Chapter 12

It was to be the first time that Sejanus and Mr. Nace met in person. The plan had grown too mature for mysterious intercom chats, and it was time to finally see his co-conspirator in the flesh. Already the workforce and the infrastructure was on its way from around the country, possibly from around the world. Who knew in this age of the global economy? Not that it mattered any, because once Sejanus’s employers had their way they would fix all of that but good. Sejanus was fully cloaked, not only to hide his identity but to protect him from the incipient rainfall that lay threateningly over the tiny town of Westthrall. With the very delicate and expensive wirings in his head, water was not his friend.

The escort had met up with him near the town entrance. They were dressed in civilian clothing, with no masks to hide their faces. Sejanus did not like this, because mystique was a very large part of his operations. Seeing hordes of faceless troop, each one exactly like the other, was much more intimidating than seeing the fear and tension in the faces of his “battle hardened cadre”. One of them was even chewing gum, making hateful popping sounds with his teeth that grated against Sejanus’s ears. This made their brisk walk through the town to the massive distillation compound feel much longer than it really was, his nerves beginning to fray with each soft raindrop, or each snap of his escort’s gum.

Soon enough, Sejanus found himself standing at the entrance to the office of Mr. Nace, in what would be their first face to face meeting. He could hear mumbling coming from inside, but could not make out what it was about, and Sejanus thought it rude toi keep a prestigious man like himself waiting. He knocked on the door, waiting for someone to open it. There was a muffled, short response that sounded oddly like “Go away!”, followed by more mumbling.

At this point Sejanus could feel the veins in his neck tighten, and the beat at his temples quicken. He knocked again, this time louder and more demanding. Was this any way to treat your meal ticket to free money? Was this any way to treat anybody at all? There was still no response to his knock, only more mumbling. Sejanus turned to one of his guards. “You, open the door. If it doesn’t open, break it down.” With a nod, the gum-chewing guard grabbed the handle and forced the door open, expecting to see a business man on the phone, or at least a business man in general.

What Sejanus saw was a short, fat man in his undershirt and boxers with his bare feet on his desk drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey. When he saw the people who had just barged into his office, he jumped out of his seat and tried to stash the bottle in a drawer in his desk. It clanged as he shoved it into a drawer that probably contained many, many more bottles, his face flushing and taking on a sunset red. The gum-chewing guard making a conscious and visible effort not to snicker at the flabbergasted, inebriated porker. Sejanus on the other hand, was not the least bit amused by Mr. Nace. He had offered this man all the money he could ever need, and the potential to have more power than most petty dictators, and he now stared at the man who he had offered this to. A man who could not bear to part the bottle from his lips for an hour or two, and who’s idea of professional business attire was a stained wife beater that exposed the faint outline of his man-breasts for all to see. Even now as he stared and made every effort to not take out his concealed magnum pistol and shoot him now, Mr. Nace made no effort to re-dress himself in the suit and slacks that he had thrown across the room, and instead made subtle but visible attempts to reach back into the drawer and take a fresh bottle of beer or whiskey. Sejanus nearly shook with rage as his co-conspirator did not even make an effort to greet them or even apologize for his rudeness, still reaching for the bottle. It did not show under his cloak though, and instead gave Mr. Nace the impression that the hooded figure that stood in his doorway was more of an ornamental statue than a human being, and continued to reach for the bottle. “I trust that you intend to sit us down at some point rather than reaching for your bottle, Mr. Nace.”, said Sejanus finally, not entirely concealing the poison in his voice.

Mr. Nace jumped in his chair. The hooded statue’s voice was cold and gravely, just as it was over the intercom, and it practically dripped with venom. How could he explain his actions? He had already offended his guests enough, and barley trusted himself to open his mouth. “ Oh yes…of…of course,” said Mr. Nace. “But would you mind…handing me my clothing? Its…umm…in the little pile by the door.”

“Certainly, Mr. Nace,” said Sejanus. He motioned to the silent, non-gum chewing guard to pick up his clothes, and the guard obeyed without making a sound. Mr. Nace quickly put on his dress shirt, jacket, and slacks. He was about to fumble with his tie when Sejanus stopped him. “That is acceptable, I think now is too late for formal dress anyway,” he said, “Now, let’s talk about the future.” It was now time to put on his business face, as well as his business manners. Sejanus pulled his hood back, revealing his scarred face and his milky eye. Mr. Nace’s faced twitched not expecting the deformity that stared back at him.

“Yes, future…right. But, if I may…how did…you….you know?”

“No, I do not know, what?” asked Sejanus. He was beginning to get impatient and angry again, and he did not even bother trying to conceal his annoyance .

“Oh its nothing, just…what happened to you?”

“War.” Sejanus smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth. “Just a little reminder of my service to this country, though I doubt you have ever seen combat in your life.”

“No, I can’t say I have,” said Mr. Nace. “Okay, so what about the future?”

“That’s completely up to you,” said Sejanus

A puzzled look drew over Mr. Nace, as he tried to understand what Sejanus meant. “I don’t follow,” he said, finally giving up after a minute or two of thinking.

“Mr. Nace, my employers have deemed your establishment as a suitable location for their planned operations. Me and my associates will supply the people necessary to create and maintain this operation, so you do not necessarily have to be involved. Should you decide that you want no part of this, we are prepared to offer you a permanent, tax exempt home in Corsica as well as a very comfortable job to employ you until you decide to retire. My associates have already bought out the Alban Springs Corporation and are prepared to liquidate the company should you decide to do this. We are also prepared to offer you a sum of twenty million in American dollars as compensation for your business losses.”

It didn’t seem like Sejanus and his mysterious associates were giving him much leeway in the matter. “And if I decide to accept?”

“Then you will have also effectively signed over control of this plant and the designation of its new operations to us. To be very blunt Mr. Nace, we do not need you, just your signature. Should you accept our offer, you will be placed at the head of operations, at which time you will receive directions from my associates and employers. However, you will still have control and responsibility for the workers and the upkeep of machinery, because you will still be, crudely put, the boss.”

This made Mr. Nace pause for a bit. He had heard some strange offers before but none so strange…or forceful, as the proposal that the one-eyed man had just offered. “What exactly…are these operations that you are talking about.”

“My associates are in…a rather sticky situation. There are a lot of consumer goods and defense items that they need, and they simply can’t afford right now. So they need a…how shall I put this….friendly industrial company that has more allegiances than those bought with money.”

That made sense on some levels, after all Mr. Nace knew of at least one thing more valuable than money. But this man was obviously a professional, and his demeanor said that his services don’t come cheap, which left him wondering…“And who would your associates be?”

“That is none of your concern, however all you need to know is that they do speak English. I’m sure that will make things easier, yes?”

“Oh definitely, definitely. I was worried I would have to learn another language.”

“No, Mr. Nace. You will not have to learn Spanish, Chinese, or Arabic during your tenure with us.” Sejanus smiled to himself. This man was obviously interested in the deal, and it would not take much more coaxing to sign him on.

“So…when does all of this start?”

“As soon as you sign on the dotted line, Mr. Nace, as soon as you sign on the dotted line.”

Sejanus took from the folds of his cloak a paper clipped stack of documents. Mr. Nace began to look at them warily, knowing full well the horrors that could be found deep within the bounds of a contract. However, as his eyes scanned the many pages of fine print and legal jargon, his mouth began to grow into a smile. It began small at first, but with the turn of each page grew wider and more prominent. By the time he was finished with the document, Mr. Nace was grinning broadly, and a fierce light shone from his eyes. He looked at the man across the table from him and said, “Mr. Sejanus, you have your man.” He briskly inked his signature on the single dotted line that lay at the bottom of the last page, signing the town of Westthrall over to the complete control of the Alban Springs Water Company, and more specifically, Miles P. Nace.

Somewhere in the distance outside, a small receiver flashed red in Sejanus’s helicopter. The pilot, who was nearly asleep woke with a start, and saw the silent siren that cast the cockpit in a blood red glow. He grinned broadly, and picked up the receiver that lay across the control panel. “To all units, the horse has bought the stable. All units go!”

Approximately fifteen seconds later, it began. At first only the rustling of the leaves were heard. Then dozens, if not hundreds of men in combat fatigues ran through the woods swiftly and silently, popping out of the forests and completely surrounding the town. They carried great automatic guns and wore no markings or national insignias. Some of them carried massive sniper rifles that could shoot any poor unsuspecting soul from more than a kilometer away. They made no noise until they came across pedestrians on the street, and they promptly ordered them to disperse the area. At first the men tried to defend themselves and their families with hunting rifles and pistols, some of them un-used for generations. They could not pierce the dense body armor of Sejanus’s commandos, and didn’t stand a chance against the ripping force of their guns. The ones who did not or could not defend themselves huddled with their families together hoping that the bad men who came in the night would go away. They did not go away, and continued to search out and punish anyone that violated their newly imposed curfew.

After all of the people were cleared off the streets, the trucks came. Great eighteen wheeler trucks that were never even seen on the back passages that were the only roads to Westthrall. They were massive beasts of machines that carried all sorts of lights, diagnostic equipment, raw materials, and construction supplies. The mere passing of those giant convoys shook the midnight quiet of the forest, driving all the sleeping birds to the sky and all the sleeping animals as far away as their little legs would carry them. On at a time the great trucks entered the only road in and out of Westthrall, parking in any space or clearing they could possibly find. Great floodlights quickly flooded the area making the town bright as day, and the trucks opened. Some carried equipment, others carried steel beams or concrete mixtures, but some of them carried people. Hundreds of men in orange jumpsuits were let out of the trucks and led at gunpoint to the temporary holding areas already under heavy guard by automated gun platforms as well as troops.

In the span of a half hour, the mountain town that was Westthrall, New York had disappeared. In its place was a psuedo-military complex for a purpose the townsfolk could only guess at. Some said that they had run out of space at the prison complex in Guantanamo Bay, and needed a new maximum security prison to be built in secret . Others believed that the government was collaborating with aliens, and this was to be their home base. Nobody knew for sure, the masked commandos never gave any explanation to the people. One thing the townsfolk of Westthrall did agree on, was that whatever was happening was deadly serious, and their lives would never be the same.