“I see,” the NSA said, looking a bit stunned.
“The other thing to consider is that the Gar is one of the lesser of the Great Old Ones,” Janea said. “You don’t want to think about He Who Is Sleeping coming back. And don’t ask me for the full name. You don’t want the nightmares. But if someone has figured out how to bring back the Gar, it may mean that the great prophecies of the Old Ones returning is being fulfilled. This may only be the beginning. Or the tip of an iceberg.”
“If it’s like fifty elephants, why can’t we find it?” the NSA asked, returning to the point. “FBI on-site.”
“We had been dismissing slaughterhouses as a possible hide point,” Graham said. “Until last night, the possibility that this might be part of a group conspiracy had not been addressed. Our next step is to check out the two slaughterhouses in the area. They have not been fully evacuated, since they had stock on site that required maintenance. Given the possibility of SC threat, we were waiting for the SC combat team to recover from their mission before checking them out. It’s next on our list, sir.”
“Elimination,” the NSA said. “SC command.”
“As Janea alluded, the Gar is mentioned as being resistant to conventional weapons,” Augustus said. “However, that was in a day when ‘conventional’ referred to spears and clubs. The height of military technology was the atlatl. So it is possible that modern weapons may have effect. Then again, it’s possible that they may not. In which case…” He paused and sighed. “In that case, we had better hope that Mrs. Everette’s Christian God is willing to give sufficient aid to our case.”
“SOCOM query,” the NSA said. “Go.”
“How can conventional weapons not have effect?” the admiral commanding SOCOM asked. The former SEAL was polite in tone, but his posture showed he was having a hard time believing the subject of the conference.
“Answer…” the NSA said then paused. “SC Onsite.”
“Pass,” Janea said, looking at Barb.
“In the case of demons, conventional weapons pass through them,” Barb said. “But they can hit you as hard as a tank. I’ve got the broken ribs to show. In the case of the Children, everything we’ve hit them with has bounced unless there is godly intervention. Then they’re easy enough to kill if you do enough damage fast enough; they regenerate like nobody’s business. Simply engaging most SC entities is hard enough for the unprotected. So far, we haven’t seen the sort of mind control that major demons have, but there are plenty of indications the Gar may have that ability. And the Old Ones… Perhaps as a fundamental attribute of their otherness and perhaps as part of a sending, they induce pathological psychological conditions on the viewer. It’s pretty hard to hit something if you can’t look at it. With the Children and the Hunters we’ve found, the effect is lessened under FLIR. But we haven’t had anyone view the Gar. My guess is that the effect is going to be stronger. I’ve done some pretty horrific targets, general. This is going to be a tough mission. Even by my standards.”
“NORTHCOM input,” the NSA said.
“We need to ensure that all non-briefed persons are held as far from the threat as possible,” the general said. “Both for security reasons and due to the nature of the threat. And promulgate a finding that any possibility of encountering threat requires use of FLIR, whether day or night.”
“That’s going to degrade our day viewing,” SOCOM interjected.
“Admiral,” Barb said, trying not to sigh. “SEALs are tough and tough-minded. Which is good. But if one of your SEALs or Deltas views one of these things with their naked eyes, the best you’re going to get is a broken man. What you’re going to get most of the time is someone who spends the rest of his days in a padded room under heavy Thorazine. Think of it as a safety measure; these things are HAZMAT for the brain.”
“CJCS,” the NSA said.
“Agreement with NORTHCOM,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs said. “Order will be promulgated to all briefed personnel. Query: How high can we go on the weaponry hierarchy?”
“Non-nuclear,” the NSA said. “If we have to go nuclear…we might as well go public.”
“To be avoided,” Germaine said.
Janea started at a jerk from Barb and looked over at her. The housewife had a strange, wide-eyed expression. Janea had seen it before, though, and cringed at what was about to happen.
Barb reached out with a strangely uncoordinated hand and pressed the alert button.
“SC on-site,” the NSA said, then frowned at the picture of Barb and Janea.
Janea spun in her chair to look at the screen with Augustus on it. He had his head in his hands, but she could see the grimace on his face.
“The nations of the world shall be tested,” Barb said in a deep, resonant tone. Her eyes were still focused forward, wide and unseeing, and even her face had changed, becoming more solid, squarer, mannish. If the man was a triathlete. “The faith of this nation shall be its salvation or its doom. The great battle looms. May this be a sign of the end times, the ending of all things. This battle shall be but the beginning as the vanguard of Satan readies its panoply. You have this time to prepare.”
Barb closed her eyes and shook her head, then looked around.
“Sorry,” she whispered to Janea, closing her hand over the microphone. “Long night. I think I sort of drifted off there. Anything important happen?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I just got a call from the Director,” Randell said.
After the meeting had rapidly broken up, Barb, Janea, Randell and a team of Delta Force commandoes had started checking out the slaughterhouses.
There were three in the region, but only one, Conner Farm and Slaughter, that was near the site of the attacks. And its position made something like an equilateral triangle with all the encounters.
Barb and Janea had chosen to ride with one of the Delta platoons, all of them squeezed into an Expedition, while Randell had ridden with the other.
“And what did the Director have to say?” Barb asked as she got out of the Expedition.
“There’s a debate about whether you should be pulled off the mission,” Randell said, grimacing.
“Why?” Barb asked, angrily.
“It’s mostly for good reasons,” Randell said, sourly. “For values of good, as you said one time. Basically, one side of the debate is that you’re clearly too important to lose. I got the feeling that a couple of the flag guys got Jesus after your little communication.”
“Seeing someone actually channeling tends to do that,” Janea said. “That’s just the most public one I’ve ever seen.”
“It wasn’t public, though,” Barb said. “God doesn’t want worshippers that only worship because of miracles. The Lord wants Believers, people who believe without miracles. If the Lord had wanted to be public, He would have channeled through someone on national TV. You said that was one side of the debate. What’s the other?”
“Apparently members of the administration who were not present feel you are ‘compromised’ by your position,” Randell said, shaking his head.
“I am a warrior of God,” Barb said, confused. “What did they think I was before? Open-minded? Sort of agnostic on the subject?”
“This is probably taking a long time to sink in with some people,” Janea said, shrugging. “With this…incident, a lot of people who had, they thought, a pretty firm understanding of the world are suddenly having that worldview challenged, and challenged in a very big way. People, especially powerful people, don’t handle that well.”
“I take it I’m not pulled off the case,” Barb said.
“Your boss pointed out that he had authority over who does what,” Randell said. “Unless he says otherwise, you’re the mission commander. Speaking of which. Major Chap?”
“Sir?” the Delta platoon commander said.
“Normally I do this sort of thing with FBI,” Randell said. “They know the drill. The way this goes is, I serve the warrant, we clear the area of personnel, secure them away from the building and perform a search. Absent finding anything, we apologize and we leave. If we find the Gar, we detain the personnel as suspects, fall back and call for support.”