Chapter 4

Seth outlined his idea to Flying Eagle Elkwood, and she liked the plan so much that she cackled. “I’d pay to see ‘em talk. And even better if they described what you did to ‘em.” She introduced Seth to three men of the Elkwood clan; they were large men, with strong AmerInd characteristics, including hair pulled back in a pony tail. That they were former members of the U.S. Army, and knew basic unarmed combat techniques, was a bonus.

Seth explained the plan. It was simple: they were to grab the boys singly, to minimize the chance that they’d get courage from each other or try something. Then they were to bring each of the miscreants to a dis-used coal mine site – Flying Eagle pointed it out on the map. She, apparently, knew everything about everything.

The men looked at each other. “It’d be better,” one of them said, “to take them all at the same time. It’d be faster. If we take ‘em one at a time, it’ll take hours. Better to get some more men and do it all at once.”

Seth considered, and finally decided that the three would make better tacticians than he would. He agreed and then he would take over once the targets were in the coal mine.

The following night was Thursday, and each of the targets would be coming home at about five or six p.m. That presented a logistical problem for Able, Baker, and Charlie, as the three Senecas decided to call themselves. Seth had given them an assignment and then he disappeared from the scene – off doing whatever he was doing.

What he was doing was meditating. He was sitting in his room, Robbie and Butch slowly came to attention and just watched him. He sat, cross legged on a mat made of blankets, and closed his eyes. The Waabanow concentrated just a moment. He called out to a presence he felt at some distance.

Able, Baker and Charlie were sitting in Charlie’s van, discussing the ‘project’ that Seth wanted to do. From their point of view, the project was simple – but a bit more complicated than originally designed. They spent the day getting an injectable sedative that one of his new recruits thought would work – that Seneca’s girlfriend had spent some time as a medic while in Uncle Sugar’s service. The revised plan was to grab each target with the help of other Senecas, put a bag over their heads and then give ‘em a shot of sleepy juice. And THEN deliver the cargo to Seth. The trio judged that six more men would be needed: one driver for each vehicle, and two to perform the snatch.

That meant another trip to Wal-Mart to get full-face ski masks. There was plenty of snow on the ground these days, so nobody would take notice ... or so they thought.

Able asked a simple question: what about the targets’ cars or trucks? If the boys were away from their normal environments for several hours and then returned – somehow – in some altered state of mind, they’d be noticed. SOMEBODY was going to have to take the cars, too. The ‘second’ abductor would take care of the car after the target was unconscious. Hopefully, Seth had the rest accounted for. And deal with their return to the ‘normal’ world.

Pissy Parsons (he hated that nickname) would be first. Naturally, he didn’t attend college or have a real job. Nominally, he was a salesman at his uncle’s Chrysler dealership. They hung out down the street from Parsons Chrysler/Jeep and waited. Pissy left about 4:15 and headed for his favorite watering hole.

It was early for there to be a big crowd at The Lamplighter, and the parking lot was nearly deserted. He didn’t even notice the van pull into a parking spot next to his Chrysler 300. He stepped out of his car, and almost into the arms of a big man wearing a ski mask. Before he could complain much, there was a black pillowcase over his head. That was slid into place from the second abductor from behind. Three seconds later, the same second man administered a syringe with some sleepy juice. They missed the carotid, but they must have hit something, because his body went slack before the two men could get the body into the van. The second man on Baker’s team picked up the car keys from the ground, where Pissy had dropped them, and slid into the gray Chrysler.

In the span of nine seconds, Pissy Parsons went from a free son-of-a-bitch to an unconscious lump in the back of a dark blue van.

...

Eddie Consol left his job at the American New York Title Company, where he was a junior associate in the I.T. Department, at 5:04. He didn’t notice the black van that followed him out of the company’s parking lot. It was a dark, wintry night when he reached the corner of Third Street and Sycamore Drive. The van pulled up alongside of Eddie’s Ford pickup, and he didn’t notice the door was open for Alpha to jump out with his ski-mask in place. Then the van spurted forward and cut to the curb, blocking Eddie.