Omnicron Imperative (Part XI)

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The Brothers emerged fully suited and on the run less than fifteen seconds after their spacecraft bounced and slid to an ungraceful halt.  Lightning briefly illuminated the muddy service road through the vineyard that acted as their makeshift runway.  With visibility limited to just yards, the signpost declaring their landing site to be the Weinberg Melerischen was almost completely obscured by the near-horizontal grey mist.

Neither spoke.  Even if it weren’t for the vow, they probably wouldn’t have anyway.  They didn’t need to as children and they didn’t need to now. 

Half a dozen similarly be-robed figures began expertly dismantling the radar-transparent craft and carting the pieces off to barns and workhouses in the area.  Forty-five minutes from now there would be no evidence that anyone had ever landed there, or, in fact, that the spacecraft had ever existed.  The speed and efficiency of the members of the monastery rivaled even that of ANON’s Red Team. It was good to have them as allies.

The raucous laughter of the drunken tourists in the tasting house corrupted the comparative silence between the peals of thunder and thirty-knot gusts that roared through the Gewürztraminer vines.  The Brothers glanced at each other in resigned acceptance as they shut the door and brushed themselves dry in the rear vestibule.  Their job wasn’t to judge the excesses of others - their’s was to locate and eliminate the threat HERO identified two hours and four thousand miles ago.

Their internal radios crackled to life. Twitchy’s already tinny voice reverberated irritatingly throughout their internal organs.

“According to HERO your target is a Canadian banker named Wayne DeLeque.  He has been funneling monies to the Omnicron folks for years under the guise of a charitable organization called ‘Global United Peace Unlimited’.  He is here, allegedly, on  fundraising mission,” Twitchy continued, his machine-gun keystrokes audible in the background.  “But I doubt very much if his wife would approve of his secretary staying in the same room as him at the B&B where you are.  Tsk, tsk, and shame, shame on the both of them...”

“Anyway, his photo is in your goodie bag as is a card key to his room. Remember, he has been known to travel with at least two hired goons so be careful... or at least try to remember to clean up after yourselves.  We don’t want another fiasco like that time in Dunkirk.  Remember, sanitizers won’t be there to bribe the press and mop up another bloodbath this time.  ANON Central out.”

The Brothers rolled their eyes at each other and, as soundless as a pair of spectral cats, navigated the centuries-old oaken staircase that led to the rooms above.

(To Be Continued...)