Chapter 6: High Noon

Walter and Elizabeth Martin weren't optimists. They had planned for the possibility of the Circle's fall. They had hoped that the day would never come when they would have to put their plan into effect. Then the arrests began. Walt and Beth saw both of their contacts arrested on the six o'clock news Sunday night.

Monday morning came, and the Martins called in sick at their jobs. The schools were informed that the Martin children had all contracted mumps. Much sympathy was expressed, along with hopes for a quick recovery. The recovery was far quicker than anyone could have expected. Minutes after the phone was hung up, the Martin family was out loading a rented van with all the essential items they would need in their new life. Even little Elizabeth Jean was given a task for the move.

The Martins had been hard at work for a little more than an hour, when the dark sedan came down the private road. The two FBI agents in the car had federal arrest warrants for Walter and Elizabeth Martin. Elizabeth knew why they were there the instant she saw the car. She also knew that they were not alone.

"They are coming to arrest us." Elizabeth told her husband. "They have us surrounded. There's no use resistin'. The kids might get shot if we do." Walter nodded in agreement and they surrendered peacefully.

Not every member of the C.R.F. was that reasonable. In some cases, several families would band together and fight to the last against the feds. Some of the children became orphans, others died fighting at their elders sides, and many fell to stray bullets.

Despite the size of the event, the news media had agreed to limit coverage to avoid drawing connections between the widely spread events. Everyone agreed that to reveal the extent of the conspiracy would encourage panic and hysteria among the masses. It was hoped that the cult would be crushed by the end of the week.

The C.R.F. in Europe had much more recent experience with hiding from governments. The Nazis and Communists had been quite paranoid about secret, religious organizations. The Circle had survived them, and the International Council of Elders saw no reason why they couldn't survive the efforts of the current regimes. A hand full of cells was compromised, but the damage was localized due to strict adherence to proper procedure.

The Circle's tiny networks in the Middle East and Africa were not even threatened (at least, not by this new effort). They were so few, that they had not contributed hunters to the Bryant hunt, and continued to exist unknown.

The Circle was strong in Central and South America. It had a history in the region stretching back to the time of Cortez. The inclusion of non-Catholic members by European, African, Arab, and North American branches of the Circle had resulted in the South Americans leaving the international Circle. They saw no threat to themselves, and no reason to aid their former comrades.

What the many factions and chapters of the C.R.F. didn't know was that AEGIS had long worked on a way to get legitimate authority to notice the Circle. Now the world police community knew of the Circle's existence, and now AEGIS sprang into action. They knew who many if not most of the International Council of Elders were. These exalted personages had been careful to distance themselves from the hunters and the leaders of most of the cells. AEGIS agents were kind enough to forge documents, alter computer records, and plant evidence to make up for the lack. A day that had started poorly for the Circle, ended even worse.

By contrast, Monday was greeted by a few smiles at the Rice home. James Yancy was beaming when he finished an early morning phone call. He lost no time in sharing the good news.

"There have been several arrests during the night, and there will be several more today." He said brightly. "We should have 90% of their US and Canadian leadership and support network rounded up by this evening."

Jason was shaving in the hall bathroom when Carla brought him the news.

"Agent Yancy thinks that the C.R.F. might be broken by the end of the week!" Carla said excitedly. "Most of the leadership should be in custody by tonight!" Jason opened the door.

"Those murderers gone for good?" Jason asked more than a little stunned. "After all these centuries, they will really be gone?"

"It does seem too good to be true." Carla admitted. She hadn't seen her boyfriend with his shirt off since the previous summer, and despite the conversation, she couldn't keep her eyes from wandering to Jason's chest. "Even if they aren't completely wiped out, they should be hurt enough to keep them from bothering anyone for a long time." Jason nodded smiling, and Carla decided to change the subject. "I see you don't remove your necklace to shave." She touched the tiger charm that rested against his sternum.

"It is where you placed it my Tigress." Jason said with a tender expression in his eyes as he set his hand on hers. "I will never remove it."

"They took my necklace from me when they thought I was dead." Carla said. "I didn't leave until I found it again." She reached into her shirt with her free hand. The tiger charm she produced was virtually identical to the one that Jason wore (they unknowingly commissioned the same jeweler to make them). Previously the only difference had been the eyes. Jason's charm had aquamarine eyes (as close to blue-gray as could be found) and Carla's had emerald eyes (an excellent match for her own). Now, Carla's also differed in that it was scorched and blackened by the fire that had killed her family and nearly killed her. "I knew that you would not approve of me taking such a chance, my Tiger." Carla said before Jason could voice his feelings on the matter.

"And you know that I would have done the same thing in your position, and you would have disapproved." Jason finished Carla's thought. She smiled and nodded.

"I love you." They spoke together.

"And I would love for you to let Mr. Bryant finish in the bathroom." Agent Kelly announced, blowing the tender moment to bits. "There are only two bathrooms and ten people here. If you must confess your feelings, go do it in a low traffic area so the rest of us can see to our personal hygiene." Yethans seldom blushed, but with their extremely fair skin, even a slight blush was instantly visible. Carla hurried, red faced, past the G-man. Jason was lucky that much of his face was covered in shaving soap.

Jason returned to shaving. Agent Kelly came to the door.

"Do you have much left to do Mr. Bryant?" The agent asked.

"I just need to shave and finish dressing sir." Jason answered. "I'm sorry to hold you up."

"You use a straight razor Mr. Bryant?" Agent Kelly asked surprised when he saw the dangerous implement in the young man's hand.

"Yes sir." Jason answered with a grin. "I don't need to shave but twice a week or so. When I do shave, I want to do a proper job." He didn't bother to say that almost all Yethan men strongly preferred to be clean shaven (beards and moustaches tended to get messy at feeding time). Jason also used the straight razor because he had great manual dexterity. His coordination was about to be put to a severe test.

"I would probably cut my own throat if I tried to use anything other that an electric razor." Kelly continued. "Of course, a few little cuts are probably no concern to someone who can survive having their skin burned off." Jason very nearly cut himself when he heard that. It took Jason a moment to recover. Then he took a last two swipes with the razor, and was done shaving. He saw the worry on his reflection as he wiped the last bit of soap from his face and applied some aftershave. He was cleaning his razor when Kelly spoke again.

"I wondered what the cult looked for in a victim. You see the MO was always the same, but the victims were a puzzle. Why this farming family and not their neighbors? Why kill their friends, accountants, and especially doctors? The dead doctors are the real clues aren't they Mr. Bryant? They are the ones you need the most, the ones who hide your... special condition."

Jason turned to look the G-man in the eyes.

"I don't know what you think you heard sir, but you are mistaken." He said, trying desperately to influence Agent Kelly.

'I didn't hear what I thought I heard?' Mike Kelly thought. 'But I... I know... what... ' He mind felt muddled and unclear. 'I know what... What did I hear?' The youth looked concerned and frightened about something.

"Are you alright Mr. Bryant?" Kelly asked.

"Yes sir, I was about to ask the same of you." Jason said, the worry still written across his face.

"Me? I'm fine Mr. Bryant. I just feel a little groggy. I must not have slept soundly last night."

"The bathroom is all yours Agent Kelly." The teen said, but the worry was still there. Mike smiled.

"Don't worry about me Mr. Bryant. I'll be fine."

Jason buttoned and tucked his shirt in as he hurried down the hall. He went straight to the living room. Agent Butler was asleep on the couch, Agent Simms was nowhere to be seen, and Agent Yancy was sitting in one of the chairs, talking to Reverend Rice. Jason took a quick look around and stretched his other senses to their limits. There were no eaves droppers this time.

"Agent Yancy sir, Carla and I were talking at the bathroom. I didn't hear Agent Kelly coming down the hall. He heard Carla talkin' 'bout the morgue, and people thinkin' she was dead."

"Oh goodness." Reverend Rice said.

"Oh sh... oot." Agent Yancy added.

"This could wreck everything." Agent Butler sat up, awakened by the urgent sound in the boy's voice.

"I think I may have convinced him that he misheard, but he may not buy that for long." Jason added.

"It would be foolish to hope that he might." Butler replied. "We may have to trust him with the secret."

"I don't think you're awake yet Bob." Yancy opined. "If we tell Kelly, he'll file a report or call up the chain of command for instructions, or something equally inappropriate and the... stuff will hit the fan."

"These are your people that will be endangered Jason." Reverend Rice said. "What do you think we should do?" Jason Bryant; high school student and orphan wasn't used to speaking for the whole of the Talem Er-Yetha. He would speak his conscience and hope that his answer would be the right one.

"If we don't tell him, he will probably find out on his own, and any hope of a favorable reaction will be lost. With that in mind, we either have to tell him or kill him. I can't speak for every Yethan on earth, but my parents would have been against killing someone for something they might do. I think that we have to tell him."

"Very well Mr. Bryant." Agent Yancy said. "Who gets the unhappy duty?"

"Agent Simms." Jason whispered.

"Simms! Does she know about this too?" Yancy asked incredulous.

"No sir. She's comin' up the walk." Jason said, pointing toward the door.

Juanita Simms had been out checking the perimeter of Reverend Rice's property. She found no sign of the enemy, but Simms was still nervous. She didn't feel that the present location was secure. She didn't understand Agent Yancy's reluctance to relocate to a true safe house, nor did she understand why the wounded officer and civilian had to remain. It was true that both had been shot by the cultists, but that had clearly been incidental to the attack on the Highway 11 roadblock. 'Why not bring the surviving State officer here as well?' Juanita wondered.

When Agent Simms entered the house, she found the preacher and the youth sitting in the living room, reading sections of the news paper. Butler had his nose buried in his lap top, and Yancy was drinking a cup of coffee, with the M-16 in easy reach. Something about the tableau struck Simms as odd. She wasn't sure what it was until she focused on the section of paper that concealed the boy's face.

"Checking on your stock portfolio Mr. Bryant?" She asked, trying to sound just slightly curious.

"No ma'm." Jason answered, not lowering the Business Section he was supposedly reading. "I'm keeping track of stocks for a school project." He didn't dare lower the paper, or his expressive face would betray his worry and fear.

Agent Simms didn't buy the story. It was feasible of course, but the youth's voice said he had little experience telling outright lies. She cast her eyes about the room and realized that if the boy was hiding something, the others were probably aware and in on the secret. Juanita had a sudden epiphany.

"Well, my watch is over." She announced. "I'll be heading in to check my cot for booby traps, and if I find any I won't blame the kid you suckered into helping you." Juanita gave Butler and Yancy a threatening gaze that said 'I can play your game, but do you want to take a turn on the receiving end?' Then, she strode confidently out of the room.

"We don't haze female agents do we?" Butler asked his partner.

"No Robert. That's a myth." Yancy answered lightly. He took a sip of his coffee. Then he added "like vampires." James Yancy liked quiet in the morning. His last comment gained him several minutes of silence.

Carlo d'Aosta spent the morning trying to get his people in position. The charges were planted at the relay stations twenty minutes late, and that threw the deployment schedule for team three off. Thankfully, Herzog had allowed for the inexperience of the hunters in operations of this size, and the schedule had a degree of flexibility.

The three teams had a great deal of trouble getting to their two starting points. Each vehicle had to travel alone for security reasons. After Taylor's debacle at the road block, the local police would be watching for convoys of vehicles. The majority of the task force (now thirty strong) was made of people who could barely read English. Finding there way to the starting points was an enormous challenge. Of the hunters who could read English (Americans, Canadians, British, and a few of the others), none was native to the area and they got lost almost as readily as the rest.

Carlo kept a cell phone in hand, standing over a collection of maps until he had to leave Speedwell to rendezvous with team three at the second starting point. Once there, he kept a cell phone in hand and spread his maps on the hood of his truck. D'Aosta didn't know why he was chosen as field commander of the task force, but he was determined to carry out the attack at 1205, even if he had to do it alone.

Job Taylor was determined to get his team in place also. He knew that his team was blamed for the crisis that threatened the C.R.F. His team would perform their task in this attack even if he had to carry them to the starting point himself.

Job hadn't been required to do anything that drastic yet, but he was playing fast and loose with security procedures. As soon as he arrived at the second start point, he started calling the other two vehicles in his team. Instead of staying at the start point (as per orders) he left to lead first one and then the other element of his team to the start point. The fact that the local and State police (that still patrolled the area) didn't notice his suspicious behavior was a minor miracle.

It was 1045 when Taylor's team was finally at the start point. His sabotage unit was ready to move to the utility pole where they would cut the phone lines, and Job walked to d'Aosta's truck. Carlo d'Aosta was still standing over the hood of his truck, shouting into a cell phone and examining his maps.

"You have thirty minutes to be in position!" Carlo said. "We must begin to deploy at that time if we are to be ready by 1145!"

Job waited until d'Aosta was finished before he reported.

"Yes Taylor, what problem do you have to report?" Carlo snapped.

"My team is in position and ready sir." Job reported. He took no offense at his superior's tone. Job knew that the Italian was under great stress.

"Thank you." D'Aosta said, resisting the urge to hug his Americano subordinate. "One team down and two to go."

Butler, Yancy, Reverend Rice, the Marcettis, Jason and Carla conferred on how to break the existence of the Talem Er-Yetha to Agent Kelly when he returned from his appointment. Gwen kept watch over Agent Simms to make sure if she woke up, the rest could be warned before she stumbled into a conversation she didn't need to hear. It was finally decided that Carla would be the one to tell him.

Carla Draper was the one he had overheard, and she was judged to be the least threatening looking person available. Carla was nervous of course. One possible reaction Agent Kelly might have would be to shoot her. Agent Yancy agreed to help her to avoid any accidents.

When Michael Kelly returned, he found the house strangely empty, occupied only by Agent Yancy and the Draper girl.

"Where is everyone?" Kelly asked, alarmed.

"Reverend Rice is seeing to his bee hives." Yancy answered. "Officer Marcetti and his father are helping him. Jason is in the basement. The reverend asked him to retrieve a jar of chow-chow for lunch."

"Chow-chow?" Kelly said. "Is that Chinese?"

"It's a sort of homemade relish, made of green tomatoes and cabbage mainly." Carla volunteered. "But while we have a moment, I'd like to talk to you about what you overheard in the hall."

"Yes, I'm sorry about..." His expression suddenly became guarded. "Wait, I didn't tell you about that, I told John."

"Er, you told Jason, and he told me, sir."

"I heard exactly what I thought I heard, didn't I?" Mike said, feeling a little light headed. "You were burned. No human could have survived your injuries." The G-man's mouth went dry. "What are you?"

"We're good neighbors." Carla answered earnestly. "We're responsible and productive citizens."

"But what are you? Where do you come from?"

"Well sir, I come from Clay County Mississippi. We're not aliens. We've been around since the dawn of recorded history at least. We haven't spent that time trying to overthrow civilization. We've done everything we can to be a useful part of that civilization. It's not our fault that there are people who want to kill us. Throughout history there have been those who attack that which is different." Carla noticed that Agent Kelly hadn't interrupted for a while, so she stopped to see if he wanted to say anything.

Michael Kelly wondered if he was losing his mind. If he was sane, then this was the biggest discovery in human history. Kelly felt crushed by the weight of his responsibility.

"Why did you tell me your secret?"

"You heard enough to become curious about us. Given time, you would have learned the truth for yourself. This way we get to prove our honorable intentions by trusting you." The girl's green eyes were pleading. "We only keep our existence a secret because we know from long experience how humans react to that which is different or unknown. We need you to understand the danger we would be in if our secret was revealed. We need you to help us keep our secret."

Kelly thought a long moment. Yancy knew of these beings, and he obviously thought it important to keep their secret. Kelly also remembered his grandparents talking about how things had been for Irish immigrants when they had come to America. They had known what it was to be different.

"Very well." Kelly said with a sigh. "I won't report any of this yet, but I want to think about this some more before I make my final decision." The fact that these beings could have silenced him (and Yancy) with deadly force and chose not to weighed heavily in Kelly's mind.

"Thank you sir!" Carla said with a hopeful smile on her face. "Thank you for giving us a chance!" Now that Kelly really looked at Ms. Draper, she reminded him of his own daughter. He wondered if, perhaps, biology wasn't the prime indicator of true humanity.

1130 hours

Teams one and two were finally beginning to deploy into their V formation. Carlo and his command staff took a moment to wolf down a lunch of cold sardines, saltine crackers, and tepid coffee. Carlo noted (with some envy) that team three had obtained hot sandwiches and cold Coca-Cola from some unknown source. Teams one and two could eat lunch if they got into position in time. Commander d'Aosta felt that would be a strong incentive to succeed.

George Rice didn't reckon himself a great chef. As long as he stuck to simple fare, he could do alright, but anything fancy was beyond him. Taking that into account, the old preacher had just about exhausted his cooking knowledge. He knew that being cooped up was no fun, and he had been cooking something different for each meal to help cut back on boredom. He had, unfortunately run out of ideas for hot lunches.

He had resisted doing 'soup and sandwiches' because it was a bit overdone. When he had realized that none of the FBI agents had ever heard of chow-chow, George realized soup and sandwiches might not be so boring after all. The preacher made tuna salad sandwiches (following his mother's recipe) and a jar of his sister's homemade tomato soup. The soup was good, but the sandwiches proved especially popular.

"I don't normally like tuna salad Reverend." Agent Yancy said. "But this salad you've made is ambrosia."

"Thank you for the complement Agent Yancy." George said, happy that everyone was pleased with lunch. "The chow-chow is the key ingredient."

"Chow-chow?" Agent Simms asked. "Is that Chinese?"

1150 hours

The C.R.F. saboteurs cut the phone line that connected to the target house (and six others) exactly on time. The man who did the cutting climbed quickly down from the telephone pole and joined his lookout. They ran to the patch of brush where they were to hide and wait for team one.

1200 hours

Robert Butler went into the living room after lunch. Reverend Rice had given him the recipe for chow-chow, and he was going to email it to his sister. He opened his laptop and turned the cell modem on. After he emailed his sister, Agent Butler intended to take another stab at tracking down the source of the enemy's incendiary ammunition.

The three vehicles of team three and the two vehicles of the command group stopped in the middle of the road. The two saboteurs ran from the weeds and jumped into the back of a truck. The convoy resumed its rush toward destiny.

1202 hours

Five charges detonated simultaneously on five microwave relay towers. Cell phones across the area ceased to function.

Agent Butler lost his internet connection and could not reestablish it. Feeling a little paranoid, Butler checked his cell phone. It couldn't establish a connection either. He instantly snatched up the land phone on the end table. There was no dial tone.

"We've lost cellular and land line communication!" Butler shouted to the house. Then, he reached for the most powerful weapon in their meager arsenal: the tactical radio.

1204 hours

Team three was beginning to deploy into a line as Carlo gave to order to activate the broadband jammer.

Robert Butler turned the tactical radio on to call for help. All he heard was blaring static. Static consumed every channel. Butler dropped the useless radio and grabbed up his ballistic vest and an MP-5K.

"The radio is jammed!" Butler shouted.

"Assume attack is eminent!" Agent Kelly shouted, taking another submachine gun and vest.

"They're lining up on the road!" Reverend Rice cried as he looked out of the window over the kitchen sink.

"All civilians to the back of the house!" Agent Simms ordered. "That includes you Officer Marcetti."

"Like beans it does! I'm an officer of the law! I'm not gonna hide in some closet while I have a job to do!" Marcetti drew his service pistol as he spoke.

1205 hours

Commander d'Aosta nodded to Job Taylor.

"For the glory of God, attack!" Job shouted. His team began to advance, firing as they went.

Jason, Gwen, Carla, Reverend Rice and Mr. Marcetti were in the master bedroom when the bullets started impacting the front of the house. Mr. Marcetti was busy getting his small arsenal out of the closet.

"Keep your heads down everyone." The reverend said.

Agents Yancy, Kelly and Simms manned the living room windows. Agent Butler and Officer Marcetti defended the kitchen. The enemy was advancing in a line, firing their weapons as they moved.

"Stay down!" Yancy ordered. "They should need to reload at about the same time!"

As predicted, the fierce fusillade lost strength, then suddenly ceased as the cultists paused to reload.

"Let'em have it!" Yancy shouted. The law officers stood and opened fire on the enemy who was now helpless. The FBI agents had been equipped with Teflon coated steel cored bullets that punched through the enemy's body armor. The three of them accounted for four dead and one wounded. Eddie Marcetti had no special ammunition, so he took careful aim at the fellow who seemed to be talking the most.

"Reload!" Taylor shouted. "Hurry or we'll_" Job Taylor's sentence was ended by a 9mm bullet in the forehead. His surviving men (including the one who was shot in the stomach) finished reloading and opened fire again.

Commander d'Aosta was watching the attack from the road. The enemy wasn't retreating from the house, and team three had just taken fifty percent casualties.

"Signal teams one and two to attack." He said. One of his staff fired a flare into the sky while another sounded an air horn twice.

Johan Schumacher saw and heard the attack signal, as did Nikolai Illescu. Both men ordered their teams forward to attack.

Jason looked out the bedroom window and saw armed men coming out of the woods beside the house. Seeing the hunters of the C.R.F. again caused Jason's anger and murderous hatred to boil up.

"God curse their souls!" Jason snarled in the old language. "They are trying to sneak up on this side!" Anthony Marcetti jumped up with his hunting rifle.

"Knock out the window so I can shoot." He whispered.

Jason grabbed up the nightstand, sending the clock and lamp to the floor. He grimaced hatefully as he hurled the nightstand at the window.

As Schumacher advanced, there was a crash from the house. Something large and wooden came soaring out of a window end over end. It struck one of the Austrian hunters, knocking him back and crushing the life out of him. A man appeared in the window and brought a rifle to his shoulder.

"Suppressive fire on that window!" Johan shouted, but the enemy got off one aimed shot before anyone could react. Another hunter fell (this one from Germany) with a bullet in his chest, before the command could be enacted. The target moved out of view before the hail of bullets blazed through where he had been standing. "Kurt, Wolfgang, alternate fire and keep his head down." Schumacher commanded. He switched to German because there were no English speakers on his team and he hoped that there were no German speakers on the other side. Half of Schumacher's team had swung around behind the house, leaving him to deal with the rifleman.

Johan was carrying two rubber lined pouches. The smaller held rags that had been treated to be flammable. The larger held four sealed glass bottles of jellied gasoline. He unsealed a bottle and stuffed a rag in its neck. He lit the rag with a match and circled toward the window.

"You kids get the Reverend out of here!" Anthony shouted to be heard over the slow but constant stream of bullets coming through the window. "Get him some place safe and see if they're sneakin' up behind us too!"

"We can't leave you Anthony!" Reverend Rice protested as Gwen grabbed him and carried him from the room.

"Good luck sir!" Jason called before following the others.

"Keep some luck for yourself Jason!" Mr. Marcetti replied as he took position in the door to the master bath.

Agent Yancy noted unhappily that the squad attacking the front of the house had learned its lesson. Now, two or three would fire while the rest advanced. At the rate they were going, they would be in the house in less than a minute, and the FBI wasn't going to be able to stop them.

Half of Illescu's team was shielded from enemy fire by the garage. There was no door by which to enter the house, so Nikolai sat to work making one. He placed a Semtex charge on the garage wall, stuck a wire detonator into the explosive and ran back to the edge of the trees, trailing a spool of wire behind him. He connected the wire to a hand powered generator.

"Everybody down!" He shouted. After his team obeyed, Nikolai spun the handle, generating an electric charge.

The door from the kitchen to the garage was blown open by the explosion. Eddie turned and ran into the smoking ruin. Once in the garage, Eddie could see sunlight streaming in through a large hole in the far wall. He vaulted over what was left of the preacher's Saturn station wagon and took a position beside the hole.

Stephan Ploescu was with the half of Illescu's team that was rushing the breach in the garage wall. He could hear his teammates behind the house, along with the Germans there, and the Americans and Italians in front of the house cheering. 'We will be the first into the house!' the small Romanian thought proudly. His was near the back of his group (the others had longer legs and could run faster). Stephan saw one of his fellow Romanians pass through the breach.