Chapter Seventeen The Lewis List: “Strategy”

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(Photo by Zoe Holling on Unsplash)

Imam Demir floated on the currents and delighted in the sensation of flight in the grey and black body of the hooded raven. The moment The Maid of Orleans had begun praising Jesus the demons had fled and Demir understood the necessity of flight…literally. Looking up into the trees he saw the hooded raven picking at a walnut with a twig and projected himself into the bird and commanded it to fly.

Demir sang songs of Allah and the blood of the infidels he would spill as he wove through the clouds towards the village of Great Rollright. The sun had set and the wind from the Atlantic on Demir’s left wing picked up as a storm front began to roll over the English countryside. The Raven seemed not to mind the wind and pressed on with only a few emphatic nudges from his passenger. Eventually, Demir could see the barn and buildings of the farm where the Ebbinghous Battalion and Sturmbannfuhrer Benjamin MacBeth were preparing for their eventual mission. He knew he would have to answer questions about his own role in the reconnaissance of the doings of the Fellowship. But, Macbeth’s anger would be dealt with quickly as the information of the interesting people assembled by the Fellowship was revealed. “Who was that Bronze man and that giant black man?” Demir thought. “I know of the others. Legend speaks of the King Arthur and the small child that fought like a man in France. These I have heard of. So the Christian God continues to resurrect people from the past to fight us. So be it. Amen as the infidels say. But, they have no clue that we are here on their very doorstep. And, soon the head of the crusader beast will be severed. This man should no more have been a king than his brother who he had replaced. No matter! He will die just as the other would have died.”

As the last thought left his consciousness, the raven settled before the doorstep of the farmhouse. And, instantly he stepped out of the Raven and dismissed it. And, as he stepped to the door the Raven staggered away dazed and exhausted as if it were a drunken sailor.

Demir opened the door and stepped into the living room of the farmhouse. The Kommando was gathered around the building and the kitchen. Dinner was finished and Macbeth and Delbart Tesch and the different squad leaders were seated around a large table with a map as a trio of privates efficiently worked on cleaning the leftovers of dinner in the kitchen. Everything stopped as every eye in the room turned towards the small man with the cane standing inside the door.

The Imam walked over to where Macbeth sat, “Food immediately!” He called towards the kitchen and then sat in a chair quickly abandoned by one of the squad leaders. “We may have to adjust our plans. The Fellowship has brought in unknowns. This will require more information.” A private brought a plate of bratwurst and sauerkraut to the Imam who looked at the food with disgust. “Is this food Halal?”

Receiving a blank stare from the private he repeated himself, “I need purity. Pure food!” His anger beginning to rise up into an uncontrollable rage, the door to the kitchen opened and Hilel Cady walked through the door with a covered tray of chicken and rice cooked by the two Bosniaks.

Cady walked up to the Imam and bowed low and whispered, “As-salāmu ʿalaykum, Imam your food.”

The Imam grabbed the plate and began to eat with the appetite of a starving man. The supernatural efforts expended during the fight at the Eagle and Child and the flight back to Great Rollright against the wind created a voracious appetite. He scooped the food with his fingers and crammed the food in as fast as he could swallow. The private brought him a large stein of water and watched as the Imam drank two steins one right after the other. No one in the room said a word as he stuffed himself. The sounds made as the Imam ate were angry and primordial. In only a few minutes the food disappeared and he held out the plate to Cady as if to say dispose of this.

Immediately, the Imam stood and moved around the table to look at the maps arranged in the center. “Where are you planning on ambushing the king? Has there been any contact with our men in London? Any chance to catch the King with the new Prime Minister. That genetically deficient gnome of a man? What a coup that would be if we could catch the two together and eliminate the complete leadership of the beast.”

“Yes, we have a communique from him. Their new intelligence contact – their spy – with the Americans is assembling teams of covert operatives for the coming war. That genetically deficient gnome you talk about has a name and his name is Winston Churchill. He not well liked, but from what our man has told us, he is aggressive and warlike and not likely to stand down from the Reich. The American Spy is a businessman from Canada. He has extensive contacts around the world and understands the Islamic mindset. So he will not be an easy target. The American President trusts this man and he has the same energy and determination as you do. But, our man says that there are rumors that the King, Churchill and the American President will be meeting soon to discuss America’s assistance to England. We were in the process of attempting to determine where such a meeting might take place. So far our only idea is to perhaps capture this American Spy and force him to reveal the plans America has for England.”

“Excellent!” The Imam straightened and looked around the room at the magnificent specimens of warriors assembled. They may not be Muslim warriors, but they were impressive none the less. And, their fanatical loyalty to Macbeth was a testament to the training they had gone through. Demir thought that if he had ten thousand of these men he could conquer the world. No wonder the maniac Hitler was so confident and arrogant. Perhaps his arrogance was more the sign of a true believer walking in his divine destiny. A man worthy of his efforts to destroy the Crusaders. “I will need a squad of your best most innovative men. You and I will make a trip into London to perform reconnaissance of the most likely places for that meeting. And, I want to meet with our contact to look him in the eyes. I want to make sure that he is a true believer and not someone feeding us the kind of information that will bring us to our doom.”

Sturmbannfuhrer Macbeth stood –as did every man in the room – and said, “I will have the men ready in the morning, Imam Demir! Heil Hitler!” His right arm shot out in the Nazi Salute and he waited for the Imam’s response. Which was completely nothing. The Imam merely smiled and then spun on his heel and walked out the door of the farmhouse followed by Hilel Cady.

 

 

 

Chapter Sixteen The Lewis List: Bletchley Park

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(Derek’s Note: Bletchley Park was purchased in  May 1938 by Admiral Sir Hugh Sinclair, head of the Secret Intelligence Service(SIS or MI6). He bought the mansion and 58 acres (23 ha) of land for £6,000, using his own money after the Government said they did not have the budget to do so, for use by GC&CS and SIS in the event of war. The time frame for the Lewis List is during this period of 1938; the buildup towards World War II.) 

 

Night fell as the Lorries carrying the Lewis List – as they were now calling themselves – drove onto the grounds of Bletchley Park in the midst of a downpour. The lorries passed a huge mansion and pulled up in front of a number of bungalows. William Stephenson exited his Austin with Margaret and was met by a large Viking of a man dressed in oilskins followed by a squad of men equally large carrying umbrellas and blankets. The List was quickly bundled into one of the huts where a number of women – WRENs (Women’s Royal Naval Service) – efficiently separated the men from the women and escorted each to a different hut for the night.

Jackie found himself in a hut with Arthur and Tecumseh; Doc, Sherlock, Challenger, and Bass were in a hut next door. Ronald, Hugo, and Owen had stayed behind as their responsibilities required their presence. The three had agreed to cover for Jackie’s absence at the college. The Mother, Margaret, King George, and William disappeared into the large mansion across the road.

Once the men were settled in their hut, Jack’s professorial curiosity took over…with a nudge from his imagination…and the questions began to flow. The three men talked until after midnight. Arthur and Tecumseh explained the unique nature of the Graal Corporation and the Fellowship of Those that Remain, to Jack. How the Two Witnesses of Revelation were supported by the Fellowship’s activities throughout history. The main purpose of the Fellowship is to document the crimes of Satan throughout the Church Age. That Jesus’s mother…The Mother Mary…was the head of the Fellowship along with a core group of the original disciples who have been alive since the beginning, and that Father God periodically added to the ranks of Those that Remain. That many of the events in history were incorrect as Satan was actively in the process of rewriting history to remove the witness of Jesus Christ from the history books.

Jack sat mesmerized on his cot wrapped in two soft wool blankets and listened without more than a few questions about how all this was possible without the general public knowing about it. Arthur explained that Graal Corporation was as busy as Satan was in the world’s most intense Psy-Ops battle to sway the hearts and minds of the average human being.

Eventually, the events of the day took over and the lights went out and the three men drifted off into sleep.

At exactly 02:00 AM an intensely bright light exploded on the footpath that ran along the road bordering the boundary of the Park, the light moved with amazing speed down the path illuminating the raindrops in excruciating detail and casting dark contrasting shadows across the lawns of the park. As the light moved to a point opposite to the door of Jackie’s hut it stopped and an excited voice shouted, “Wee Hoo! What a Joy! Thanks for the lift, Fred! You are still the best! Just remember to return the bicycle to the Magdalen College dormitory. I am sure there will be a consternated student if you don’t!” A quieter, but equally excited voice said, “Talley-Ho!”, and the light launched off of the footpath and streaked through the trees and rain into the clouds.

As the light receded a short individual wearing a dark grey full length hooded cloak stepped through the hedge bordering the footpath and walked to the door of the hut. The man stood for a moment before the door with an otherworldly shimmer and steam streaming from his shrouded shoulders. He seemed to be whispering to himself. Then out from the cloak, a dark and gnarly staff was produced. Nearly the same height as the man it had a large white moonstone agate embedded into the top of the staff and bronze cap over the business end of the staff. The staff hovered before the door as he considered knocking, but realizing the time decided against it.

A strong but wiry hand reached out and opened the door and with the confidence of familiarity walked down the hall and across the room until he stood over the form of Arthur Mac Aeden.

The man set his staff against the wall and then pulled his cloak off; all in complete silence. The only sounds in the room being the gentle snoring of Tecumseh and C.S. Lewis. Standing over Arthur was an unremarkable senior citizen. He had close-cropped reddish hair with streaks of grey. His ears were the ears of a wrestler and painful to look at. His eyes were large, round and green and set in a round jovial face that looked like a Scottish Fold Cat or a cross between a Barn Owl and a Librarian. He stood over Arthur for a few moments with the look of a Father standing over his sleeping child. But, then a mischievous smile spread across the round cherubic cheeks and he held his rain-soaked cloak over Arthur and began to shake the water off and onto Arthur’s upturned face.

“What the Devil!!” Arthur came off of the cot with all the instincts that a lifetime of one thousand five hundred years can give and found himself face to face with the owlish intruder. Who immediately grabbed his staff and knocked Arthur on the forehead with the agate and said. “Sit down Arthur! I would have thought I had taught you better! In times of war to keep a better watch on the gates! It was altogether too easy to find you and your resting place. Why I could have been one of those devils that Judas himself is breeding in the dark dungeons of Baghdad or even a dragon…if those even still exist. Well, you catch my meaning.” The old man started to knock Arthur on the head again as if to emphasize his point. But, Arthur managed to grab the staff and stave off the knocking.

Tecumseh and Jack sat up in their cots to witness the bettering of Arthur King of England by a man two thirds his size.

“Merlin!? What are you doing here? Why do you always have to sneak up on me like that? And, how in Jesus name did you know to find us here?” Arthur rubbed the small knot that was developing where Merlin had smacked him.

Without answering the questions from his ancient and hereditary king, Merlin stepped over to Tecumseh and held his hand out. “It is a pleasure to see you again Tecumseh. It has been altogether too long. I didn’t get the opportunity last time to tell you how much I admired your brother. I think we would have gotten along quite well. His grasp of what Creator originally wanted for the land was profound. Too bad he was a bit of a hot head, wouldn’t you say? Anyway, I am glad that you are along for this ride, to keep an eye on my young charge here.” Merlin nodded in Arthur’s general direction.

Then he turned and leaned close to Jack’s face. “So you are the writer that Fred and The King of Creation have chosen to lead this enterprise. Pleased to finally meet you.” Merlin stuck his hand out and leaned in even closer and with a conspiratorial whisper he asked, “Any chance you could write me into one of your stories? Would love to get to know Aslan on a face to face basis.”

“You’re Merlin?” Jack asked now fully awake.

“In the flesh as they say in all the classic novels. I’m a big fan, by the way! Have all your books in my library at Baker Street. I hear that The King brought Sherlock Holmes to life. Big Fan, Big Fan! I’m somewhat of a sleuth myself. Kind of helps being a wizard and all. Of course, I only get to use my skills when Jesus allows it. But, that’s not so bad. Next to Jesus, there are not many that I call family. Arthur is one, and my oldest friend. We both came into the Fellowship at about the same time. Jackie, is there anything in this hovel to eat? The RAF give you men anything that could be considered victuals?” Merlin held his staff up over his head and the agate blazed forth with a brilliant and glorious rainbow of colors that played over the walls, beds, and windows allowing Merlin to give a visual once-over to the barracks.

Jack looked over at Tecumseh and recognized a look of awe on his face. But, Arthur’s was more a look of exasperation. Similar to when a parent misbehaves in front of his teenage children when their friends are over for lunch.

“Okay, Grandpa!” Arthur sighed. “Let’s go over to the kitchen and see what the cooks have stashed in the icebox. Not everyone can live without sleep like you can. So let’s go so that these two can get some shut-eye. Shall we?” Arthur finished putting on his boots and held his arm out towards the door in an invitation for Merlin to lead the way. No doubt in his mind that he already knew exactly where to find the kitchen.

Merlin grabbed his cloak and expertly threw it over his head and shoulders. “Oh hey Arthur, do you think they’ve got any Haggis?” He asked as the two of them stepped into the now gentle drizzle.

 

 

 

Chapter Fifteen “The Lewis List”: Darkness and Light!

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Photo by Good Free Photos on Unsplash

 

“That is indeed the case gentlemen,” Mary answered Sherlock and Challenger. “I would expect that considering your own situation as newborn creatures, that it would not be beyond understanding that I could be alive at this end of history?”

The group of men mostly followed the logic of the situation and shook their heads as if they understood The Mother’s logic.

Sherlock, however, was not so fast to just accept the non-explanation. “I would agree with you Madam, except I for one have always maintained that you and your Son are as Mythical as I was Fictional. So regardless of the reality I, Professor Challenger, and Mr. Savage there find ourselves in. I must maintain a certain skepticism. Label me a modern day doubting Thomas if you will. But, I find it difficult to the extreme to admit that I have been wrong all these years about something so important. And, yes, I realize the importance of that decision. I just have never been presented with any cogent facts in a precise and convincing manner to change my mind.”

Sherlock looked at Challenger and Doc as if to say, “Back me up here fella’s”! Then continued

“However – again – considering the mounting evidence. I…Did you feel that?” Sherlock turned to look behind him as if there were someone approaching with ill intent. Doc, Bass, and Challenger all turned as well. Then Joan of Arc began to sing.

Her voice was strong as a trumpet rallying the troops. She stood before the door of the pub with her arms outstretched and her face to the sky. Jack realized that she was singing the 91st Psalm in an archaic style that evoked images in Jack’s mind of nuns and monks chanting in St.Paul’s Cathedral in London. And, for a moment Jack caught a glimpse of an army of dark creatures streaming down the street. Emerging from the ground, and falling from the sky like dark and putrid coals of brimstone. His attention, however, returned to the young woman and the boundaries between the natural and the supernatural continued to blur revealing Joan encased in a circle of brilliant light radiating out from her body in all directions. And, as she sang the words of the psalm exploded out towards the creatures hiding in the darkness.

“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”

Surely he will save you
from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.

If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
and you make the Most High your dwelling,
no harm will overtake you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call on me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life, I will satisfy him
and show him my salvation.”

Joan’s words broke the darkness like a strong wind on a foggy day and a sense of peace fell on the street, and the vision changed to one of panicked creatures fleeing from the angels that now appeared behind the words of light.

The vision ended as quickly as it started.

As the peace came over the street it touched the hearts of everyone standing in front of the pub, leaving Sherlock with a profound sensation. For the first time in his short corporeal life, he was clueless as to how to respond. Looking at Challenger as if he might have an answer, he saw that the professor was as lost as he was. Then they heard the trilling sound and turned to look at Doc. The giant bronze man was looking into the sky with that same rapturous look on his face and realized that the strange whistling or trilling sound that was coming from Doc had been harmonizing with Joan’s song. Challenger then grabbed Sherlock and pointed towards where Tecumseh and King Arthur had been standing near Joan. The two men were kneeling and also had the same looks of reverence on their faces.

Challenger looked at Sherlock and remarked, “It seems there is much more to being a human than what our creator has led us to understand. And, considering the fact that Mr. Bronze statue himself seems to understand this, perhaps we should investigate further. Although, I for one despise having to admit my personal conundrum in the matter of spiritual things. I deplore ignorance in any matter much more.”

But, as Joan sang the last verse – and before Sherlock could answer Challenger’s question – she began to run down the street with the butcher’s knife in her hand raised above her head as if it were a sword, her spirit had drawn her attention to the small man at the end of the street holding a cane over his head and chanting loudly.

Everyone except for the mother and the Inklings ran after the young woman. Surprisingly, Challenger caught the teenager and passed her and shouted, “There on the corner! A decidedly evil looking cretin is attempting to flee! After him gents!”

However, as the group arrived at the corner they found their quarry was gone.

“Quite interesting Savage. Don’t you agree?” Sherlock asked. “The man seems to have simply disappeared. Normally, I would ignore such an illogical suggestion. But, considering today’s events, I am disposed to believe that something supernatural may be the most logical conclusion.”

Doc turned to Sherlock and nodded in agreement. “Hard to come to any other conclusion. As there are not any doors near the corner for the man to disappear into, and there are no vehicles on the street in any direction that are close enough to be considered a likely mode of escape.”

Challenger looked at his partners and just shook his head. “I’ve seen some pretty amazing things in my imaginary life. But, this reality business is not what I had imagined life would be…if I had actually been able to imagine.”

Joan of Arc looked at everyone and waved the Butcher knife in their faces. Her petite face glowing with pure warlike aggression. And, since Challenger’s face was the closest to her own, Joan pressed her face up to his and whispered, “He is Devil…Demon!”

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen the Lewis List: The Cowardice of Evil

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(Photo by JR Korpa on Unsplash)

 

The Tilly drove off down St. Giles street with the two Bosniaks under the watchful eyes of the Section D men passing an innocuous-looking character standing on the street about a block away from the action. A small wizened man dressed as a professor stood leaning on an ornate cane topped with a golden apple. His weathered face, sprouting a wispy gray Fu Manchu beard, held small beady eyes shaded by a bowler hat that watched the Tilly drive by. He seemed to blend into the weathered tan plaster side of the building on the corner. If anyone had noticed the diminutive figure they might have mistaken him for an oriental mannequin escaped from a wax museum. His breathing was shallow and controlled as he chanted a quiet incantation. As he chanted; dark forms appeared in his sight, and a powerful sense of superiority rose up in the man’s soul. The demons obeyed his commands to descend upon the group surrounding the King of England.

Imam Sabri Demir imagined himself standing in the place of sacrifice deep underground at the ancient altar built by the hands of Nimrod himself. The most ancient of evils, conqueror of peoples, the hunter of men. Sabri Demir held to the exultation of Satan. He was an adept of adepts. Master of all the channels to the underworld. The Demons answered his beck and call. Isis, Nut, Athena, Minerva, all answered to him. The end would come and he would rule. The ancient rule would again rise up. Hitler was a tool and he would play him like an instrument of destruction. Himmler was his vehicle.

Himmler had been there at the altar in the ruins of Babylon south of Baghdad when the invocations were performed. Himmler believed the ceremony would guarantee the victory of Hitler’s Aryan Empire. But, Demir was following his master’s design and was dedicating Himmler to Satan’s uses. Legion now was Himmler’s eternal partners.

Thousands of years of ritualistic murder and dedication was coming to its conclusion with the wars that were brewing. It was inevitable. Satan would rule this world forever. His power would never be relinquished to that illegitimate child Jesus. Myths! All of the sacred scriptures were myths. The only true power was that of Lucifer the Brilliant One! Demir could hear the war cries of the demonic horde that he had unleashed on the streets of Oxford. The smell of sulfur and the cries of the dammed mingled with their screams of delight as their imaginations played with the thoughts of destruction and death.

As the chant propelled the demons towards the Eagle and Child, Demir raised his cane over his head in anticipated victory. The King of England would die today and his soul would be Satan’s. His exultation continued to rise up and the desire to sing a song of devastation fought with his intention to remain unseen.

As the demonic horde approached the pub darkness began to overshadow the street and as it did, bystanders who had been watching the proceedings began to disappear into their businesses like people expecting a rainstorm.

Imam Sabri Demir began to laugh as his occult trance began to overtake his desire to remain hidden.

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen “The Lewis List”: Can’t tell the players without a scorecard!

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(Picture is of King George VI)

King Arthur and Tecumseh were the first to exit the pub and both men had their pistols up and searching for targets. Next came Challenger, and Holmes followed closely by Joan of Arc who somehow had obtained a large butchering knife. Most everyone saw Doc leap from the window and land in the middle of the street with the ease of a mountain lion and were gaping at the scene before them.

Doc and Bass were advancing on the two men now holding their machine pistols in their raised hands. Sherlock and Challenger quickly moved behind Bass and the three advanced towards their prey. But, just as they took their first steps a Standard 12 Tilly pulled up behind the Bosniaks and out clambered four members of Section D of his Majesties Secret Intelligence Service carrying sten guns. Stepping out from behind the wheel of the vehicle was His Majesty King George VI himself. He was accompanied by a striking woman with Mediterranean features and long salt and pepper hair under a dark brown beret adorned with a patch with the gold letters GC overlaid against the image of a double bladed sword on a red background. She wore matching para-military dungarees without any insignia or rank displayed.

Both the King and the woman walked over to Tecumseh and Arthur, who immediately put his arm around George and gave him the kind of hug that a long-lost uncle would give.

By now an extremely large crowd had assembled in the street halting the sporadic traffic and emptying the shops of people gawking at the spectacle of their King standing in the street talking with strangers.

Two of the Section D men quickly manacled the two men and hustled them into the Tilly, while the other two accompanied Doc and now Holmes and Challenger to the second floor of the Pharmacy. Unfortunately, the third man that Doc had incapacitated was gone. The radio equipment, however, remained in place. Whoever the man was he had Whermacht connections.

By the time they returned to the street the local constabulary had arrived. The Chief Constable Charles Fox was quickly accosted by William Stephenson and taken to His Majesty. A short but enthusiastic discussion entailed as to the disposal of the two Bosniaks into the care of Stephenson and the Section D men. And, they were trundled off in the Tilly.

Sherlock and Challenger stood off to the side in the shade of a large Elm and watched with fascination the apparent ease with which Stephenson navigated – with the presence of The King emphasizing the importance of the moment – the legal process. Eventually, Doc and Bass joined the two detectives under the tree and they began to discuss the details of the afternoon. Sherlock, Challenger, and Doc all focused on the fact that there were Eastern European’s armed to the teeth with the top of the line Nazi equipment stalking their group. And, not the least of the details was how the King of England was personally getting involved. And, all of them could not take their eyes off of the mysterious woman in the beret. As famous as each of them was in their own previously fictional worlds, they were hesitant to approach The King and his escort.

Bass Reeves being the direct sort of individual was about to call the others on their almost schoolboy shyness when the woman detached herself from George, Arthur, and Tecumseh, and walked over to speak to them.

“Don’t be shy gentlemen. I don’t bite. And, in an indirect way, I am responsible for your being here. After all, it was my Son and I that tasked Fred to fetch you all.” The woman reached out to shake Doc’s hand first, “Let me introduce myself. My name is Mary and I am the head of the Global Security corporation called the Graal Corporation. But, you can call me The Mother.” She shook each hand in order, looking each of them in the eyes with the mesmerizing force of a born leader.

Bass Reeves was the first to make the connection. “The Mother? Mr. Stephenson was talking about Fred being an angel? Is that correct, Maam?”

“Yes, Mr. Reeves. Fred is indeed an angel. One of the very best assigned to this part of the world. If prone to being a bit creative with the way he handles his assignments. But, then again they are allowed much leeway in the way they get the job done.

Challenger caught the drift of where Bass was going with his questions and stepped in with his own, “If that’s is indeed the case…Ahhh…Mother…that would seem to imply some very outrageous assumptions. Such as the one about who your Son might be? Are you telling us that you are The Mother of Jesus Christ the Son of God?” Challenger and Sherlock’s faces betrayed their disbelief in what they were hearing and stepped back a pace as it to say, “Okay, I’ve had enough of looney-bin ideas and events for one day. Now this woman claims to be the Mother Mary?”