With the Cooperation of The Collinsport Police Department

The Cranshaw House. While Nicole Collins is away in Providence, Rhyaad de’Annar has taken charge of the Collins Investigation of the purported necromancers plotting against Collinsport. Having reported the vicious crimes at the Cranshaw House — Nichols Blair’s sanctuary — to Chief of Police St. Clair, he has arrived with Meili Rainheart. And as recent events have unfolded, Rhyaad has now decided to forgo his usual concern with stealth, and so as resolved to remain in full body armor as well as to carry his huge silver claymore — everywhere he goes. As he arrives now in the continuing snowfall, he hopes to find Chief St. Clair already on the scene — and he eagerly anticipates that she will have brought with her the special operatives she has called in to Collinsport — these so-called forces of The Delta Green.

Opening soundtrack: [www.youtube.com]

At the bottom of the steep descent of the driveway, leading down to the lawns of the Cranshaw House, it looks as if a giant UFO has just landed. The brilliant blue and white lights flash and strobe across the tall swaying cedars, reflect off the snow, which has just begun to give signs that it is about to stop falling.

The static sounds of the police radios can be heard:

. . . 1-Victor-7 . . .

. . . Roger Copy 2-Victor-4 . . .

The lightly falling snow gathers on the shoulders of her black wool overcoat as St. Clair pushes talk on her two-way: “What’s the 20 on the ME?”

Rhyaad listens to the police scanner, and his eyes growing brighter, taking on a slight metallic tinge and glow in his irises. “What?” He asks Meili who looks at him over the top of his dark sunglasses.

“If we are going down there with all of these members of law enforcement, take off the armor.”

“But?”

Meili gives him a look and Rhyaad sighs. He leaves the armor in the GTO.

Police Radio response: “Woodward Memorial, Chief.”

“How long before he can get out here?”

Police Radio response: “He says it will be about 45 minutes before he can get away.”

“Copy.”

“So, just asking, is it really such a good idea for us to be here?” Meili whispers as he follows behind Rhyaad, extremely careful to keep himself barely audible. His concern was obvious considering their last visit to the mansion. “Really . . . the last time we were here, we did kind of ransack the place . . . ”

His boots crunch in the newly fallen snow, but not Rhyaad’s, which don’t seem to leave a trace, which is not good at all if one of these the police officers should notice, Meili thinks..

Police radio: “MBI is sending a CSU, but it ETA is about an hour away.”

Jamison St. Clair: “Copy.”

Officer Bishop: “Found another one Chief, over here in the garage.” He waves over to the open side door of the two-car garage.

“Another one oh good Chirst.” Jamison St. Clair sighs loudly, “Let’s have a look.”

: ” . . . Ugh all of these people,” Meili grumbles. “Guns, too many guns . . . Rhyaad, shouldn’t we be looking for you-know-who?” He asks, and gave the male beside him a slightly worried look while they walked. “I’m not sure I like this at all . . . Understandably, as a thief, I don’t much like being surrounded by law enforcement officials. Especially this many.”

St. Clair comes out of the garage shaking her head, “Bobby, hey Bobby, tape this off.”

Officer Bishop nods, “Right Chief.”

“Considering all things, yes. I do think so. If there’s still some THING here like last time, those men with guns might find out just how inadequate they are.” Rhyaad gets out and starts slowly walking towards the house.

Spotting St Clair, Rhyaad heads straight for her, no doubt making her officers nervous. He notes the one called Bobby has his hand on the butt of his service revolver. “St. Clair. I thought you should have a little backup of the uncommon kind. Quite a massacre in there, isn’t it?”

“Christ. Rhyaad, you didn’t tell me it was a slumber party massacre, we got five that we know of and it could be more, we’ve got some more blood stains that could indicate we have some missing bodies.”

“Or ones that were eaten . . . ” Meili coughs, speaking the words with extreme care so that only Rhyaad could hear them well.

St. Clair looks at him.

“I’d estimate 11, but I wasn’t really counting.” Rhyaad tells her, “And knowing Blair, there may be others elsewhere.”

St. Clair taking charge of the scene is not one for staying put for long, and so she suddenly begins to make her way carefully in the snow over toward the front of the house. Rhyyad and Meili quickly moving to catch up with her. She walks along the front of the porch and nods to an officer standing beside one of the front doors, “Elliot, you make sure this is all secure until MBI get’s here.”

Meile hopes that Rhyaad’s lack of footprints is masked by the trail of all boots of the Collinsport Police Officers, who have been going in and out of the house, as Rhy follows St. Clair to the front door, “Are we ready to bust in?” he asks.

St Clair looks at him, and shakes her head as she opens the door, “No sign of Natasha Snow or Lillian Snow, they are not one of the bodies – but that doesn’t mean they are not dead.”

“Oh, Snow lives, of that I assure you.” Rhyaad tells her as he enters the Cranshaw house’s foyer, “And can I ask, what’s the MBI’s?”

“Maine Bureau of Investigation.” She tells him over her shoulder as she strides into the living room.

“Sounds like the party’s here, then . . . ” Meili says to Rhyaad.

“I don’t have a big enough CSU on staff for this size job.”

She steps over to look at one of her officers dusting for prints at one of the end tables beside the sofa, “I’m going back in to look around, Amos, you let me know if the ME shows up.”

The officer nods, looks up at the two men with her, frowns at the blonde with the sunglasses and continues his work.

Rhyaad whispers to Meili, “Isn’t it odd how they always talk in letters like that?”

St. Clair walks toward the kitchen, “What’s wrong?” She asked looking at the officer who appeared white faced.

“Not really . . . It’s easier to organize groups when you speak in short-hand.” Meili whispered back, “It’s like teams working on a heist.”

Jamison St. Clair nods and places her hand on the officer’s shoulder, “I know Andy, she’s a mess.”

“I’d choose a different analogy in present company, my friend,” Rhyaad whispers back, keeping his eyes on the Police Chief. Odd, all these officers walking around freely . . . so apparently there must no longer be any lingering magic spells and certainly no winged monsters about time.

Officer Andy Marsh looks at her, “It’s not that Chief . . . it’s what’s in the refrigerator.”

“What? What’s in the refrigerator?” St. Clair asks walking into the kitchen, careful not to step into the dried blood.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be careful.” The blond grinned, and then follows his friend toward the kitchen, seeing the body of the young woman, nude and sliced up, lying on the kitchen counter “More importantly, keep on watch. There could yet be surprises here.”

Rhyaad stuffing wet rags up his nose overhears something about the refrigerator. “Gads,” he uttered oddly. “Whutz it goink to be now?”

St. Clair steps over and opens the refrigerator. Inside, perfectly butchered and lying like fillets are the remains of another woman. Her head is sitting on the top shelf, her dead glassed-over eyes staring at her.

St. Clair shuts the door.

She stands silent for a moment looking at the closed door.

“Right . . . okay,” She finally says to the closed refrigerator door, “What I want to know is HOW CAN SO MANY GIRLS GO MISSING and no one REPORTS A G**DAMNED THING!”

“Bad, is it? Gods, the stench in here.” He says and then looked around at the bodies.

Jamison St. Clair turns and sighs, “S**t!”

“Good question.” Rhyaad nods, “I would imagine he seduced them at the Inn. Perhaps they’re all out-of-towners?”

“Maniac, what is it he is trying to do, why is he killing so many?” The Chief’s normally calm facade now visibly upset.

“Said the . . . ” Meili pauses to cut himself short, careful to whisper the whole thing. “It’s entirely possible that it could have just been tourists, or homeless people. Vagabonds, that like.” He mentions aloud and looks around idly.

St. Clair hands in her pockets, stalks out of the kitchen, and heads upstairs.

“You know what he’s trying to do, St. Clair.” Rhyaad says following after her. Though she didn’t ask, he kept at her heels her like some kind of guard dog, just in case of another assault by one of Blair’s dreaded Nightgaunts.

On the second floor, she strides down the corridor, as if she does not notice the holes in the walls, the ceiling, which makes the hall almost as cold as it is outside. She enters the furthest room and looks down at the outline that has already been chalked on the hardwood floor of the first body, which has been removed . . . before she had gotten there to stop her officers. The ME needed to clear their removal first.

“Not a one of them over 25 it looks like” She tells Rhyaad, her voice cold and hard.

Rhyaad goes inside the tape stretched around the outline and blood on the floor, and examines the apparent tool kit. “What’s this? Tools for butchering?”

Meili follows the two, closely and carefully. He says nothing further, but examines everything in silence.

“Perhaps they need to be young to be suitable victims for his spells. I don’t know.” Rhyaad tries to offer, although he is just as confused as the Chief.

“Nails! G**ddamned nails!” St. Clair says angrily “He used nails. One has been nailed in the head, one in the chest. One in the knee, one in stomach . . . ” She stands looking at the outline of the body that had been moved, “Some godd****d ritual it looks like.” And then she looks up to Rhyaad and Meili, “And, I am going to tell you I do not like what I see in the other room.”

She walks out of the room back into the corridor.

Rhyaad looks at the holes in the ceiling of the corridor, the deep scratches in the hardwood floor, amazed she has not asked about those yet.

A dark-haired young officer is busy in the next room; she is collecting blood samples, having already collected several important bits of forensic evidence. She seems unaffected by the mutilated bodies of the two young women lying on the floor. She has left a series of numbered signs in her wake to show the points at which the evidence was collected, she looks up to see the Chief of Police entering the room with two very odd men following her. Officer Mills frowns.

“Ah, the stabbing ritual. But I don’t recall that it had to be nails. But it did say “then kill”. Maybe they have to survive the nail stabbing.” Rhyaad says more to himself than to St. Clair as he steps into the room and looks at the grisly murder scene.

Chief St. Clair walks over to the large red circle drawn in blood on the floor, “This!” she points down to the circle indicating what it was she had previously informed them that she did not like.

“Drawings are important to his magic,” Rhyaad comments.

“Wait . . . Doesn’t that mean . . . Why have Nikki and the others been trying to solve a riddle that’s already been solved?” Meili whispers again, entirely confused with the sudden realization. “I think I missed something . . . ”

St. Clair points out the circle to Rhyaad, “You know — this is for summoning an Old One.”

Officer Mills looks over at her. Summoning? An Old One?

She looks at the blonde man in the sunglasses and then returns to her work.

St. Clair removes a hand from her coat pocket and points across the room to two open books, “Over there’s a copy of the Necronomicon, and Cultes de Ghules.” She turns to look at Rhyaad, “You know, Artemis at the Miskatonic is going to s**t when he hears about this. Sort of blows the whole theory of just how many copies of that d**med thing exists.”

Officer Mills speaks up, “Chief. That symbol right there.” She points to the smaller of the two. “It’s very similar to the one in the other room,” and she points behind her to the room with the projection device in it.

“Pentagram’s.” St. Clair nods.

“Satan Worship?” Officer Mills asks.

St. Clair looks at her and nods. “There are circles for witchcraft, magic, but this, this is for something very dark indeed . . . he was calling something up that should not ever be disturbed.”

“Something else?” Officer Mills asks. “The pentagram’s certainly suggest Satan worship.”

Meili grins a bit wider, knowing all to well what had been called up.

“If it was Blair then he left just as we got here, the candles were left burning.” St. Clair says and does not elaborate as what she may or may not have thought he was calling up and instead turns to Rhyaad.

“Necronomicon[/] I’ve seen.” He mentions to her, looking at the old book, “But not the other.”

“[i]Cultes de Ghules, by Francois Honore-Balfour, Comte d’Erlette.” St Clair says matter-of-factly as she stoops down to look at the drawing on the floor. “Get several good photos of these, Officer Mills.”

“Right Chief.”

“I’m surprised he’d have the gall to return at all. The man either thinks he’s indestructible, or this is that far along.” Rhyaad looks at St. Clair meaningfully.

“Notice all these holes in the wall, ceiling, windows broken?” Officer Mills asks the Chief, “There has to have been more than one perpetrator here, Chief. I would suggest a coven, perhaps.”

Jamison St. Clair rises and nods, “Make sure they dust everything Mills.” She then looks back to Rhyaad, “So is this room where the projector and the films were kept. And where Natasha is supposed to have disappeared.”

Rhyaad shook his head, “No, that is the room at the end of the hall.”

Officer Mills stands up and moves over with her camera not at all comfortable with the two ‘civilians’ that seem to be accompanying the chief. One of them appears to be a teashop owner! And the other, either a rock star or a drug addict, what with the whole bad boy sunglasses at night. What find of crime scene is the Chief running here, Maine! St. Clair had come from Detroit, Officer Mills was aware, but, this was being run like some tow-bit small town, local law . . . now . . . she halted herself, she should not let others unprofessionalism effect her. So, she takes a deep breath and begins photographing documents and the books found in the room. She will work her way over to the diagrams on the floor.

Meili was standing beside the desk and Officer Mills stops and glares at him, then motions for him to move.

He eyed the officer curiously, and then he waved.

Officer Mills sighs loudly and then gets on with her job.

St. Clair takes note of Mills exasperation, as well as her quizzical look at both Rhyaad and Meili. “It’s okay, Officer Mills. I’m sorry, these are consultants, seeing as we’re dealing with what at the very least are Satanists, thought it best to bring in come occult specialists.”

The Roma rolled his eyes behind his dark lenses and went back to idly glancing over the room.

Officer Mills looks up and nods, “Yes Chief,” carefully she turns the page of the old tome and takes another photograph. “Just a bit crowded in here before we have even had a chance to collect all the evidence.”

“They’re aren’t Satanists. That much I could tell you off-hand.” Meili speaks up.

St. Clair looks at her officer, “It’s perfectly right to question civilians being on the scene. I should have introduced them, but at the moment they are with me.”

“As you say Chief.” She takes a photo and the flash brightens the room.

St. Clair nods, and then says in a low voice to Rhyaad, “These officers are just not ready to deal with the truth behind what is going on here.”

“Well, St. Clair, Natasha didn’t exactly disappear. She was . . . taken.” He explains to her and casts a wary eye at Officer Mills, “Lillian was put into her body. Now Blair intends to give her to Pickman for the missing piece of the puzzle he needs to unleash what you described as ‘hell'”.

“Right, as you said. So what we need to do is to find Lillian.” She tells him as she steps over to the door and looks out into the corridor, then up through the ceiling to the night sky above, the occasional snowflakes falling through the hole. “Looks like something rather large when up through this ceiling,”

Rhyaad looks at her, “You don’t want to know.”

Officer Mills flips the page of the book and takes another picture.

Bright Flash.

“Rhyaad . . . ” Meili moving over to take a closer examination now of the circles on the floor, this time curious about the construction. “Do we know what these patterns are written out with? A spell’s incantation can be helpful information . . . ”

Bright Flash.

“Officer Mills, do get a shot of that tray of medical instruments, I want to know what he was doing to the bodies.” St. Clair says over her shoulder, as she looks at the gashes in the hardwood floor, along the wall, the ripped wallpaper curling as it dangled.

Officer Mills, putting the book down, having photographed the title page and several plates. Labels the book as evidence to be collected later. She turns to step over to the tray, “Appears to be mainly scissors with one scalpel and a few forceps.” She takes a picture.

Bright flash.

“Think he was operating or taking souvenirs.” Officer Mills asks.

“With this b****d, I have no idea.” The Chief replies.

“Drawn in the blood of his victims, obviously. And the books we st . . . appropriated may provide more information about how the spells are incanted.” Rhyaad answers.

“We need to find out what kind of a ritual was he performing that needs this many sacrifices?” St. Clair says looking at the smashed hole in the wall leading into the corridor.

“It’s in a scroll St. Clair. Describes a series of ritual murders to summon a Witch, none will survive her appearance, and somehow in the end you get the Shining Trapezohedron.”

Bright Flash.

Meili twitched slightly, a little irritated now with the repeated sounds of her camera film advancing and the brightness of the flash, Officer Mills took note. No doubt on some drugs that’s why the flash bothers him. Heavy anti-psychotics?

“Is there ANY chance that camera can be put on silent? It’s a little distracting. Just. Asking.”

Officer Mills looks over at Rhyyad, “Did I hear you correctly, books you appropriated? Now when precisely did this take place?

The blond man flinches, and cuts a sly glance over to Rhyaad with a bit of annoyance, before motioning for him to zip his lips. “I’ll come back and look at these later.”

“Those patterns are familiar. I’ve seen then before,” Rhyaad says as he turns to Meili.

Officer Mills takes off her mask and pulls out a notebook and pen.

“I think Barnabas’s library has some of the same symbols.” He continues.

Meili gives him a look.

“This Barnabas, he have a last name?” Officer Mills asks writing on her pad.

“Okay,” St. Clair says quickly, “The room at the end of the hall, that is where they kept the projector you said, right?”

“Right.”

“But there aren’t any films, in there chief.” Officer Mills says.

“Did you see them when you were here?” St. Clair asks Rhyaad.

Meili furtively removes a phone from his pocket, and points the built-in camera lens at the patterns drawn in blood on the floor and took some quickly pictures of them for later reference.

“I appropriated the films.” Rhyaad answers.

Meili’s head snaps to look at him.

“You did what?” Officer Mills quickly asks.

St. Clair looks at him.

“Could you NOT use the word ‘appropriated?'” Meili says to him with a whisper as he frowns.

“Rhyaad, I am going to need them, evidence.” St. Clair tells him.

“And any other little thing you might have felt the need to “appropriate.” Officer Mills says sternly, wanting to cuff them. Tampering with evidence at the very least. They both had a very suspicious look about them . . . and who is this Barnabas?

“All right. I broke into Blair’s house, and I killed his Nightgaunt, and then stole them. How’s that?” He told Meili.

“You’ll- Rhyaad. You. Idiot.” Meili interjected.

Officer Mills starts jotting everything down very quickly, “So, you are admitting to murder and theft? Mr . . . ?

St. Clair takes a very weary seat at the desk and looks up to Rhyaad.

“It’s too dangerous, St. Clair. The Hounds Daughter. Although it is 1920’s pornography, we may still need that film to do a spell with it. As for the others?”

“Spell?” Officer Mills says writing in her notebook. “How long have you been a practicing Satanist?”

“He’s admitting to nothing, and I really do hope you’re not going to start transcribing everything he says . . . he/s in shock from finding all of this . . . as you should imagine . . . and you did nothing with the other films, if they are missing . . . then . . . .” Meili says quickly and steps over to Rhyaad grabs his arm.

Officer Mills points with her pen to Meili, “You his lawyer?”

Meili glares at her behind the dark lenses.

“Because if you are, then he’s pretty much admitting to obstruction of justice, breaking and entering, withholding evidence, as well as trespassing . . . and this pornography, we haven’t even gotten into that. Hounds Daughter, precisely what kind of pornography is it? Sounds a bit like shall say porn that’s age inappropriate.’

Rhyaad glanced at the officer. “Killing a nightgaunt is not murder Officer Mills.”

“Whether you call them Nightgaunts or not sir, these were women.” The young woman says forcefully.

“W-what?” Rhyaad says.

?I think Mr. d’Annar is in shock,” St. Clair suddenly spoke up, and look up at him, “Do I need to get you a lawyer.”

Meili grabs his arm, ‘No, no, as you said, he is just a bit shaken by all this –”

St. Clair shakes her head and picks up a scroll on the desk unrolling it and begins to read aloud, “My City, the dirty river running through it. ”

“You can read that?” Meili asked.

“It’s Latin and it’s not very old at all.”

“There are things you’re not ready for, Miss.” Rhyaad tells Officer Mills. “A nightgaunt is a sort of demon from another dimension. They are summoned by men like Blair to guard things and to kill people.” He suddenly pulls the tape off of his ears, letting their tips poke out of his hair. “Any other questions, Miss?”

Officer Mills shook her head, a drug addict and now a Trekkie! Good God, just what kind of consultants were these, so the Chief wanted some occult expertise, okay — but this is the best Collinsport had to offer in way of citizens with occult contacts . . . a Trekkie? Oh my God!

Not only that but one so obsessed he has had plastic surgery?

She closes her notebook. Obviously the man is deranged.

Meili pulls his sunglasses off for a moment, and immediately after the sound of his gloved hand slapping against his forehead is heard.

“Yes. I see, Mr. Spock. I just didn’t have my tri-corder out. And, I can certainly understand of course why the Chief would have called you in on this case.’

What loony bin have you escaped from Wyndcliff? she wants to ask.

St. Clair shook her head, “I’m sorry Officer Mills, but this case is certainly one of those rare ones that is connected to what here in Collinsport is called “The History.”

Rhyaad looks at Meili anxiously, “We ARE talking about world destruction here, Meili. Some ‘indiscretion’ is appropriate.” He taped his ears back. “Just watch and listen, officer. You might learn something.”

“The history . . . Chief, you know I am from Augusta. I don’t know this town, or it’s history.”

“As you can tell we are dealing with a maniac — and one that is involved in the occult. Collinsport has in the past had more than it’s share of crimes of an occult nature. Here they call it The History.”

“Chief St. Clair, could I . . . speak with you in private for a moment concerning that?” Meili sighs and groans audibly. “Outside, please?”

“And, not surprisingly, one may need occult powers to stop occult powers.” Rhyaad tells Officer Mills.

“You are so right, Mr. Spock.” She tells him. “But I am not really sure we need a Vulcan at the moment.’

St. Clair looks at Meili and then Rhyaad and nods, she certainly needs to get him away from Officer Mills, “Yeah, downstairs. I want to check out the desk down there anyway.”

“Thank you very much,” The Meili nods and waits for St. Clair to leave with him.

“I will process the room at the end of the hall also, Chief.” Officer Mills tells her.

“Yes, please do.’ The Chief stops at the door and looks back at her, “Hey, you’re doing a great job, keep it up.”

Officer Mills turns as she leaves, “Thanks Chief.” Then eyes the two consultants as they leave the room, well aware that both of them need further watching.

St. Clair heads down the hall to the stairs, noting that a battle seems to have taken place in the hallway, holes in the wall, another hole in the ceiling.

Meili tries to say something to Rhayyd, but he shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter anyway. That camera was digital. When she looks at her results she’s going to have quite a surprise.”

Officer Mills moves down to the room at the end of the hall and starts to photograph the old projector and the circle it stood therein.

Bright flash.

“Magic!” she scoffs.

Meili quickly moves down the staircase to catch up with Chief St. Clair, “You’ll have to forgive my partner, he’s being quite eager with information today . . . ”

St. Clair strides across the living room to an alcove and the large desk.

“I think I should clarify some things.” Meili says as he follows her, well aware of Law Enforcement’s use of silence.

St. Clair heads over to the large desk, sits down, and begins to open drawers. “Yes, he could use a bit of restraint tonight. He is about to talk himself into a jail cell I can’t keep him out of.”

She beings to sort through papers atop the desk.

She finds a letter, opens the envelope and removes the folded sheet of paper.

Officer Mills puts her mask back on, pulls out some forceps of her own and removes some wood splinters from the circle. Blood or paint, too hard to tell just yet. A bit too bright for blood, but never hurts to be sure. She smiles, as she slowly looks around, waiting for some magical s**t to begin happening.

Meili takes a seat not far off from the desk, “You see, Rhyaad and I are working with another agency on this. We were asked to obtain information from this location regarding the rituals. And so, it’s in their hands currently, but we can certainly cross coordinate as required. Perhaps though third parties?”

“Collins Investigations?” St. Clair says distractedly.

“Yes.”

She reads the letter:

Nash, You very well know that it belongs to us! It is ours and not theirs. I have no idea what has possessed you to become involved with Blair and Finch, but it has always belonged to the Church. I will never forgive you for this, Elijah.”

“It’s okay,” St. Clair, tells him, “I”ve worked with CI before, just use some discretion for God’s sake. Not everyone one knows about this kind of s**t, Rhyaad. But as to third parties, I assume your speaking of the British agency Miss Collins is working for?”

“British Agency?” Meili asks.

“Yes, well there is the Diogenes Club too . . . we got involved through them. There is an agent of theirs here in Collinsport, a Dr. P.” Rhyaad admits.

“So, Rhyaad, you know an Elijah?” St. Clair asks.

Rhyaad nods. “Yes. Elijah Snow. He tried to kill Esther.”

She hands the letter over to Rhyaad, “Her brother was not very happy with her.”

St. Clair looks through the drawer . . .

“Natasha’s brother? No, he was not. But I see Natasha, and even Lillian, as victims in this whole scheme.” Rhyyad says as he starts to read the letter.

St. Clair pulls out some legal papers, “umm, interesting. Now why would Natasha buy a farm?”

Rhyaad pauses and looks up from the letter. “A farm? Where?”

Suddenly St. Clair’s cell phone rings.

She reaches into her coat pocket and removes it.

‘Perhaps that is where Blair is holding her. Snow.” Rhyaad says and looks over to Meili.

“St. Clair.” She says as she props the phone against her ear and continues going through the desk.

Voice on the phone: “Agent Andrea?”

‘Yes, Mr. Black?” She says.

Voice on the phone: “We are in Collinsport now, where do you want us?”

“Check into the Ramada, just outside of town, I will see you shortly.” She tells the man on the phone.

Voice on the phone: “Yes, Ma’am–I understand this is being consider as a possible Red Mark One. Is that true?”

“You heard correctly.” She tells him.

Voice on the phone: “Reviewing this case Chief St. Clair, I can’t help the feeling that there may be something more to this . . .. More than what you think is going on. I think this is all subterfuge for something else”

“Right Mr. Black, we can talk about it when I stop by.” She says and hangs up.

Meili sighs irritated, able to make out only enough to see that the situation was quickly becoming more and more problematic for them as a whole.

“It looks like she purchased the old Wheatley Farm,” She finishes examining a deed, “it’s been abandoned for sometime, the house is very run down.”

Rhyaad shrugs at Meili as if sharing his emotions, but commented, “This agency is dedicated to seeing that these so-called ancient gods do not return. Given all the lies and twists and uncertainties, they are our probably our best allies. I hope. I worry about this Dr, P, though.”

“Rhyaad. We should also investigate this farm in coordination with them. It could contain information about the location or our targets.” Meili says quickly.

“Gods only know what Praetorius’ true objectives are. But maybe he’ll tell me if I wrap my hand around his neck.” Rhyaad rubs his hands together at the thought.

“Shh!” Meili glares at Rhyaad, and looks to see if that nosy Officer Mills is about, “You have got to stop doing that.”

“Yes, well, Meili I agree, we should look into this. It may have been purchased in Snow’s name as a place to put her.”

St. Clair puts the deed back into the drawer.

“Rhyaad, dearest. Loose lips sink ships.” Meili mouths.

There is a knock and an Officer steps into the room and over to the Chief. “The ME is here.”

St. Clair waves, “Well let him pick where the h**l he wants to start, we got bodies in almost every f**king room.”

“Perhaps we shall take a look at this farm.” Meili suggest.

“Great, let me know what you find.” St Clair says and stands up and asks the officer, “Has MBI arrived yet?”

The officer shakes his head.

“Could have driven here twice by now,” She says.

Meili grabs Rhyaad’s arm and ushers him toward the door.

“If there’s no world tomorrow, it doesn’t matter how many ships sink. And where did you get that expression? I thought you missed WWII?” Rhyad asks.

“A mutual friend. You need to be more careful so we don’t make things stupidly complicated on our part. You’re old, not senile.”

“All right, Meili. But right now we really need to start shaking some people up if this is going work.”

“Shaking things up is fine, mentioning things CLEARLY privy to our investigation isn’t. Op-Sec, he would say. I think you’re aware.”

“Well you have to understand, St. Clair. She’s the only one I know who can call in an army, so to speak.”

Meili looks back at the tall blonde, “Her?”

Cue Music End of Episode