Chapter 31

December Twenty-second

Shortly after dusk, Arthur drove his big Lincoln past the sprawling estate of General Winston Rutherford, IV., the sixth of the nation's four star military leaders that Arthur had investigated. As with General Miller, Arthur had been unable to find any handles he could use to coerce the others to do his bidding. Accordingly, all had suffered fatal mishaps. One's driver had abruptly swerved into oncoming traffic. Another had slipped and fallen down several flights of stairs while visiting patients at a VA hospital. The other two had died from aneurysms after Arthur had held his hand against their heads.

Calls to his new agents in the Middle East and Europe had arranged similar mishaps, albeit ones perpetrated with far less finesse, for the four star Generals and Admirals on his list that were stationed in those regions.

The sudden demise of so many of the highest ranking officers had not gone unnoticed, of course, but, as most were obviously accidents or the result of natural causes, even the most paranoid intelligence officers did not see a plot. The only action taken had been that Homeland Security had raised the national threat level to orange; an action that had essentially no impact on Arthur's activities.

Arthur was grateful that Rutherford, the Army's FORSCOM commander, had returned from Georgia to his home in Virginia for the holidays. After Arthur had finished in Little Rock, he had driven west to Colorado and then, after his brief stopover to see how Jean had dealt with his assignment, he had gone to Florida. He wouldn't have been able to make another trip of such a long duration. Time was running out

Rutherford and his wife had both come from old money, and their residence reflected that wealth. The house, which bore a striking resemblance to the old estates of the British aristocracy, was surrounded by a stone wall topped with cameras. The only entry point was a large, ornate, cast iron gate that was remotely monitored and controlled from somewhere within the house.

For a brief moment, he considered how simple things would be if he could just jump the wall, kill the household staff, and turn the General into a slave, but such a thing was not possible. The commander of the defense effort would be unable to avoid day time press conferences and appearances for long, not to mention that the General was so old that restored youth could not go unnoticed. Finally, he had to take into account the fact that so few Gifts had been received as of late.

Arthur parked his car outside the view of the cameras and settled back to wait. More than an hour later, the General drove past in his Cadillac CTS-V with anonymous, black government sedans to his front and rear. Arthur brushed over the thoughts of the pairs of guards that manned the sedans. Other than the fact that they were outraged that the General had insisted on driving himself, Arthur learned little.

When he delved into the mind of the General, Arthur straightened in his seat and leaned forward with interest. Like many men, the General loved his family, his country and his job. Unlike the other Generals that Arthur had investigated, however, Rutherford loved them in that exact order. He doted particularly upon his grandchildren, the unfortunately named Zachariah Thomas and his sister, Ashley.

Even now, the General was eagerly anticipating a rousing game of Chutes and Ladders in front of the Christmas tree with young Ashley, who was spending the holidays with Rutherford and his wife. Zachariah was at some sort of boy scout event just outside the city, but would be joining them the next day.

At long last, Arthur had found a man with a handle he could use.

As Arthur watched with extended senses, the General stepped on the gas and swerved around the lead vehicle, beating it to the gate. Exiting his car, Rutherford went back and gently, but firmly, told the guards to go home to their families. When they resisted, he made it an order. After the guards had reluctantly obeyed, Rutherford drove through the gate to his home.

Arthur turned the large car toward the city, and headed through the heavily falling snow towards the vaguely identified location he had taken from Rutherford's memory. He almost missed the small, hand painted sign, decorated with balloons that had withered from the dropping temperatures to hang limply at the ends of their bright ribbons.

Arthur followed the arrow on that sign and those on the subsequent ones. At the entrance to a BSA owned campground, a streamer made of bed sheets stretched high above the road. It proclaimed that the park was the site of "Boy Scout Troop 375's Third Annual Wilderness Survival and Snow Sports Merit Badge Bivouac - December 21st through December 23rd."

Pulling the car to a stop, Arthur turned to Susan, who was curled up in a tight ball on the floor in front of the passenger seat.

"Time to earn your keep, my dear," he said mildly as he slapped her lightly on the rump.

As always, she obeyed silently. She rose awkwardly from the cramped space, her movement causing a musical tinkling sound as the rings that adorned her lips, nose, nipples, flanks, navel and labia collided with their neighbors. Except for the rings, she was, as always, nude.

Scoutmaster Porter sat on one side of a large campfire with his back to the woods. The other side was occupied by a semi-circle of eleven teenage boys who were listening to his story. Some were enthralled, others simply looked bored. He supposed that they were getting a little old for ghost stories. Now that they were working on becoming Eagle Scouts, he should really start treating them as the young men they were, but he couldn't help but think of them as the cub scouts who had first joined his troop so many years before.

Porter concluded his story, " ... and some say that the beast still walks these woods on dark, moonless nights, waiting for the unwary to cross its path."

Laughing evilly, he turned on his flashlight to illuminate his face from below. His audience's response was gratifying: the boys, even the ones who had seemed bored, stared behind him into the dark woods, their eyes wide.

From behind him, a voice said, "Sometimes, the beast hunts without any regard for the location or orientation of our celestial neighbor."

Bewildered, Porter twisted his head around. Before he could complete the act, a tremendous blow landed on the side of his head. Semi conscious, he flew through the air to land painfully on his back a good ten yards from the fire. He was both gratified and terrified to see the boys rushing to his defense. He wanted to shout at them to run, but something seemed to be broken inside him, and he could not form the words.

There were two attackers, a man and a woman. The man was conservatively dressed in an expensive suit. The woman was naked except for the glint of jewelry. His terror increased as he noticed that, despite the cold, neither of them emitted puffs of white vapor as they breathed. The pair stood motionless as the scouts rushed toward them, but, in the light of the fire, Porter could see the man's eyes flitting from boy to boy. Rushing forward, the man grabbed Zach, subdued him easily, and pushed him forcefully toward the woman.

"Hold him, Susan. Do not allow him to come to harm or to escape," the man commanded.

He then attacked. The ferocity of it took Porter's breath away. The snaps of breaking bones came in such rapid succession that it almost sounded like someone had set off firecrackers. When half of their number were down, the rest of the scouts turned to flee. Laughing joyfully, the man ran them down one by one and, after incapacitating them, hurled them back to the fire's edge.