full auto into the thing as it drew the terrified man into its mass.  Sergeant Wilcox was too far away to tell what it was doing to him; all he could hear was gunfire and screams.  But he could see the soldier vanishing into it’s mass;

Captain Thomas and his men began to withdraw, reloading as they went.

“It didn’t die, what the fuck is it?” asked the Captain.

“I don’t know,” replied Sergeant Wilcox.

“Radio!” shouted one of the men.

“Thomas!” shouted Thomas into his radio.

“Captain, what’s the status?”

“Something, something is in here!  It killed Worcester,” replied Thomas.

“Okay, seal the corridor and then regroup.  Outfit a team with flamethrowers and burn it.  Burn the fucker.  Anyone who tries to break out seal, shoot on sight,” came the General.

“Sir?”

“Shoot on sight Captain.  There are no friendlies out there,”

“Yes sir,” said Captain Thomas.  “Okay, seal the corridor.  Burn them, we’ve got to burn them,”

“Who?” asked Sergeant Wilcox.

“Anyone, all of them.  Anyone who is in there, we gotta burn them,”

Chapter 26- Filtration Process

Chapter 26

Filtration Process

Washington, D.C

“The Secretary of Defence isn’t going to get here,” said Jack Krane, putting the telephone down.  Peter Bierko stood up and stretched for a moment.

“Okay then, well we’ll have to manage without his input then,” said Richard McCoy, the Whitehouse Counsel.  Peter wondered about that.

“We don’t have a military expert in the room though,” said Henry Finch, the Attorney General.

“Peter is a former FBI agent, that’s close enough,” said McCoy.  “Equally Jack Krane regularly briefs the President on military matters,”

“Yeah but I don’t know even half of what Secretary Hayes knows,” said Jack.

“We’ll just have to make do, you give it the old college try,” quipped McCoy.

Peter Bierko remembered his days in the FBI, when he’d been a proud civil servant.  He’d been part of a large number of anti-terrorist operations in the US, domestic work.  But he’d never seen anything quite like this.  He supposed there was a simple reason for that but he didn’t want it to be true.  When his phone rang, he’d know how bad this crisis was going to be.

“Okay so we make do then,” said Henry.  “But we need to act soon,”

“Indeed we do,” said McCoy.  “And I know how we should act too,”

Peter raised an eyebrow at this and looked over at Jack Krane.  Krane’s expression was unreadable.

“We’ve got a potential terrorist threat operating inside the walls of the military, perhaps all the way up to the top of the Department of Defence,”

“We don’t know that,” said Peter.

“But we’ve got nothing that says any different do we?” continued McCoy.  “We’ve got a lack of information.  And the only hard information we have is that someone in the military is in business for themselves.  And they could be operating right across the damned river!”

Peter thought about it, a rogue general operating inside the Pentagon.  It was a horror story; there was no question of that.  But they didn’t know if it was true, they didn’t know exactly who was a friend and who was a foe at this point.

“This is a serious threat to this administration.  Worse, it’s a serious threat to this republic.  I believe that we are justified in using our most severe force to counter-act it before it’s too late,” finished McCoy. 

“You’re not in the court room now Richard,” replied Henry.  “Just get to the damned point,”

“Fine Henry, fine I’ll bottle the answer.  We’ve got a rogue military and we outrank them.  I suggest we can the entire joint chiefs of staff, all of them.  They are all put on gardening leave, as of now,”

“You have to be kidding me!” spluttered Peter.  “The chiefs?  We don’t know if they are involved in this or not!”

“Exactly, we don’t know and they aren’t here to answer so better safe than sorry.  Then we shut the Pentagon down, we call it an exercise.  We put the Secretary of Defence in charge of the military, with all of his orders being vetted by the President,”
“You mean by us don’t you?” said Henry.

“Yes, if needs be.  Then we move against this rogue operation as fast as we can.  But this should insulate us from all potential threat avenues.  The Secret Service is your department Peter, can you vouch for them?”

“Yes I can,” said Peter ruefully.

“What about your old buddies in the Bureau?” he continued.”
“I’ve not spoken to many of them for a while but the Bureau will stay loyal to the administration,”

“Great, okay then we move, and fast,” finished McCoy.  He folded his arms and looked around the room.

“It’s so drastic,” said Jack.

“Yes but necessary,” replied McCoy.

“You’re talking about a counter-coup aren’t you?” Henry Finch said this very slowly.

“Against all enemies, foreign and domestic,” quoted McCoy.

Peter’s mobile phone rang and he flicked it open.

“Peter here,” he said into it.

“We’ve got a location; a signal intercept places the base in Wheeling, Virginia,”

“Thank you Ryan,” said Peter and closed his phone.

“What was that?” asked Jack.

“New information,” said Peter.  “We cant do what you want us to do Richard,”
“I’m not saying I want to do this, I’m saying we’ve got no choice,”

“We cant do it.  The NSA has just found out where the base giving these orders is based.  If we are going to strike, it should be there, a surgical attack to put them out of action,”

“It’s not fast enough,” replied McCoy, getting to his feet.

Peter stood up too and the two men regarded each other across the table.

“We’ve got a location for a target, someone who is a serious threat, as you put it.  So we need to strike and we need to strike right now,”

“How?” asked McCoy.  “Send the US marshal over there with a search warrant?”

“Don’t be facetious.  We send a military unit to do it, an M.P unit,”

“Military police?  I don’t think that’s going to cut it either.  May I remind you Peter that these people have committed treason against the United States,” declared McCoy.

“We don’t know that for sure do we?  We need the right information before we act,”
“And I’m saying we don’t have time, we don’t know how high up this conspiracy goes,”

“Wait a minute,” said Henry.  “No one said this was a conspiracy,”

“It must be,” replied McCoy.  “Otherwise why are we the only ones here?  There’s no telling how high up this goes,”

“You’re paranoid,” spat Peter.

“Am I?  Or am I the only one here who seems to understand the gravity of this situation,”

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

Three men walked swiftly out of the village towards a parked helicopter.  Captain Roman Dietz wondered what it was he would find there, whether his old friend was still alive or dead.

Fifteen years ago the two of them had been young Air Force officers with bright futures ahead of them.  Peter had made is famous mistake, telling the truth when no one was interested.  Roman had made his mistake too.

He remembered the meeting with General McDonagh, who had been the one forced to deal with the fall-out.  The old General, three years of retirement, was determined to get even with the Air Force Captain who had caused so much trouble.

“How long have you known Pete Dalton?” asked the General.

Roman had stood in the office and felt utterly intimidated.  He hadnt yet made First Lieutenant and he was already being bullied by a General.  This was what they called a “lose-lose” situation.

“I’ve known Captain Dalton for two years now,”

“What’s your opinion of the man?” asked the General.

“He’s a good man sir, a solid CO,”

“I see,” replied the General. This was clearly not the answer he was looking for.

“And what about you Lieutenant?  Do you want to move up?  Are you looking for a career in the Air Force?”

“Yes sir,” replied Dietz.

“Well then, I think it’s time you revised your opinion of Captain Dalton.  Because a view that he’s a good man, will not help you move up.  I suggest you go back to your unit and you make a formal complaint about Captain Dalton and those unsound methods you were telling me about,”

“What methods?” replied Dietz.

“You know which ones.  Now you do this and we’ll be talking about you’re future with baited breath.  Do you understand Lieutenant Dietz?”

Of course he’d understood. They wanted him to discredit his friend and help himself.  So Roman Dietz had told the truth, that Captain Dalton was a good man who he trusted.  He had said more than that, that he was his friend too.

Captain Dietz walked towards the Osprey, wondering how he would be able to kill his friend if he had to.  Dietz looked over at Newman, carrying the bulky flamethrower, and then at Wharton.

Wharton, he’d be able to do it.  He’d shot the fleeing civilian with no problems and he’d suggested that they should simply shoot them all anyway.

“If one of them is infected, they may well all be infected,” he had said.

Dietz shook his head, maybe he wasn’t suited to this work anymore.  Maybe he never had been.  There was a sudden blare of noise and light and the Osprey Helicopter began to lift into the air.

“They’re making a get away!” shouted Wharton.

“What?” yelled back Dietz.

The Osprey lifted up and began to fly away from Villa Cyranno.  There was a crackle of noise and Dietz lifted his radio.

“This is Captain Dietz here,” he yelled.

“This is Rapier Twenty-Five,” came the tinny voice.  “I’ve got a friendly lifting off from the ground.  Can you confirm that it’s clean?”

Roman looked up at the helicopter and put a hand on his cross again.

“Say again Rapier,”

“This is Rapier Twenty-Five, you need to confirm that the friendly leaving is clean.  They say they are but I need confirmation of that,”

Roman Dietz swallowed hard and then shook his head.

“Negative Rapier, negative.  We cannot confirm,” he yelled.

“Roger that Captain, Rapier out,”

“Oh God,” whispered Roman Dietz.  The Osprey banked sharply and began to fly away, towards America when a missile slammed into its side.  There was a flash of light and a huge explosion lit the sky.

“It was the only way to be sure,” said Clarence Wharton.  Roman Dietz held onto his cross and tried not to think about it, tried not to remember his friend.

“The blood is gone then,” said Newman.  “How will we test the villagers now?”

Wharton looked around at Newman and then back at Dietz.

“How can we be sure about any of them now?”

How can they be sure now?

Chapter 25- The Test

Chapter 25

The Test

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

“I can’t believe what you’re suggesting!” yelled Captain Dietz.  Wharton looked back at him, calmly.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are all being.  We’ve got too many potential targets, too many variables.  This is impossible to hold down with what we’ve got,” replied Wharton.

“But this is unthinkable!” replied Dietz.  “It’s immoral,”

“I don’t care,” replied Wharton.  “You’re the ranking officer here; you order them to do it,”

“No,” replied Dietz, simply.

Dietz walked away from the argument.  Hannah stood to one side and thought about it.  It was the simplest solution to the problem, the only way to cut down the vectors.  But the problem was that it wouldn’t eliminate all of the risks.  Therefore, she agreed with the Captain.

“Okay, we need to get the blood from the chopper then.  But we can run blood tests here first,” said Hannah to the group.

“Yes, yes that’s right.  Okay we need a team to go to the chopper after we’ve all been blood tested,” said Dietz.  “Newman, get the blood out of the medical kit,”

“Sir,” replied Newman.  The team began to assemble when a there was a shout from the crowd.

Oscar stepped out and pointed.

“Look, look he’s made a break for it,”

“What?” exclaimed Dietz.  A single man was rushing away from the crowd. 

“Stop or we’ll shoot,” shouted Wharton.

“Wait a minute,” said Dietz.

“Stop!” shouted Wharton in Spanish.  The man continued to run.  There was a crack of a single shot and he fell to the ground.  The crowd gasped and cried out in terror.  A few started to curse and a few started to cry.

Hannah turned to see Wharton holstering his gun.  She felt cold all over.

“He ran from the crowd, he could have been one of them,” said Wharton.

“Yes I suppose that’s possible,” she said back, never breaking eye contact with him.

Specialist Newman took out the medical kit and hung the “blood bag” from a nearby doorframe.

“Okay, gather round everyone,” said Captain Dietz.  “Wood, keep an eye on the crowd,”

Oscar had moved away but Dietz beckoned him over.  “If we’ve got enough, we’re going to test you too,”

“Me?” said Oscar, pointing to himself.

“Yes you.  If you’re our guide, we need to know you are still human,” Said Dietz.

“Okay we need to get a blood sample from each person.  Newman, you got a sample case or something?” asked Dietz.

“I could use this one, yeah,” said Newman, holding up a couple of small plastic trays that were usually used for gathering evidence.

“Perfect.  Okay we’ll need to get a blood sample, let’s start with me,” said Dietz.

Dietz drew his own knife from his gear and held it to his thumb for a moment, paused and then made a quick incision.  His blood dripped into the tray.

“That’s enough,” said Newman.  Newman then took out the end of the blood bag where he had fixed up a drip.

“Okay here goes,” said Newman.

Hannah saw that Storm had moved away from Dietz and had both hands on his P-90 submachine gun again.  Hannah felt her hand reach to her side for her pistol.

A drop of red blood fell onto a patch of blood.  Nothing happened.

“Doesn’t seem to have any reaction,” said Wharton.

“At this level, no,” said Chung.  “But at a cellular level?”

“How the hell do we check that?” asked Wooderson.

“I thought of that too,” said Newman.  “I figured you’d need to be able to take a closer look so I rigged up a microscope,” Newman looked into the sample-tray.

“No reaction,” he said.  Dietz breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let me see,” said Chung.  Newman passed it over to Chung.

“He’s right, no reaction.  Okay I’m next,” Dietz moved over to Chung and cut him too.

Again, no reaction.  “So you’re human too then,” said Hannah to Chung.  Chung smiled.

“I always knew I was,” he replied.

“Come on, get it over with,” said Wharton.

Dietz approached Storm with his knife but Storm spoke first.

“You aint touching me with a knife Cap.  I’ll do myself,”  Storm drew a knife from behind his back and cut his finger deftly.

Again, no reaction. 

“So far, so good,” said Chung.

“If the test is working,” replied Wharton.  Hannah shook her head.

“If it doesn’t work, then we’re screwed,” said Chung bluntly.

Oscar was next, again there was no reaction on any level.

The whole team was, apparently, human.
“We need a positive result too,” said Wharton.  “Otherwise that was a meaningless exercise,”

“Again, I hate to agree with him but he’s right,” said Chung.

“Get a sample from one of the dead ones,” said Dietz.

“Okay,” said Storm.  He approached the burned remains of the corpse that had once been Hunter.  Hannah walked past the terrified crowd and knelt by the dead man.  A round had splashed the back of his head.  She knelt down and took a sample of her own.

“No reaction from this either!” said Newman. “ Maybe the test doesn’t work,”

“No, those cells are dead,” said Chung.  “They were burned.  Try the blood on the grass, where Hunter got shot.  If I’m right, those cells are still active,”

“Try this too,” said Hannah.  Newman made the test on the dead man’s blood.

No obvious reaction, not even on a cellular level.  Hannah looked over at Wharton who kept a hand on his side-arm too.

“Try this then,” said Storm, offering the tip of his knife to Newman.  Newman dripped blood onto it.

“Jesus,” said Newman.  “Look at this,”

He passed the jury rigged microscope to Chung who looked too.

“Now that is something.  Hannah, come see this,” he said.

Hannah approached warily.  She stopped by Wooderson on her way and leant in close to him.

“Keep an eye on the agent too,” she whispered.  He nodded back.

Hannah looked down the eye-piece.  A blood cell floated there, long filaments extending out from it.  Another blood cell was slightly out of view.

“The one we’re focusing on is the ‘intruder cell’” said Chung.

The filaments broke the edge of the other blood cell and the blood cell became thinner and seemed to collapse.  Then there was a small movement and the other cell went back to normal and floated away.  The thin filaments returned to the intruder cell.

“Shit,” she said.  “That was fast,”

“Now we know exactly what we’re dealing with.  It takes over the host body and creates a duplicate, using the host bodies mass.  The original intruder goes on in its previous guise,”

“Okay.  Okay we know we’re human then,” she said.  “So now we need to figure out who is human back on the chopper,” said Dietz

“I’ll go and give them the test.  Newman, Chung, you come with me.  McPherson, you’re in charge here,”

“I’m coming too,” said Wharton.

“Okay then, fine.  Let’s go,” said Dietz.

“Be careful,” said Hannah as they walked away.  She turned to look at Storm, who was lighting up another cigarette.  Then she looked at Wooderson who stood still, a faint smile on his face when he saw her looking over at him.

Then she looked at the crowd.  “Okay you bastard, we’re going to find you now,” she whispered.

Sat-Com, somewhere in Virginia

There was a crashing sound from out in the hallway.  Sergeant McLintock, who had been tidying away from an early helicopter landing, turned and raised his head.

“Keep it down in there,” he shouted.  He went back to tidying away equipment when he heard another crash, this time it sounded like metal falling on the floor.  Then he heard another sound, harder to place.

It sounded like something wet and heavy had landed on the floor.  McLintock stood up straight now.  He walked slowly back towards the de-con door.  It was open.  Sergeant McLintock reacted fast.

He ran towards an alarm and reached for it.  There was a sudden sharp, jarring impact and he was thrown back down the corridor.  Colonel Adams, splattered in blood, was stood in front of the alarm.  He had appeared from around the corner.

McLintock had wanted to speak, to ask what was going on but his throat clicked and he felt a rising nausea.  He looked to his side and saw that his left arm was now missing below the elbow.  Blood pumped slowly from the severed limb.  He fought with a wave of dizziness.

Colonel Adams stood there, a bloody half limb in one hand.  He threw it to one side.  He then walked away towards the control centre.  Sergeant McLintock tried to get to his feet but fell to the ground.  Then he heard footsteps approaching.  He turned to see Colonel Sickles approaching him.  McLintock, who hadnt liked or trusted Sickles anyway, crawled fast away from him.  Sickles reached out and somehow caught hold of him, despite McLintock had been more than ten feet away.  McLintock’s survival instinct kicked in fast and he kicked at Sickles impossible long arms.

There was a strange squawk from the Colonel and McLintock was free.  Some primal instinct in his head worked in tandem with ten years of Air Force training and experience.  He would have only a few seconds to act and then it would be over.  McLintock dived for the alarm.

Boom

Hey genuine readers

My Hard Drive blew up last week as a little late birthday present from the cosmos.  So I've been delayed getting my files recovered

As some kind of message from the Gods, Mere Anarchy is one of them things that did not survive.  Therefore you've got to wait for the rest of the story.

Or there will be no more story at all and I'll just have to tell you at some point how it was all going to pan out.

Thanks for reading so far, this will at least give you chance to catch up

R

Chapter 24- Short-Sword

Chapter 24

Short-Sword

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

Jubal Storm leant back against the wall and took out another cigarette.  He looked across at the gathered crowd of civilians.  Their faces were glum, they looked upset and scared.  This made a lot of sense.  They had no idea just how bad things were going to get.

Agent Wharton was talking to Captain Dietz, Lt’s McPherson and Chung were stood to one side.  Sergeant Wooderson kept his weapon up and ready but wasn’t aiming it at anyone.  To Storm, this situation was becoming absurdly complicated.

Of course Jubal had a solution to the problem too, a simple way to sort out the humans from the imposters.  But the team would never go for it.  He had also come to a harsh conclusion about the team that had gone to check on Ostrow.

Specialist Newman, an engineer by trade, came over and stood by Storm.  Storm offered him a cigarette and Newman took it in shaking hands.  Storm leant over and lit it with his own cigarette.

“What’s going on Jube?” asked Newman.

“Don’t know,” replied Storm.

“They’re talking about how to tell who is who.  But there are people missing.  We need more men here,” stammered Newman.

“Maybe, maybe that’d be worse?” offered Storm.

“How so?” asked Newman.

“What if we’re all one of those things?” asked Storm.

“I’m not,” replied Newman.

“Neither am I.  But I aint sure about you and I aint sure about any of the others.  It could be that you and I are the last humans here,” said Storm.  Of course that didn’t really figure.  Storm knew that, logically, if there were more of these imposters than there were people, they’d attack.  No need to hide then.

“A blood test,” said Chung audibly.

“How would that work?” asked McPherson, holding the sides of her head.  She looked tired but she was still focused.  Storm had picked her out as one of the people who wasn’t about to crack.

“Well, the way I see it and this is strictly theoretical,” began Chung.

“Just spit it out Marcus,” snapped McPherson.  Chung gave her a reproachful look and then spoke.

“If we mix uninfected blood with someone’s blood and it is infected, there will be a reaction,” he said.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“Because you saw the way Hunter behaved.  When he caught fire?”

“He broke in half,” said McPherson.  She shivered involuntarily at that.

“Yes he did.  I have a theory that these things aren’t like a normal creature, that’s just tissue.  They are more like a colony of smaller beings.  And when the main body is ‘killed’, the smaller pieces that aren’t ‘dead’ yet try to escape,” he said.

Jubal thought about that, it made his skin craw.  When you kill something, it was supposed to stay down.  But the guy they had encountered in the pig-pen had tried to get up and move, even without a head.

“Where do we get uninfected blood from?” asked McPherson.

“Newman’s medical kit will have some, not much.  The rest is back on the Osprey,” said Chung.

“El tee,” Said Storm.  Chung looked over

“El tee I think that the Osprey is probably compromised by now,” he said simply.

“How so?” asked Chung.

“Cos if Dalton’s one of us, why didn’t he come back?  Why didn’t anyone come back?  Ask em to bring the blood, they’ll never do it,” said Storm.  “Dalton and all the others on the chopper are one of them now, if they weren’t from the start,”

“You’re full of shit,” snapped Newman.

“Prove me wrong Dan,” replied Storm, calmly.

“No!” said Dietz loudly.  The rest turned around and saw Dietz walking away from Wharton.

“Think about it Roman, it’s the only fucking way to be sure!” said Wharton.

“I don’t care, it’s totally unthinkable,” replied Dietz, hotly.

Wharton shook his head.  Storm got to his feet, stretched and took out two new cigarettes.  He lit one and walked over to Wharton.  Chung and McPherson were explaining the plan to Dietz and Sergeant Wooderson.  To Jubal Storm, it sounded logical.  But he wanted to know what Wharton had suggested that got Dietz so bent out of shape.

Storm offered Wharton a cigarette which Wharton took from him and lit it himself.

“Cap didn’t like your idea none,” said Storm.

“No he didn’t.  It’s the only way to totally isolate this place,” said Wharton.

“What is?” asked Storm.

“We know that we’re not infected right now, the team,” said Wharton.

“We do?” asked Storm.

“We know at least some of us are human, that just follows logically.  If we were all these things, then we’d just kill each other and win,” said Wharton.

“That’s what I thought,” said Storm.

“Then there is only one way to be sure, when it comes to the village,” concluded Wharton.

“Which is?” asked Storm.  Wharton took a long drag and sized up Specialist Grade Five Jubal Storm.

“I think you know exactly what it is don’t you,” said Wharton.

“I do actually,” replied Storm

Sat-Com, Somewhere in Virginia

Colonel James Sickles had made a career from his political acumen and his razor sharp intelligence, he was an observer extraordinaire.  He was able to figure out what it was that people wanted; what it was they were really asking from you when you got an assignment.

Here at Sat-Com, he’d been sent by the Secretary of Defence to keep an eye on Major General Tom Petersen.  His official job description was to mind out that the Department of Defence (the shop as they tended to call it) didn’t get its reputation damaged by the crisis and how General Petersen handled it.

That was nonsense, of course.  The situation would be kept as quiet as was humanly possible.  If they had wanted it to be quieter, they’d send another General who would keep it quiet.  What was a Colonel supposed to do?

James Sickles had seen it clearly, his real mandate was to keep an eye on the General himself.  And James was now fairly sure that he had a read on the veteran General.  Of course Petersen didn’t like James, that went without saying.  Petersen was a General from the old guard; a Vietnam veteran who had risen up the ranks and seen the end of the cold war.

When the Berlin wall had come down, James had only been ten years old.  He was a product of the new army, he believed in shock and awe and the violence of action.  He was a political animal too, this was something that Petersen would never ever approve of.

So Sickles would always rub him up the wrong way, that was certain.  James had been isolated from the rest of the staff, bit by bit and gradually managed to slip away alone with Lieutenant Walker.

Now Colonel Sickles had slipped away from the others again.  He was reading a report as he waited at the edge of the containment zone.  A military doctor, Captain Perry, stood by the door too.

“You know Colonel I don’t really approve of you allowing someone out of the containment zone yet,” said the Doctor.  Sickles barely even looked up, the report had him gripped.

“I think Colonel Adams is on his way now,” said Captain Perry.

“Captain, can you do me a favor and take this report back into the main control room,” said Sickles.

“Yes I can.  But I don’t really want to…”
“I’m not asking you, it’s an order.  You follow orders right?” snapped Sickles.

“Yes I do,” replied Perry, glumly.

“Keep the report to yourself, if anyone other than Lieutenant Walker asks you about it, destroy it,”

“What does it say?” asked Perry.

“It’s an engineering report I asked for,” replied Sickles, cryptically.

Perry shook his head and left.  Sickles watched him leave.  He saw Colonel Adams moving through the containment zone, air-tight containment seals all around him.  He had been through a de-con shower and he had come out clean.

Colonel Adams, a towel in his hands, came out to see James Sickles.

“You got a minute to talk Colonel?” asked Sickles.

“Yes I do,” replied Adams.

“Follow me a minute please, “said Sickles.  The two of them walked around a corner to a supply room.  There were boxes and crates and most notably, no one around.

Adams paused by the door for a moment.  Sickles looked around at him.

“You don’t need to panic Colonel, I’m here on the authority of the Secretary of Defence,” he said plainly.

“I see,” replied Adams.

“You don’t.  We’ve got a major situation here,” stated Sickles.  “There is a rogue General in Virginia, giving orders from a defunct mission,”

“What?” replied Adams, shocked.

“There was a mission back in Afghanistan called Briar.  It was a covert Op’s base.  It was the brain child of a couple of heavyweights in the shop.  It got canned when the new President got sworn in.  Well Briar is back from the dead and giving orders all over again,”

“And it’s in Virginia?” asked Adams.

“Don’t be an idiot Colonel, we’re Briar!  Sat-Com is Briar,” he said bluntly.

Adams stood there for a moment saying nothing.  Sickles paced back and forward.  The towel fell to the floor and Sickles, who noticed everything, saw that there was blood in the towel.

Sickles stopped pacing and looked at Adams.  Colonel Adams reached forward with incredible speed and ferocity.  Both hands clamped around James Sickles head and lifted him into the air.  Sickles screamed and reached for his sidearm.

He collided with the ceiling and fell to the Earth, dazed and unaware.  Colonel Chris Adams, or someone that looked a lot like him, dropped to its knees next to Colonel James Sickles.  The ‘Adams Thing’ twisted its own head to one side slightly and there was a terrible cracking sound, like old rotten ice breaking.  Teeth, huge dagger like teeth sprouted from a new, long mouth that had appeared in the top its head.

A long dark red tongue wrapped around Sickles and pulled him with dizzying speed into its new, bloody maw.  There were two or three sharp bites and Sickles stopped struggling.  Adams stood up again, covered in blood.  His face began to knit back together and he reached down with one hand for the ruined body in front of him.  He pushed Colonel Sickles with a hand and there was a low, dazed moan from him.

The ‘Adams’ thing was pleased, he was still alive.

Chapter 23- The Ides of March

Chapter 23

The Ides of March

Washington, D.C

A trio of men in smart suits walked quickly down the hallway.  All around them there was activity, people on the phones, people writing or talking.  The Whitehouse was traditionally a hive of activity.

The man at the front of the trio, the senior man in the group, walked with purpose, checking his watch every now and again.  The second man watched the movements of the first man every now and again.  The third man walked with his hands in his jacket pockets and affected an air of casual indifference to the situation that might have been described by some as a crisis.

“Crisis?  It’s a fucking catastrophe,” is how the President had responded.  Hayden McDonald, the President’s chief of staff and political advisor had tried to calm him down but the President had needed to go through the emotions of it, the shock, the anger and the betrayal.

The trio finally reached the office; the first man opened the door and walked straight in.  He sat down at the head of the table.  The other two followed in behind him.

“Should I make sure the others know where we are?” asked Jack Krane, the deputy chief of staff.

“Anyone who cant find us shouldn’t be here, it’s not a public meeting,” replied Peter Bierko.  The third man was the Whitehouse Counsel, the chief lawyer for the Whitehouse and the President.  His name was Richard McCoy and much like Peter Bierko, he was also a college friend of the President.

Richard sat down at the other end of the table to Peter.  Richard had his old, beat up brief case with him.  He sat down and took out his notes.  Richard’s hair had less grey in it than Peter’s but he carried it better, he had a tan, a genuine tan.  Richard sat back in his seat and began looking at a memo.

“Who else are we expecting?” asked Jack Krane, who looked nervous.

“Anyone that the President and the Chief of Staff trust,” replied Peter.

“That’s a short list of guys then,” quipped Richard McCoy.  Peter raised an eyebrow at that.

“Oh come on Peter, you know that the President had to make a lot of compromises on who made up the cabinet, in order to get here,” said McCoy, his tone superior as ever.  Peter shook his head.

“I didn’t know that, you’re the politician,” replied Peter.

“You are too, now.  You’re the Director of Homeland Security,” said McCoy.

“And the President trusts you,” added Jack.

Peter said nothing to this.  He knew that both Jack and Richard were lawyers, they knew how to talk and how to get something for nothing.  Peter had some understanding of the law but he wasn’t a lawyer or a professional politician.  So he armored himself in silence.

“We cant afford to wait much longer,” said Jack.

“Well we’ll have to.  The Secretary of State has constitutional authority here and we need his say so if we’re going to do anything drastic,” said McCoy.

“How bad do you think this will get?” asked Jack.

“It depends,” replied Peter, carefully.  McCoy raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

“Come in,” said McCoy.

“This place is impossible to find,” came the nasal tone of the Attorney General.

Peter shook his head, it was just what the room needed, another lawyer.

Attorney General Henry Finch sat down next to Peter.  He was a small, crumpled man in a sharp black pinstripe suit. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and was, to Peter’s knowledge, the richest man in the room.

“We need to get on,” said Peter.

“Yes we do,” said Henry.  “So far this story hasn’t broken but when it does it will become impossible to get anything done about it,”

“Then it best not break,” said McCoy bluntly.

“Don’t look at me,” said Henry.  “I’m not going to leak anything from here,”

“We’ve got to come up with a solution to the problem and we’ve got to do it fast.  We cant involve anyone in the decision making who isn’t in here.  And we’ve got to do it all with the Executive Order the President signed without getting him further involved,” said McCoy.

“Unless we’ve got no choice at all,” added Jack.

“Indeed,” said Peter.  “The way I see it, we’ve got two problems.  We’ve got the outbreak of Arctic Blue in Venezuela.  And we’ve got a rogue military officer giving orders from somewhere in Virginia,”

“I should have retired years ago,” said Finch, cleaning his glasses.

“Well you didn’t so you’re going to have to suck it up,” said McCoy sharply.

“Okay, two problems but a common theme,” said Peter.  “We’ve lost control of something and need to exercise control over it before it spreads out,”

“That’s possibly over simplifying it but fair,” said Henry.

“First question, do we have the legal authority over this?” asked Jack.

“Yes we do,” said Henry, putting his glasses back on.  “Anything military we have ultimate legal authority.  All the chains of command end at the President’s office and we’ve got that authority.  It may be necessary to draft the President in on this at some stage though,”

“If we can avoid it, we should,” said Jack.  “I’ve got to think about political containment of this,”  Peter shook his head.

“Now?  Now you’re thinking about political containment?” he said, his disbelief showing clearly on his face.

“This is the show that never ends,” said Jack bluntly.

“Let’s hope so,” said Peter.

Villa Cyranno, Venezuela

Oscar lead agent Wharton and Captain Dietz to the crowd that had now gathered.  Don Brazzo stood in front of them, of course.  Oscar stopped in front of the crowd and spoke in Spanish.

When he was finished he turned around to speak to Dietz.  There was a flurry of questions from the crowd but Oscar tried to blot them out for a moment. 
“Captain, I’ve explained the situation, that we need to keep everyone in full view and that everyone is to present themselves.  They don’t like it very much but they’re going to comply,”

“That’s good news,” said Dietz.

“Yeah except there are five people missing right now aren’t there?” came Wharton’s voice.

“Yes, yes they are saying that five people are not here,” said Oscar.

“Father Castillo among them?” asked Dietz.

“Yes so that’s four to go,” said Oscar.

“Right so we need to find these people and round them up,” said Dietz.  “I’d feel better if knew what was going on at the chopper,”

“The Major’s got that in hand,” said Wharton.  “If I’m right, he’s wasting a trip”

“You don’t think Jones was….”

“No I don’t,” said Wharton.

“Then why didn’t you say something?” asked Dietz.

“Because I wasn’t sure if the Major was one of them,” came the blunt reply.

“This doesn’t help us,” said Oscar.  “You need to focus on what’s going on here,”

“What’s going on Oscar?” asked Don Brazzo.  “Why do they make us prisoners?”

“It’s for your own protection,” explained Oscar.

“What did you tell them about us?  That we’re small minded mountain folks?”

“No, of course not,” replied Oscar.

“You’ve caused this haven’t you?” said Don Brazzo.  A couple of other villagers began shouting at this, following Brazzo’s lead.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it, I’m just trying to help you,” exclaimed Oscar.

“You liar, you’ve always thought you were too good to be here,” cried Brazzo.

‘Why, why does it always come back to this?’ thought Oscar.  He took a step backwards and a villager reached down to pick up a stone.  Oscar covered his face as a stone flew threw the air and bounced painfully off his arm.

There was the sudden bark of gunfire and the crowd shrank back as a group.

Wharton’s pistol was smoking.

“We’ve got no time for this shit,” he said in fluent Spanish.  “You people are all in danger.  If you want to get out of it, you’ll stay put and do nothing until I say so.  If anyone makes another dangerous move, I’ll put a round in your heart, I swear to God,”  Oscar looked at him and saw that if he didn’t mean it, he hid his intentions well.

“Oscar, find out who is missing and where they were last seen,” asked Wharton.

Oscar began talking to the crowd.

“Dietz here,” said Dietz into his radio.

“This is McPherson, we’ve got a fatality here,”

“What?” replied Dietz.  “Who?”

“Hunter, he was one of them.  Look, we’ve got no way of knowing who is still human or not.”

“It was  your job, you and Chung, to find out how we figure out who is who,” said Dietz, exasperated.

“Yes but we need more data before we can judge,” came her reply.

“Brilliant.  Then what do you suggest we do?” asked Dietz.

“For now, just keep everyone visible and we’ll go from there.  Captain, I’m not sure if the Major is clean or not,”

“Repeat your last,” said Dietz.

“We don’t know if Major Dalton is one of them or not,” she said plainly.

“Don’t say that sort of thing over the radio Lieutenant.  I’ve known Peter Dalton for fifteen years,”

“Yes sir,” she said back.

Oscar finished talking to the crowd a second time, the sullen stares still burning into him.  He rejoined the soldiers for a moment to explain who was missing.

“Don Javier, Miguel Uttero, Madam Lucas and Madame Gris.  She’s more than seventy years old, I don’t think she’s going to give you too much trouble,” said Oscar.

“We’ll see,” said Wharton.  “You know, Captain, I think I know how to cut this Gordian knot.  But it’s not a great solution.”

“What is it?” asked Dietz.  Oscar watched them carefully as Wharton looked back at him, he then walked Dietz away from Oscar.  Oscar watched them carefully from a distance.

“What’s going on?” asked Don Brazzo.

“They are deciding how they figure out who is safe,” said Oscar.

“I assume you are safe aren’t you?” said Brazzo, bitterly.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough” replied Oscar.