The Clone Deception

By Dallas Releford

On a cold, late October night dark evil casts its wicked tentacle over a small community in Cloverton, West Virginia. Two young women are kidnapped from their homes making local authorities aware that their disappearance is part of something more ominous. When police realize that the two women are connected to a group of women that have been kidnapped in the past year, they acquire the services of Kelly Lance, an investigator for Lance Investigations. Peter Lance, her father owns the agency and has been working on the case for several months. Kelly convinces Professor Sean McBride, a noted criminologist at a local university to help her solve the mystery. Sean also works for Lance Investigations. The local media calls the kidnapper, the Seeker because the criminal is so diligent when capturing their prey. Quickly searching for facts, Kelly and Sean discover that all of the women that have been victims of the Seeker worked at the same company and they all were working on a government contract to develop advanced drones and robots. Seeing two of the ladies in a restaurant, mystified, Kelly and Sean follow them to a company called LTG Corporation where the mystery deepens. It is a secret government installation that does not even appear on Google Earth or any maps they can find. Who are these women? Are they the real women that were reported kidnapped? Are they ghosts? Are they clones or are they something else entirely? Thus, begins a murderous investigation that will reveal secrets that the government has buried that even some of the top government agencies do not know about. They soon discover that they have stumbled onto a plot that has been contrived by a former US Senator whose real purpose is to take over the world using advanced high technology. Due to a serious rare skin disease that keeps him out of the sunlight, the US Senator is head of a worldwide organization with elite aspirations. They call him, the Banshee and he is the most evil person in the world. The Banshee is the Seeker’s boss. Once he has all of the women that are working on the government project, he will be ready to implement his hellish plan to control humanity. The clock is ticking and there isn’t much time for Kelly and Sean to find the answers to many questions. Their quest will take them closer to the brutality of fate and the devilish breath of death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dallas Releford
• Release date: May 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310786495

Book preview

Chapter One

ON AN OLD FARM NEAR CLOVERTON, WV

Early Sunday morning, shortly after midnight

The Seeker has a secret rendezvous with the notorious Banshee. Plans are made.

On a cold October night a dark evil force waited in the twilight for the one they called the Seeker to arrive at the rendezvous. The heart of the watcher was as dark and evil as that of Satan himself. This watcher could only wait in the gloom of darkness because of his horrible affliction and for reasons of his own choosing. Daylight was death to him. Darkness was the place where he chose to conduct his business. Midnight was when he ate his dinner meal and prided himself in his ability to survive in a world where darkness was the only friend he trusted. The affliction, the disease that imprisoned him in darkness, that forbade him to flourish in warm sunshine, had actually banished him to a world that he admonished and thrived in. He was like an evolutionary anomalya fragile creature that glowed with various brilliant pulsating colorsat the bottom of the ocean near a searing volcano eruption where few creatures could exist. That frail creature carried a tantalizing murderous sting. And soon, he would be master of his new kingdom. One day he would be master of the earth. None would escape his wrath and those that died would be the lucky ones. The Banshee had much in common with the ordinary jellyfish including an arcane ability to camouflage himself and remain undetectable by the rest of the human race. He’d studied the ways and means of the cephalopods such as squid, cuttlefish and octopus. He was the master of camouflage and deception, especially in the darkness of night.

He was here, sitting comfortably in the rear of his black limousine, on an isolated, abandoned farm in West Virginia. Dark tinted windows prevented even moonbeams from penetrating the glass and entering his private domain inside the monstrous vehicle. The cool frosted glass of champagne he sipped was one of few pleasures in life he thoroughly enjoyed. He wasn’t a drug dealer, or a drug user. He never consumed alcohol in excess. Neither did he partake of adventurous sex with exploitative women. He was in strict control of his life. He had enough medical problems to deal with, especially the skin disease that prohibited him from being in sunlight very long. It had set him on a straight and narrow path only a couple of years ago. It was a path of evil that allowed him to amass many acts of vengeance against his rivals and enemies. There were few rivals that could compete with him now. Nonetheless, he still had plenty of enemies. Some of them he had known for a long time and some of them he’d never met. As a result of his infamy, he had to protect himself at all times. In that specific regard, he could never totally relax for one moment, or for even a second.

He was once a famous and influential senator in the United States Congress. Now he was a hunted and haunted man. Except, that most people didn’t know where he was, or what he was doing. Some of his acquaintances and a few of his many trusted employees called him the Shadow or the Banshee because they rarely saw him and when they did see him they only saw his shadow. He’d never revealed himself to very many people since he disappeared. Exposing himself too often and in the wrong place would tell the world that he wasn’t dead. Every law-enforcement officer in the country would hound him until they caught him. He had big plans. The Banshee used brutal and deadly techniques to ensure his identity was never known. Only a few of his most trusted employees knew who he was and they knew to keep their mouths shut. If they revealed the wrong information about him they’d be found naked hanging from a cross in some lonely backwoods hollow, or much worse. That cross might even be on fire with a blazing, hot searing message for those whom might be tempted to betray him.

A dim glow from a soft yellow nightlight on the rear of the seat in front of him provided him with enough light to see in the rear of the limousine. When he stared at his own reflection on the tinted window in the door nearest him, it cast a warm glow on his face. It was a face that had seen many years and had endured many horrors. With his hat lying on the seat next to him, his balding head revealed many features that he would just as soon forget. On the top right of his head was a long thin wound that had healed many years ago. Only a narrow, long purple scar remained. When an assassination attempt had been made on his life when he was still a US senator, a secret service agent pulled him to the sidewalk just as the bullet grazed his head. It was his lucky day. The secret service agent had been killed instantly when a second and third shot rang out before the other officers and agents could pull him to safety. His enemies had been many then and they were still aggressive now. That’s why he had agreed to meet the person known as the Seeker in this remote place and that was why his driver was a former Navy Seal operative with a lot of experience with weapons. That was why two black drones flew overhead sending visual and audio streams back to the Control Center at the Mansion where the Banshee usually lived, when we wasn’t off making his dreams of taking over the world come true. He was a stickler for tight security. Nobody had ever said that the Seeker wasn’t a perfectionist, or attempted to be, anyway.

Back then; during a normal life when he was a public servant, they called him a rogue senator out to line his own pockets with huge contributions from corporations and political interests. He did not think that he’d taken any more from the greedy willing hands than any of the other congressmen and senators had done. However, despite what some people thought and said about him, he still had powerful friends in the government and elsewhere. Among those friends were important corporate executives and important members of congress. The Banshee’s family had been wealthy for centuries. He didn’t need more money, except that he just didn’t seem to ever get enough of it. Big dreams and ambition cost a lot of money. Bribes did not come cheap. Ambition chewed up resources, especially money, like a hungry wolf with saliva dripping from its tongue in a herd of young tender deer.

His facial reflection in the mirrored surface of the tinted window reminded him of the Melanoma cancer he’d had on his right ear. He could barely see the place where they had removed a quarter-size piece of gristle from the top of that ear. That had been a long time ago. Now there were deep furrows across his forehead and small hairs grew on top of his head where long, thick hair had once been. The pallor of his skin kept warning him that he was sick, except he just did what the doctor told him to do, stay out of the sun. It was his most deadly enemy. His nose was huge with long hairs protruding from his nostrils. It was about time for a trip to his barber again. His barber was getting old. The Banshee had a bet with Joe, the barber, that he’d outlive Joe. The Banshee smiled as he wondered if the miracle drugs he’d created for his own use would keep him living for another hundred years. Anything was possible, he thought.

His eyes were no longer sharp with blazing, resilient life and a permanent frown had formed on his mouth and thin lips. Once, maybe a long time ago, his lips had been fuller and his skin had been free of the cancer he had to have burned from his face every three months now. The dermatologist used liquid nitrogen and it hurt like hell. Still, he was holding his own in a world where aggressiveness meant survival. With his determination, resourcefulness, his competency and his talent of abrasive brutality, he thought that he might stand a chance. He never split hairs unless they were on the top of an enemy’s head.

Glancing at his five thousand dollar gold watch, he realized that the Seeker only had five more minutes before the meeting time arrived. The Seeker was his most trusted employee, except he did not trust anyone very much. The Seeker had never been late, so far. It was almost twelve-thirty in the morning. As his skin sensitivity was an issue, he had to be home before the sun came dancing over the eastern horizon, if the dark clouds would permit it, which he did not think would happen. Dark, menacing clouds that told him rain wasn’t far away was quickly obscuring the pale moon. Someone had said that a blizzard was imminent over the next few days. The Banshee did not care really. He had planned a vacation in Mexico next week anyway. He could run his business from Mexico just as easily he could from his home office. The Internet had made that possible.

In the moonlight that was almost as bright as the sun on a cloudy day, the Banshee gazed out the tinted window at the wide valley below him. The gravel road where he was presently parked wound its way down the side of the hill to an old dilapidated farmhouse that looked as if a strong wind had almost blown it over on its side. The ramshackle barn was as gray as the house and many boards were missing. He supposed that nobody had lived there for at least a hundred years.

The old gray boards that probably had not seen fresh paint for that same amount of time made him wonder about the people that had once lived there. Who were they? Where had they gone? Were they all dead now?

He supposed that it didn’t matter. The only important thing was that the old place gave him a sense of security and a sense of sadness at the same time. Children had once grown up down there. People had loved and reproduced. That was their primary function in life and probably the only purpose for living. He was not a philosopher, except he’d been thinking about creation, evolution and the primary function since he was six years old. He was sure that most life, no matter what its form was, had been creating enough souls for the creator of the cosmos. The Banshee was also sure that there was a steady stream of souls from the earth and the rest of the trillions of universes to make sure the creator never ran out of energy.

If everything worked out, he’d become a creator too. He smiled as he reassured himself that his plan would work. He might not be able to create souls. However, in his new world, there would be no need for them. Most of the creatures he would create to take over the world would be completely soulless. A cold blanket of doubt enshrouded him as he wondered if a new race of creatures could become human-like, with souls and a conscience.

Anyway, he’d never had the complacency, the normalcy of a real life. He’d always felt as if he’d been put here for a purpose. With that in mind, he’d missed a childhood. Instead of playing with other kids his age, he’d spent most of his time reading books and listening to his banker father tell him how great his son was going to be. His father was a brute, a bully and in his elderly age, an alcoholic. His grandfather had been a rich oil tycoon whom did not want to give up his wealth, even when death came knocking at this door. The Banshee’s father had inherited all of his grandfather’s wealth when his father died. Even his father’s wealth did not satisfy the Banshee.

Since the Banshee was an only son, he’d invested his inherited money in various industries such as the banking business, finance, electronics and eventually computers. The Banshee hated to admit it, except he’d bought his way into government service so he could control even more of his quickly growing empire. Before he was thirty, he was worth several billion dollars. He was also a US senator. In that position, he was able to grow even more business. Some of it was legal and some of it was terribly wrong.

The Banshees father wanted his son to become more than he had ever been. The Banshee had other plans. At sixteen, he did not quite know what he wanted to do with his life except he was sure that he did not have an interest in investing, manufacturing and producing the best computer in the world. What he did want to do was to work in a field of his own choosing. He wanted to enter public service like his uncle had done. His father wasn’t too happy with the decision of his only son.

Who will run the business when I am gone? The Banshee’s father had asked. He had told his father that he’d find someone trustworthy to operate it and to take care of all the family affairs. He would simply have that someone take care of everything. If he needed help, then the Banshee would be there when he was needed. Grudgingly, his father watched as the Banshee went away to an exclusive university in Virginia and studied for his career goal. He hadn’t told his father about his desired aspirations. All he had told him was that he wanted the opportunity to pursue a political career. Government and power somehow appealed to him.

Lost in thoughts of things pasthe seemed to be doing more of that now that he was over sixty-fivehis eyes were not fully focused on the old decaying farmhouse and barn down below him in the meadow almost obscured by tall and luxuriant pine trees. A shadow entered the meadow from the shelter of the woods beyond the house and barn. The moonlight painted the dead grass that had traces of snow and ice on it silver. It looked like a glistening white sheet. A few flakes of falling snow drifted down out of the sky. The Banshee thought that it was a little too early for snow. The weatherperson on television had predicted heavy rain and more snow next day. This was Monday night, the beginning of a new week. It was perhaps the most important night of his life because tonight he would launch operation SHADOW.

His full attention was on the dark slender figure now. He watched as it took cover behind the barn. With a weapon held in both hands, extended out in front of it, the figure moved around the front of the barn and stepped upon the front porch of the old house. As stealthy as a cougar, the shadow walked across the front porch looking through the windows for hidden enemies. None obviously were found, so the figure moved up the slight incline toward the road where the Banshee sat in his comfortable limousine. The first part of his plan was coming toward him. The Banshee shivered with excitement. He could not wait to get started.

Your guest is arriving, Jennings said from the front seat. A bulletproof glass panel existed behind the driver and the rear of the vehicle. That glass protected the Banshee from anyone that might be hostile in the front seat. He wasn’t afraid of Jennings, but you never knew when someone might force the front door open and fire at him. Jennings could speak to the Banshee through a small round grill just behind his head in the protective glass sheet. It was an inch thick and could stop almost any bullet except one fired from an anti-tank weapon. She is very cautious. She does seem to follow instructions to the letter.

You’re very observant. The Banshee smiled and then sighed. He loved working with professionals. This one coming to him now seemed to be as professional as she could be. She has survived this long so she is probably what I’m looking for.

Jennings remained silent concentrating on the area around them. It was the perfect place for an ambush if anyone had known they were going to be there. And as far as he knew, only three people had that knowledge, the Banshee, the Seeker and himself. He didn’t like fancy titles. He was simply the Driver.

The figure walked around behind the vehicle and opened the rear passenger door. Shaking rain from her black attire, she entered the limousine without speaking. Behind the drivers seat were two seats facing each other. Another seat usually used to store the Banshee’s raincoat and other emergency gear was behind those seats facing toward the front of the vehicle. The vehicle contained a bar, television, stereo radio, DVD player and a small snack bar. It was designed to provide for all the Banshee’s needs and pleasures. The Seeker sat in the seat with her back to the driver behind the bulletproof window and faced the Banshee.

Pleasant weather. No smile graced her beautiful face hidden under the rain-soaked hood of her coat. Glancing down at the Taurus .40 caliber Millennium she held in her hand, she cautiously returned it to a holster on her left side under the coat. Having a weapon in her hand didn’t make her feel any safer in the car.

The man sitting across from her was a vicious, brutal monster and she wished that she were somewhere miles away from him. Pulling her hood back to let it rest on the seat behind her, she revealed long hair that was reddish brown when it wasn’t wet as it was now. It barely touched her shoulders. Her dynamic brown eyes stared straight ahead neither looking at him nor avoiding him. Her light complexion was flawless. Her full lips were pale pink. Only angels had soft pale skin, deep brown eyes and a melodious voice like she did.

For now, he said. How was your trip?

If not for the rain, things would have been fine.

Removing her high leather boots, she opened the side window and emptied water from them to the ground outside. Closing the window once again, she dropped the boots on the floor below the opposite window above her seat. Struggling, as if attempting to pull a frightened groundhog from its den by its hind legs, she fought with her long woolen socks. When she had removed them fully, she tossed them on the top of the boots to dry in the warm interior of the limousine.

The Banshee watched her with great curiosity. She paid him no attention.

She had placed a dark charcoal gray backpack on the seat next to her. She withdrew a towel from the bag. Focused on drying her wet, cold feet, she said nothing. Pneumonia was something she’d rather not get.

Want something to drink to warm you up and spark your spirits?

After she was satisfied that her feet were now properly dry, she put the towel back into the bag and pulled out two pairs of dark heavy socks that were long enough to reach her knees. Sure, she replied. A glass of your finest champagne will do just fine.

He smiled. A lady of your caliber is to be admired, respected and satisfied.

In that order?

Any order will do as long as she’s satisfied. He reached behind the seat where he kept a small bar for just such occasions and for his own satisfaction. This sparkles like your eyes, satisfies your thirst and after a few drinks, you will learn quickly to respect it.

Any order will do, she said. After she finished with the socks, she pulled a new pair of high-top boots from the bag. Using the towel, she wrapped the soggy boots in the towel and put them in her bag. Quickly, she pulled on the dry boots. That should keep my feet dry for a spell.

Handing her the drink, which she gratefully accepted without hesitation, he asked. Did you wade through a river to get here?

Just a creek about sixty feet wide. That was enough to add to my discomfort.

How about a toast to your new project?

Leaning forward, she touched her glass to his. She spoke in a soft, confident voice. To the project. The glasses clinked together sealing her future and assuring her that she had the contract.

The champagne tickled her throat as it went down and she felt warmth in her stomach long before it escalated into a flood throughout her body. It was as if the sun had burst inside of her. As soon as she empted the glass, which was in a few seconds, he poured more for both of them. When they both had consumed three glasses of the sparkling beverage, the Banshee put the cork in the bottle and put it on the seat near him. Save a little for later. It is difficult to conduct business when both partners are drunk.

I only get intoxicated, she said glumly.

We can’t have that. He rubbed his moustache and beard. It caused his skin to itch sometimes, except it helped to keep the sunlight from his sensitive skin when he was accidentally exposed to the deadly rays. "This is a chance of a lifetime for both of us. We must coordinate our efforts."

Even though she was sure that he could not satisfy her wants and needs, she was sure that he would not stop hinting for sex. For one thing, he was almost eighty years old and she was built with the power of a bulldozer and no common man could do what she needed done. It would be like sending a toy tractor the size of a mouse to do the job usually required by a bulldozer the size of an elephant. He would keep trying though. She would keep saying no. He was indeed a handsome man and did not look eighty at all. She thought he might look sixty with a healthy demeanor about him. However, the urge to have sex with him waned when she thought about all the evil things he’d done and all the hellish things he was capable of. It was not her choice to be his assistant, or maybe one of his many assistants. In fact, she’d had no choice at all. Pushing her troubling thoughts aside, she put her mind at ease as much as was possible. She needed all of her physical and mental strength, to deal with him. That’s why I waded several streams, fought off hungry wolves and almost froze to death, she informed him hoping he got the point. This project was going to cost him plenty.

I understand. Reaching into his bulky leather briefcase, he pulled from it a book about as thick as Stephen Kings thousand page novel, Under the Dome, which was a story about a town encased in a mysterious dome that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Isolation, another thousand-page novel by Dallas Releford, was also comparable to the volume the Banshee held in his hand extended out to her.

She took the book and looked at it and then at him with a puzzled look. What is this? Do you want me to read myself to sleep?

Perhaps, he said bluntly. This operation which I am calling, SHADOW is the most secretive operation we have initiated yet. To avoid putting everything in files on a computer or in file cabinets, I had one of our staff writers to write all the procedures in an immense volume that discusses every aspect of the operation as if it were a fiction novel. There are only three copies of this masterpiece. I have one. My deputy director has one. You have one. Whatever you do, don’t let that fall into the wrong hands. Of course, most people would just think it was a self-published work of fiction. However, someone with a little more curiosity might figure out that it is a plan of some kind and make trouble for us.

She leafed through the pages randomly reading a few paragraphs here and there. That’s a great idea, she finally admitted. I see that all the victims and the protagonist is listed in the first chapter. Are these the people I’m supposed to kidnap?

Yes. Pulling another similar book from his briefcase, he looked at it. You’ll also notice that the title, SHADOW and the name of its unknown author, Randy Defoe, are the only thing that makes it look like a normal book. There is a fake biography with a little information about the author on the back sleeve of the book. Other than that, everything else is to be considered to be for real. Starting with chapter one, it lays out the procedures to the letter. You are the main character, the protagonist while the women victims you will kidnap are the antagonist, or adversaries. You’ll spend a week reading this book and when you understand exactly what you need to do, you’ll do it. Of course, all the names we use in the book are fictional.

Ingenious. Her eyes focused on his face. How could a man in his eighties look like a fifty or sixty year old man? This was the second meeting she had ever had with him. It wouldn’t bother her any if it were the last meeting she had with him. Just looking at him, being in an enclosed area with him, gave her the absolute creeps. Everything about him was dark and deliberately hellish. From the black wide-brimmed hat on his pear shaped head to the dark suit he always wore made her think; and feel gloom in its most dreadful act. Too often, she thought that he could actually read her thoughts, or deduce something from her body language. It was almost as if he had programmed her and knew exactly what to expect from her.

His orders weren’t like orders. They were more like verbal commands. Clever to be sure, she said as he returned his copy of the book to his briefcase.

I thought so. He sat back against the soft dark leather upholstery on his seat. "I worry more about someone stealing our secrets or finding out about them. We must pull this caper off or our entire plans will be ruined. How would you like to be my assistant, second in command when I take over the world? It will be such a glorious day, you know. All of the humans that survive our war of all wars will be our slaves. They will be more than happy to accommodate us in every way. It was the dream of Napoleon, Hitler and Stalin. I will accomplish what they all could not do. Where they used bombs and guns, I will use cunning, logic and a million robots, clones and androids. They are the future of the world and you will help me gain the technology that I need to conquer the world. One day, Seeker, the greatest event in human history will be when biological technologies converge with computer technology allowing us to not only grow human organs and limbs, but to also create androids that can do much more than their human counterparts. In that future, as I see it, humans will no longer exist. Our human-computer creatures will all be biological-computer machines with extreme intelligence to match their super strength. They will be like the small ants that get crushed under our feet. Those tiny ants can lift more than their body weight. Our new super creatures will individually have the strength of a hundred men. One day, not to far away perhaps, we will create a new being that actually has a soul. Every living thing must have a soul but that is one of the things that our biological-computer technology will rectify. Our new humans will be able to live for five thousand years. Perhaps they will even live to be a million years old, or even beyond that to eternity. Who knows? The possibilities are incredible."

Even though the Seeker thought the old man was crazy, she knew deep in her heart that he was not. Her logic told her that he was a successful, extremely rich man with many resources. If he said he could build androids that were superior to humans then that was exactly what he could do. The women she was supposed to kidnap were living proof of his abilities. She’d seen some of his work that he’d done based on reengineering drawings that had been stolen from the government research labs. Just as sure as a stealth fighter was flying, jet fighters flew without pilots and drones were everywhere doing everything and the Internet would one day be universal, the old man could make those marvels look like a child’s toy. He had one talent that every highly successful person must have to reach his level of accomplishment. He was evil.

The Seeker sat back in her seat and looked at the Banshee. Is that something you have thought a lot about? I mean; is that really the kind of world you want to live in? Once you start that kind of process, it will be impossible to reverse.

Thought about it a lot, Seeker.

I’m sure. She knew she should feel honored to be around such an intelligent human, except she knew that he was nothing more than a predator. As far as she knew for sure, he had never invented anything himself. There were way too many really intelligent people around that he could steal ideas from or torture them until they told him what he wanted to know. There was absolutely nothing that he would not do to achieve his goals.

The Seeker thought about killing the old man and then shooting the driver except she knew the truth about him. He would not be so gullible to come all the way out here in the forlorn wilderness without adequate protection. He was, after all, the most powerful man on the planet. First, she would have to kill him, which shouldn’t be that difficult. Then she’d have to get out of the car and hope that Jenkins didn’t have the front driver’s side door locked. She was also confident that before she could get the front door to the vehicle open, dozens of soldiers in dark uniforms would hastily descend on her from the forest above and from the sky. In twenty seconds, she would either be dead or would be taken somewhere to be tortured for a long time.

The old man had not survived all these years in a violent world by being careless. There was nothing between her and him. She had possession of a weapon. What was the nature of his game? Did he expect her to attack him? Was he putting her to the test hoping she would make a fatal mistake? She knew that he had to be confident that he could trust her? She had been expecting it. Now was the moment of truth no matter how horrendous it was. Even if she decided to run and get as far away from him as she could, she knew that she was surrounded and trapped like a crawfish under a rock in a desert puddle of water that was once a rushing stream.

The Banshee stared at her with cold dark eyes.

She wondered if he was reading her mind again.

So, do you like that idea? he asked.

Her hesitation had instilled a degree of doubt in the old man’s mind. She had been considering all her options of which she did not have any.

Sounds like you got it all worked out. I’m truly happy to be working with you. It’s just that I was concerned because it’s sort of like a bomb, once you light the fuse; it is impossible to escape the explosion if you are too close. The thing I was worried about is that you would eventually be the only surviving human. Being the last of your race can be a lonely position to be in. Did you think about that?

There will be others, he said. "That includes you. Except, we will eventually be part human and part machine until we become a humachine or a biological computer machine. We shall live for eternity, if we want to."

Our clones will replace all humans and take over the operation of the planet, she said. Is that what you intend to do?

Exactly, he said. From this day forward, at least until we are certain that we are in control, we will dispense with our real names and use our code names. You are the Seeker and I am the Banshee. There is another one below me and you are below him. He is the Enforcer. You probably will never meet him, except I wanted to make you aware that he is always out there. He is never more than a few hundred feet from me.

Considering that a warning that the Enforcer was there to punish those whom did not follow the rules, she decided that she was stuck, like a whale washed up on a sunny beach. There was no way out. She was in too deep. It was also a warning that the Enforcer was not very far away now. She was lucky that she had decided not to run. Leaning forward, she rested her hands on both sides of her legs on the edge of the seat and stared directly at him. I guess that I start on my project this coming Monday, is that right?

If you finish the book and do not have any questions.

What do you want me to do if I do understand?

He smiled. Start the operation. If you have questions then call me on the scrambled telephone line at the cabin.

I skimmed through the book. She leafed through the pages as she spoke. It was raining harder outside. Large raindrops and occasionally a few balls of ice slammed into the window leaving waves of water flowing down the window like a stream. You have sort of a timeline in here. It looks like you want to capture all those women by the end of December. That only gives me about three months. Are you sure that is enough time? I don’t want to say I can do something unless I can actually do what I promise?

You already have captured three of them. What’s the worry? You’ll do fine.

The Seeker was feeling more like she was trapped in a nightmare and couldn’t escape. The money was good, the risks were great and she had hoped when the Banshee first contacted her that she would be able to get the job finished and retire. I just worry a lot, she admitted halfheartedly. The procedure is still the same as far as I can tell. I shadow the women who work at the government research lab, learn everything I can about them that we don’t already know and then I strike. After they have been captured, I will take them to the cabin in the woods where they will be held until I have them all under my supervision. When we are satisfied that I have the ones I seek, I will take them to the Mansion that is located south of here. Is that the plan we are still following?

In the dim glow of the blue lights on each passenger door, he smiled and leaned forward. Placing his hand on her knee, he looked directly into her tantalizing eyes. You have done well. If I didn’t trust you and have faith that you can do the job then you would not still be employed. I can’t emphasize enough the importance of getting this job done on time. I only have three months to complete the main project. We need the information those women can give to us, voluntarily or otherwise. We need that information before I can launch my campaign of terror upon the earth. He paused. It will be a majestic endeavor, he added. Those women are the key to most of our success. Do not tell them anything about our project or allow them to learn anything about us. It all must be top-secret. If anyone should find out about what we are about to do, all would be lost. You must succeed." Before he finished speaking his anger had built to a feverish crescendo and his fist was pounding the leather briefcase on the seat beside him.

I’ll do my best. She had left her Ford Explorer parked about a mile from the farmhouse across the creek she’d had to wade to get to the farm. The vehicle was parked in an ancient driveway that once led to a house that no longer existed. Remnants of weeds and bushes, barren and leafless now, grew in the center of the road. There were just enough evergreen trees, mostly pines, to conceal the forest green Explorer. Cold, soaking wet and apprehensive because of her association with the Banshee, she wanted to get out of the vehicle and go home to a hot shower and a warm bed.

Oh, the Banshee said reaching inside his black winter coat. I almost forgot. Pulling a stuffed white envelope from his coat, he handed it to her with a stern look on his face.

More orders, she thought. Opening the envelope, she looked at him with a startled look on her face.

Your first payment, he said. That’s for the first two months of employment. You’ll receive a check every three months until the job is done and then we’ll have to renegotiate the details of your further association with our organization. He paused in case she wanted to comment. When she did not say anything, he continued. Please count it and then we can terminate this meeting.

The envelope was stuffed with one thousand dollar bills. Nervously, she counted. Fifty thousand dollars, she said. I love these payments.

Well, he said. Of course, as usual, you’ll be paid in cash so there is no record. Let’s consider this meeting closed. Can I have our driver drop you somewhere?

Out on the main road to the west. I left my Explorer there hidden in an ancient driveway.

Consider it done, he assured her. We both have work to do.

When the driver stopped at her vehicle and she’d gotten out and headed toward the Explorer, she felt like she had met the Devil for the second time and escaped with most of her skin intact.

As she backed the Explorer out of the muddy, frozen driveway she saw that the limo had stopped and waited until she was safely on the main road and headed in the direction she needed to go. A few snowflakes became intermingled with the raindrops. She couldn’t wait to get to Cloverton. She wanted to get a good nights rest before carrying out the Banshee’s plans. The last thing she wanted to do was to fail him. That could be her last mistake.

* * * * *

Chapter Two

CLOVERTON, WV

Monday morning, two hours past midnight. 2 AM

The prowler, called the Seeker kidnaps Sara Russell from her home on Pleasant Street

The night was as dark and dreary as any other rainy night the Seeker had ever seen. The storm had begun yesterday out on the Plains. A cold front stretching from Canada to Oklahoma moved across the Midwest dropping tornadoes, blowing trees down and causing havoc from Maine to the Gulf Coast. When the National Weather Service tallied the facts and numbers eight people in Indiana and Iowa had lost their lives.

Moore, Oklahoma had been annihilated again. Powerful tornadoes struck violently at Moore, Oklahoma at least three times in the last fifteen years. The last tragedy had been on May 20, 2003 when an EF-5 almost destroyed the town. At least twenty-four persons were killed.

The long line of devastating storms was here now, in Cloverton, West Virginia. Except, it wasn’t as violent as it once was. A powerful cold front was moving in behind the long line of storms. On Doppler radar, which she’d checked before she left the house, it looked like a long red snake. The Seeker knew that the only thing to do was to deal with it. Torrential rain fell and it was getting colder implicating that the colder temperatures would result in significant accumulating snow in the next few days. It wasn’t something she was looking forward to. Nothing must interfere with her plans. She felt like her body was made of butter and it was slowly sliding down a chute toward the frying pan. An image of an old man with an evil heart flashed before her eyes for a brief second. She felt cold chills invade every part of her body. Why had she ever agreed to help him? In fact, she could not remember much about that experience. It was only one of several things she could not remember. It was almost like she’d just appeared and he was there, or that she’d always known him.

The Seeker had dreaded