Revision

                                                    Revision
                                                 by Pet Rock

                                                       
                                                         P.1
  Ben Snow was winding his late model black convertible

Mini Cooper down Kennedy Boulevard passing seedy old townhomes

from a bygone era of Jersey City. It was a clear September afternoon.  He

was wearing a mockup designer black jumpsuit zipped

open to the middle of his chest with a gold chain, sporting a five day

shadow, a black New York Yankees cap on backwards, a flashy pair of

Prada sunglasses,  and an expensive pair of Nike’s.

   He had installed a subwoofer in the trunk and was playing

popular Cuban dance music he had downloaded with the volume up.  He

wanted pass as a hustler.

  He made a right turn into a gas station just before Journal Square and

backed into a parking spot near the air compressor.  He kept the

engine running and pulled the latch in the glove compartment to open the

trunk.  He turned the volume down so the Mini  vibrated slightly

and walked around to the back.

  He got down on one knee and opened the trunk to make it look as though he

were making adjustments to the speaker.  He removed the camera remote

that was secured by Velcro to the side
                                                         P.2                                                      
 of the speaker and opened it like a clam shell cell phone.

  He had left it on earlier and immediately used the controls to focus the lens

that was concealed in the chrome windshield frame on a known Islamist
                                                             
terror suspect.

 A CIA chief in Dubia had received intelligence that car

bombings, suitcase bombings, and possible suicide attacks were being

planned by radical Islamists in the New York area and materials had been

smuggled in through an area of Juarez Mexico controlled by a heavily armed

crime syndicate.

  They were ready to begin a terror campaign while they quietly demanded

sharia law in the tri-state area.  Ben was contracted in a hurry up job and was

supposed to get pictures of that suspect with other known terrorists so the

FBI and Homeland Security agents could move in.

  He got a few good pics of two terrorists at their day jobs as gas

pump jockeys and when he noticed one suspect was looking his way he

pocketed the remote, closed the trunk, and drove off .

  Ben then sent the final set of photos from the remote to his contact.

He text messaged Roscoe, his partner,  that he was going to his

condominium and would call him later. He then headed back to the Lincoln

Tunnel in a round- a -bout way to make sure he wasn’t being followed.
                                                         P.3
  The late morning traffic was light allowing Ben to zip through an E-Z Pass
                                                     
lane and into one of the tubes.
                                         
  Once inside the city he double parked on 28th Street and the

West Side Highway at the curb of a block long twenty five story warehouse.

He slithered out of the jumpsuit then slid on a pair of jeans and a

green plaid button down shirt with the sleeves cut off.

  He tossed the jumpsuit into his pack and tied up his Doc Martens.  He

then took a clean terry cloth,  a bottle of window cleaner, and a small plastic

packet from his pack.  He sprayed and then wiped the windshield

with one hand while he unpacked cotton, a piece of formed rubber, and a

small tube of black silicone caulk with the other. He carefully stuffed the

cotton over the lens in the frame and pushed the pre -cut rubber over it into

place to match the windshield bushing.  He squeezed a small amount of

caulk onto his finger and wiped it over the rubber patch to fill the seam.   He

drove the Mini to 9th Avenue and headed south.

   He made a left onto West 16th street and pulled into an underground

parking garage beneath his condo. He got out with his pack and handed the

attendant the key.  He hated that.  Some of the attendants thought they were
                                                           
stunt drivers and Ben would cringe when he heard the echo of his tires

screeching further back in the garage.  At least they would honor his heavy
                                                          P.4                                                    
tips and put the car top on.
                                                             
  He took the elevator  up to the fourth floor. The building was art deco and

built like a fortress.  He bought the condo in the early ninety’s for a song

when the neighborhood was depressed.

  Over the years he had renovated it entirely while the city revived.

It had ten foot ceilings and custom wood trim that he had stripped and

refinished,  a black Italian marble mantle around the fireplace and all

hardwood floors.  The hard work he had put into the two bedroom was about

to pay off.

   The place was just as he left it, a mess with boxes and wrapped furniture.

He was scheduled to move out at the following day and he had to do some

last minute packing before the movers arrived in the morning.  He went to

work.

  He’d been back and forth for the last few months to his cabin in the

Northern Pennsylvania hills updating it as the closing date for the condo

neared.  Then the surveillance job came up at the last minute and had to be

handled quickly.  It was mostly a favor to his contact.  Anybody could have

done it but it was called in a day ago and there was no time to waste.
                                                     
 Ben already had a list of the Islamic terror suspects in the tri-state area and

he knew through informants where many of them lived and worked.  He was
                                                        P.5
an independent contractor but he was also affiliated with an unknown

government agency.

  Importing was his cover and he had a self storage unit in the

warehouse on 28th street. He imported Dolce and

Gabbana eye ware and accessories since the early nineties along with

some lesser known brands and picked up Prada eye ware in early two


thousand.

  His territory was the Upper East Side and Upper West Side but had other

stores scattered around the city.

   Jake, Ben’s contact, fronted Ben the original capital over

fifteen years ago.  Ben named the company Hudson River Importers LTD.

All checks were made out to that name and Ben would deposit them into an

account.  He paid himself once a month, put aside other funds for

expenditures and taxes, and the rest he would put in an account under

another name as a silent partner.  When he performed other tasks he was

paid in cash at a drop spot and he distributed the money to his crew.

  He really didn’t work much at all.  He had it pretty good and he knew it
                                                         
especially in the stifled economy of the past five years.

  But city life was grating him,  Ben said to Jake, and that was the reason he

wanted to move out.
                                                           P.6
Ben was raised in the country and it took him some time to get used to city

life.   He learned to love it but it started to lose its’ gloss the last few years.


 It was time for a change of scenery.   He could lease a slip for his

boat at the West Side Marina, take care of the business orders twice a

week, then run wild in the city now and again.

  Ben decided to take a break, get cleaned up, order Chinese delivery,

and go around the neighborhood and bid adieu to some of the locals.

  He got out of the shower and dried off with some paper towels.

  He wiped the steam from the mirror and let the

rest evaporate while he put his skivvies on.  He rummaged around his pack

and retrieved his shaving kit. He dabbed a

little mouse into his thinning brown hair and combed it back.  After a shave

he smoothed some anti- wrinkle cream over his chiseled features,

trimmed his eyebrows and nose follicles, checked closely for any wandering

facial hair and squirted some eye brightener into his brown eyes.

  He  was wearing the most up to date casual street fashion because he just

had to look good .  You gotta look good in the big city.

                                                   


                                                          P.7
 He stepped out for his last night on the town, at least as a resident.
                                                                                                               
He walked over to 8th Ave.  Regular Army troops with M-16’s drawn

guarded the corner. He walked north a few blocks.

  Ben entered a nondescript but sizeable café. The French doors were

open to the street.

  He had become a regular in the joint.     It was a well known hangout for

radicals.  Part of Ben’s job was to keep his ear to the

ground and now and again he would hear small talk mainly about the latest

propaganda and  code words that they would pass among them.  There was a

radical connection with anarchists and Islamists.

   Jake said that there was bound to be suspicion and probing of him so in the

espionage business theatre always helped.  Jake arranged for Ben to meet an

operative that was a Russian American who spoke in several Russian

dialects and would dress in flashy suits.

  Ben would be seen with him in the neighborhood and at a local

pub or restaurant from time to time.  As Ben revealed to the locals that he

was in importing for a living they assumed he was linked to organized

crime.   No one asked questions.  No one even

asked him where he came from except the real estate agent who was from

uptown and he told her he was originally from Florida.  Ben had a small

worry, though, that the Russian Mafia from Brooklyn would get wind of it
                                                          P.8                                                                                                                                                                              
and come sniffing around,  but they didn’t.
                                                         
  The café is where he met Brynn.  She would come in just to chat and

exchange fashion ideas with some of  her acquaintances and would be

artists.  She was an assistant to various fashion designers in the area.  She

was a short woman, black hair, attractive, with a petite frame and she kept

herself in good shape.  She wore her hair in a simple Dutch Boy cut.

   She could pick out fashion trends as they were forming

around the industry and even had been accredited for a glove design but in

almost all other subjects she was as dumb as a lamppost.

  Ben walked into the reading room and Brynn was standing near a table

flipping through a magazine.  She called him earlier and left a message that

she’d be there.  She was dressed in a black pants suit.  Ben started chuckling.

“What so funny Benny?”, she said.

“Oh”, he said and smiled, “I was packing and I found my jumpsuit,

you know, the black ones that we wore at Fire Island.”  She started

laughing and then he started and for some reason they began laughing

uncontrollably.

  They had gone to Fire Island, when they were dating, to

visit some friends of hers for a long weekend. The friend that rented the

house gave everyone the black jumpsuits as part of some
                                                                P.9
promotion and they all went out to a night club and had dance contests
                                                                                                                 
between them.  It was a hilarious.

  They both calmed down and sat at the table.  He looked up at her and had a

pang of conscience.  You spent part of your life with this woman, he said to
                                                       
himself,  now here you are saying goodbye just like that.

  He looked down at the table again, where the hell was this coming from.

“So you’re going to leave us Ben?’, she said

“I’ll be around.  I’ve got my boat.  I’ll call you and we’ll motor out into the

Sound”

“As friends or should I bring my special underwear?”, she said grinning.

“Why don’t we wait and see what develops”, he said.

As they talked  some of the regulars filed in, some he

actually liked.  He was going about  the room promising to come around now

and then to bother them when his phone rang.  He stepped

into the corner near the table and answered it.

   “Yeah”

It was Roscoe.

 “I picked up some chatter.  They may be dropping a back

pack explosive at the American  Museum of Natural History in the morning-

around 10.”
                                                           P.10
Ben paused a moment then said in a cordial voice
                                                                                                             
“Can I call you back in a few minutes?”

“Understood”,  Roscoe hung up.

  Ben said he had to go and kissed some of the girls then Brynn came up to

him and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth

with hooting from the others.  They lightly spanked each other to more

hooting and Brynn said,

“You better call me, hot shot.”

“I will, after I get settled”, he said, thinking about a hot weekend on the boat.

He was also thinking that he probably couldn’t hide it from Molly.
 
  On his way out the door Ben picked up a napkin off the stack on the bar.

 Once on the sidewalk he wiped the wet lipstick off his mouth and mused

that she was fast and loose and a sloppy kisser but he never caught anything

from her.

  Ben had three lovers at one time all from other neighborhoods.

They knew each other and shared him  like a bottle of Boone’s Farm

but he didn’t mind because it was safer and no commitments, all business.

Make a call, go on a date, go back to her place, enjoy a hot minute then go

home, maybe stay the night. Once in awhile one of them would refer to him

as her husband and then laugh.
                                                         P.11
  No time for this now, he thought.  He called Roscoe.
                                                     
    Roscoe was at the gas station earlier when Ben stopped in.  He was in an

undisclosed location with a sonic listening device that could be

 pin pointed on a suspect.  Roscoe could have taken some pictures
                                                           
but they would have had to go through a semi -lengthy process before they

got to Jake.

  “Do you know the name of the killer?,” Ben asked.

“One of them said Abdul Ali Ishak.  I’m positive.  You can hear it. And we

have a young kid by that name on our list of possibilities.  He belongs to a

muslim youth organization in JC.”

“Get his address and I’ll call you back.”

Ben called Jake next and explained the situation.  Jake was almost always

available.

  “Ok”, Jake said, “ You’ll have to handle this now. Cancel the move

tomorrow and I’ll pick up the penalty fee.  You and Rosco need to stake the

suspect early.  We’ll set up surveillance at the museum all night.  Another

car will be at the suspects  location to back you up.   There will be kids

around, no doubt. There are Space shows every half hour-it says here on the

website-beginning at 10:30 am.  Have Roscoe email the surveillance

recording to me via the Puzzle Palace and we’ll have a look at the list and
                                                             P.12                                                        
other possibilities.
                                                         
  You and Roscoe take point and call me when you arrive at the suspect’s

location.  We need a picture of his teeth.  Call Dawn in. I will pay the usual.”

“Yes sir.”
                                                         
Ben dialed again, “Roscoe, I’ll meet you at Journal Square around midnight.

We need some gear from the locker.”

“Got it,” Roscoe replied and hung up.

 Ben then cancelled the movers for a few days.  There may be

more of these killers ready to blow themselves up for Allah but in reality it

was for Bedouins with oil money and a cartel of international ‘elitists’ with

an agenda. And they thought they were going to get all those virgins.

  Ben went back to his condo, changed his clothes and picked up his pack

before hailing a cab.

 He had the cabby take him to another parking garage on thirty 37th Street

and Ninth Avenue.  He showed the attendant his monthly pass and in a few

minutes the attendant pulled up in a dark grey ten year old Buick Riviera

Coupe in need of TLC.  He drove back to Jersey City and picked up Roscoe

at Journal Square near a maintenance door on the sidewalk.

“I’ve got the surveillance gear,” Roscoe began, “The kids’ nineteen and lives
                                                           
with his parents.  He goes to NJCU.”
                                                             P.13
“He’s probably at home now.  Let’s get to his parents house. What’s the
                                                     
address?”, asked Ben

“622 Fairmont.”
                                                       
“OK. Tomorrow’s, or today’s  Friday ,so the they want to make a big horror

show with school kids around.  Since all bags are scanned and checked and

everyone is x-rayed the kid will probably go up to a full school bus outside

and detonate,” said Ben.

  They both new that terrorist handlers use remote detonators if the volunteer

chickened out.  Either way it would be a holocaust.

 They arrived two blocks over at about twelve thirty a.m.  They put their two

way earphones in and Roscoe got out and walked.  He turned up Fairmont

and got a positive id on the house amid the drab multi-family homes built in

the ‘30’s and ‘40’s and packed together along the treeless street.

  The terrorist handlers were known to wait outside in a vehicle to keep an

eye out for any sign that they were being watched. So Roscoe, carrying a

small thermal imaging device, slowly panned the imager on all the vehicles

along the street.

  After finding no one hiding in the vehicles he texted Ben that he would

start imaging the house.  This was Ben’s que.  He called Jake to inform him
                                                     
that Rosco had found no handlers as of that time. Ben thought, were they
                                                                P.14
getting sloppy or over confident?
                                                       
     Ben then drove the car around and up Fairmont and parked several

houses away.

 He glanced around at the houses for prying neighbors and found none so he

walked on.  If anyone caught him in he’d zap ‘em with the taser that

he had tied around his wrist anyway.

  Roscoe slowly crept up the driveway.  The suspect lived on the first floor

with two parents and a young sibling.  The last minute dossier said that it

was a three bedroom apartment with the master at the back.  All three

bedrooms were located along the driveway.  He checked around for dogs in

the backyards, found none and signaled for Ben to come up.

  He could get an image and send it directly to Jake and if he had good

distance he could actually get a detailed x-ray of the kid’s teeth and access

the records for positive id but first he needed to prevent loud noises.

  From his pocket Ben retrieved an electronic device that deactivates car
                                                       
alarms by short circuiting the computer control unit.  He directed it toward

both vehicles producing low clicks.

  He then walked up the driveway and focused the imager on the second

bedroom and he found what looked like a four foot long figure lying on a

bed.  The figure was motionless except for the chest heaving slightly.
                                                         P.15
  Ben then backtracked to get a look in the first bedroom and as he did the
                                                       
figure moved toward the open window.  He

ducked behind the first car lightly rattling the neighbors fence.  He held his

breath.   Whoever it was opened the window a little higher, bent down and

peered out.  Roscoe ducked behind the second car.

Even though Roscoe was hard to see, being from the other side,

someone who was half asleep or in a agitated or heightened state of

awareness might be able to.

   After a moment the kid went back to pacing the room.  Ben could see in

the screen that he was tip toeing back and forth, then sitting on the bed, then

back and forth again no doubt having second thoughts.  The kid had no

choice now. Either he went through with it or his handlers would kill him.

  Ben waited until the kid sat down again and took a picture of his jaw. He
                                                       
then slowly crawled down the driveway, slowly stood up on the sidewalk,

and walked silently back to the Riviera while Roscoe kept a look out.

  Once back in the car he surreptitiously looked around at the surrounding

houses but still no neighbors looking.

  Ben sent the pictures over to Jake for confirmation and then hailed Roscoe.

The dossier photo of the kid would be sent to all involved.

 After Roscoe got in Ben called the back up to let them know he was
                                                          P.16
leaving.
                                                   
  He saw them coming around the corner so he pulled away from the curb.

They would finish the stake out.

  As he and Roscoe were making their way back to the city Jake called and

said they needed to get over to the museum and

scope the area profiling possible suspects.  There would

 be a look out spying the Columbus Ave. and 79th Street
                                                       
block where the school buses idle after dropping the children.

   The easiest method with the most damage would be to just walk past all

those kids on the sidewalk and detonate.

  Ben wondered which genius in the current administration thought up the

latest strategy.  Find a bona fide lead for terrorist activity and allow it to take

shape in order to draw out more terrorists.  Civilians

had become necessary collateral damage.

  Even with all the terrorist activity people still wanted to go about their lives

 in the urban areas.  Then again school buses had become

targets out in the heartland too.

  In the late nineteen eighties and through the nineties the U.S. government

allowed a large number of muslims into the country.  Over time many of the

zealots bought land cheaply in rural areas and began practicing sharia law
                                                            P.17                                                  
and consequently started training terrorists within the thirty plus compounds.
                                                   
All upper level management in the federal security agencies knew about it

but did nothing in most cases to stop and deport them. The scuttlebutt was

that the government had decided to spy on them to find out their methods

and contacts overseas then deal with them as Ben was doing now.

   Ben found a parking spot on Central Park West and 76th Street.

It was after two a.m. and mostly cabs rolled by.  There were only a few
                                                         
people on the sidewalk and the windows in the old, well kept luxury

apartment buildings were dark.  Only the doormen were shuffling around.

Ben opened his window to the autumn air.

   Roscoe reached into his pack and retrieved an aluminum lunch box

with a wooden handle.  He opened it and took out two cheese sandwiches on

big thick crusted slices of fresh sourdough bread with a little mayonnaise

and spicy mustard slathered on.  He gave one to Ben and then neatly

unfolded the other on his lap.   He poured hot tea from his thermos into

styra foam cups and the two of them sat there munching in silence.

After some time Roscoe said ,“What are the odds we get them before they

detonate?”

Ben looked at Roscoe for a moment.  He was wearing his black horn rimmed

safety glasses with the rubber bridge that had lenses as thick as Coke bottles
                                                            P.18                                                        
and magnified his eyes three or four times.  That used to
                                                   
amuse Ben but he’d gotten used to it.  Roscoes’  long, straight black hair that

hung down to his shoulders gave him the appearance, at times, of an ancient

Egyptian.  That also amused Ben.

   He was a good looking guy with a gaunt face and average height and

weight. He had a persnickety, funny personality and was an extremely loyal,

intelligent,  well trained,  daring.  And at the appropriate times he
                                                           
could be an absolute comedian.

“Seeing how their waiting to the last minute I would say 90% chance we get

‘em,” Ben replied, “How about you?”

“ It’ll be less than that.  Probably 70%.”

“Why?”

“It’s too wide open around here.  We’ll be spotted.”

“Yeah.  One of those yahoos from Homeland will give us up.”

“Yep”

  They sat there a bit longer, each in their own thoughts about the operation.

Jake would coordinate.  FBI and Homeland would be on the roofs and across

the street in the Park hiding in bushes that grew in front of some of the large

boulders.

 “Should pick’em up,” Ben said.
                                                              P.19                                                      
“Yep,” Roscoe replied nodding in agreement.
                                                 
   In early 2015 Ben, Roscoe, and Dawn interrogated a suspect and

it yielded several small terror cells in NJ.

 Ben had kidnapped a Pakistani chemist who was working for a petro

chemical company in Bayonne. He was caught on a camera phone with a

known terrorist.

They brought him to a basement of a large empty warehouse in Newark that
                                                 
was in between tenants.  The basement was a storage area with no windows.

Jake had secured it. They decided to use the spacious maintenance office.

  The crew hung black tarpaulins from the drop ceiling in a semi circle in the

corner near the door.  They then set up concealed lighting to shine up the

tarpaulins in v-shapes. They shut off all other lights.

  The suspect, who had been heavily sedated, was carried in and laid on the

bare floor.  Ben had dressed like a Magi in black and donned a huge white

turban shaped like a bee hive with a fake multi -faceted red ruby near his

forehead.  The others dressed in black cloaks with hoods.  They all took

damp cotton balls and packed their noses and chewed a stick of gum

then Ben and Roscoe unpacked a fresh hog skin and

unrolled it onto a sheet of plywood.  They placed the nude suspect on the

skin with his hands and feet bound and protruding wooden supports sticking
                                                           P.20                                                    
out of the plywood for his armpits to support him. They rolled the skin
                                                 
around him and tied him down with ratchet straps and propped him up

against the brick wall.  He was beginning to wake up.  Dawn turned on a cd

containing a score from some horror film.

  Roscoe turned the camcorder on.  Ben stood by the suspect while the others

stood further back mumbling some incoherent chant.

Ben wasn’t sure if the method would work on an educated Arab.  Dawn tried

not to look.
                                                       
 With the peasant Islamists, Ben was told, all one had to do is produce a hog

skin and the screaming would start. A Muslim buried in pigskin does not get

to heaven, so they believe.

  The suspect slowly opened his eyes and immediately vomited.  He started

to scream in Arabic.  Ben got close to him and said in a nasally voice,

“We are preparing you for hell.  We are going to kill you, bury you in this

hog skin, and you will go to Christian Hell”

“I will tell you anything,” was the reply in between screams.

Within a few minutes Ben had the names of sixteen operatives in the area

who were about to be activated.  Ben sent the info to Jake and they were all

picked up over a couple of days.

  Ben and the others didn’t want to kill the suspect.   They wanted him to go
                                                           P.21
back to his own country where he would blab about the abduction and
                                                                                                         
possibly scare them off for awhile but they also knew there would probably

be repercussions to Americans once the story got out.  Like

crucifixions-literally.

  They held the suspect until the others were picked up.   All sixteen were

found to have been plotting various attacks by the evidence found in their

computers and homes.  Jake had to lie to the President and say that the

information on the sixteen was gleaned from paid informants overseas.   Any
                                                     
report of torture would ruin the case.  There was to be no holding him or

extradition.  He was a liability and had to disappear.

  Ben told Jake he’d take care of it and immediately had Roscoe contact his

associate in DC and keep his ears open to any chatter concerning a hit in

Newark or NYC and had Dawn keep watch on top of the

building.  Ben knew Jake would take him out if needed.

 Ben quietly told the prisoner to gather his things from the locker area.  He

said that they were going to send him home and as the suspect walked

through the door into the dimly lit hallway Ben shot him in the back of

the head with a Walther P22 trying to hit different lobes to insure a quick

death with as little mess as possible.

  It was a cold blooded execution but the lunatic was plotting to kill
                                                    P.22                                                        
American civilians including children.  He said as much.  He said
                                                       
that the end game, an Islamic caliphate around the world, justified any

means.  This he was taught since infancy.

  Ben cleaned a few blood drops from the floor with an old towel and then

wrapped the terrorists head with it, loaded the body into a wheel barrow and

wheeled it to the loading dock elevator .  Roscoe had opened two of the

loading dock doors and then hid behind a dumpster to see if he recognized

any shooters. He and Ben kept access to dossiers on the governments’ other
                                                         
contractor’s through their own contacts.  Their associate had no

info. for them at that time.

  Dawn phoned in and said that the clean up team was rolling in from the

avenue.  They were in electrical contractor trucks.

  Ben hid in the loading dock office just under the viewing window.  The

trucks backed up to the dock and the men began unloading equipment. Ben

kept the.22 in one hand and pulled out his HK45.

  If Roscoe saw any guns drawn he would create enough noise to draw their

attention, some in the other security teams could see him, then use the flash

on his camcorder to blind them {he had rigged

the camcorder to flash ten times the norm} then Ben would come out
                                                       
shooting.
                                                         P.23
  Ben’s phone vibrated in his shirt pocket.  He didn’t answer it.
                                                       
   He was waiting for Roscoe to call on the two way he had in his shirt

pocket. In a long few moments Roscoe said, “I think your clear,” through the

radio.

 Ben took a breath, opened the door and walked onto the darkened dock with

his gun behind his back in his belt.  No one saw him at first.

“Ben, Jake’s looking for you,” said Frank, Jake’s go to guy.  Ben
                                                     
dialed his phone, “Jake-yeah- I was coming up the stairs when you

called.  Jake , this thing about interrogations is spooking me.”

“Yeah.  I think we should go by the book from here on.  This sixteen should

be a good yield for some time.  Great job.  You and the crew are in for a

bonus.  Take some time off and I’ll call you in a few days.”

  Ben took some time to go into hiding but it was unnecessary.  Jake had

invested too much into he and his crew to dismantle it if his own head

wasn’t on the block.

  Ben and his crew hadn’t done any interrogations in over 3 years and

obviously no one else had done much either.  The result was that the war had

begun on US soil sporadically over the last year.

  Dawn rapped at the car window lightly.  She’d come over on the Path train.

Roscoe opened the passenger door and she climbed in the back seat.
                                                              P.24
“So what are we up against?,” she said.
                                                       
“Good to see you.  Been a couple months,” Ben said.  She smiled coyly

and said, “How’s Molly?”  Ben smiled back and said,” As fine as ever” and

Roscoe chimed in, “We have a homicide bomber, young kid, brainwashed,

attends one of the those mega-centers for Islamists.”

“We’re assuming he’ll take the train. FBI is waiting at Journal.
                                                           
Probably retrieve the bomb belt along the way.”

  Ben looked at Dawn in the rear view mirror.  He couldn’t help it.  She was

beautiful.  She had high cheek bones,

ice blue eyes, and buttery blond hair. She was tallish, slender and well

proportioned.  And she was smart.  A little bit of a tomboy. Witty. Good

looking all the way around.  She was also married and dedicated to

her husband.

  Dawn looked at Ben in the mirror, “how’s Molly?” she said again.  Ben

grinned.

“ Two days ago and we had lunch at Caf  L’atmosphere.  I wore my new

sport coat, slacks, striped button down shirt, and loafers.  She looked great as

always in a maroon evening dress and heels.  We shared a plate of marinated
                                                   
tiger prawns with mango and soya lime cream and marinated salmon makis

with basil and wasabi to start and then we shared grilled back of sea bass,
                                                             P.25
polenta cake with espelette pepper and sweet and sour tomato.
                                                       
He paused to allow them to snicker  then continued, “For dessert we had

 Baba with limoncello.”

At this point Dawn was quietly convulsing with laughter and Roscoe was

grinning at him with his eyes bulging in the thick lenses and said, “Your

done old man.  Your done.  Dawn, let’s take a walk and size things up.
                                                         
What do you say boss?”

“Good idea.  I’ll stay here and wait for Jake’s call.  Check back in a few

hours.”  They both got out still laughing quietly.  Ben shut his phone off,

reclined his seat, and shut his eyes.  He was picturing Molly in her lovely

soft clothes, beautiful features, auburn hair ,and her milky soft skin that had

only a hint of perfume but Dawn’s image floated by at the same time. And

then he thought of Molly again  and dozed off.

  Ben opened his eyes to bright morning sunlight.  Roscoe was sitting next to

him fidgeting with his camcorder.  He had a habit of taking electronics apart

just to put them back together again.  Dawn was in the back seat sitting bolt

upright with her eyes closed and smiling like an angel.

“Time?” Ben said softly.
                                                       
“A little after seven,” Roscoe replied.

Ben closed his eyes again. In a few moments there was a tap at his window.
                                                          P.26
Ben turned the ignition key and powered it down.  It was Frank. He had a
                                                 
balding pate with a turtle shaped face that Ben marveled at every time he

saw it. He was Ben’s petty tyrant.

“’Morning Ben.  They ID’d the kid from his teeth and the two suspects from

the gas station.  One is a Hamas security agent by the name of Walily al Din

and the other an Al Quida handler named Yaqoot Zafir Azeem.  Azeem is
                                                       
the handler and their on their way here now.  They haven’t made any stops,

this could be a run through. We think Hamas is supplying  money for this

one from the aid money the feds. have been giving them.”  Ben began to

speak then hesitated.  Roscoe and Dawn looked at each other.  Frank stood

there in a suit with a poker face.  He looked like a tense, aging yuppie on his

way to Wall Street.

“ That’s ridiculous,” Ben paused then

said, “ I think we can pick off a few of them, if needed, with no trouble.”

“There may be more of them.  Are Dawn and Roscoe with you?”

Ben hesitated.  Roscoe and Dawn had said that Frank could see them once in

awhile.  Ben looked in the mirror at Dawn and then at Roscoe.  They were

both shaking their heads yes.
                                                         
“Yeah,” Ben said.

“Have they looked around at all?”
                                                        P.27
Both said that they had seen no Arabs walking around the area.  Just some
                                                   
cabbies that looked middle eastern but none were acting suspiciously.

Ben repeated that to Frank.

“Alright.  Jake would like us to walk through the building starting at eight.

Bomb sniffing dogs and tech crews have been in the building all night and

have found nothing so far.  The suspect will probably pick up the bomb on
                                                         
the way if he didn’t change his mind this morning.  I saw your surveillance

tape of him pacing.  He was probably up all night wishing he could tell his

mommy.  I’ll see you at eight,” Frank said and walked away.

“Suspicious cop,” Ben said.

“Yes he is,” said Roscoe.

“Yes, he is,” echoed Dawn.

“Somehow that guy gets under my skin-just by standing near me,” Ben

added.

The tension was building.  “I’m going to get a cup of coffee and then I’ll

meet you guys in the front lobby.  Anybody else?” he said as he retrieved his

pocket comb, sunglasses, a small two way radio earplug and lapel clip mic,

and his HK45.  No thanks they both said.

  He picked up a water bottle from the seat and doused his hair then passed

the comb through.  “You’re a fashion plate,” Dawn quipped.  He looked in
                                                          P.28
the mirror and with a second thought he put on his ball cap.
                                                   
  Ben walked along 76th street to Columbus Ave. and found a deli.  He

bought a nice hot cup of tea and a fresh onion bagel with vegetable cream

cheese. He sat at an empty plastic café table on the sidewalk.

He was starting to get antsy.  He was looking around at the innocent

bystanders and imagining their faces when the gunfire started echoing

through the area.  Their hearts leaping in their throats, the fear draining the

blood from their faces.  This cat and mouse crap, he thought to himself,  is
                                                       
 ruining everything, he thought.

   Ben walked up Columbus Ave. and crossed 77th Street and headed east

toward Central Park West.  It was going to be another clear blue day, about

seventy degrees.  It was expected to be above eighty in the afternoon. The

sun was already above the tree line and glaring brightly so he pulled the

sunglasses from his shirt pocket.

  Ben got to the corner and turned uptown on Central Park West.  There were

mostly locals hurrying off to work.  The tourists would be all over the place

in a couple of hours, though not as many as there used to be.

   It was a good thing Roscoe lingered behind yesterday, Ben thought.  He

hadn’t given Roscoe his kudos.  He would tell him after the job.  Ben was

going to ask him to help him move
                                                        P.29
but at the last minute his gut told him to leave Roscoe at the gas station .
                                                                                                       
Roscoe liked spying anyway.  He liked to make mental notes on the curious

habits, mannerisms, and clothes of the terror suspects.  So did Dawn. They

enjoyed making fun of them.  Ben chimed in to at times.

  Ben was about to climb the steps to the front entrance when he looked up

and saw Frank on the top landing waiting for him.  Suddenly Frank glanced

to his left and froze.  Ben stopped, turned his head just enough to see the kid

and one the suspects from the gas station.  They were halfway to the

entrance of the museum from the 78th Street subway and they were early.  In

a split second the the handler identified Ben.  Ben thought of his Pradas and

hat.  The handler yelled something to the kid and ran back toward the

subway entrance. Instinctively Ben jumped for cover behind the statue of

Teddy Roosevelt at the base of the stairs.

  The explosion vaporized the kid. Forensics had found that thin strips of C4

were concealed in the kid’s pants and windbreaker.  The handler got far

enough away to detonate while the dopey kid stood there.  He escaped

down the subway. Ben had managed to cover his ears

enough to avoid damage but Frank hesitated  and had been thrown off the

stairs and cracked his head on a stone wall.

  Ben was hustled out of the hospital in the afternoon by some of Jake’s
                                                        P.30
people and dropped off at his car before Homeland started asking
                                                 
questions about his badge.  Frank was comatose.  Jake had left a

message on Ben’s voicemail.  His voice sounded like he didn’t want to talk.

“Ben, I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.” Jake’s voice was strained.  “Doctors say

it’s too soon to tell if Frank will make it.  His wifes’ a mess.  All told there

were five fatalities.  The kid, an elderly couple from Buffalo, and two

locals from the apartment building on the corner of 78th and Central Park
                                                       
West.  The blast pushed a cab over the double yellow in front of the

building.  There was a head on collision but no serious injuries.

 Most of the windows in the front of the building were blown out and

shattered.   The handler got away but we’ll find him before he leaves

the country.

  Apparently the kid hid the clothes with the explosives from his parents and

put them on this morning.  We may have caught them if we had more

bomb sniffing dogs around.  At any rate they were early and you or Frank

must have spooked them.  There were no other terror suspects around.

  ‘You and your crew take some time to lay low but stay available.  I know

you’ll be in twice a week to service your accounts so if I have any work for
                                                         
you I’ll let you know in advance.  I’m sure your nerves are frayed.

Take it easy for awhile.”
                                                           P.31
  Ben was shaky.  He called Molly from his cell phone. She was frazzled
                                                     
when she heard.
                                                 
She reminded him to ask for a memory extractor and to call her later.

  After he dropped off the Riviera and got back to his condo he took the

boxes off the coach and laid back on a soft pillow.

 He took deep breaths for awhile to relax then asked aloud for medical

treatment.   After a time he fell in and out of consciousness

having weird dreams and eventually awoke with the sensation of being
                                                       
emotionally detached from the situation.  Molly explained it earlier.

 She told him that the prayer or request is heard and medical technicians are

dispatched from other locale with electromagnetic equipment and they focus

on one’s energy field and aura and this would aid him in the detachment

from the memory.  It was usually done from another dimension, a less dense

dimension.  Roscoe and Dawn knew all about it.

  He wished he had access as a young soldier.  Some of the horrors he

endured took a lot of time to fade.

  Ben woke up bleary eyed on the coach after battling nightmares.

He was still shell shocked but to a much lesser degree and his ears were

ringing at a lower pitch.
                                                       
  He had phoned the moving company the night
                                                           P.32
before and they had a cancellation.  Ben expected them at eight a.m.  He
                                                                                                                 
washed up and dug around for fresh clothes.  At seven forty five the door

bell rang.

 He had all his things packed up and in the self storage by eleven a.m.  The

movers kept talking about the bombing and Ben lost all nostalgia for his

condo.  All he wanted to do was move out to the country but he promised

Molly a cruise up the river.  He could use the tranquility anyway. He called

her.
                                                           
  She picked up after one ring.

“Are you OK? You didn’t call last night” she said.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.  I’m alright now.  Would you like to go upriver?”

“I’d love to!”

“I’ll pick you up in about an hour”

“That’s alright Ben, why don’t you go to the boat and get ready and I will

take a taxi.”

“From Madison?”

“Don’t worry, you can take me home”

“You’ re sure?”

“Just pick up some nice wine.”
                                                               
“OK, Molly.  I can’t wait to see you”
                                                       P.33
“It will be nice to see you too, Ben. See you soon”
                                                   
  Before leaving he picked up some groceries and a bottle of pinot blanc.

   Traffic was light a day after the bombing all the way up to the George

Washington Bridge but a little sluggish due to police check points crossing

into New Jersey.  He took the Palisades Parkway north and exited down a

steep road to the public boat docks along the Hudson.

  Ben’s boat, a thirty six foot 2014 Cruiser Yacht, was parked in a slip

with the cover on. He put his parking permit on the dashboard and locked up

the Mini.

  Ben removed the boat cover and stowed it in the storage bin then took a

clean rag and sprayed Fabreeze around and wiped up.

  He took a break for a moment and looked out over the river.

The open expanse of water, or something, provoked the bombing event and

the shock rushed through him again.    He knew that trying to make sense of

it was useless.

They were dealing with fanatics.   But he knew that it was the oil shieks who

were bankrolling them.  He imagined a soft fat bellied elitist sheik sitting in

a fine high backed chair smiling and lying through his teeth as Ben aimed

his HK45 at his head.

“Benny”.
                                                     P.34                                                              
Ben swung around and at the edge of the dock Molly stood in
                                                 
the shade of a large tree.  She was falling out of a light colored

summer dress with little pink and blue flowers.  On her feet were white

deck shoes with no laces.  From under her floppy straw hat her long

curly auburn hair fell down around her bare shoulders.

her incredibly pretty features were highlighted by her green eyes.  She was

carrying a small decoratively embroidered satchel with a wicker handle.

  She stepped into the sunlight. Ben swallowed hard and then caught

himself.  He cleared his throat.
                                                           
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, and he meant it. He was a little emotional.

“Sweetheart!” she said as she walked onto the dock, “that’s the first time

you called me that.”

“I can’t help it. You’re so pretty-”

“Oh stop,” she said as Ben helped her into the boat, not that she needed it.

As she stepped in a slight breeze lifted her dress a little showing her legs.

She giggled.  Ben instantly smiled.

  Molly fretted about his health for a bit as Ben steered the boat deeper into

the river then she steered the conversation away from the bombing. He

sailed out about two hundred yards but kept his distance from the

shipping lane.  A tugboat was pushing a barge upriver.
                                                           P.35                                                    
“What’s to drink, Benny?”
                                               
“Wine, water, iced tea.  Their probably still cold.”

Molly wandered down into the galley.  She smelled the Fabreeze and

grinned.  She was crazy about the boat. She liked the cherry wood cabinets,

the table with the large bench seat big enough for four, a double

seat, a little bathroom with a shower, and a large oval bed decked out in

white fabric with huge throw pillows.

  Molly retrieved a light cotton sweater from her satchel, two bottles of

iced tea,  and cups up to the bridge.
                                                           
“Aye, Aye, Captain.”

“You don’t say that until I give you an order, mate”

“ Well what do I say, ‘Ahoy there?’”

“Ahoy’s alright.”

  Molly, standing near Ben, put her sweater on and she buttoned up and

covered the cleavage.

“Don’t want to catch cold”, she said in a Southern drawl, smiling coyly

like a young girl.

“ No, we wouldn’t want those to catch cold,” he replied.

She giggled.  His whole body warmed up.

  They were both pleased with their little bantering and sat comfortably in
                                                              P.36                                                      
the captain chairs.  Ben had removed the convertible top and a nice warm
                                                   
breeze flowed over them. The sunlight was comfortable.  The  water

temperature still hovered in the seventies.

“Where are we going, Benny?”

“How about as far as Hyde Park?”

“Oh, yes , I want to go to FDR’s house and also Vanderbilt’s Mansion. I

haven’t been there in years. How long will it take?”

“About three hours.”

  They passed the time chatting as the boat chugged upriver.  She
                                                       
didn’t press about the bombing.

  After the Palisades the foot hills towered on both sides of the

river and were made even more picturesque with the autumn colors. They

passed under the Tappan Zee bridge and soon passed Sing Sing Prison then

around Bear Mountain under the Bear Mountain bridge.  West Point loomed

as a fortress at the rivers’ deepest section called World’s End.

  Next was the Newburg-Beacon bridge, cutting a swathe through affordable

housing units,  and then to Poughkeepsie and chugged under yet another

majestic bridge, the Mid Hudson.

 Ben found a dock that had day slips and tied off.  Then they took a nice hike

through the woods up the side of the mountain to the Roosevelt estate.
                                                            P.37                                                    
  They strolled through the stables first and past the maintenance shop with
                                                 
the ice shed off to the side.  Ben got a kick out of how they used to store

blocks of ice six to eight feet underground in the winter and cover them with

sawdust and the ice stayed frozen through the year.

  They meandered around the main house but didn’t go in.  Last tour was at

four o’clock.  Molly didn’t because she’d been inside years ago for a

luncheon.  Ben was still emotionally buzzing to care much about

sightseeing but he did the best he could for Molly.

  The Presidential Library was also closed so they strolled
                                                       
through the well kept gardens that had plants and trees from all

over the world.  Franklin’s grandfather, sir named Delano, made his fortune

delivering opium to China through the Russel & Company merchant fleet

and Franklin inherited most of it.  They lived like royalty.  Ben mused as to

the way he made his living compared to Delano’s .

  Next they walked two miles north to the Vanderbilt estate.  Molly had

brunched there years ago.

The main house, Neoclassical Beaux Arts Mansion and built near a steep

drop off the hillside, provided gorgeous views of the Catskill Mountains.

Fredrick Vanderbilt had created a world class garden and also had plants and

trees from all over the world.
                                                        P.38
He and his family traveled the world and collected them.  Their family made
                                                                                                               
their fortune from steamboats and railroads in the northeast-all legit.

Progress caused the Civil and the Indian Wars and opened up the rest

of the country to rail lines and vast fortunes-right place at the right time.

  Ben and Molly found a bench behind the main house

that had , it was said, the best views of the Hudson. They enjoyed the orange

and purple sunset over the hilltops lighting up the distant towering cumulus

that were unleashing  rain showers miles away.  It was gorgeous. They

watched silently as twilight set in.  They sat close and held hands. Ben

hadn’t done that since he was a kid.

 Ben took a few pictures with his camera phone.  He thought he’d
                                                           
make a nice print and surprise Molly with it.
                                                       
  Once back at the boat they set the cabin table and Ben put two deep fried

batter dipped pieces of cod fish from Bermuda’s, a famous seafood

restaurant downtown, in the little toaster oven.  Ben brought out the china

and silverware and Wexford crystal wine glasses.

 He poured the wine and they began eating a watercress tossed salad with

tomatoes, black olives, slivered almonds, sesame seeds, feta cheese, Romano

cheese, and Italian dressing.

  Next they gobbled up the cod fish.
                                                           P.39
  Awhile after the meal Ben took out his fishing gear and some strips of

vacuum packed red herring from the fridge.
                                                     
Molly had said she wanted to go fishing so Ben maneuvered the boat across

the river to the mouth of a stream.  He had fished there once before.  Live

herring were spawning and large striped bass fed on them, especially in the

evening.

  Ben baited the reflective lure, attached a bobber to the line, and cast the

bait toward the mouth of the stream.  He handed Molly the fishing pole and

they sat down to wait.

  It was a beautiful evening but starting to get cool.  Ben fetched a spare
                                                         
blanket for Molly.  Just as Ben wrapped the blanket around her shoulders the
                                                         
fishing pole bent and was almost torn from Molly’s hands.  She grasped it

and Ben offered help but she wanted to reel it in herself.  She pulled the pole

up in the air and it was bent in half then quickly lowered it to reel in the

slack when what was probably a thirty to forty pound striped bass jumped

out and then back into the water yanking the pole from her hands.  It was a

slapstick moment and Ben, having bottled up nervous tension, hauled off

and laughed till his sides ached. Molly joined in.

  After a time Molly said, “What will happen to that poor fish?”

“It’ll drag the pole around until it works the lure out of it’s mouth.
                                                        P.40                                                  
  They both washed up and sat in the rear of the darkened boat talking an
                                                   
sipping wine.  The boat swayed slightly with the tide.

  Molly was a treasure trove of upper crust gossip. She and her husband had

been part of the New York crowd and they schmoozed at cocktail parties and

events.  Her husband was a mechanical engineer and worked

freelance with big manufactures to innovate existing products or new ones

entering the marketplace.  Molly was around the art crowd and dabbled in

sculptures and painting but she and her husband, Bob, wanted children and
                                                           
so they moved to the suburbs.
                                                           
 The nervous energy that had kept Ben awake was beginning to wane and he

was getting sleepy.  Molly sensed it.  She said, “the mechanism is turning

off.”

“The mechanism?”

“At some point in your life you had a multifaceted mechanism installed.  For

soldiers, mostly.”

“I need to go to school.”

“You will,” Molly said.  Ben turned on the electric heater. They got in bed
                                                     
and Ben put his arms around Molly and pulled her close. He was too tired to

ask about mechanisms.  She put her head on his shoulder.  He kissed the top

of her head.
                                                              P.41
“Benny, I’m still not ready.’
                                                       
“I know.  I’m too tired anyway.”

They had been dating for a year.  Ben never waited that long.

“I know you have other girls.”

“I haven’t for awhile.”
                                                             
“Benny, when we finally do I don’t want to do all those crazy things.”
                                                           
“Like what?” he was smiling.

“Don’t make me say.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Elaborate.”

“Benny!”

“It’s ok.  I’ve had plenty.”

“I bet you have.”

  He didn’t think she’d ever be ready.  He didn’t care, not really. He liked

being with her.   Hugging, a little squeezing-she could pass for a 25

year old and he looked middle age.

“My husband was very reserved, as I’ve told you.  What I didn’t tell you was

that he was almost embarrassed by it.  He rarely took the sheets
                                                           
off.”

 Ben chuckled.  Bob was an egghead.  He had other priorities.   Bob wanted

to study advanced math in the Pleiades for thirty years so they separated.
                                                            P.42
  There were no boats on the river and the closest road was way up the hill in
                                                     
front of the estates. Only the low hum of the heater and tiny waves lapping

the rivers’ edge.  A cool autumn breeze blew in under the cabin door.

  Ben took a deep breath and took in Molly’s warmth.   She had fallen

asleep.  He was still shaken from the explosion.  It was difficult to fall
                                                           
asleep.  He would relive the event with his eyes closed.  He asked for help.
                                                             
   Slowly he felt a slight warm relaxing sensation wash over Molly and he.

The buzzing sensation dissipated. The disturbing memory faded.  He

smiled, gave thanks, and slipped into oblivion.

  In the morning they munched on some fruit, washing it down with tea or

coffee.  It was another picture perfect autumn day. Some of the foliage that

had already turned was glowing in the sunlight. Ben guided the boat into

the middle of the water and they sailed back down the river.

  Ben drove Molly back to Madison.  When he got into town he turned onto

O’Neill Street.  He was always fascinated when he turned onto Molly’s

street, the neighborhood changed slightly.  It was different-a little brighter,

less tension.   He liked it but he was in no hurry to stay permanently.

  Molly’s house was a sprawling cedar shake ranch beautifully landscaped.

Ben pulled up the long driveway to the three car garage.

“Ben, where are you going?”
                                                      P.43
“Out to my country estate”
                                                       
“Yes-“ , she hesitated , “call me.  I’d like to have dinner with you on

Thursday”

“Sounds good.”
                                                         
She looked at him for a second then threw her arms around his neck and
                                                       
gave him a sloppy kiss. “Behave Benny and don’t forget to call me.”

Ben was about to get out and walk her to the door.

“Don’t worry, I’m going across the street to talk to Pheobe, see you soon”

  ‘What does she know’, he thought to himself.  And then the sloppy kiss got

him thinking about Brynn.  He tried to put Brynn out of his mind but within

a half hour he was on the phone with her and she wanted to go for a ride in

his boat out to Syosset.  There was a big party at Antonio Fedecci’s mansion

and she had an invitation for two.

  Back at his boat Ben filled up the gas tanks, cleaned up the dishes in the

sink, tossed the garbage and crossed the river to pick up Brynn at the
                                                           
West Side Marina. He knew the guard at the gate, passed her a twenty, and

Brynn hopped in the boat.  As soon as she got in he felt guilty. Molly knew.

He felt guilty but temptation is strong.

 They traversed their way around Manhattan, down the East River, around

Ward Island and Rikers Island and eventually into Long Island Sound.
                                                    P.44
They passed the time with small talk about people they knew and business.
                                                       
 They made it to Oyster Bay late in the afternoon.  It was a warm day

and Brynn wanted to swim a little so Ben motored the boat into a secluded

area of a deserted beach club.
                                                       
  Brynn stripped easily, and she was wearing her special underwear.
                                                           
  She was standing there in the boat naked and smiling.  Ben took off his

clothes and dove off the boat.  Brynn jumped in after him. After swimming

awhile they started necking and eventually made a bee line

for the bed, barely drying off.

  After a time they were both spent.  They traded small talk and briefly dozed

off.

   Awhile later they dressed and sat out in the back of the boat eating

sandwiches and sipping the soft drinks that Brynn had brought with her. Ben

was trying to ignore his guilt.

“So Ben, what are you going to do, commute from the sticks?” asked Brynn
                                                     
grinning.

 “For awhile- I could always sublet a room somewhere, maybe with you.”

“Don’t bullshit.  You’re a loner and I don’t like roommates.  There’s’ always

some bullshit with roommates.”

   Brynn didn’t mince words.  She liked to shock people in the latest style
                                                    P.45
and talk about rich or famous people, restaurants,  buildings, and fashion.
                                                     
  She got out of bed and stood there naked and smiling again, like she was

modeling her birthday suit.  Ben grinned.  He liked her.  She was fun but

after a night or two there was nothing to talk about.
                                                         
“Besides, you could never love me Ben. You can’t love anyone.”
                                                           
“Love?  You love me?”

“Hell no!,” she said laughing, “I’m just saying that when people live

together they become very fond of each other. I bet you haven’t had anyone

special since you were a kid.”

“That’s right,  Miss Stern my third grade teacher.”

“Yeah, yeah.  How many girls have you had over the years Ben?”

“Me?  How many guys have you dated?”

“Not many since you”

Ben stared at her for a second.  She looked like a hurt child.

“I didn’t know.  You never said-“
                                                         
“I don’t love you-you’re fun.  I miss you.”

They were both quiet for a moment.  Ben was about to say something but

she said,

“Forget it. Let’s go have a good time”

  She dug into her overnight bag and pulled out a portable iron, white slacks,
                                                         P.46
and a white bulky sweater.  She ran the iron over them and slipped them on.
                                                         
Ben had some dress clothes and expensive loafers stowed and he did the

same.

  Ben recognized the logo on Brynn’s sweater.
                                                           
“ Antonio’s logo.  It’s all over the place.”

“I know.  I helped with these designs for his latest ad campaign.  These

aren’t even in the stores yet.”

She helps the guy sell his rags and he lives in a mansion on an estate and she

still lives in an old fourth floor walk up on West 31st Street.  He’d been there

several times.  It was a one bedroom with a living room/kitchen and one

window in each room.    At least it was rent controlled and

she paid some ridiculously low amount.  She worked but she was always

broke.  Lucky for her she had  a good sense of humor and always found

something to laugh about.

“How’s catfish?”
                                                   
Brynn laughed.  Catfish was her landlady.  She was an elderly lady

with a thick black mustache.

“She had electrolysis but it grew back”

Ben chuckled.

“C’mon  it’s 10.  It will take us a half hour to get there,” she said.
                                                        P.47
Ben un-stowed the dingy and placed it in the still water behind the boat.  He
                                                       
attached the compressed air canister and filled it.

They both climbed in and Ben rowed ashore.  He put the dingy behind some

bushes and they walked up the beach.
                                                       
  The park was deserted.  They walked near the lifeguard stand and Brynn

stopped.

“Ben.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve always had this fantasy-“

“What?”

In one motion she stripped off her slacks and mounted the life guard stand.

She wasn’t wearing any panties.

Ben looked around, no one there.  Probably

almost no one there in the daytime. He climbed up.

  When they were done they walked the mile to the house, Brynn laughing
                                                           
most of the way.

  They arrived at the gate of the estate and Brynn retrieved an envelope

from her little purse and handed it to the guard.  They were let in.

   They walked up the driveway lined with expensive cars to the house that

stood on a hill.  It was a custom built modern by some famous Italian
                                                     P.48
architect and it was way out there.  It was a oval shaped ranch.  The
                                                     
Olympic sized pool was inside on the first floor in the center

just off the huge foyer.

  As they walked in they were shot daggers by the faux upper class from
                                                           
the city clinking ice in their rock glasses while b.s. -ing  in the huge

imported marble foyer and stuffing their faces with pigs in blankets, or

whatever.  Ben recognized a few of them and would have liked to have

thrown them into the pool.

  Antonio happened to be nearby and he glided over in his sandals to hug

Brynn.  The other guests were impressed.

Antonio was dressed in a cross between a toga and a light green evening

dress.

“Who’s your friend, Brynn?,”  he said.

“Antonio, Ben-Ben, Antonio”

They shook hands.  Antonio’s grasp was limp but not clammy.
                                                   
“What do you do?”, Antonio said.

“Import sunglasses and accessories.  You don’t have a line-that I know of.”

“No.  Not yet.  Maybe Brynn has some ideas”

“I could look through the spring designs from Milan and come up with a

knock off for you,” she said with absolute confidence.
                                                         P.49
Antonio paused for a second examining Ben.  After all those years in New
                                                     
York Ben wasn’t fazed by strange dudes in dresses.

“Have you ever been in the military?”

“No.”
                                                         
“You look like a soldier-or a policeman or something.”

Brynn gave Antonio a wink.

Apparently the ruse with the Russian operative convinced Brynn, and the

others around Ben’s neighborhood, that his business was a front and he

was on the payroll of a crime syndicate.

  Antonio nodded his head and Ben grinned.  Antonio became giddy with

intrigue.  “Take a little tour with me,” he said.  He sashayed ahead of Ben

and Brynn chattering away.

  Each room was painted in bold colors and outfitted with experimental art.

The windows, doors, and trim were elaborately carved woodwork,

and  the art deco and wrought iron furniture got weirder from room to room
                                                           
but somehow it all worked.

  As they walked along Antonio made vague questions to Ben about his line

of work and,  not expecting a straight answer, he would answer the question

himself intimating gangsters, hookers, and contraband.

  When they got near the back of the house Antonio said he needed to get
                                                       P.50
ready for the cabaret in the basement theater so they could look around and
                                                     
choose a bedroom if they wished to stay.  Brynn thanked him profusely

since only handpicked guests were ever asked.

  Antonio disappeared down a staircase and Ben and Brynn meandered
                                                     
toward the rear patio.  Outside Brynn was chortling in between whispers

with some people she knew in the business so Ben wandered back into one

of the rooms.  It was the library.  Not a large collection but mostly history

and a lot of fashion books and magazines.  Ben found a couple of shelves

dedicated to the occult.  Magik of The Ancient Gods; Adversarial Light-

Magik of The Nephilim; Scales of The Black Serpent-The Order of The

Phosphorous; Grimoires- A History of Magik Books and many more. Ben

was familiar with the books and he wasn’t fond of black magic. A lot of it of

it was about gain and personal power.

  Ben decided he’d stay on his boat.  He knew these kind of

people.  They could be possessive, controlling, and vindictive and he didn’t

want to become a courtesan, or jester, in Count Antonio’s court.

  Ben found a stairwell that led into the basement.  It was three stories down

under the swimming pool.  The basement was actually an underground

theatre with the pool encased in concrete above.

  It was an indoor amphitheatre dimly lit but well appointed with funky
                                                           P.51
theatrical paintings each with their own spot light   The stage was thirty
                                                   
feet wide with concealed carved mahogany wings and a red velvet curtain.

  More people streamed in and Ben looked around for Brynn.  Then Antonio
                                                           
took the stage and signaled for the lights to dim.  For a moment Ben thought

Antonio invited all these people so he could have a captive audience for

some kooky play he may have written but after an introduction he

presented a troupe of players from the West Village.  The troupe was to

perform playlets.

   The first two were short-average fare about city life but the last playlet

was in a sort of kabuki style.  The scenery was the inside of a geisha house

with bamboo walls and a window looking out at a landscape. All of the

actors were men dressed in pseudo geisha costumes, except the male patrons

who were dressed in Victorian style black tie, tails, and top hats, and all their

faces were painted white and made up to look Asian but grotesque.

  The scene opened with a girl refusing the amorous attentions of a

patron who had become smitten with her. She eventually bum rushes him

out the door and calls for the others girls  to come in.  She starts to

complain about the patron’s persistence and the girls giggle

while making fun of her behind her back, etc.. They were all having a

thoroughly good time and there were a lot of laughs from the audience.
                                                       P.52
  Soon a gong sounded and they all scurried away except the first girl.
                                                       
Another patron came in the door.  She sat him down and served him

refreshments and then began a dialogue where she mostly made fun of him
                                                             
and he thought he was being praised.

  After a time muffled music began to play.  She stood up and clamored

across the room in her geisha clogs.  Then, on the wall behind her, a four

foot by four foot decorative wall screen descended slowly and crookedly,

obviously being lowered manually, exposing three more geishas inside the

wall playing little instruments.

  They started singing in Japanese and in falsetto.  It was hysterical.  The

lyrics appeared in English above the stage on a ticker.

The story they sung was of a samurai hero of long ago who traveled the

country protecting the innocent.

  The patron listened with great attention while the girl played comically

with him and the wall screen would go up and down at intervals to

sing another song of praise for the samurai.

  The songs became more flattering and directed at the patron who was

puffed up and sitting bolt upright looking dreamily out into the horizon.

  At one point, when the screen was shakily descending and the three were

singing and rocking their heads back and forth in unison, the absurdity of it
                                                       P.53
all, and the sadness,  sent Ben into silent convulsions of laughter and tears .
                                                       
  He got up from the couch and made his way to a stair case.  He stopped at

the bottom step to compose himself.  He looked back at the stage and the
                                                       
actors were still at it and he started laughing again so he walked upstairs to

get Brynn.  It was over an hour since he’d seen her.

 He was about to go out onto the back patio when something invisible blew

past his ear.  He stopped dead in his tracks.  In combat situations he learned

that it a warning.

  He looked around him.  A couple were spooning on a couch in the library.

Another  couple were admiring a wall mural in the hall.  He looked out the

veranda doors.

  The expansive stone veranda was lit by torchlight and at the far end coming

up the stairs from the lawn were two goons. Ben recognized

one of them-Frank’s goon. The both of them wore buttoned sport coats

obviously to hide their weapons.

  Ben backed away from the door and walked left down the hall to the room

next to the library.  He stopped at the door. The two goons walked in.  One

of them went right the other headed towards Ben.  ‘Brynn sold me out.  Who

else knew I was coming here.  Their blaming me for Frank or-,’ he thought.

He only had a moment while the guy looked in the library.  Ben went in the
                                                        P.54
room and immediately saw the poker at the fireplace stand.  No one else was
                                                   
in the room. He picked it up and crouched down behind a wing wall at the

small wet bar entrance.  He had taken a shot glass off the bar

and when the goon walked in Ben through the glass across the room
                                                       
  When he looked the other way Ben leapt at him striking him on the

shin with the poker.

  The pain must have been intense because he only gasped and then

Ben hit him on the back of the head and the guy thumped onto the floor.

Ben checked his coat.  He was armed and they only carried their

weapons when they were going to use them.  He took the gun.

  Ben wasted no time.  He hurried out to the veranda.  A quick look around-

there were no more of them.  They may have acted on their own giving

Brynn some cash or maybe Jake had something to do with it.

Maybe it was someone above Jake.

  Ben went cautiously out onto the back lawn and slowly made his way

around to the front of the house and the winding driveway.  Only the

security guards were milling around. Most of the guests were still at the

theater.  He casually walked up to the gate security and said good night.

He had his hand in his pocket with the gun.  He walked through the gates

and as soon as he was out of range he loped down the dark road toward the
                                                        P.55
park ready to jump into the woods if needed.
                                                     
  When he got to the beach he didn’t bother with the dingy.  He jumped in
                                                           
and swam to the boat.  The other goon would have asked

Brynn about the boats’ location and was probably tearing down the road.

  Ben didn’t bother to change his clothes until after he was out on the

Sound.  He kept the running lights off.

  Was it Brynn?  He called her cell phone.  She didn’t pick up so he left her a

message.

“Brynn, if you had anything to do with those two guys all I can tell you is

they won’t let you go.  You better get out of there and hide.  They were

carrying and they were probably going to kill me and bury my body in the

woods around there.  They probably  had a hole dug.”  He hung up.

Less than a minute later Brynn called back.

“Ben,” she said in a sobbing whisper, “ I’m sorry.  They found one of them

unconscious.  They gave me three thousand.  They said they wanted to talk

to you.  You wouldn’t answer their calls and they needed to talk to you.”

Ben thought about the talk they had and the screw on the lifeguard stand.

“Did the other guy find you?”

“No.”

“Get out of there now and hide. “
                                                       P.56
“Are you kidding me?  Did you leave on the boat?”
                                                     
“ Yeah. Find your way down into town, get a cab and go somewhere for a
                                                         
few weeks.”

“Don’t bullshit me Ben!”

“Have you ever heard me really bullshit?”

She was silent.  He wondered if the other goon was with her.

“I know you have friends further out on the Island. And don’t call the cops

because more goons will show up.” She was sobbing again. He hung up.

 Ben had to stop and gas up.  He had two five gallon containers stowed and

that would be plenty if he kept the throttle low.

It was around three a.m.  There was no breeze.  The Sound was as smooth as

glass, hardly any tide.  The warmth of the water battled the cooler air

creating a slight mist. It was dead quiet.

“Rosco,” Ben said standing aft and fixing his gaze on a fabulous home on

the shore with all the lights on.

“Yeah,” Rosco didn’t sleep much.

“Two of Frank’s guys tried to beat me -or kill me.”


“Where?”

“At a party with Brynn, She sold me out for three large.”

                                                            P.57
“You should stick with Molly”
                                                       
“Nature called.”
                                                   
“Get hurt?”

“I didn’t.  Bashed one of ‘em with a fireplace poker. You know the big goon

with the pug nose and the dark uni-brow?  It wasn’t him but some other

creep he brought with him. I saw them coming in the back of the house and

guessed I was their mark. They separated and  I got him then ran out of the

house.  I figured Brynn had done it and she confessed- told her to run and

hide.”

“She’s as good as dead.”

That stung Ben.
                                                         
“I told her to call me when she thought she was safe.”
                                                           
“She’s going to have go on the lamb to Havana.”
                                                           
“They’re commies , remember?”

“Not when I was a kid.  So what do you want me to do?”

“Keep your ears open.  Make some calls around the city to find out if

more of Frank’s goons are going to make a move against us. Paranoia has

me thinking this could be Jake or above. I’m thinking they’ve got me on

satellite surveillance. Or at least this phone is being monitored.” “You’re

overreacting.  If you were on satellite they would have gotten you earlier.”
                                                       
                                                       P.58
“Yeah.
                                                   
“They probably think you should have shielded Frank”.

“Yeah that’s what I should have done given my life to save Franks’.”

“I’ll call around.”

“Alright, I’m going over to Greenwich.  You know my buddy Danny.   I’ll

try to catch him before he goes to work.  I’ll call Jake later too.”

“I’ll keep you in the loop,” and Roscoe hung up.

  He didn’t know a Danny from Greenwich.  Roscoe knew that.

    He stood there a moment in his robe. The adrenaline was wearing off
                                                       
 and he was feeling the cold. He was still staring at the house glaring in the

darkness.  The boat rocked gently.

  ‘Jeez, what an electric bill’ he thought to himself. There was no one  in the

back yard.  He didn’t see anyone in the house.  Probably worried about

burglars, or maybe they just didn’t care.  A five thousand a month electric

bill was a blip on the radar for some people. Lot’s of wealthy people lived

out on the Island. There were a lot of wealthy people in the tri-state area.

There were a lot of wealthy people in the nation.  It was because the

government couldn’t get in the way, in the early days,  and because of

soldiers like him to provide security. He envied wealthy people but at the

                                                          P.59
same time he’d done alright.
                                                       
He had a pile of cash for doing next to nothing but risking his life at times.
                                                   
  He could have gotten out of the service earlier if he’d wanted.

He had a partnership offered to him for a start-up security firm.

Millions of shares and a salary for a minimal investment- he turned it

down.  He chose this life.  He knew he was doing a good thing as crazy as it

was and it paid well but the last time he looked the security firm was trading

at over a dollar a share.

  He was starting to shiver so he put on his dry clothes, started the engine,
                                                     
engaged the satellite navigator, and set the throttle low.  Roscoe called him

once with no news.

  When he reached the city he cruised down the East River and out into the

Upper Bay to the Lower Bay to Raritan Bay to an old marina near the mouth

of the Raritan River.

  It was after 7 am.  Luckily the tide was still in.  He motored the boat under

an old draw bridge an docked next to the office.  He paid a month in advance

for a slip and reserved a winter dry dock then called a cab.  When he got to

the dock on the Hudson he had the cabbie drop him off up the hill so he

could take the footpath down to the parking lot to see if anyone was waiting

for him.  Nothing suspicious so he got in his car, reclined the seat, and
                                                        P.60
almost immediately dropped off to sleep.
                                                   
  He was walking down the sidewalk-less street where he grew up on a mid-
                                                       
Winter’s night.  Snow was on the lawns of the attractive modest homes.

There was a recent thaw, some of the snow melted and he could see dark

grass patches.

  The sky was clear with a ¾ moon so he could see well.   There were no
                                                         
street lamps.  Most of the houses were dark except for night lights in the

windows. He walked along looking from side to side recognizing all the

houses.
                                                         
  He came to a cross street and went left down the hill.  At the bottom was

the lake.  He crossed the lake road and onto a path that lead to a foot bridge

that crossed onto the lake’s peninsula.

  There were some teens there and they had made a camp fire.  They

were standing in groups, milling about, or skating nearby.  He could see the

steam from their breath.

  Everyone was orderly, their voices low. He stopped in the middle of

the bridge.  Almost immediately he recognized a teen aged girl with long

dark hair.

  He crossed the remainder of the bridge and walked over to the crowd.  He

recognized some faces but no one seemed to notice him until he reached the

                                                      P.61
dark haired girl.  As he got closer to her he got nervous, tense, like
                                                       
something was winding him up.  He stood there a moment looking at her
                                                     
cute nose and freckles by the moonlight.  She turned to him.

 Her pretty features became a scowl and she started to say something but

Ben couldn’t hear it.  He tried to say her name but couldn’t speak.
                                                         
  A loud car horn woke him rudely.  Ben sat up.  It was a

park policeman.  Ben had spoken to him before several times. He rolled his

window down.
                                                       
“You alright?”

“Fine.  Out late at a party”

“Where’s’ the boat?”

“Dry dock, got a cab over here earlier.  What time ‘ya got?’

“One fifteen”

“Guess I better get out of bed”

“My wife wouldn’t let me in the house for a month if I did that. You single

guys have all the fun”

“It’s got it’s perks but, ya know, it seems like I haven’t been home in

decades.”

The cop hesitated then said, “Alright, well, I see ya next season”

“Ok”
                                                      P.62
  Ben made his way down the Turnpike until he reached Rt. 80 and headed
                                                       
west out to Pennsylvania and into the Poconos.

  He exited onto the county road that took him up into the hills to his cabin.

It sat at the top of a hill off the county road on 10 acres.  He had a

nice view to the west.  He bought the land twenty years ago for a song.
                                                         
There was a building slump at the time.  Five years ago he had a pre-fab A

frame  assembled on the highest point.  With the recent population

boom the property was now worth five times what he paid for it.  He turned
                                                     
into his long gravel driveway,  fetched the automatic garage door opener

from the glove box, clicked it, and swung in.

  He walked up the basement stairs into the hallway then into the living room

where the sun was pouring in through the picture window.  He opened afew

windows to let out the stale air.

  He showered and went straight to the pool. He pushed the control button

for the automatic pool cover to open and hoisted the tub cover off.  After a

long soak he climbed into the pool and swam laps for awhile.

  He didn’t want to think of the events of the last few days.  He tried only to

think of Molly. He’d call her as soon as he got out of

the pool.
                                                 

                                                       P.63
 He rinsed off in the shower and then into his bed with the phone.  He was
                                                   
about to call when an intense urge to sleep washed over him.  The tub and

 swim had loosened him up.  He knew his body was shutting down.  The

bomb, Brynn setting him up, beating the guy on the back of the head,

running scared, cheating on Molly although they were technically only

friends.  He had done mostly surveillance, interrogation  and

intel. gathering for the better part of fifteen years accept for a few

executions.
                                                       
They were easy.

 He forced himself to get up and go to the loft in the living room.  It was

above the kitchen and overlooked the living room opposite the stone

fireplace and the wall length book case. He climbed up the

ladder and opened the window.  The cool air washed over him as he laid out

on an old futon mattress , covered himself in a comforter, and rested his

head on an even older pillow.  It was dusk and still warm enough for the

crickets and cicadas to make a racket.  It was loud and he focused on it and

fell into a deep slumber.

  In the morning Ben stood at the picture window sipping hot

coffee, the early morning sunlight causing him to squint.

                                                       P.64
  He ordered some food from the local market as he was looking at the
                                                 
progress being made on phase one of a large condominium complex in the
                                                   
valley. It was on a huge clear cut patch just off the interstate.  It was a fed.

project that was to help ease the population in one of the third world

countries.  The feds managed to pass laws to override the states for such

projects.  International developers were involved.  Any complaints had to go

through an international tribunal.

Dust billowed up in clouds.  Echoes of loud diesel engines and heavy

equipment bounded up the hills.  Ben was staring at the future and he didn’t
                                                   
like it.

  Rosco had left a message for him saying there was nothing to worry about,

yet.  Brynn had not called him.  He should call Molly, he thought.

   He heard a noisy vehicle rambling up his

stone driveway.  It was the delivery from the food market.  He gave the kid a

hefty tip and ambled into the kitchen.  He stir- fried onions and bell

peppers in olive oil, broiled the fat out of a few strips of bacon and

put it all together in an omelet with melted cheese.  He sat at the breakfast

nook looking out the back window at the Appalachian Mountains.  He used

to hike the trail as a teen.  He did a lot of hiking and camping as a

young boy growing up on a lake in the hills of New Jersey.    It was
                                                    P.65
the boonies back then but now the whole area had been inundated with
                                                   
condo complexes.
                                                   
  He meandered to the bathroom once again admiring the painting

and wall paper job he had done.  It still smelled new. He bragged a bit to the

flooring installers and to the carpenter who worked on the kitchen cabinets

and to the electrician that ran the new wiring to the breaker box. The

plumber said he liked the wallpaper pattern.

  Ben decided to take a hike up on the trail. He hadn’t been up there in

awhile.
                                                         
Not too far, just to a ledge that was about 300 feet high.  A great view of the

local farms.

  He went back into the kitchen and downed a handful of vitamin

supplements with a large glass of orange juice.  Then he sprayed a

concentrated lysine compound under his tongue to stimulate his endocrine

system.  The old mule needed a kick.

  He put on his favorite jeans, t-shirt, and boots.  He went down into the

basement to the garage.  His black mini

Cooper convertible was tucked in next to his late model, fully loaded, black

F-150 Super Cab.  He climbed in and cranked the V-8.

  He could have taken the a town road over to the county road
                                                    P.66
but he liked to do a little four wheeling.
                                                     
  The three hundred horsepower and heavy duty transmission handled the
                                                   
large rocks and pot holes with ease.  He didn’t drive too wildly, might

scratch the paint.

  The truck bounced along and back onto the county

road.  Ben pulled onto the shoulder near a trail that intersected with the main

trail.  It was clearly marked by white paint dots.  He climbed out of the

truck and crossed the road.

  He meandered along the trail.  The ledge was about a mile
                                                         
away.  He’d  continue for another mile and a half then backtrack.  Five miles

would suffice.

  About a hundred yards in the forest opened up to a lime green fern grove.

The noonday sun filtered through the crown canopy.  It was a beautiful

scene.  He stopped.

 The memory came flooding back to him.

He knew it would happen when he considered buying the

land, he’d be chasing ghosts.  But the price was right and the area was still

rural like his hometown used to be.

  Ben had walked through this grove with her thirty years ago.  He could see

her in his mind as clear as day.  Her long straight almost black hair blowing
                                                       P.67
slightly in the breeze as she walked in front of him.  She was wearing jeans
                                                     
and sneakers with a light tan windbreaker that offset her pretty features and
                                                       
ruddy complexion.   She was tallish, slender, and well proportioned. She had

a good sense of humor.

They’d been dating since the winter when they were both high school

seniors. One Sunday afternoon in the summer he brought her up to the trail

on a  double date and they spent a couple of hours hiking around.   They fell

back behind their friends and stopped there in the grove.

  They held each other.   Passionate hugging and kissing that

went on for awhile.    They spontaneously put their foreheads together.

  It grew very quiet and all he could hear was her breathing.  She

smelled fresh and clean and he pulled her close to him, belly

to belly. It was intense.

She leaned back in his arms smiling.  Coyly, she opened herself to him

through her watery eyes.  He jumped.  Then she said to

him,

“Are you going away Ben?”

He said no, never.

  After that he saw her only a few more times.  She was cold to him and was

always busy.  When he did see her there seemed to be something in between
                                                        P.68
them.  He didn’t get it.  He wanted to marry her.  She said they were too
                                                       
young.  He got angry and stopped chasing her. After a time he joined the
                                                       
Marines and rarely went home.

  He tried to shake it off and walked on dreamily.  He got to the ledge

admiring the view of the farms.   He sat down on a little rock

seat.

   Ben was lost in a quiet reverie when he heard a stick crack.

His reverie turned to primal fear in an instant.  From the corner

of his eye he saw a shadow lurking in the woods and this time his solar

plexis jumped.

Ben knew what that meant.

  His life as he knew it may have just ended.

  He was under surveillance.  They were onto them,  he , Roscoe and Dawn.

 That’s why the two goons were after him. A hot flash of fear

engulfed him.   Go time though he knew they wouldn’t attack-not yet.

  Ben waited a few more minutes then got up and walked slowly back the

 way he came.  He was a little shaky.  No more playing around.

  He slowly got into his truck and took the county road back to his house.

He turned into the driveway, pushed the electronic door opener and drove in.

As the door closed behind him he bolted up the stairs and locked the doors
                                                      P.69
and windows.
                                                         
  He ransacked his bedroom dresser for clean clothes and
                                                 
tossed them into his back pack.  He then rushed into the bathroom and took

all the toiletries he was going to need and all his supplements from the

kitchen.  He would get what more he needed as he went along.  There wasn’t

much time.  No time to do anything but leave.  All the food would rot and

the place would be full of dust.  After all the work he did.

  He had hoped they could carry out the mission as planned, slowly,

 But now fear had a grip on him-he may not be coming home ever.

  He ran down to the garage and rummaged around for tools he might need.

He could have kicked himself for not being prepared.  More of his gadgets

were stowed in a train station locker .  He’d get them on his way.

  They were already in the woods around him.  He knew. They wanted to

interrogate him last night, he thought, but the goons were sloppy.  These

guys would take their time.

  He doubled checked his gear and grabbed his satellite phone from behind

the bookcase next to the fireplace.   From his notebook he punched in a

phone number.  It was a fax number used by a large corporation in Oregon.

After it rang three times the converted binary impulses screeched then a

click and Roscoe picked up.
                                                      P.70
There was a long pause.
                                                   
“Is this it?” he said in monotone.
                                                     
“I think so”, Ben replied.

“We need to go .  I’m leaving now.  They will

be following me.  Meet me at the parking garage in

Morristown on Main and Smith on the fifth floor and bring the Buick.  I

don’t think Jake knows you have that one.  I think these guys may be tied to

Frank but I don’t think they have access to military satellites or they

don’t want to attract attention to themselves.  I think they may have gone to

Connecticut yesterday or they would have tracked me sooner.   Meet you in

90 minutes.”

“I’ll be there.  I’ll call Dawn.”

Rosco hung up.

  Ben put the satt. phone away just as his cell phone started to ring. It was

Jake.

He waited for the message.  After some small talk he said he wanted to meet

Ben and talk about possibly taking Frank’s job.  Be knew it was a setup.

There was no time to waste.   Ben called Roscoe again.

“Yeah”
                                               



                                                       P.71
“Jake called with some crap about me taking Frank’s job, wants to meet.
                                                   
They will probably try to make some calls to your side.  Will you be able to

avoid a tale?”

“I’ll leave now.  I doubt they would try an APB.”

“Good.  Talk to you then”

   Ben went downstairs and got in his truck-in case they tried to bump him.

He drove out to the county road expecting to be followed.  He didn’t have to

wait long.    They picked him up on the Interstate.  They were driving a gray

Chevy SUV.

  Ben cruised at the speed limit. When he got to Morristown he sped up a bit

through a couple of stop lights to buy some time.  He went into the parking

garage and sped up the winding driveway  to the fifth floor.  The sixth floor

was the exposed top floor so he and Roscoe had cover.  He parked the truck,

grabbed his pack, and jumped into the back seat of Roscoe’s

Buick and laid on the floor.

  The Chevy passed them as they were going back down to the street.

“ Can any of them see you?”

“ I don’t think so.  None of them looked at me.”

Ben was on the other side with Roscoe.
                                                          P.72
“I called Dawn. She’s ready.”

                                                     
 They headed for the Madison train station for gear from another locker.

“ I need to stop at Molly’s for five minutes”

Roscoe frowned, “ya think you may be getting her involved?”

“With the gang she hangs out with only God could get near her”

  They drove in silence.  It was go time- on the warpath.

His crazy life was about to go nuts.

 After he was in the service for about seven years a man he had never met

approached him while he was in Ft. DeSoto Park in St. Petersburg

with a girlfriend.  He remembered that she had given him a hard time about

going to a fort while on vacation.

  They were sitting under a beach umbrella with their feet in the

powder white sand enjoying a picture perfect day and

sipping homemade Bay Breeze in Dixie cups.

  He went to use the men’s room in one of the old Battery’s.  He

walked into the huge concrete edifice and there was a man standing just

inside the opening.  There was no one else around.

 He looked like he’d come straight out of the fifties. He was average

height with a gaunt face that had deep lines in it and jet black hair combed

                                                       P.73
into a Duck Tail.  He was dressed in black including the shiny

pointed snake skin cowboy boots  and he said to Ben,
                                                       
“Black Hawk”

“Who?’, Ben replied.  Only his CO and the men in his unit called him that.

“ It’s alright. I know you’re CO,” he said as if Ben should have known.

Shocked, Ben realized he was talking to a spook.  Against his better

judgment he said, “why me, who sent you?”

“ People who keep an eye on things.  You’ve led a few clandestine missions

with success.  Your record is stellar and you’re not married. We could use

you for security.  Would you be interested?”

“Yeah, of course,” Ben replied, “but this is wild.  I need to speak to my

CO.”

“You don’t need to.  I’ll see you again.”

 Then the man walked a few paces and turned into a darkened room.

Ben stood awestruck for a second and then followed him into the

room.  It was empty.  He froze.

  He didn’t mention it to his girl and he was going to tell his CO but

something nagged him to forget about it.   In time he did.

  Over a period of a few years Ben went through some emotional turmoil or

physical ailments and he woke up countless mornings in a pool of sweat.  He
                                                        P.74
was going to see  doctors but he would mysteriously feel better and forget it.
                                                     
He was getting the idea that he was going to meet the man in black again.
                                                     
 He started meeting people in the oddest places who would seemingly

disappear and finally he walked into a building in South Kearny where he

was supposed to meet an NSA agent for a briefing concerning a greenside

mission  when he found himself  standing face to

face with the same MIB.

  Over the next few months he received his honorable discharge and was

under the tutelage of a US Marine Lieutenant Cornel who never divulged his

name and was introduced to Jake, over the phone, by the man in black.  Ben

learned early on that secret information is the most important weapon.

Ben fished his satellite phone from his pack and called Mollie.

“Hello?”

“Hi”

“ Ben, where are you? This isn’t your number.”, she said.

“I know.  I apologize for the short notice but I’d like to see you Mollie.”

“You haven’t called me in two days, Ben.’”

“I need to explain.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you home?”
                                                        P.75
“Where are you?”
                                                       
“Two minutes from you”
                                                         
“OK, I’ll be here”

  They rolled into Madison and Roscoe turned onto Mollies’ tree

lined street.  

 He reached into his gear and found a little canister of Binaca.  He asked

Roscoe to give him fifteen minutes or so, sprayed the Binaca, then he got out

and walked up the driveway.

  He grabbed the door knocker and tapped.  She answered the door with her

glorious auburn red curls hanging over her shoulders.

  She had on knee high black suede boots, his favorite tight grey mini skirt,

and that lovely tight grey cashmere sweater over a tight black blouse.  Every

time he saw her he couldn’t believe how beautiful she was.      She was

wearing a green beret and a  solid

gold chain with a heart shaped pendant-stunning as always.

She eyeballed his messy appearance with a look of disapproval but invited

him into the large reception foyer.  He was embarrassed.  He was sweaty

from running.

“What happened?”, she said with a worried look.

“We’ve been working on something for a few months now.”
                                                         P.76
“What?”
                                                     
“It’s better if you don’t know.”
                                                     
She leaned in close to him,

“What did you do?”, she demanded.

He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close.  The cashmere

sweater wrinkled softly in  his palms.  He kissed her cheek, the skin

was smooth and soft as a baby.   Her subtle perfume

was intoxicating.

“There’s some things that need to be changed”, he said.  After a pause

she whispered, “Come with me to the couch”.

They walked with their arms wrapped around each other.  Her heels

clicked on the white ceramic tile  as they walked toward the back of the

house and into the oversized living room.

  He stopped before stepping on the white shag carpet then untied and kicked

off his hiking boots.  She smiled, took his hand and led him to the white

suede coach.

All of the living room furniture was white suede and the walls were covered

with white silk wall paper.  The afternoon light filtering in through the

sliding glass doors adding a hint of indigo to the room.

  He sat back onto the large cushions and sunk in. She sat close to him with
                                                    P.77
her arms around him.  They slid into a lying position and she pressed
                                                     
herself against him.  She drew in a deep breath threw her nose. He pulled her
                                                       
close.

 There was a little tweak at his heart center and he relaxed a little into that

peaceful place he remembered just a few days earlier.  She looked up and

smiled.  He hadn’t told her he loved her. He didn’t know if he did.

“I want you to have this”, she said and taking off then handing him a gold

chain with a golden heart pendant.

“This has been in my family for generations.  I want you to keep it for good

Luck.”

“I can’t, “he said”, what if something happens?”

“Nothing bad will happen to you”, she said as if she already knew the future,

“it’s good luck.  Now take it”, and she

tucked it  into his pants pocket.

Ben smiled and said, “I’ll be back-maybe as soon as tonight.”

She laughed.

  She led the way to the door swishing in her mini skirt. He slid his boots on.

  They snogged again at the door and she said with her arms around his neck,

“Ben, come back to me”

“I will.  As soon as I can”.
                                                         P.78
    He got back in the car with Roscoe.  They couldn’t spare any more time.
                                                       
  They headed for the Madison train station where Ben stored some gear.
                                                   
He usually slipped in there at night when no one was around.

  Roscoe parked the car and said he wanted to go along to stretch his

legs.  They walked up the stone staircase of the elaborately designed station.

  They walked through the building on beautifully polished granite slabs and

past natural oak paneled walls with oversized paintings of the world’s most

famous railways.  There were large windows on the back wall to look

out on to the platform where several people were waiting and what looked

like a couple of skulking teen boys.

  Ben and Roscoe went through an alcove and into the locker area.  Ben took

the key from his pocket and opened the locker.  Just then the two creepy

teens came bounding through the alcove trying to surprise the both of them.

  Roscoe was behind Ben and instinctively turned and kicked the first one

with one of his steel toed boots and simultaneously hurled a left hook under

the kid’s chin.  Ben had also turned around just in time to intercept what

looked like a pipe being swung by the other kid and aimed at Roscoe’s head.

Ben twisted the kid’s legs and swung him around tripping him head first

into the adjoining wall of lockers and let him fall to the ground.

  Ben grabbed the contents of the locker and they hurried out the door trying
                                                     P.79
not to attract attention.  They jumped into the Buick and Roscoe drove off
                                                     
slowly.  They didn’t need to get stopped.

 “What do you think that was about?”, Ben Said

“Just kids trying to score to get props from their friends”, Roscoe replied.

“With a lead pipe? What happened to old fashioned fist fights?”, Ben asked.

Roscoe shrugged and lit up a Lucky Strike.  He was a little shaky.  He

wasn’t a big guy but he knew how to effectively street fight.

“There’s been a lot of close calls lately.” Ben said, “Maybe the minister has

some insights.”

  Roscoe snaked the vehicle around a few more windy neighborhoods and

stopped next to a Church graveyard.  The old brownstone structure was

as old as the town having been built when most of the surrounding area was

forest.

 Ben and Roscoe walked  up the flagstone path and stopped at the front door.

The made small talk while looking around to see if anyone was watching

and in a moment Roscoe ducked behind the bushes closest to the building

and started digging in the mulch.  After a few minutes Roscoe reappeared

dusting off a satchel.  It was full of coins.

  They went in the church and stopped in the

entrance hall.  Roscoe set the satchel on a table and took out the money
                                                   

                                                     P.80
bag.  Ben opened the chapel door.  It was empty inside except for a
                                                       
little old lady with whit gray hair sitting up in the front row next to the

candles.

  Rosco took a cursory glance at the coins and said,

“It looks like it’s all here-two hundred and fifty gold twenty’s circa 1940”

“Good.  I’ll check in with the minister.  Back in a few.”

  Ben hurried up the main isle in the darkened church past the wooden pews

covered with fine red velvet cushions.  The arched ceiling soared up to the

peak covered in gorgeous carvings in stone of angels and saints.

  Next to the alter the Great Organ played low some Divine tune

that Ben was trying to remember.  The Minster liked to listen to it even

when it played automatically and apparently so did the little old lady who sat

stock still with her eyes closed and her face lit up in a smile.

  Ben walked behind the altar.  Minister Daniel was busy with something.

He was a tall dark haired man with dark eyes.  An amiable minister with a

extremely educated in many fields but especially in spirituality.

“Dawn called me,” the minister said, “this is it?

“Yes,”
                                                       

                                                     

                                                           P.81
 “They probably picked up some psychic
                                                       
babbling from one of us,” the minister said, “in this region and passed on the

info. to their agents that control the federal government.”

“I’ve run into trouble lately, some of it clearly hostile,” said Ben.
`
“ Yes.  It’s probably coming from the shadow realms.  They stick to our

energy fields.  They pass away and instead of doing something good

they align themselves with evil powers and cause people to do evil in our

world as blood offerings and then they can effect events beneficial to their

needs as energy vampires.  I’m telling you this now at the last minute

because you need to know you are fighting evil people.  They don’t know

exactly what we are doing and they can’t really get to us, you included,

because we have aligned ourselves with the Divine Powers.  I’m sure you’ve

noticed over the years with the protection you’ve had.”  Multiple incidents

of close calls flashed through Ben’s mind, some harrowing. “You’re

probably several steps ahead of them now but you need to get to the beach

immediately. You know all the targets.  Why Who has chosen them is a

mystery.  We will have to wait for the results to sort it all out.”  He handed

Ben a thick manila folder crammed with info for

the mission.  No advanced technology could be taken with them.
                                                     

                                                          P.82
“Maybe we should have just done the rituals here in the basement but we
                                                 
thought that there would be less psychic disturbances at the beach.  You

already know your mission and the targets.” They walked up the aisle

exchanging small talk and well wishes.  The minister shook hands with

Roscoe also and showed them to the door.  “ Both of you take care of Dawn

and yourselves and Roscoe, don’t be afraid to say a prayer now and then.”

“I don’t have to.  Mama’s boy here does enough for all of us.”

All three laughed out loud then quieted down.  They shouldn’t have been

attracting attention.

  They jumped in the car and  picked up Dawn then set off for the beach.

Ben, now that the game was on, was having second thoughts about her.  She

was athletic and could rebound from harrowing experiences, such as the

bomb blast, but most of her experience had been in surveillance.  But

they needed a woman for various reasons on complicated missions

and she was brave enough to do it. He didn’t worry about Roscoe.

  About an hour and a half later they pulled up to a toll booth at a state park.

 Roscoe paid the toll and drove down the long beach road.  The twenty seven

hundred acre estate was given to the Park service to preserve it and the

large beach house but only one fisherman’s shack survived along the ten
                                                     

                                                         P.83
mile stretch of beach and that’ s where they were going to jump off.
                                                         
Roscoe parked in Area 13.

  The three walked through the high dunes covered in sea grass and

shrubs and into the old wooden two room fisherman’s shack.

 “Well, this is pre-mature but we’ve gone through the motions plenty of

times-“

  Just then there was a creaking sound in the other room.  Roscoe opened the

door and a hatchway was opening from the floor boards.  A youngish

looking man with milky skin, light blue eyes, and white hair popped his head

up.  He was wearing a white monk’s habit with a strange insignia.  The hood

was off.

  “ Dawn, Ben, Roscoe.” he said nodding his head to each.  “Hello,

Brimley,” they each said.  There was no small talk

with Brimley-all business.  “We’re ready when you are.  You know the

drill.  It’s 7:20 pm.  You can expect us to transfer you again in about 24

hours at the appointed time.   And since we’re starting early we can’t

send you to the motel.  You’ll have to tough it until morning when you can

get to a bank.   We’ll land you on the Mall.”

“Alright.  Give us five minutes?”
                                                           P.84
“Ten minutes and your off”
                                                   
“Deal,” Ben said.
                                                         
Brimley closed the hatch above him with a click from the sliding lock.  They

looked at each other and chuckled.

  Roscoe retrieved their packs from the other room.  They took the items

they needed from each and put them in Dawn’s large white patent leather

handbag. Then they sat in the middle of the floor leaning against each

other’s backs.

“Did they start?” asked Ben.

“Just now.” answered Dawn.

  The chanting grew more intense.  Soon they could feel a strange sensation

around their bodies.

   Then the sensation washed over their bodies for a few moments.

  It was that horrible feeling you get from a brush with death.

They each took a deep breath, as instructed in previous test runs, held it for a

count of five and let it out slowly.

  In the blink of an Eye they found themselves sitting side by side on a park

bench.  Under a street lamp they looked at each other in silence.  It was

early evening, same time as when they left. Roscoe turned round then said,

“ We made it-the Smithsonian Castles’ behind us”.
                                                       P.85
  They walked to the corner of Jefferson Drive and 7th Street and picked a
                                                     
Rolled up Washington Times paper from a trash can..  It was September
                                                       
23rd, 1964.  The weather was warm and humid.

  This was the first stop on their mission.  They were to severely harass

Senators’ Celler and Hart.

  “Let’s get a move on”, Ben said.  Since Roscoe and Dawn were alive in

1964 they could be seen by incarnates and passersby were

already gawking at he and Roscoe’s clothes.  Dawn was alright.  She was

prepared. She had on a dress that could pass for the early ‘60s.

  They walked the length of the Mall to a small, forgotten Memorial

dedicated to WWI vets.  Roscoe remembered it. It was open with large

marble pillars and marble roof and it was surrounded by large silver

maples.  Hopefully the Capitol Police wouldn’t notice them.

  They had planned to leave the future in the a.m. around eight but due to the

circumstances they were going to have to improvise a little.  They hid

their guns in the small wooded area surrounding the Memorial and made

sure their fake drivers licenses’ and other ID were in order.  Dawn sat

next to Ben with her back on the same pillar lightly touching his shoulder.

Ben silently enjoyed the comfort.

  There was an underlying sense of controlled terror among them.

                                               
                                                           P.86
 What if they couldn’t get back?
                                                     
They had traveled many times in practice runs but only for hours at a time.

And to top it off both Dawn and Roscoe were in physical form again, heavy

and tiresome.

“We can do this,” Ben said.   All agreed but they didn’t sleep much.

  In the morning they were more relaxed and Dawn walked up to the E Street

area, found a bank, and cashed in enough gold coins for the next week.

The coins didn’t arouse suspicion.

  Aside from men gawking at her and one guy who tried to get her phone

number she had no serious problems.

  When she came back they packed up and Dawn hailed a cab.  The cabbie

stared at the guys’ clothes, haircuts, and backpacks.

“We were in Europe for awhile,” Ben said.

 The cabbie took them to where Route 1 and

Route 50 intersect and found a Howard Johnsons Motel.  Roscoe and Dawn

posed as husband and wife and Ben got a single saying he was Roscoe’s

uncle.  They told the desk clerk the same story about being in European

fashion mode.  They took the keys from the clerk-“Howard Johnsons

Washington DC 20032-Drop in any mailbox.”
                                                       P.87
  Daisy got another cab and went shopping at Woolworths.  She picked out
                                                     
clothes for the guys and a few things for herself.  She bought Ben and
                                                       
Roscoe two pairs each of check pants in yellow, light blue, red, and brown,

short sleeve collared shirts, underwear, comfortable walking shoes, a

couple of straw fedora hats, sport coats, and a pair of shears.  She also did

some grocery shopping, their rooms were efficiencies.

 There was no time to waste in restaurants unless needed and they were not

to make undue contact with people or have lengthy conversations.

  In the early afternoon they sat around a small aluminum kitchen table with

a white formica top. Dawn trimmed Ben and Roscoe’s hair to fit the times.

“It looks like we’re adapting to traveling. Dawn’s a natural,” Ben said.

“I’m comfortable enough,” she said. “Me too,” agreed Roscoe.

“Good.  Let’s plan our itinerary.” Ben opened the manila folder.  “We know

from our intel. that both Senators are in town for the rest of the week.  We

know security is tighter around Johnson since Kennedy’s assassination but

not so much for Senators.   Celler and Hart had a meeting, or will have one

tonight at about 8 pm in Celler’s apartment.  Apparently they had an aid

keep the minutes.

  ‘This schematic shows Hart’s townhouse on 33rd street in Georgetown.

Celler has an apartment in an old building on 24th street in West End.
                                                       P.88
  Let’s plan on going to Celler’s apartment around six.”
                                                   

                                                   
  Around 6:30 pm the traveling trio got out of a cab near the White House.

  They did a little sightseeing then walked up Pennsylvania Avenue to

Washington Circle.  Ben lost count of how many men ogled Dawn.  She

was flawlessly beautiful.

  They found a small restaurant with outdoor dining that served continental

cuisine.  They ate, drank a little wine, and shared small talk.

  Ben looked at his watch.  “7:45”, he said.

Roscoe paid the bill and they walked to twenty fourth

street and to Senator Celler’s apartment building.

  They slowed down a little to let a couple walk past the entrance.  The

doorman was at his post.

  Ben and Roscoe stayed out of sight while Dawn approached the doorman.

“Excuse me,” Dawn said, “I need a favor from you.  Would you please bend

the rules and let me use a bathroom?  I’m a tourist and I’m

a long way from my hotel.”

  The doorman hesitated but she smiled and gave him the googly eye.  He

couldn’t resist.

  They walked through the art deco lobby to a utility room door and went in.
                                                     P.89
It was a small janitor’s office with a bathroom at the other end.  He showed
                                                                                                           
her the bathroom door and turned around.  She had opened her purse
                                                     
previously and in one practiced move she zapped him with a taser in the

back near his lung.  It stunned him so he couldn’t yell.  She zapped him

twice more and he was delirious.

She pulled three bandanas from her purse and gagged him and had to zap

him again so she could tie his hands and feet.

  Ben and Roscoe were in the lobby when she came out and the three hurried

up the stairs to the third floor.

  Roscoe rang the doorbell of 315 and Senator Celler’s wife answered.  Ben

pointed his Walther PP7 with a silencer at her and whispered that she

should not scream.  They pushed their way in having her lead them to the

meeting area which was the living room. Roscoe went room to room and

found Mrs. Hart in the kitchen.

  Celler, Hart, and the aid were silent when the others walked

into the room- as if they knew something was wrong.

Roscoe brought Mrs. Hart in.

  “Time,” Ben said.

“8:13,” Dawn replied.

“Anyone screams you’re all dead. Listen to me Celler and Hart. You two
                                                         P.90
stand up next to each other and turn around.” They did as instructed.  The

                                                   
                                                   
women began to whimper.

 “The expansive immigration bill bill you’re proposing has become a

disaster in the future.  It’s been misused as a weapon to balkanize the US.

Drop it now or we will come back and kill you both. Turn around.”  They all

began to plead.  “Shut up,”

Ben said as he shot a lamp.  It crashed to the floor and they quieted down.

Celler and Hart turned around.

  “Time.”

“8:14”

“We cut it too close”

Ben shot each Senator in the left buttocks.  They both fell to the floor. He

was hoping they wouldn’t croak from heart failure.

  “If we have to come back we will shoot you in your real asses –the ones

on top of your shoulders.”

  The familiar feeling of imminent death came over the trio

and by about 8:15 pm they disappeared right before the eyes of the horrified

Senators, their wives, and the aid.

  The wives got up shaking.  Mrs. Celler ran to the phone.  Hart called out,
                                                   P.91
“Don’t call the police.  Call the White House for special

                                                             
                                                       
instructions.  This needs to be kept quiet.”

  She dialed the White House while Mrs. Hart comforted the Senators.  The

young aid stood shaking at the other end of the room his eyes wide with fear

and shock.   He had wet his pants.

   The Senators looked at each other.  “Some of that Top Secret nonsense

turns out to be true,” Hart whispered with exhilaration.  “Apparently,” Celler

replied equally exhilarated.

  The three travelers found themselves sitting on a park bench once again but

this time they could hear the crash of ocean waves.  They got up and

walked back toward the roadway.  They were at the corner of Pacific

Coast Highway and Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles.

  Ben looked at his watch.  “11:20 pm ESTand right on target.  We need to

find a newspaper.”   Again they didn’t need to go far.  There was a small

snack stand and public restrooms near the empty parking lot and a

newspaper vending machine.  The air was dry and cool.

  “Yep.  July 20th 1968,” Roscoe said as he unfolded the paper.

“Good,” Ben said, let’s reset our watches while we take a walk on the foot

path along the beach.  We’ve got some time.”
                                                        P.92
“First,” said Roscoe, “I need to relieve this heavy sack I’m wearing.”
                                                   
“Me too,” added Dawn
                                                     
“Call of Nature,” Ben said.  Luckily the facilities were still open.

  Afterwards they walked across PCH.

“Gonna be hard to sit for awhile,” Ben said.  Dawn and Roscoe snickered.

“ How much tasing  can someone take?” asked Dawn obviously worried

about the doorman.  The act of attacking didn’t bother her much.  She had

lots’ of training in self defense and she was athletic but it was her first her

act of violence.

“How many times?”  Ben asked.

“Four” she replied

“Ouch,” Roscoe said, “The areas where you zapped him are going to be

bruised and sore for days”

“Shocked by what ya did?” Ben asked.

“Yes.  The training kicked in and it just happened.”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t kill him.”

  They stopped at a bus stop bench on Sunset Blvd.  They sat together.

“You think the Feds might try to find us?” Roscoe mused.

They had this discussion before with Brimley.  The Feds would try if they

had someone adept enough to figure out what happened back down the
                                                     P.93
timeline.  No doubt Intelligence would hear from Celler and Hart and then
                                                     
attempts at communications up the timeline would be made.  And no doubt
                                                   
they would approach the upper echelon of the Masons.  The Masons would

refuse.  Only a select group at any time within the Masons had the true

secrets to travel and if their intent was to cause chaos for gain in any way

their attempts would fail and the ramifications horrible

  The Internationalists/Neo-Cons had to resort to physical technology, high

voltage and far out technology.

“ Maybe,” Ben said, “Keep your gun handy, Dawn.”  Ben didn’t notice that

her eyes widened and she nervously swallowed.

“The way we travel is harrowing enough.  Could you imagine being one of

their guinea pigs?” Ben added

  They were alone so they quietly went over the mission.

They waited another ten minutes then hopped the bus.

  They weren’t on the bus for long.  They got off at the corner on Palisades

Avenue with not much traffic.  The California suburbs quieted down around

nine pm and it seemed everyone was tucked in by ten.

  There was a house across the street that was built as a replica of a Dutch

windmill.  They walked across stealthily and while Ben and Dawn kept

watch Roscoe went in the driveway to the trash can shed near the fence.
                                                       P.94
Brimley said a cardboard box would be there at 11:25 pm PST.  They used
                                                     
regular time instead of military because of the traveling.
                                                   
   Roscoe waited for the all clear before he stepped

from the shadows.  He picked up the box and was just about to walk from

the driveway when Ben let out a low whistle.  He froze.

 He saw the black and white and heard Ben talking

to a patrolman and holding Dawns’ hand.  “We’re just walking up from the

beach.  We’re going to catch a bus soon.”  That was all.  Dawn looked too

innocent to provoke suspicion.  Luckily it was dark.  Ben would have to had

said he was her father.

They crossed the street and waited for the last bus at twelve midnight.

  They got off at the bus stop at 14400 Sunset-Dennis Wilson’s

driveway.  They driveway gate was unlocked. They walked in and Roscoe

put the box down behind a large sycamore.  They had studied the property

through some then and now real estate photos. The property hadn’t been

altered, though it had been updated.

 Roscoe pulled a pair of surgical gloves from his pocket.

He put them on and quickly opened the box.  He pulled out a smaller box

from within.

  No one had seen them yet.  Except Manson most of the “family” were just
                                                       P.95
out of their teens.  “Dawn, stay here and watch the front.  Roscoe you go that
                                                     
way and I’ll go this way. Let’s get a head count for each room.”

A few minutes later they were back with Dawn.

“They’re all in the large den in the rear,” Ben said to Dawn.   Roscoe nodded

his head.

“They’re laying around on the floor and the couches.  The lights are down

low and Manson is in the recliner watching the late show.  Let’s get in

there.”

  The front door was open.  There was no need to worry about Wilson.

Brimley had said he moved out recently.  Manson had demanded cash from

him one too many times and when he didn’t get it he started to threaten

him.  The Manson family tried to make a commune in Wilson’s house

except Wilson was expected to pay the bills.

  They crept down the hall.  The house reeked of marijuana, various food

stenches, and sweat. Ben and Roscoe found a roundabout way to the kitchen.

They were both wearing surgical gloves.  All three were alive in 1968 and

they couldn’t leave prints.  Dawn went to the den.

  She stopped when she reached the archway.  All the kids were laying

around like zombies.  Manson would periodically have an LSD party but

wouldn’t take any himself.  He would then use suggestions to brainwash the

                                                   
                                                        P.96
kids.  Had Brimley known there would be one tonight, Dawn wondered?

  She moved quietly across the room and stopped with her back to the

kitchen.

  She steeled herself.  “Are you Charlie?” she said with a little melody.

He turned around and his eyes bugged.  He almost jumped out of the chair.

Dawn was always stunning.  Even in a modest cream colored dress from

Woolworths and a brown bandana loosely tied around her neck.

“Who you?” he said as he moved closer to her, obviously taken but

suspicious because she was too beautiful for him.  Some terrifying darkness

peeped from within his black orbs-Manson lamps.

“I’m an old friend of Corole’s .  I’m looking for Dennis.”

“How-ja get in?”

“The gate is open, and the front door.”

“How-ja get here?”

“Taxi.”

“It’s after midnight.”

“ I’m in a jam.  I’d like a drink of water,” she said and turned her back on

him then walked through the kitchen archway wiggling her derriere. He

followed cautiously.
                                                     P.97
  As soon as he entered the kitchen Roscoe, who was on his left, snapped
                                                   
his finger. Manson turned his head and the next second Ben came at him

from his right and whacked him on the forehead with a round palm sized

decorative stone that he had picked out of a planter by the front door.

  Manson went down on his knees with hardly a sound, head in hands.  Ben

hit him again in the back of the head and he hit the floor.  Roscoe and Ben

grabbed him and he was about to scream but Ben hit him again and he

blacked out.  Dawn, who had put her gloves on, shoved the bandana in his

mouth and tied it behind his head as they dragged him to the guest room

behind the kitchen and shut the door.

  Dawn tore the ruffled sheets off the bed.  They hogged tied him to the

dresser.  Roscoe picked up the box and took Manson’s tied up hands and

touched the finger tips all over it.  There was five pounds of heroin in the

walls of a clay pot from Paris.  Brimley said it was no easy feat

reproducing the postage.

  Dawn  retrieved a small pillbox from her handbag. She drew a modest

amount of a potent batch of liquid L-tryptophan from the bottle, pushed the

air from the syringe and stuck it into Manson.  He’d be out for an hour at

least.

  They left the room and were about to leave the house when the girl who
                                                      P.98
became known as Squeaky was sliding her feet across the kitchen
                                                       
floor.  “Where’s Charlie, who are you?”, she said.

  They didn’t need complications.  Dawn reached for the syringe that she just

tossed in her bag, pulled it out, walked over to Squeaky smiling and stuck

her in the butt trying to bleed the syringe before it went in.  She let out a yelp

but a weak one and Roscoe grabbed her chin and head to hold her mouth

shut while Ben twisted her arms around her back.  They found another

bedroom, put a sock in her mouth , tied her up, then locked and shut the

door.  They stood in the dining area for a moment but there was no more

movement from the others.

 Outside Ben peered through the gate just in time to see the same patrol car

rolling by.  He waited until the car was out of sight and then walked over to

the phone booth that was at the bus stop.  With a dime he called the LA

police.  “ I’m at 14400 Sunset and there is an LSD party going on with

people passed out all over and a guy calling himself Charlie Manson is

selling all kinds of drugs including heroin.

There was some kind of scuffle in the back room behind the kitchen so I left.

I faked taking the drugs and ran out when I could.  No, no names just send

the cops over,” and he hung up.

  The three travelers immediately crossed the street onto Will Rogers State
                                                       P.99
Park Road and hurried up the hill.  They stood behind some trees for a
                                                       
couple of minutes then the same patrol car came up the road.  A second and

a third squad car showed up and five officers went in through the gate.

“Time”, Ben whispered.

“12:50,” answered Dawn.

  They walked briskly up the hill to the entrance of the park and no sooner

had they reached the toll booth then that creepy feeling crept over them.

  They found themselves in a parking lot of another Howard Johnsons

not far alongside a highway.

“ Dawn, would you do the honors again?’ Ben said as they walked toward

the door to the front desk.

  She came out a few minutes later with two keys.  She made up a story that

 they had been dropped off by a family member to avoid questions. The

keys were labeled-“Howard Johnsons, Middletown New York, 10940. Drop

in any mail box”.

 In the morning they followed the Washington routine, except for the bank.

Dawn came back with a “mod” wardrobe for each of them.  Paisley shirts,

suede leather pants, leather head bands and desert boots.

  It was August 13th 1969.  They needed to get to the Woodstock Festival in

Bethel so they rented a car.  Roscoe had a NJ driver license and an American
                                                        P.100
Express that Brimley had forged to look authentic and both issued in 1967.
                                                     
Roscoe told the agent that they took a bus from NJ and needed a car for four

days to go to the festival.

“Alotta hippies crawlin’ all over the place,” the agent said, “You and your

friends don’t look like hippies.”

“No. We thought we’d come up to hear some of the bands,” Roscoe

answered.  Ben had stayed outside.  The mod style didn’t fit him.  He still

looked like he was in his forties.

  They drove up rt. 17 to Monticello then onto rt. 17b for 12 miles. They

took note of a dirt road about ¼ mile from the farm.

Roscoe parked the car at the bottom of the long farm road entrance and they

got out and walked.  Almost immediately Dawn touched them both by the

 arm and made the shh sign.

There was no security to speak of.  A fence was being erected around the

stage along with a bridge/catwalk from a secured area to so the fans couldn’t

get to the bands.

  The stage was at the bottom of a bowl shaped hill.  The sound system was

powered by three large transformers behind the stage. The speaker towers

soared to fifty feet. The sound crew were testing it.

  They walked along the road behind the stage then under the bridge and up
                                                    P.101
the hill to get a better view.  The field was a great location for an
                                                       
                                                   
That’s all they needed to see.

   Once back at the motel Dawn spoke softly.  They now had to seriously

consider the influences of the 4th dimension.  Since they started in

Washington they all had seen disincarnated spirits but ignored them.  To

acknowledge them would draw attention.

“I can sense that there is apprehension.  Their adepts know

 something’s going on,” Dawn said.

“Meaning us?” Ben asked.

Dawn nodded.

“I don’t think we should go out to eat.  We can order Chinese delivery,” Ben

offered.

“I can walk down the few blocks,” Roscoe said, “There’s nobody around

here, near the highway.” He wanted step out.

“I suppose.  Dawn?

“Steamed Vegetables in garlic sauce-keeps the vampires away.”

The guys didn’t laugh.  “Kung Po chicken,” Ben said

  After Roscoe left Ben said, “ I’m going to shower.  See you at chow.”

Ben took a quick shower.  He was drying his hair as he walked into the

                                                      P.102
room.  He dropped the towel from his head to look in the mirror and was

startled by the reflection of Dawn.  She was sitting on the bed. He quickly

covered himself with the towel.

“ Sorry, I thought you would go to your room”

“It’s OK, Ben” she said and she stood up.

She walked to him and stood a foot away.

“What about your husband?  We should have his permission.”

“What about Molly?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t”

“I won’t tell.”

  They fell into passionate kissing.  Ben’s towel fell to the floor.

“I can’t say I love you, Dawn, but I really like you.”

“That’s good enough.”

“I’ve wanted to be with you since the day I saw you”

“Me too.”

  More lip locking and necking then, of course, there was a loud knock at the

door.

“Roscoe. ”  Ben looked angry.

“Maybe after we eat we can slip into my room”

“OK.”  Ben picked up his towel and went into the bathroom.  Dawn
                                                      P.103
answered the door.
                                                 
  “So, Dawn, do you think the vampires are onto us?”  asked Roscoe as he

dug into chop suey.

“No.  I don’t sense any danger for us but we should talk low and not for

long.   There is a strong gathering at the concert area, as Brimley had said

there was, but like I told you earlier I could feel a strong negative

energy that was pulling at my aura.  Large groups of energy vampires from

the shadow realms.”

“And  they manage to stay in the shadows by having demonic beings

manipulate willing participants like Manson to do their blood work,” Roscoe

added.

“I think it’s more complicated than that but blood is what It wants to keep

them in the shadows.  Then as spirits they need to suck energy from groups

in the flesh that they gather around them-Manna vampires.  The

more control over large populations the more power for them.

And they brainwashed these kids for the anti establishment mindset, as we

know”

  “Makes me nauseous,” Ben said, and then,  “It’s almost midnight, maybe

we should relax for a couple of hours.”  He moved over to his bed.  Dawn

was already laying on top of the covers .  Ben laid down next to her.
                                                  P.104
  “Gee Ben,” Roscoe said, “ could you lay next to me in our next room.”
                                                       
Ben replied, “only if you promise to behave.”  They all chuckled and Dawn

rolled over and put her head on Ben’s shoulder.  They went over the mission

in detail.

  At 1:45 a.m. they crept out to the back parking lot.  They drove out to the

farm again hoping there would be no patrol cars around or security from the

festival.  Roscoe spotted the dirt road and turned out the headlights.  They

rolled in behind some large bushes just off the road.  The three got

out and looked around.  Each went a different way creeping as

silently as they could.  After a couple of minutes Dawn spotted a small

blinking red light.  She retrieved the duffle bag and tapped a button on her

watch, the other’s watches gave a low click.  They met back at the car.

   Dawn opened the bag and gave Ben and Roscoe black jump suits and one

black stocking each.  Brynn crossed Ben’s mind.

  When they were both suited up Ben removed the plastic explosives from

the bag.  There were nine 6 oz. wrapped bars of C-4 each with an electronic

blasting cap and a thick adhesive on the back.  Ben put them in a smaller bag

with the remote detonator plunger.

  There was no traffic at all but they took no chances.  They crossed the road

and stayed low to the ground to the main entrance of the farm.  Dawn stayed
                                                        P.105
behind the wheel for their getaway.  All had radio headsets.
                                                       
  Ben and Roscoe stayed on the grass along the farm road.  When they

neared the stage they spied, using night vision, on the trailers in the secured

area for the bands. No sign of movement.  Roscoe took four explosives from

the duffle bag.  A dog barked off in the distance.

  The fence behind the stage was still open.  Ben went around the left of the

stage, Roscoe went around the right.  They molded explosives on

each speaker tower and switched the receivers on.  Then at the first openings

they could find put one explosive in the front and one in the rear of the stage.

  At the back of the stage were three 2000 ampere electrical transformers,

one explosive each.  Just as Ben placed the last one the dog barked again

only closer, about one hundred yards. Then they heard it running on the

gravel road.

  They both ran toward an opening in the fence onto the gravel road.

Roscoe pulled out the detonator.  They heard a door from one of the trailers

open. The dog was getting closer and Ben said, “Clear

the trees and  trigger.”  The dog was about twenty five feet away as they

cleared a row of trees to an open area.  Ben had switched the plunger on in

mid stride. He flipped the plunger switch.  The blast threw the dog up

against the fencing with a ‘yipe’.  It ran off in the opposite direction. The
                                                      P.106
echo of the blast and the creaking noises of the towers and stage as they
                                                   
bounced off the hills. Ben and Roscoe

were also thrown to the ground but quickly got up and ran down the

farm road when the towers crashed to the ground with a rumble.  Dawn was

waiting at the bottom of the road. There were no other cars on 17b.  They

drove away with the lights off.

 “We were probably spotted driving off.” Ben said.  Dawn turned north onto

rt. 55.  They continued up about five miles to an electrical Transmission

Line that served the area.  Dawn pulled to the side but this time there was

nowhere to hide the car.  Ben jumped out with two C-4 bars and loped over

to the closest tower.  He molded them opposite the other.

  As Ben got back in the car headlights appeared just over the rise in the

Road ahead of them.  Then the flashing red cherry top grabbed their

attention.“Keep the lights off till he passes,” Ben said.

The patrol car was racing toward them with the siren off no doubt

responding to the farm.  They kept low in the car but as it passed the officer

slammed on the brakes.  Dawn punched it.

  They had rented a new’69 Plymouth Fury with a 375 V-8.  0 to 60 in 6

seconds and it bounded off.

Ben waited till he thought the patrol car was clear and
                                                      P.107
flipped the plunger.  There was a loud bang and the car bounced.  He saw
                                               
the live wires fly in all directions and one hit the road behind the patrol car.

“Slow down a little,” Roscoe said in a nervous tone.

“Time,” Ben said.

“2:55,” Roscoe replied.

  “He’ll probably call ahead for a road block.  Drive straight up toward

Liberty,” Ben said.

  They raced up rt. 55 at 70 miles an hour with two patrol cars tailing them

and getting airborne over the rises,  screeching around turns.

  Suddenly they got that creepy feeling. Daisy tried to slow down.  Ben

grabbed the duffle bag and said, “I hope the car doesn’t hit anyone.”

The three of them disappeared just as the car got into Liberty.  It veered off

to the right and slammed into the corner of what was once an auto parts

store.  There was a partial sign covering the auto parts sign- ‘Democrat Party

Regional Office’- and then a smaller sign covering that- ‘Community

Welfare Organization.’   The Fury exploded.

  Standing in another Howard Johnson’s parking lot they found they were

staring at each other.

“We OK?” Ben asked checking his tense body.

“Yeah,” said Daisy a little shaken.
                                                       P.108
“Sure, buzzin’ again,” Roscoe said.  He then tore off the jumpsuit and
                                                     
handed it to Ben and he stuffed it in the duffle bag.  “ I’ll get the rooms,”

Roscoe said.

  Ben and Daisy stood in silence a moment while Ben removed his jumpsuit.

“That was a hell of a ride, huh?”

“Better than the Amusement Pier,” Dawn replied then said, “I think we

might get some company.”

“6th sense sounding off?”

“Something like that. I heard the dog barking off in the distance and then I

had a brief intuitive insight-company men like Frank chasing us,” she said.

“We’ll be careful on this one.   I still don’t see how they could know our

next move.”

Dawn moved closer to Ben.  He put his arm around her.

“The dog was close?’ she asked.

“I could hear him panting.”  She smiled.

 Roscoe came back and gave Dawn a key-“Howard Johnsons, Cayuga Falls

Ohio, 44328-Drop in any mailbox.”

  Their complimentary morning newspapers were dated May 4th 1970.

At 9:30 am they sat around the white formica table with the plastic covered

cushioned seats in Daisy’s room and ate their complimentary breakfast.
                                                         P.109
 They went over the next mission in detail.
                                                       
  When they got to Kent State they were expecting about two thousand

students gathering for the protest but there were only about half that many.

The three of them smiled at each other.

 Ben went directly to Taylor Hall.  He was wearing a pair of grayish khakis,

work shoes, and a Kent State Maintenance shirt that was in the duffle bag.

The sound system for the speeches was plugged in to a side entrance by

extension cords.  Ben had studied the schematic of the building’s basement

that was in the manilla.

He also had  a forged Kent State ID but as he walked in no one asked

to see it, there were a lot of people around.

  Meanwhile Dawn and Roscoe, who also had ID, walked across the green to

a backstop for softball and sat down.  Dawn took a six inch by three inch

grass green package from her pocket book and as Roscoe looked on placed

it in the tall grass along the backstop. They waited a few minutes and

continued the same procedure at three other locations around the

demonstration area.

  Inside Ben found the electrical room.  The maintenance office was next to

it and it was closed.  The cleaning crew usually came in after 5 pm but there

was bound to be one man around the building.  From his smallish tool bag
                                                   P.110
he took a small hand operated drill and punched the lock out of the
                                                   
doorknob.

In the room he quickly set a very small plastic explosive on the main panel.

He then peeped his head out the door and all was clear.

 He hurried out the side entrance and crossed into Prentice Hall and repeated

the same procedure.  When he was done he removed the maintenance shirt.

He was wearing a t-shirt that read “Chicago Cubs”.   He put on his desert

boots, left everything in the room except the plunger, and went outside.

  He came out of Prentice Hall and saw Roscoe standing near Taylor Hall.

“Where’s Dawn?”

“She went in to get you”

“I didn’t see her.”

They looked at each other for two seconds and then ran into Prentice Hall

risking drawing attention.  When they got to the bottom of the staircase at

the basement entrance two crazy looking men, oblivious to Ben and Roscoe,

were preparing to rape Dawn.  Without hesitation they pulled their silenced

pistols and emptied their clips shooting at the lungs first to quell shouts

and then the heads.

  Ben and Roscoe gathered Daisy up and steadied her.No time to waste.They

hurried outside and behind both buildings to an open field.  Ben flipped the
                                                          P.111
plunger and Roscoe detonated the military grade tear gas bombs.  There

would be no protest and no shooting students. No one would be using the

green for anything for at least a week.  And then there’s the dead bodies,

although the Fed’s may try to retrieve them.

  They hurried to the parking lot area and stopped next to the motorcycle lot.

“No time to waste,” Ben said, “Roscoe, hotwire these to bikes. Dawn and I

will keep watch.”  Roscoe produced his pocket knife, opened the electric

panels and got to work.

Ben turned to Dawn, “what happened?”

“I went in to look around and to wait for you at the top of the stairs.  Then

from nowhere they grabbed me, one covered my mouth, and forced me

down the stairs.”

“They looked insane.  The Feds wouldn’t have sent their average goons.

They must have gone nuts in the process.  They didn’t notice Roscoe and I at

all.”

  Both bikes were started. Just then, at the far end of the lot, Ben spotted a

dark four door sedan and it wasn’t from 1970.  Dawn saw it too.

“Ben, your shirt,” she said

“Crap,” he said as he tore it off while getting on a bike.  He balled up the

shirt and threw it in a trash can. Dawn hopped on the back of Ben’s stolen
                                                     P.112
bike carrying the duffle bag.. They tore off toward an opposite exit.  Police
                                                     
sirens were straining all around the campus.  Students were running to their

cars.

  They went out Midway Drive to rt. 59 with Roscoe in the lead.  Roscoe

caught a glimpse of the sedan in his rear view and immediately made a

left into a neighborhood.  They wound around a few blocks and again saw

the Feds.  They knew they were spotted.

  They raced through the side roads until they reached Highway 162 then

Ben took the lead.  He’d been out to the area before on business.

  They were reaching 80 miles an hour and no one had helmets.

After a few more turns they ended up on Lake Rockwell Road.  If they could

shake the feds on the windy road they could ride the bikes down a dirt

path.   Ben knew of a boat house that belonged to a Marine buddy.  His

family built it in the 1930’s.

  They lost the feds around a few turns and Ben almost missed the path but

they turned down it and headed for the lake.  It was about a half mile in.

After a couple of minutes the path opened to a sloping grassy area that ran

down to the lake with shade trees, children’s swings, a picnic table, and a

grill.

They dumped the bikes and ran for the house.  It was built along the shore
                                                      P.113
with a covered deck that housed a garage for the boat.  Ben remembered
                                                         
where they left the key but it wasn’t there.  He and Roscoe battered the door

open.  They went to the second floor and as they opened the windows the

feds came into view loping along the path.  Loaded and locked they aimed

their  weapons.  They each had a Micro-Uzi.

They disappeared before they opened fire.

“Crap,” Ben said, “I shouldn’t have dropped the shirt in the trash can.  They

may have doubled back.”  Again they were standing in the parking lot of a

motel but not a Howard Johnson’s.  They were near the office so Ben

stepped out of view and they quickly stowed the guns into the duffle bag.

Ben rummaged the duffle bag and found another t-shirt while Roscoe got the

rooms.  “ Rooms 105 and 106 like Brimley said.”

  After they settled in Ben said, “The feds probably pulled the first two back

and examined their nerves and brain tissue for swelling.”

“Apparently they fixed the problem,” Roscoe said, “and sent four of them

and a vehicle.”

“We should get to our next job early.” Dawn said, “scope it out.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to keep watch outside,” Ben said,  “the new duffle bag

should be in the closet at 6pm.  I’ve got to get a note in the old bag and put it

in the closet by 6:30.  Anything you guys would like to say?”
                                                     P.114
They all agreed to ask for a meeting after the job.  The feds were getting

closer.

“Dawn, about the attack-,” Ben was saying when Dawn cut in

“I knew you two were around. They just got me to the bottom of the stairs

when you showed up.  It’s bothering me but it’ll fade.”

  Ben and Roscoe let it go for the time being and they settled in.

  The next morning Roscoe rented a car but this time using a different ID

from the new duffle bag.  They drove south on rt. 41 into Chicago.  It was

June 18th 1969.

  Ben, Dawn, and Roscoe rolled slowly down Wabash Avenue past the

Coliseum whose façade was a reconstructed prison.  A man named Gunther

had the Libby prison dismantled in Virginia and shipped to Chicago.

Thousands of Union soldiers were held there during the Civil War and

Gunther turned it into a Civil War museum.

  They made their way to East 14th Street past old tenement buildings and

turned down the alley behind to the Coliseum’s service entrance area.  They

slipped in through a door next and immediately

tranquilized the receiving manager and his clerk and locked them in the

office. There were no other workers around to neutralize so they made their

way into the cavernous Coliseum. Once inside they
                                                      P.115
quietly laid their weapons under some chairs. Ben stayed out of sight while

the two youngsters went around and locked all the doors with padlocks.

  The SDS convention had started at 10 am and it looked like almost two

thousand had showed up.  Most of the people had gathered in the center of

the floor where an area had been cleared.  A dozen tables were set up in a

semi-circle. Each of the factions had laid out their own literature and were

vying for attention.  From the shadows Ben could see through his mini

binoculars that all members of the ‘weather underground’ were there.

  A few minutes later they were back with Ben.  They put on their gas masks

and sent volleys of a non-lethal but sickening gas that Brimley said would

incapacitate anyone in the arena for 30 minutes with vomiting first and then

diarrhea.  .

 They fired 16 containers and the kids started scattering.  The three ran over

to the weather underground’s table and while they were vomiting Roscoe

and Dawn tranquilized them.  “Listen people,” Ben said in a muffled voice

through a confiscated bullhorn, “The weather underground are actually paid

CIA operatives who don’t always do what their told. You’ve all been

compromised and your names are on file.  You will never find jobs.”

The vomiting had already started and then the diarrhea kicked in. They

all started flopping to the floor crying and barfing and defecating. Unable to
                                                       P.116
resist Roscoe had taken off his belt and whipped members of the

weather underground before the three terror experts ran toward the door they

came in.  Roscoe produced a small pair of bolt cutters, opened the door and

they ran down the hall to the receiving dock.  Before they went out Ben

checked the alley.  Just as he did a sedan was pulling up.

 “They’re here.”

Roscoe picked up the bazooka he had stowed behind a coat rack by the door.

Ben got out of the way.  Roscoe launched and the car blew up in a ball of

flames.  Ben was peppering the car with his Uzi when another sedan pulled

in front of it.

“Time?’

“11:20”

“Let’s get to the balcony.”

  They loped back into the arena and made for the stairs.  As they were going

up another sedan was smashing through the front doors. They hurried

to the section above the stage for a clear view.  Ben and Roscoe aimed at the

doors with their XM8 carbine rifles with grenade launchers.  They

didn’t want to hit the students so they took quick shots at the feds.  Daisy

had the bazooka aimed at the doorway at the top of the balcony stairs in case

they came in from the roof. The gas had subsided but some of the feds were

                                                         P.117
vomiting.
                                                       
  All at once 20 feds rushed in from the front and rear.  Ben and Roscoe

opened fire but a good number got through.

“Dawn, blow the door off.  They’re going to shoot up under us.”

She fired the rocket and the explosion blew a large opening.  The balcony

shook.  Together they ran through a hail of bullets up a flight of stairs.

Bullets started piercing the floor boards under them.  As they reached the top

steps they fled through the blasted door and disappeared.

  They were still running but on a moonlit beach.  There was a sweet but

salty breeze caressing them and it was absolutely quiet.  They stopped to

look around. The tide was high so the beach looked small.  The moon was

full and the firmament blazed with stars, star clusters blazed.  Without

any surprise Brimley stepped into view.  “Greetings all,” he said.

“Hello Brimley,” each of them answered.  “You three look harrowed and

I’m sorry you had to go through that, Dawn, but you can stop worrying.

They won’t follow you here.  The feds are onto our plan and they are

intelligently guessing at that big events,” Brimley said. “We were just hit by

probably fifty of them.  What do they use?” Ben asked. “The operators think

they are using Quantum Mechanics. They think they

                                                     P.118
are manipulating matter but what they do is instruct the darker energies

through computer programs to send the objects and people.  It’s

the same for us except, as you know, we use ancient incantations handed
                                                   
down through the millennia and our motive is to build and maintain

civilized democracy and prosperity.

 ‘There is a car for you parked outside that new motel,” Brimley pointed

down the beach.  He took a bottle out of his pocket and handed it to Roscoe.

 It was insect repellent.  “You’re on Manasota Key in

Florida.  We thought you might like the area. We, the family, used to winter

in the area in the beginning of the century. It’s October 25th 1955 just before

the building boom..  Take 24 hours to unwind.  We’ll meet back here and

continue.  You three are quite an interplanetary sensation at the moment.

The good guys are rooting for you.”  He then walked into the bushes where

there appeared an open trap door.  He  climbed down a ladder.

He closed the hatch and the door disappeared.

  “I’m going to lay down in the back seat.  I hope we can check in

early,” Dawn said.

“OK, see you in a few hours”

“Nighty night”

“I think I’ll stargaze.  Would you pass me the bug lotion Roscoe?”
                                                   P.119
There were no clouds.  Countless stars were blazing even with the moon
                                                   
full.  Ben lay there in awe.  “Hell of a ride”, Roscoe said.  “Hell of a view,”

Ben replied.  And as they tried to figure out what constellation they were

looking at Ben’s eyes got heavy and he dozed off.

“Are you guys going to sleep here all day?”, Dawn said.

“What time is it?”, Ben asked.

“Almost eight.  The owner of the motel was snooping around the car and I

told him we came down from Jacksonville last night and we would need two

rooms.  One for my husband and I and one for my uncle Ben”

 They found a bank and cashed in more coins then spent the

day swimming and relaxing.  In the afternoon they had a nice meal at a local

seafood restaurant.  They all shared a plate of tasty crab mustard vinaigrette.

In the evening Ben and Dawn rented two bikes and pedaled down the beach

road for a few miles then picked a spot and watched a beautiful sunset on the

Gulf.

They talked about the mission especially the firefight.  Ben mentioned the

college but she poo pooed it.

  They rode back in the dusk.  It was warm and a little humid but

comfortable at 80 degrees.

  Roscoe was in the tiki bar having drinks with the bartender, who
                                                   

                                                 P.120
was also the owner, and a few other guests.  A local radio station was

playing slow dance tunes so Ben and Dawn sashayed around the small dance

floor.

Roscoe cut in and tripped over his own feet.  A little later Ben took a blanket

out to the beach with Dawn.  It was another cloudless night and the

moonshine illuminated the white sand.   They could  see each other clearly.

  They lay down and tried to put together the constellations.

“ That’s Venus”, Daisy said pointing, “I requested a position there about five

years ago.”

“You never said anything-”

“A position hasn’t opened up yet.  I didn’t want to say anything.  I thought

you might kick me out of the gang.”

Ben laughed, “c’mon, we’ll do anything for you, you know that.  What kind

of position?”

“Security, you travel from planet to planet on special duty,” then she

whispered,  “routing vampires.”

“You’re nuts”

“You didn’t think I was nuts when you were naked”

Ben slowly slung his arm over Dawn’s waist.  She didn’t refuse.
                                                       P.121
They started necking when Daisy said, “They wear uniforms.”
                                                     
“Really,” Ben said chuckling.

“They wear navy blue slacks, black shoes, and a long sleeve spandex shirt

with no collar that’s half navy blue and half light blue on a 45 degree angle.”

“No one would look better than you in that uniform.”

“Except Molly”

“You would have two different extremely rare gorgeous looks.”

They started kissing and Ben got a little aggressive.  She resisted.

  They lay there together and Ben said, “I’m sorry you had to go

through that at the college.”

 “It’s alright”, Dawn replied, “Nothing happened.  You two rescued me but

I’m going to carry my weapon with me from now on.”

Dawn wrapped more of the blanket around her.  They dozed off in the

moonlight with the sound of the light surf.

  They awoke to the sound of conversation.  Roscoe and Brimley were

discussing some object that Brimley was holding.  Roscoe had taken the

duffle bag and dropped it next to Ben.

  “This mechanism is easy to operate,” Brimley said, “it scatters violently

directed molecules.  The miniature quantum computer differentiates calm to

hostile vibrations. A sub atomic charge is focused on the molecules that have
                                                   P.122
been made hostile.  Keep it near you at all times.
                                                   
  After you turn it on put these necklaces around your

necks.  They will electronically block the computers signal.  Try

to hide them from site. If you forget you’ll cease to exist.  ”

“That was one of Manson’s songs, ‘Cease to Exist’,” Ben said, “ what did he

get?”

“35 years,” Brimley answered, “but don’t ask me anymore. Wait till you get

back so you can enjoy your successes.”  Brimley’s hair was absolutely bright

white in the moonlight.  “You know you’re next job.  February 11th 1970.

We’re going to drop you in the back seat of  Coffee’s car.    As soon you get

there turn the gadget on but if you need to shoot turn it off!. The gunfire may

set it off.”  After some further corrections and instructions Brimley

disappeared down through the hatch again, then the hatch disappeared.

  Ben and Dawn freshened up in the room and then met Roscoe back at the

beach.  They put their electronic necklaces on. At about the time Brimley

had said the creepy sensation began to flow over them.

  In another moment they were in the back seat of a 1960 Dodge Dart.  They

immediately sat up and the woman at the wheel, Linda Coffee, and the

passenger, Sarah Weddington,  were parked out front of a US District court

house in Texas.
                                                   

                                                         P.123
 They both turned to look behind them and froze.

  Roscoe had been holding the gadget and he switched it on.  Ben began,

“Do not file that abortion suit today or any day or we will-“ suddenly a

sedan appeared on the other side of the street rolling to a stop.  The

goon on the passenger side got out and headed for them peering into the

backseat. All at once a look of terror registered on his face then he grabbed

at his heart and disintegrated in a flash of sparks and a smoky mist.  The

driver got out of the car, gun drawn, and he immediately disappeared .

Everyone in the vehicle bore witness.   The two women in the

front were shaking uncontrollably.

  “Over 50 million American babies have been chopped up and thrown in the

trash because of you two”, Dawn said.  “Drop this case now!”

“We will be back to kill you if you don’t,” Ben said.  After a few moments

of silence another sedan appeared as the three disappeared.  The two women

started screaming. Two goons jumped out of the sedan and mistakenly

opened fire on the two women killing them both.

  The three travelers were standing in a darkened room. There was a

grandfather clock clicking loudly.  It was September 15th 1960, Cambridge

Massachusetts.  After allowing their eyes to adjust Dawn retrieved a large
                                                     P.124
syringe that had been filled and ready in the duffle bag.  Then they silently
                                                   
crept along a short hallway to a slightly opened bedroom door.

  Ben opened the old wooden door slowly.  It creaked so he stopped and

waited a tick.  He opened it a little more and the three crept up to the bed.

  Dawn handed Ben the syringe.  Roscoe and Dawn crept to the side where a

female was sleeping.  They prepared to subdue her if needed.  Ben wasted

no time and plunged the needle into Timothy Leary.  A lethal dose of five

grams of sodium pentothal. He wriggled briefly.

  They crept back to the living room.  They stood together for a few minutes

waiting for Brimley & Company to do their thing.  They heard the female

talking.  Soon she was talking loudly and then, “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

 Ben said, “ He meant well, I think.” There were heavy footsteps and the

light in the hall went on.  Her feet were pounding the wooden floor as she

rounded the corner into the living room.  She looked up and screamed when

she saw the crew.  Roscoe shot her in the stomach with a small tranquilizer

dart and he caught her as she crumpled to the floor.

  Next footsteps were heard in the common hallway and then pounding on

the apartment door.  It didn’t matter to the crew, they found themselves

standing in another park.

  They were standing behind a large Eucalypts tree in a darkened area of a
                                                      P.125
small park in Hanoi on Thuong Cat Lake.  It was after dark on July 31st
                                                   
1954.

“The feds must be befuddled,” Ben said.  No more time for small talk.

  They put the black jump suits on and black stockings on their heads.

Each took a small M203 grenade launcher from the duffle bag and four

rounds each.

   A small French café overlooked the lake.  There was only one street lamp

in the adjoining parking lot and a small platoon of about ten Viet Minh

soldiers standing guard.

  They needed to get closer so they crawled on their bellies in the shadows.

They stopped when they were within 30 yards.

Ben retrieved his night vision goggles and could see Ho Chi Mihn chatting

with General Vo Nguyen Giap.  The Geneva Conference had just ended and

apparently they were discussing their next move.  They were alone save the

waiters.  ‘That’s a lot of collateral damage’ Ben thought.   He then looked at

his watch.  Brimley would transfer them in two minutes.  Ben was in the

middle, Roscoe on his left, Dawn on his right.

  Ben gave the signal by aiming his laser at the café window, a little high to

compensate for the distance, and firing.  Dawn followed suit and Roscoe

lofted his rounds at the platoon to avoid taking gun fire. It was over in 90
                                                         P.126
seconds but they got up hid behind eucalyptus trees. Rifle rounds could be
                                                   
heard ricocheting off the trees as they disappeared.

  They were standing in a sumptuously decorated living room of the period-

1848 Brussels.  It was early morning January 1st. Roscoe immediately

retrieved the gadget and activated it. They took their hoods off. Dawn

tiptoed toward the staircase with a small canister and her tranq. gun drawn.

 Karl Marx was snoring in his wing backed chair with a book on his lap. Ben

gingerly took both Marx’s hands and put them together while Roscoe placed

a plastic zip tie around them.  Roscoe put his feet together with a plastic tie

while Ben slowly placed a gag in his mouth and tied it behind his head.  Ben

and Roscoe looked at each other and pulled the ties and the gag tight waking

Marx.

 Meanwhile Dawn had shot Jenny von Westphalen with a tranq.  She was the

daughter of a Baron and Marx’s wife.  Dawn was not impressed. She then

stuck two way velcroe to the children’s bedroom door and frame to prevent

them from finding Marx.  His wife would find him in less than an hour.

  Dawn went back down stairs to find Ben and Roscoe eerily standing

over Marx in the firelight.  Marx was laying face down.

“You will not publish the manifesto”, Ben said.  Marx spoke English.

Ben searched Marx’s back over the surface of his smoking jacket.  He found
                                                        P.127
a bump and Marx winced.  Ben squeezed the boil and Marx cried out in
                                                 
agony through the gag.  Ben found another one {Marx was covered with

boils throughout his adult years}and squeezed again.

  After a few more squeezes Ben rolled him over.  Marx lay there panting his

eyes bulging with fear.

“Your little pamphlet for the people catches fire after you die”, a black glint

passed through Marx’s’ eyes, “and unscrupulous men use it to foment

dictatorships.  State enforced communism takes hold in many areas around

the world in the twentieth century and over 200 million people are killed in

wars and various forms of genocide because of it.  On the contrary great

strides were made in farming, medicine, and industry through capital

investment, inventions, innovations, and technological advancements in

general.

Living standards were raised to create the largest middle and upper middle

classes in history-all in the west.  The east, in large part, stagnates and fails

in hard line socialism and communism.

  ‘If we have to come back we will hang you with a brand new rope.”

“That was Lenin”. Roscoe said.

“Oh, yeah-don’t blink.  Keep watching.”  Marx, with his eyes wide,

watched the three travelers disappear.
                                                        P.128
  It was dark.  They were standing alongside a large oak tree in a grassy area
                                                 
near the Jefferson Memorial.  There were almost no vehicles around.

“Must be 3 or 4 am”, Roscoe said while turning the device on. Ben grabbed

an Uzi from the duffle bag.

  There was a riveted steel service access door in the side of the Rt. 1

over pass across Ohio Drive.  “Let’s go before-,” Ben was cut short by

screeching tires.  “Run”, he said and they sprinted across Ohio Drive with

another black sedan racing toward them. They jumped the curb and onto

a smaller grassy area. Ben peppered the sedan and it slammed into a giant

maple tree.

  They got to the door and Dawn placed a different gadget on the lock area.

It was a microwave device that dissolved even the densest

metals and was only battery charged.  She melted all the hinges off. They

rushed in.  It was dark and dank. No doubt the alarm had gone off.

  Dawn cracked a light tube then handed Ben another Uzi and extra clips.

Dawn produced her pistol and tendered the duffle bag. Roscoe was carrying

his pistol and the radius device.

  Voices could be heard just outside the steel entrance door.  Roscoe

increased the  radius devices’ voltage.  Dawn opened the elevator door.

Three of Frank’s closest goons pushed through the entrance door with their
                                                          P.129
weapons drawn.  Immediately they flashed out of existence.
                                                   

   Someone was behind the stairwell access door messing with the

locked panic bar then it opened and two security guards came

out.  They flashed out.

  They entered the stairwell.  Slowly they crept

down.  The lights went out. Dawn

blindly fished through the duffle bag for their infrared goggles.

 The bottom stairwell door opened. The red light from the exit sign was the

only light.  Boots could be heard on the stairs then sparkling flashes.

    Once downstairs and into the hall Dawn  brought up a schematic of the

office area on an Ipad .  Just down the hall was an open

office. It was an old secretarial pool for the first OSS that was built under the
                                                 
Bureau of Engraving and Printing.  Jake had recently begun assembling his

team, including Frank, and this was his start up office.  They were to run

special operations concerning terrorism and answered directly to the White

House.  It was 1995.

  They made their way to the open office area.   Suddenly a door on the

wall swung open and men began running into the room and

immediately sparkling out of this world.  After six or seven had gone the

                                                      P.130
door slammed shut.  “Let’s get ‘em. Jake’s probably with them.” Ben said.
                                                   
  Roscoe opened the door first and it was clear.  The long hallway was

obviously a connecting tunnel.   They heard running from down the hall.        

  The hall led on for about a hundred yards and at the end were a set of ‘40’s

style double doors.  They sidled up to them and Ben mouthed ‘1-2-3’ and

they crashed through.  Roscoe bumped into a chair that was thrown in front

of the doors and dropped the radius mechanism.  The light on

top of it winked out. The three of them froze then quickly armed themselves.

  They were in a huge dimly lit file room and they moved as quietly as they

could in the opposite direction.  “Time”, Ben said.  “Almost twenty minutes

to go,” Dawn answered.  They wanted to get to the furthest side of the room.

They passed through a large open area with large oak reading tables.  “Let’s

barricade ourselves,” Ben said.  They doubled six tables
                                                       
 into a triangle and drew their weapons.  They waited in silence for a few

minutes when a door appeared in a wall and Jake’s men from
                                                         
the future came crashing into the room.

 They opened fire, again in short bursts, and tried to prevent them from

flanking.

 Jake’s men opened fire.  The oak tables bounced around on

the floor but it would be awhile before they were chewed through.  Unless
                                                        P.131
the enemy produced grenades.
                                                     
  Roscoe loaded his grenade launcher and then Ben.  They fired and took out

a few.  “Gimmee the rockets,” was heard and Ben motioned to the others to

run for the wall behind them.  Ben launched another round and they fled

from the tables through a hail of bullets.

  After zigzagging through file shelving they found a door.  It was locked.

They backed off and Roscoe launched a grenade through it.  The enemy was

almost to them as they dodged through into another storage

room.  They stayed against the wall and sprinted up the aisle.

  After about 100 feet there was a door.  It opened to a smaller storage

room but as Daisy tried to go in the enemy fired on them. They

took cover behind large crates and boxes and returned fire.  “ Better go now-

their gonna launch,”  Ben said and they stood up and opened fire again

through a hail of bullets.

 Ben was the last to go through when the grenade blew near the door.  The
                                               
concussion knocked him down an aisle a little but he not injured.  Roscoe

slammed the door and all together they heaved a file and crates in

front of it.  The entrance door wall was concrete block but the other three

were sheetrock.  “I would say this room is within the file room we left,”

Roscoe said.  Ben launched a grenade and blew a hole through.  The enemy
                                                     P.132
was at the door but when they heard the blast they ran off back down the
                                                   
hall.

  The three ran as fast as possible through the aisles

toward the corner of the huge file room.

“We need to ambush the goons chasing us and find Jake.” Ben said.

  As they neared the other end of the room they lucked out. At another

reading table area there was a clerk’s office and a man was inside standing at

the desk on the phone.  Noticing them he turned from the desk.

  Ben and the others knew it was him from photos.  He dropped the phone

and put something in between his teeth.  Just then three of Jake’s men came

out from behind some shelving screaming, “Drop your weapons”

“Time?” Ben asked.

“About five minutes,” Dawn replied.
                                                 
  Jake took what appeared to be a capsule out of his mouth and quickly

stashed it in his pocket as he walked out of the office.  He was a few steps
                                                     
from Ben staring at him. In another moment a young Frank and what was

left of his crew showed up.  “First we’ll have fun with the blond and then

we’ll saw ‘em up,” one of them said and they all grunted in agreement.

  Then, on the floor, another radius device appeared.  The room went dead

silent.   The second the red light winked on Frank and
                                                     P.133
all of Jake’s agents were gone in one bright flash.
                                                     
    Jake vomited and then put the capsule back between his teeth.

      Jake backed up against a wall.  He said, through his teeth, “Who are you

people?”

  “In 2010 you hire me and over time I assemble a crew to cull terrorists

while you’re international puppet masters allow others to get through with

the suicide bombs etc., to create a police state, take away more liberties,

and to keep the population cowering. Then the feds start grabbing

power and dictating and grabbing large tracks of land.   You’re offered a big

piece of a real estate deal that involves building massive condo complexes
                                                   
up and down the east coast, actually all around the U.S., and you give you’re

thugs a piece of the action. {A black glint crossed Jake’s eyes}  These
                                                 
condos are almost given to people from all over the world who

create their own enclaves and the feds become

successful with the plan to balkanize America, open the borders completely,
                                                     
and begin the North American Union-the first ‘section’ of the New World

Order.  Sharia law has begun being applied applied to

control us even further. The Boston to DC megatropolis is well on its way.

  I was approached by the good guys, us, about a year ago.  That would be

2018.”
                                                         P.134
  Without a word Jake cracked the capsule in his mouth.  It foamed in his
                                                       
saliva.  He grabbed his chest and throat and fell to

the floor. Roscoe checked for a pulse-nothing.

  They were glad it was over.

  The next moment they found themselves under

a huge extremely clean and shaded Plexiglas dome.  They looked toward

the sky to see an endless expanse of stars surrounding a perfect view of the

Earth.

“This is incredible.” Ben mumbled still reeling like the others from the

thought of the exploding bodies.
                                                     
“Are we where I think we are?” Dawn asked.

“Moon Base,” Roscoe said.
                                                   
  Two pretty young ladies in knee high grayish brown skirts and long sleeve

matching blouses were quietly waiting behind them.

“Welcome to Moon Base.  I’m Susan.”

“I’m Rebecca.  We have rooms waiting for you to clean up and clean

clothes and each room has an extractor.”

“Mr. Brimley will meet with you in about an hour,” Susan said.

  They were led through a large domed  arboretum/park

complete with landscaped hillocks and large ponds with fountains.  There
                                                       P.135
were even full grown trees.   The walkways were illuminated with soft
                                               
lighting from knee high lamps. They wound their way through on brick

pathways to the other end of the dome to an enclosed area.  There they were

each given a room with spectacular starry views.

  After cleaning up and using the extractor they were called to a common

hallway by the two young ladies.  All were given nice casual clothes. They

followed Susan and Rebecca through a connecting

tunnel and into an even larger dome with two and three story brightly

colored living quarters and offices built against the Plexiglas. In the middle

there were decoratively landscaped courtyards and more fountains.
                                                   
  They were led to an office building and then to Brimley.  His office was

like the rooms. The wall behind his desk was the Plexiglas wall from
                                                   
floor to ceiling.

“Please sit down, troops,” Brimley said shaking each hand vigorously.

“Dawn, I’m sorry about the episode at the college.  Fun and games for

brown. A little less of a shock now?  And for you also Ben and Roscoe?”

“ Yes,” they all agreed.  “ The extractor is a wonder,” Dawn said and then,

“what took so long for the replacement?”

“I apologize and I can imagine you’re consternation when the

radius device malfunctioned.  We think the computer board must have come
                                                       P.136
loose.

 ‘We accessed a camera at all locations and monitored all your

jobs.  When the radius device malfunctioned we had to procure one through

the proper channels here at Moon Base and it didn’t take long- it’s just that

,well, unbeknownst to us our Church had to throw a log on the fire.”  He

winked.  “you were in no danger.”
                                                         
“Awful,” Dawn said.  After a general pause Ben said,

“Why didn’t we kill Marx?”, Ben asked

“His wicked muses would keep trying to use him.  He was more liberal

minded than most communists, then and now.

It was a heck of a mission you three pulled off.  You’re heroes across the

solar system-for our side.


  There is so much more we can do but those missions were all Who
                                                     



                                                     







                                                 
                                                             P.137
authorized.  We are studying the spiritual science behind each of them.”

“We did our best.  I think I’ll hit the hay,” Ben said flatly.
                                                   
“Me too-Ben I’ll walk with you,” Dawn said.

“Excuse us.  Nighty night Roscoe,”  Ben said.

“Sweet dreams,” Brimley said awkwardly.  He caught Ben’s eye and slightly

winked.  Ben acknowledged.

“Rest up for our Moon tour,” Roscoe said.

  Dawn and Ben walked back to their rooms and stopped in the connecting

hallway out of view.  They embraced.  “You were great,” Ben said. “So
                                                     
were you,” she replied, “and Roscoe.”

“Yeah.”
                                                       
After a snog Dawn said,

“I would Ben-“

“You’re married and I’m involved with Molly.”

After a moment she asked, “ Do you love her?”

“Sometimes I think I do.  It’s been so long. Do you love your husband?”

“Of course, we’ve been together forever.  Let’s leave it special like this.”

“Good idea.  I can handle it.”

She laughed and said “why don’t we lie down?”

  They went into his room and lay on the bed that was against the ceiling to
                                                  P.138
floor Plexiglas wall.  Their rooms were located away from sun’s glare and

this created an illusion  that they were floating in space.

  The Ipod on the night table  was plugged into the room speakers.  dawn

turned it on.  New Age from the ‘80s and ‘90s-that seemed appropriate on

the Moon Ben thought as he marveled at the sight of a billion stars.

  The various synthesized melodies were an artist’s rendition of what mystics

call Music of the Spheres.

  After awhile he was completely relaxed and about to fall asleep

 when Dawn, who had lain her head on his chest, tightened her grip around
                                                   
his waist.  Then the music morphed. It was as if he could feel the vibrations

on his body and then within him. His eyes were closed but in his inner eye
                                                   
he could see a dim light in the distance.  It grew brighter into a kaleidoscope

of pink, yellow, orange, purple, and green.

  The Music of the Spheres seemed not to come from the Ipod but

down from another world with a subtle power that he intuitively gave

over to in complete trust.  Then all went black.

  The next moment Ben was walking down his street again on a winter

evening. He was not in a dream.  He was young again, about eighteen,

nineteen. He had a pair of skates tied at the laces and draped over his

shoulder.  His sense of smell was heightened.  The scent of chimney smoke
                                                        P.139
on the cold air warmed him.  The chill bit at his nose.

  It must have been early evening, the neighbors’ living room lights were still

on.  He was excited.  He knew he was re-living part of his life, at least it

seemed real.  Everything looked exactly as it did. He knew what to

do.  He turned down the hill again and walked on the foot bridge.  He

stopped in the middle to re-live the scene. Some of his old friends and

acquaintances were gathered around a small fire.  The night sky was

overcast but his eyes had adjusted.  He could see a couple of his best friends

clearly.  He hurried over the bridge but then slowly made his way toward the
                                                     
group.  They hadn’t noticed him yet, teens absorbed in each other’s

company.  He wanted to talk to them badly and was about to when he
                                                 
heard her voice.  It cut through him so that his heart raced and he had

the butterflies.

“Hi Ben.  I was asking where you were,” she said.  He was re-living the wild

teen crush all over again.  It was thrilling but he forgot the terrible heart

ache.  He was tongue tied.  He couldn’t believe it.

“Hi Brenda,” he managed trying to hide the foolish grin.

She noticed and said, “why are you grinning, silly? I was waiting for you.

Let’s skate.”
                                                   

                                                         P.140
  They started walking to the edge of the water.  Ben had so much to say to

her that he was at a lost for words.  Then he said in a tender voice that he

hadn’t used in thirty years, ‘how long have you been waiting?”

“Not long.  There’s a party at Susan’s house tonight.  Want to go with me?”

“Yes, I’d love to.”

  They continued with chatter about friends and she gossiped.  He was

ecstatic. The whole scene got him excited both emotionally and physically.

He could barely contain himself from yelling like Tarzan.

  They sat together on the shoreline lacing their skates.  He finished his and
                                                     
couldn’t resist racing onto the ice showing off for Brenda.

  He went back to the shore and took her by the hand.  They skated a little
                                                     
way holding hands and someone hooted at them. Brenda giggled and put her

arm over Ben’s shoulders.  Ben slid his arm around her waist. It was the first

time they had gotten that close. With the thrill of being in love they skated

along in silence.  Thirty years gone and she still owned him, he thought.

  “You’re beautiful Brenda,” he blurted out.  She stopped and turned to him.

They looked at each other.  They kissed for the first time, awkwardly.  They

held one another.  They stopped kissing and looked at one another again.

Ben wanted only her-nothing else. Her eyes said the same but her demeanor

said otherwise.  Something about Ben was making her uncomfortable.
                                                       P.141
Then in one vast epiphany he understood.  What Molly had said on the boat.

Some type of mechanism.  To protect him, to drag him over the coals, to

make him angry, clean his chakras and help him pull the trigger, to move

him through dimensions, to give him the ability to live among the dead. She

rejected it.

  In the half darkness Brenda’s ruddy complexion shown with love light, her

raven hair as a back drop. The scent of her skin  awakened a

plethora of memories.  For one last moment he drank in the scene-his

childhood home and friends voices echoing across the ice.
                                                   
She started to fade and he pulled her close and pressed his lips on hers for

the last time and in his mind he said ‘We’ll try again someday’.
                                                       
Then everything went white.

  He could sense he was still in bed with Dawn’s head on his chest.

Colors again began to flow intensely through his mind and then a subtle

voice from all around and inside him said, ‘mechanism’ and what

felt like a vacuum drew energy from his body.  He could literally feel

something being peeled off him.  For a few moments it was a bit frightening

like an overly thrilling amusement ride and then it ended.

He opened his eyes.

“Dawn?’
                                                         P.142
“Yes?,” she answered in a sobbing voice.

“You ok?”

“A little shaky.”  She slid up and put her arms around his shoulders.

“I actually went back in time again.”

“So did I,” she said still sobbing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,”  she said and squeezed Ben.  His heart leapt surprising him. He held

her tighter. Dawn sensed it and gave him a sidelong glance then said, “I

think we should sleep for a few hours.  I’m going to my room”
                                                 
“Ok. Talk to you later.”  Ben gazed at the stars again.  He sensed a lighter

more positive attitude.  He was usually ticked off about something.  His
                                                     
body was completely relaxed and his mind was worry free and at peace. He

wasn’t angry. He drifted off into the deepest sleep he’d had since he could

remember.

 After a brunch in the finest dining room given in their name with accolades

and various offers for openings in other areas of the silent service,

they were given a brief tour of the Moon Bases’ facilities then Ben, Dawn,

and Roscoe were led by Brimley to the portal that opened to Earth.

“You don’t fully realize what you have done.  The bad guys have been set

back one hundred years in their quest to destroy.  Your records have been
                                                        P.143
wiped clean, at least as far as the service is concerned.  Only our side knows

your connection to the silent service-at least for now.  We’ll speak to each

of you soon.” Brimley said.

“Whenever you need us,”  Ben replied.

“You set ‘em up and we knock ‘em down,” Roscoe said.

“Ringers,”  Dawn offered.

  They all shook Brimley’s hand, said goodbye, then stepped through the

portal to an ante room. The portal closed behind them and after crossing the

room the other portal opened up.  They walked through the open doorway of
                                                   
the fisherman’s shack.

  It was the same day that they left.  Ben looked at his watch-11:40 pm.
                                                   
Roscoe drove them back to town.  They noticed subtle differences but

mostly less houses and commercial buildings.  It was dark.  Morning would

tell.

  “See you around, Roscoe.  Call me Ben,” Dawn said as Ben closed the car

door behind her.  “I had a great time,” she said strolling backwards up the

driveway of her home.  In the half light her face shown and her smile

radiated speaking volumes.  It was then that Ben realized they’d done

something big.  He needed to see the results.

  Roscoe took Ben to Morristown and Ben’s truck was there unmolested.
                                                       P.144
“Call you tomorrow,” Ben said, “We did a hell of a job”

“We did what we do and we did it well-later,” Roscoe answered.

Enough said.

  The hour and half ride was different in that it was dark on the road.  He

guessed the towns in the area were smaller and/or there was less crime and

less need for street lights.

  He drove up the gravel driveway and was astonished.  The renovated cabin

had been replaced by a modest handsome Frank Lloyd Wright prairie house

replica.

  He found the house keys in the back where he always left them.  The pool
                                                   
was basically the same but the landscaping was picturesque. The inside was

much bigger but the sunken living room had the loft with a doorway to a

small deck and a high powered telescope.  He’d look for Moon Base later.

  He found that he took the security company offer and he was loaded.  He

Also found his address book and he had, or was, dating the same women

including Brynn.

  He checked his cell phone messages and Molly was waiting for his call and

Brynn had called, after a year apparently, and wanted to see him.

  Later in the morning he was tempted to call Brynn but called Molly.  She

was going to be home at three and would love to see him.  There was fresh
                                                        P.145
food in the fridge so he ate and then explored the house a little more and

found that he owned a mint condition 2002 Corvette with black leather

interior along with his F-150.

  He decided to call his business partner  later

to find out what it was he actually did although he was having memory

flashes of his alternate life he was about to begin, or resume.  He knew their

main office was in Manhattan and he was starting to remember what it

looked like.  He definitely sold his condominium.  He was exited.
                                                 
  After he called Molly he motored the Vette out of the garage, rinsed it off,

and bolted down the county road.  He couldn’t wait to show it to Roscoe,
                                                       
who no doubt was having surprises of his own. He would call Dawn later to

ask about hers.  He bolted down the Interstate topping 100 hoping to

avoid radar.  Molly permeated his thoughts.

  He sprayed binaca in his mouth and knocked on Molly’s front door.  The

door opened and there she stood in white boots, an all white skin tight

jumpsuit, and a wide black belt with a round brass buckle. Her shiny,

reddish auburn hair flowed down around her shoulders in curls.

“Hi Benny.  Come in,” She said smiling. He stepped in the door.  He handed

her a photo from a manila envelope while he dug through his pocket with his

other hand. It was the photo of the sunset over the
                                                         P.146
Hudson.  She smiled and kissed him.  Then he placed the gold pendant she

had given him around her neck and he wrapped his arms around her.  He

liked Dawn a lot but he loved Molly. He was certain.

“Ben, It’s only been a couple of days.  What’s happened?”

“Let’s go to the couch and I’ll tell you.”

   So they sat down and without saying a word Ben kissed her softly,

passionately, from his heart.  She looked in his eyes and smiled and for the

first time in thirty years he felt at home.

The End