Have your men been informed of the planned rendezvous? They know what to do?

 

Yes, Brother.

 

Don’t fuck this up, Harlon. Not like the compound.

 

That wasn’t our men, not our resources, Brother.

 

It was a foreseeable error on your part.

 

How can you think that?

 

If you had followed my instructions to the letter regarding Indian Wells, we’d have no further need of…

 

Damn you! I told you that was something beyond our control! That fool lawyer!

 

There was more to it than that, Harlon. You realize that now, do you not?

 

You think that a Melding was responsible for our losses at Indian Wells? At Ocaba Bien?

 

We didn’t know the signature of such an event at those times, so we really had nothing to go on, now did we? But, now we do.

 

If nothing else, that old Nazi fool gave us a gift in being able to observe some of the parameters involved.

 

How did they find Om, though? I wonder…

 

How do you think?

 

We have a traitor in our midst? Are you sure? Who?

 

Think, brother, think…

 

Hmmmm. One of the three Jaeger men, perhaps? Certainly not the girl.

 

You name the one, and I will tell you if you are closer.

 

You are in the right church, but the wrong pew, as they say.

 

Well, we’ve already infiltrated Black Dog and Pecker. That loathsome thing…

 

Ask yourself who benefits the most from our… help.

 

Have you located Ophelia?

 

No. Yes. Perhaps.

 

Why do you insist on these infernal games, Jonathon? I am your blood!

 

Half-blood!

 

No! We are the same! You know I am full-blooded as you!

 

Really?

 

You believe that, do you?

 

That you have the blood of the True King, full-borne and noble, in you?

 

I was borne of the same woman as you!

 

Walter was my identical twin! Not you, Harlon! Never you!

 

We were triplets! There were three of us!

 

Yes, but your mother was a whore, Harlon.

 

While Walter and I shared a saint.

 

You bastard!

 

No, Harlon, that would be you!

 

—————

 

Wernher Hartmann looked out at the compound.

 

It was in total ruins, now.

 

He walked down to them, leaving his motorcycle on the road.

 

It was a short walk and would do him good.

 

When he arrived, he noticed the bodies of the dead men.

 

There were a number of them, one of whom had been stomped to death.

 

He was wearing an old SS uniform.

 

Really, he thought, these neo-Nazis really needed to get better wardrobes!

 

He grinned, and anyone who would have seen that visage would have trembled with fear at how ghastly the grimace appeared on his face.

 

Wernher had seen his share of horror, and even caused much of it.

 

But, the corpse at his feet was pretty mangled, and, in his professional opinion, had been manhandled more than was required for simple neutralization, or even a sanctioned termination with extreme prejudice.

 

Looking more closely, Wernher realized that the man had actually been nearly decapitated by someone seizing his esophagus and squeezing it nearly in two.

 

The power behind such a grip was staggering.

 

It required pressure and torque of a tremendous amount.

 

The man’s head probably exploded, blowing out the eyes and tongue.

 

The stomping was merely the act of an angry person, and totally superfluous to the fatality of the strangulation.

 

Well.

 

His son always did have a temper, he thought to himself.

 

All of his line had that trait.

 

Standing up, and dusting himself imaginary dust from his clothing, he considered that anger was a difficult emotion to master.

 

He’d managed to do so, but it had taken decades.

 

And, still, he knew the intensity with which it smoldered beneath his own skin.

 

Anger was a beast that had to be fed, and watched, he knew.

 

When unleashed, it would bite anyone foolish enough to remain close.

 

As he bent down to search the man, Wernher took note of the man’s genital area, clinically.

 

A rough cut, possibly a fighting knife, had severed the man’s penis.

 

Whoever this man was, he had angered Om very much, it seemed.

 

And, perhaps done more?

 

He did not know.

 

But he suspected what might have occurred to incur Om’s wrath.

 

If the fool had threatened Barbara in some fashion…

 

Of course, that must have been the initiating factor!

 

Dummkopf!

 

He laughed, a sound that would chill the bones of any who heard it.

 

Wernher found a few items in the dead man’s pockets.

 

A knife, some cash, and a set of dental tools.

 

Nothing of note.

 

He was here, searching for something far more important.

 

Wernher searched through the compound for several hours, occasionally retracing his steps.

 

He was thorough and meticulous.

 

Wernher decided he was able to piece together a history of everything that had happened, right up until the Melding.

 

Derek White had given him enough information for him to make certain assumptions regarding the Jaeger clan.

 

He knew the rest by dint of having intimate knowledge of the family tree.

 

Finding nothing, he walked back to the Suzuki Hayabusa that was his preferred mode of travel.

 

Anonymous, easily shipped, and fast as the wind.

 

Just how he liked to roll.

 

He put on his helmet, with the skull and crossbones emblem, fired up the ‘Busa, and popped a wheelie.

 

He could hear helicopters approaching, but he was certain they would find no traces of his visit.

 

And, he was disappointed that he had not found what he sought.

 

But, he now knew that the Mandarin operatives wouldn’t find it either.

 

—————