The Head of the Snake

by Jack Johnson

conclusion

“Being free of my father, being on the inside, making the big bucks.”

“And the catch was?”

“They said they represented a secret society that had been in existence for a very long time — more than a few thousand years.”

I was bewildered. Here was a Harvard trained lawyer acting like a fourth grade dropout. “How many years?”

“Nine thousand.”

Okay, I said to myself, that’s seven thousand years before Christ and at least three thousand years before recorded history. Even before the Sumerians, there was a secret society that transcended history down to today without discovery. “And you believed this crap?”

“I don’t know what I believed, but the deal was good. Money, acceptance into Harvard, good grades whether I needed them or not, and entrée to the ‘in crowd’.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Do what they asked when they asked it, and tell no one about the society.”

“Does this society have a name?”

“No.”

Room service rapped on the door and delivered a tray with more food on it than either of us could eat, but the coffee was hot and strong. Bill got rid of the bellhop and we ate and talked.

“So what’s your problem?”

“I have to kill a senator’s wife. That’s why I am out here.”

That stunned me. I wanted to console Bill, but as a detective, I continued to question him. “Were you given a plan on how to do this or were you just supposed to assassinate her?”

“I was told to get it done. Mike, I can’t do this. I’m not a killer.”

“So what happens if you don’t do it? What can they do to you?”

“I don’t know, but I’m scared. All the people I’ve met in this society are cold, efficient and smart.”

“They sound like lawyers to me. Did they threaten you if you didn’t?”

“No. They just presumed I’d do it, no questions asked.”

“Bill, you wouldn’t have believed them if they didn’t give you some background. Give me some names. Don’t tell me you did this on blind faith.”

“They said the society was funded by Langford Winthrope. I haven’t met him but I’ve heard about him. Deep pockets and very connected in everything.”

“You accepted this on one man’s presumable involvement?”

“No. Steve Shepard and Paul Winston.”

I swallowed hard. “A Senator and the President’s Chief of Staff?”

“Yes.”

“Did they confirm it?”

“Yes.”

I sighed. “Who are you supposed to kill?”

“Steve Shepard’s wife.”

* * *

Relentless, no, implacable was a better word for my quest. “I found that Winthrope’s reach was vast, deep in our government and our society. That it crossed the oceans. The man,” I despised using that word to describe him, “could start a world war with a phone call. That is how he snuffed out my friend’s life. With a phone call.”

Her expression changed from a tight smile to the slight shake of her head telling me she didn’t believe it. “But you had no proof; just conjecture. Circumstantial, at best, maybe manufactured because you needed a villain to punish. Nothing in any of the depositions or your trial points to Winthrope or his family as ringleaders of some world-wide Mafia.”

I smiled. It was a good analogy. “No one would listen.”

“What about the press? Why didn’t you expose Winthrope to the press?”

“Twenty-two newspapers turned me down. Even the National Scandal Rag. I quit trying after that.”

“So you decided to take matters into your own hands?”

“Something like that.”

* * *

I shouldn’t have left Bill that day, but I did. Within twenty-four hours, Bill was dead and so was Mrs. Shepard. Then my logical world blew up in my face. I was ordered off both cases and shut out of the investigations. Friends in the department were afraid to talk to me because it might put their careers in jeopardy. Someone had clamped a tight lid on me.

It’s amazing how few hours of sleep you need if you don’t drink and you’re healthy. It took six months of poking around until they came after me. I made it too easy for them. I wore myself out and one night I collapsed into my bed and woke up in Winthrope’s basement. It was like waking up in Satan’s kitchen.

I had no visible restraints. I got off the gurney and stepped into a laboratory. The back wall contained shelves of chemicals and a marble counter with sinks, chemist’s glassware and Bunsen burners. There was a large locked door that looked like a walk-in freezer. Contraptions that resembled very ornate tanning beds were along the left wall, which included a brown metal door without handles. The centerpiece was a stainless steel table, the kind I’d seen many times in the morgue. Against the right wall was a sophisticated computer and communications center. As I wandered around the lab looking for a way out, the brown steel door retracted and three men entered.

Langford Winthrope was supposed to be seventy or older, but he looked like a forty-five year old IBM salesman: close cropped gray hair, about five foot nine, slender and very handsome. He was well-tanned or dark-skinned, I couldn’t determine which. Later, as I met each of the family, the men were almost identical and the women were all the image of Mrs. Winthrope — a beautiful woman who resembled Hollywood’s portrayal of Cleopatra. The children were miniature replicas of the adults.

He stood in front of me flanked by his apparent twin sons, younger versions of himself. “I hope you completed your sleep cycle, Mr. Vicar. We’ll provide you with nourishment and derivatives later.”

I raised my arm and swept the lab, “Are you the evil Dr. Frankenstein?”

He chuckled, “Nothing as primitive as that, Mr. Vicar, but it was an interesting story. Watching you evolve has been stimulating.”

“Me?”

“All of you. We have been monitoring you, specifically, for a number of years. Through Mr. Theobold.”

I moved toward him and his eyes flared, changing color to an intense red. The physical effect felt like getting hit in the chest with a sixteen ounce Everlast boxing glove worn by Ali. It moved me back, then Winthrope’s eyes returned to dark brown. The three men smiled.

It took a moment to catch my breath. “Why monitor me? And why did you murder my friend?”

Winthrope pointed to a chair at a small rectangular conference table in front of the computer wall. “Sit, Mr. Vicar.”

I rubbed my chest and sat in the chair. He sat down across from me, the sons stood behind him. “Mr. Theobold disobeyed. That’s not allowed.” He dismissed Bill with a wave of his hand. “Every now and then, one of you has, let’s say, all the right ingredients. When we come across one of you, we let you enhance the new Genesis.”

“The new Genesis?”

“Yes, but it takes a week or so to cleanse your blood. Make yourself comfortable. Don’t even think about escape. It’s impossible.” He stood up, the three of them walked toward the steel door. “You will be fed in an hour. There are some books in the nightstand next to the gurney. Chariots of the Gods and The Twelfth Planet. You may find them interesting reading; my family did.”

They stepped into the elevator, and the door closed behind them.

* * *

J.D. Flynn stood up, took a pack of cigarettes out of her purse/briefcase, looked at Charlie as she pointed the pack at me. He nodded his consent. She shook one out and I took it. She took one herself. I reached down and placed the small aluminum foil ashtray on the flat crossbar. She lit mine with a paper match, then her own. No lighters allowed for visitors.

“So alone on your white charger, you set out to slay the Godfather. Why so gruesome? Why did you cut their eyes out?”

“It was necessary.”

“Necessary to tear the eyes out of a three-year old? A five-year old?”

I studied the ember of my cigarette and winced again at the memory. “Yes.”

“Let’s say I go along with Winthrope being the ‘big evil,’ whatever that means. And his family was part of the big conspiracy, along with high government officials and captains of industry. Why would just killing the Winthropes fix things? Won’t this continue with new leaders? What did you accomplish?”

“Cut off the head, the snake dies. It may crawl for a while but it dies eventually.”

* * *

The food was good, primarily beef. I was given the option to drink the strange liquids provided, or consume them intravenously. I chose to drink them. The liquids were tasteless, but gave a euphoria like a double shot of a good scotch. After two days, all of the family had a chance to observe the specimen. I noticed that they always came in twos or threes. By then I had searched the lab and found what I needed. I read the books and studied the inscriptions on the tanning beds which were nothing like I had ever seen.

On the third day Langford entered with one of the twins. I was sitting at the conference table. He walked over and sat across from me. “I’ll bet your brain is just teeming with questions.”

“A few. What is the ‘new Genesis?’”

He smiled. “Every now and then, we have to erase and start over. This has been the best batch since we started. Religion was a good idea. We will start that sooner the next time. I was not pleased with the constant warring you do, but maybe the next batch will be less violent. We’ll eventually get it right.”

“Get what right?”

“Life on earth, Mr. Vicar. Life on earth.”

“Are you saying we didn’t evolve? That this crap in the Twelfth Planet is real?”

“Close, Mr. Vicar, very close. We were surprised at how close. Did you really think a monkey dropped out of a tree and started planting grain or decided to yoke another animal? Or that moronic Garden of Eden story? We had to teach you everything: The importance of gold. Power. When you were just clones, you were manageable, but we decided to let you procreate. We got bigger numbers, but you started thinking. You wanted to be like us, so we stepped into the background and watched. We still control you because you are easy to manipulate, but you’re starting to reach into space. That’s a no-no. Time to start over again.”

“What do you mean, start over?”

“Oh, whenever you go too far, we create a deluge and start over. This will be the third one. About every ten thousand years.” This was too incredible to believe. “And what do you want from me?”

He laughed. “Your beating heart, Mr. Vicar. Do you think the Toltecs thought that up on their own? It’s part of our process. They thought it was some religious sacrifice to appease us.”

That jolted me but I went on, “Are there any more families like you, or are you the only keepers of the universe?”

“Nicely put, Mr. Vicar. Your courage impresses me. There were two others, but your wars, indiscriminent revolutions and natural disasters wiped them out.”

“How do you start a deluge?”

“One well-placed charge, at the bottom of the Puerto Rican Trench, similar to your nuclear weapons but more powerful and much cleaner. The last one was too big, caused all kinds of geological shifts. We learn from our mistakes.”

“We’re just an experiment to you.”

“That’s all you are.” With that he stood and they left.

* * *

J.D. stubbed out her cigarette in my tinfoil ashtray. She sat back down and looked in my eyes. “Why did you blow up the house?”

“There were things in it that needed to be destroyed.”

“What things?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“No, I almost don’t believe it myself.”

* * *

I was gambling that their eyes were the key. I filled the cups. My food would be delivered by a man and woman as always. I positioned myself next to elevator. I could hear it coming down. When the door opened I got them both in the eyes with the bleach. Fingers can be weapons and my size got the job done. I dragged the bodies into the bedroom, and took the elevator remote from the woman.

I had no idea what I would be walking into from the elevator and didn’t know how long before my dinner couriers would be missed. But I had to try something. I was not going to go quietly. I took the bleach container and my cups with me. I got on the elevator and went to the top floor. I filled a cup with bleach and waited. After what seemed like forever, the elevator stopped and the door opened.

It was the third floor level of a very large mansion. It was early afternoon and through a window I could see that the front of the estate was guarded by man/dog patrols. I needed a weapon besides bleach and my fingers.

I crept down the stairs to the next level. In a large den I found a gun case. I took a Bowie knife off the wall and jimmied it open. Within minutes I had a Glock with four extra clips in my pocket, a ten-shot pump twelve-gauge in my left hand, a Bowie knife stuck in my belt and my bleach in my right hand.

From the second level, I could see that two Winthrope women were around the pool behind the house entertaining three children. Beyond the patio were more man/dog patrols. Where were the other adult Winthropes that had visited me in the lab?

I made it to the first floor and sickened myself by dispatching three household help, the two Winthrope women and the three children. There was no one left in the house. I moved all the bodies to the laboratory. I found a large sweatshirt in their laundry and discarded my blood-soaked shirt. Then I went to the garage and waited.

I guess whatever God was up there decided not to smile on the Winthropes anymore. Over the next twelve hours, the remaining Winthropes came home, two at a time. I found a small pump insecticide sprayer in the garage and filled it with bleach and Trioxin, a very toxic weed killer. Each twosome got the surprise of their lives as they entered the house. I could only guess that no human had ever tried to attack them because it was so easy once their eyes were damaged.

Langford was the last. As I gazed into his bloody sockets before I killed him, I said, “The experiment is over.”

I went back to the lab and shot the lock off the freezer. I was right. It was huge and stacked high with enclosed petri dishes filled with the new Genesis, I’m sure. I left the door open and turned on the six Bunsen burner outlets and took the elevator to the first floor. In the kitchen, I put a five-gallon gas can from the garage on one of the electric range burners and cranked the knob to high.

I went out to the garage and got into a tinted window Mercedes. With the Glock on the seat and the shotgun cradled on my lap, I used the remote to raise the garage door and drove toward the front gate. Before I got there, the house went off. A number of explosions and fires broke out everywhere in my rearview mirror.

All the patrols were heading for the house. The armed guard at the gate was startled when he saw the shotgun. He waved the gatekeeper to open it before I blew his head off and drove out. I didn’t know where I was, but driving downhill seemed a good bet. After I saw a road sign, I used the car phone to dial 911 and reported an explosion at an estate in Big Bear. I drove to the first police station I could find and turned myself in.

* * *

The interview was over. I was willing to bet J.D. Flynn didn’t have the story she wanted, but she was kind enough to leave her cigarettes and Charlie let me smoke them. The hours passed and it was time.

The curtains were closed as they strapped me down to the slanted bed. The needles were inserted and the curtains were opened. I scanned the people in the observation seats. I didn’t see anyone I knew except J.D. Flynn. Our eyes met. I was scared but compliant. I knew the end was near.

J.D. mouthed some words as they started the flow of chemicals that would end my life. I shook my head and tried to understand what she was saying. Then it hit me. “You did not succeed.”

I began to cry.