Keep your eye on the goose that lays the golden eggs – Warren Buffet
Operation Golden Goose (D+0.5 hours)
Within the confines of a two-story cabin, a heavy boot stepped onto the rotten wooden floor. Weakened by termites and mold, the floor groaned under the excessive weight.
A burly man with arms as thick as tree trunks stood at the edge of a window covered with a cloth flap. He pushed his dirty bowler hat to the side and knocked on a wooden panel, then paused, before crashing again.
He pawed at the wood, running his fingers along the edge before ripping the section in half. As he continued to stare outside the window, he pulled out splinters and dug out termites. After finding two or three, he popped them into his mouth and began to forage again.
Pushing back the flap, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness. In the corner of the room, a man with sky-blue eyes and a scruffy beard rocked back and forth on a chair, his dirty boots resting on a table.
He kicked his feet off the table and glided over to the burly man as if floating on a cloud.
In a light airy voice he asked, “Brother Grubb, you haven’t left the window since you got off your watch. What say you?”
Grubb pointed out the window and grunted. Somewhere in the distance lights hovered in the hair, then circled. When the man with the shy-blue eyes narrowed his brow, the lights dipped before a row of hedges.
“That’s just swamp gas, brother,” he said.
Grubbed pointed his thumb behind him and said, “Brother Fawk, the swamps on the other side. Dem’s will-o’-the-wisps, a bad omen. I dun not like it.”
Fawk’s eyes opened wider and followed a single light that moved above the hedge row and dipped back down. Then peeked just above a bush and paused.
“I’ll go get Sister Aurora to go take a look,” Fawk said turning on his heels and walking directly towards an open doorway leading down to the basement.
He stopped at the third step and floated the rest of the way. At the bottom, he maneuvered around shards of glass, rusty nails, and broken bottles. Then move under the cobwebs and past the furniture stacked around in the basement.
He waited by a wall, and mouthing a countdown he waved his hand across an arm's length and said, “By my command, release.”
A rectangle appeared and at the edges, mechanisms behind the wall groaned and whirled to life. Motors powered up and the stone slid into the wall.
Behind the hidden door and in a windless room stacked with pillows and floating candles. In the corner of the room, a woman with long black hair and a golden band of silk covering her eyes sat in lotus style, hovering above a carpet on the floor.
Spread out in from of her were Tarot cards arranged in the shape of a wheel. The woman waved her hand across the spread and shook her head.
Another woman with ice-blue eyes and snow-white hair sat in front of her with a notepad and writing quill.
"It is foretold that the Queen Pins shall emerge victorious," said the woman with the golden blindfold, her fingers gliding over the Tower Tarot card. "The White Witch shall commence her assault at the hour of daylight, ensuring it does not disturb the beast’s slumber."
Her hand began to shake violently. She grabbed her hand to stop the tremors. Fawk moved closer.
“What do you see, Yellow Bird?” the woman sitting next to her asked.
"The White Witch hath declared war upon Witacur Plaza. She opens the maw of chaos, unleashing her Mu-9 virus to consume all within its path. It is inevitable," Yellow Bird said, clutching her chest in breathing heavily.
The woman leaped from her place and turned to Fawke.
“Dear Sister Fawke,” she said, her voice trembling. “Witacur Plaza is adjacent to us, should we move?”
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“Sister Aurora, I know this is troubling, but we don’t want to tip our hand and reveal the location of our asset,” Fawke said. “Inform our kin to be on alert.”
“And the reading, dear Sister?” Aurora asked.
“Need I remind you, dear Sister, policy dictates that we remain radio silent when someone declares war on an adjacent territory.”
“Yes, dear Sister,” she said and picked up the notepad she was writing on. “Our customers will be disappointed.”
“Not my circus, not my clowns, I’ll stay with Yellow Bird. I want to find out how the White Witch developed her virus so quickly,” Fawke said.
Aurora turned to a wispy white cloud and floated out of the room.
Yellow Bird began to put away her cards, but Fawk placed his hand on hers.
“Stop, I want everything, and none of your cryptic games,” Fawke said.
“What…what do you want to know?” asked Yellow Bird, her voice shaky.
“Everything,” he said
***
Operation Golden Goose (D+.6 hours)
Through the darkened alleys a pair of figures hugged the walls of the brick buildings. The pair stepped around a broken pallet with slivers of wood that pointed up and lay flat in the middle of the alley.
“Trap,” Rod said in sign language.
Rod activated Feather Step and ran up the side of the wall. Sphere followed ten meters behind. Sphere stopped by the window ledge; his feet stuck to the wall and rummaged through his backpack. He paused when he found what he was looking for, a battery-operated masonry drill. Sphere quickly attached a power pack and a specialty masonry bit.
Moving closer to the edge of the building, Rod waved his hand in the air, and a long rifle with a wooden stock with an attached grenade launcher materialized in his hands. He then drove a dagger into the wall and stood on it. He raised his rifle and scanned the street below. The road was clear.
Even the partially open windows showed no signs of movement. Rod pulled out a set of goggles and secured them to his helmet. He turned a knob on the side and scanned for any movement or heat on the X-ray and infrared spectra. All the buildings on this side of the street were empty.
“Confirmed, sector clear, leaflet campaign working,” Rod said in sign language.
After scanning a second time to confirm that the area was empty, he waved two fingers in the air.
“We can talk freely,” Rod added.
“Mmmhuh,” Sphere said as he held two screws between his lips.
The masonry bit drilled into the wall, sending dust and debris into the air. Once he was halfway through, Sphere stopped drilling and inserted a screw into the hole. Then he used a syringe to inject a clear red gel into the hole.
“Done yet?” Rod asked.
“Almost. Just about to place the Walkman and turn this entire building into a giant speaker,” Sphere replied. He looked up for a moment before returning to his work. “I’m surprised you’re still using Betsy and haven’t upgraded to something new.”
“Because M1s are reliable. They don’t jam up like the newer slug throwers,” Rod replied. “Or give away your position like a plasma or laser weapon.”
“True. That explains why some collector is snatchin'em all up. It drove the price through the roof,” Sphere said as he pulled out a wire and began to strip off the plastic to expose the wiring.
Sphere then attached the wire to the Walkman and placed a tape labeled, “Battlefield Ambiance.”
“Sold a crate for 10k,” Sphere said.
“Someone is going to sacrifice them and turn theirs into an artifact, that would be my guess,” Rod said.
“Done,” Sphere said, using tape to attach the Walkman to the wall.
Rod jumped down and landed in a puddle with a splash. He pulled his boot out and noticed a piece of paper stuck to it.
“Whatcha got?” Sphere asked jumping down next to him.
“One of our leaflets,” he said holding it up.
On the paper was a picture of artillery shells falling on the city’s skyline. At the bottom paper in blocky lettering was written, ‘LEAVE BY 06.06’.
Rod chuckled and tossed the leaflet to the ground.
“That was the last one, let’s get the pyrotechnics in place,” Sphere said and held out his fist.
Rod bumped into it and opened his hand.
“Boom,” Rod said. “Let’s get this party started and wake the neighbors.”
A voice echoed through their earpieces.
“You dogs, almost done?” Mange asked.
“About to install the fireworks,” Rod replied.
“Then see you at the rendezvous point. Mange out,” she said.
Rod and Sphere separated, disappearing into the darkness of the early morning as they headed to their next locations.
***