"Grave of the Witch": Chapter 05 – "Clayton's Angels and danger"
A/N: AU. This is a fictional story, in a fictional Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005. Mike. Characters borrowed with love and appreciation for the great team who brought us "JAG"; may your following careers blossom.
A/N: AU: "they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always w8elcomed.
A/N: link to Canon Episodes: EPISODE "Drop Zone" S05Ep20 04APR2000: The Witches of Gulfport" S05EP21 25APR2000.
A/N: Publication date: 16-07-2022: Continuing my AU approach to the life and times of "Loren Singer" and the run-up to "Ice Queen". I pay tribute to my fellow writer "NikkeiSimmer" for permission to take forward the "Koloshenko" character" from his unfinished 2015 story "The Green-eyed Monster" - I recommend that you read his unfinished story, elements of which will crop up in my future chapters of this story. Finally, the workload of Real Life is easing! Happy 4th of July (belated) - Mike
Characters from FFNET – Loren Singer, Clayton Webb, Mattie, Jennifer, AJ, Galindez and (obviously!) others…
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Saturday 27th November 1999: 12:20hrs EST
Lunging pen in the indoor stable building, Stables block, Webb family home, Manderley (location redacted)
"We've got a deep-cover Soviet mole burrowing inside the US establishment in the Department of the Navy."
Loren's new role at JAG HQ was clearly destined to have an interesting side-line. She set about planning the investigation with Vanessa. Stacked alongside her JAG workload and Christmas activities around JAG HQ (where she was careful not to appear *too* friendly to her colleagues), it would be February before she was able to get away for a weekend at Manderley.
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Saturday 19th February 2000: 10:42hrs EST
East of main stable block, Webb family home, Manderley (location redacted)
Loren and Vanessa had both arranged to visit Manderley for the weekend following Valentine's Day on the Monday. Along with Clayton and Vanessa, her thoughts turned to the search for Koloshenko.
Vanessa had briefed Loren on her investigation as they rode across the estate in the early spring sunshine. Vanessa had been tracking Koloshenko's activities; his Agency file name of "Chameleon" was well-merited, because he was almost invisible.
Almost – but not quite. Vanessa had been able to deploy some advanced software from the UK's Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ) in Cheltenham in the west of England. Unfortunately, a bug in the code gave Koloshenko one brief opportunity to track his tracker.
Fortunately, he eventually would make his move on one of the rare weekends when "Loren Singer" could escape the strictures of her JAG uniform and simply be her true self at Manderley.
As 1999 turned into 2000, Loren was to receive a brutal lesson in how Koloshenko did not play by the rules – and it was to cost Vanessa Steed her life. Clayton Webb's sloppy approach to security and containment also had a hand in the SNAFU of Easter 2000.
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Saturday 19th February 2000: 16:54hrs EST
Drawing room, Webb family home, Manderley (location redacted)
It was Vanessa, trained in counter-espionage "tradecraft", who considered the likely reaction from Koloshenko. "Well, if we're looking for our deep-cover Soviet mole burrowing inside the US establishment in the Department of the Navy, then we need to make sure that he doesn't burrow towards us."
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Apart from that weekend in February, it was not until Easter that she managed to get away to Manderley – and to compare notes again with Vanessa on Vanessa's continuing hunt for Koloshenko.
In the interim however, she had been developing her vanilla "Singer" reputation as JAG lawyer in Falls Church. This included a joint defence, alongside Bud Roberts, of a Jumpmaster who may well have been hungover.
She realised that she actually enjoyed "vanilla lawyering" – despite having to maintain a personality which (she overheard one USMC guard in a careless moment chatting with her colleague) had earned her the nickname of "the Iron Maiden".
Despite all the name calling, she noticed that Harmon Rabb – when he returned from his sojourn as a "ageing re-tread pilot" – always addressed her property – by her title or by the name of her "legend". She took the opportunity to embellish the Singer legend:
**historical episode quote:
Lt. Loren Singer: May I say something, sir?
Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb, Jr.: Go ahead.
Lt. Loren Singer: I'm aggressive, and I'm an overachiever. I know that about myself, and I don't pretend otherwise. I realize I'm the brunt of snide comments and jokes among the office staff, but I can't change who I am. However, I'm not a thief nor a liar. Short of that, I'll use whatever means necessary to achieve my goal.
Cmdr. Harmon 'Harm' Rabb, Jr.: Which is?
Lt. Loren Singer: To be the first female Judge Advocate General. Sir.
**end historical episode quote.
She enjoyed being "Loren Singer": but her long-term mission remained unwavering. There was, she reasoned, no harm in stating a goal (see A/N below).
A/N: historical note: As of July 20, 2012, Vice Admiral Nanette M. DeRenzi, JAGC, USN achieved the honor - most likely not using Singer's tactics.
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Sunday 23rd April 2000: 10:13hrs EST
Breakfast room, Webb family home, Manderley (location redacted)
Loren was enjoying the peace and relative calm of an Easter Sunday morning. She had arrived for breakfast dressed for riding. Vanessa was already across in the eastern stable block (which also doubled as the local OpsCen for Agency assets) following up on an intel update which had arrived overnight from GCHQ. The British expertise in tracking and cracking Soviet codes had continued long after Gorbachev's process of "glasnost" (open-ness) and "perestrioka" (re-structuring) through the 1980s and into the 90s.
Vanessa had continued the search for Koloshenko (sandwiched with another role which resulted in the British Government being content to continue her loan to the "cousins across the Pond"). She had also come to appreciate her "American cousin" - as she termed Maria Sorling aka "Loren Singer".
The two blonde cousins had arranged a couple of days of weekend rides across the sprawling Manderley estate. On the Saturday, Loren had begun to trust Satan – a powerfully-built stallion whose massive hooves spoke to a past link to the Clydesdale horse gene pool.
She inhaled the strong aroma of her first coffee of Easter Sunday morning and looked across the table at Clayton, who was partway through a massive weekend newspaper.
Loren had been making use of the 50yd shooting range under the east wing of Manderley and was cleaning her weapon in the scullery as Clay brewed a pot of coffee when a piercing bleep from Clayton's phone alerted him to a problem.
He looked at the phone as Loren's head appeared around the doorframe, eyebrow raised questioningly.
"Vanessa's activated her PLB."
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Loren instinctively knew, having seen the careful way in which Vanessa's bootmaker had assembled the personal locator beacon into the heels of Vanessa's riding boots and courts, that the PLB activation could not be accidental. She quickly finished cleaning and assembled her weapon, then reached into the small armoury cupboard by the scullery door and grabbed three more magazines.
She checked and cocked her Browning pistol, applied the safety then squeezed it into the small of her back, sliding the weapon down the waist-band of her jodhpurs.
Clay opened a drawer in the pantry and nonchalantly produced three ugly dark items.
"Take a couple of these grenades – they are always primed and ready."
"Thanks Clay – you have interesting grocery deliveries!"
He smiled, watching Loren as she tucked the grenades into the outer pockets of her riding jacket before she looked up and asked her next question.
"So, standard ten-second fuses?"
"Nope; seven seconds – so look, chuck and duck!"
"Gotcha." She flipped a nonchalant salute, clipped up the chin-strap of her riding helmet and pulled on her gloves. The saddles had carriers on both sides, which held a pair of M4 semi-automatic rifles. Vanessa clearly needed her help and Loren was closest. Given the terrain of the Manderley estate, she knew that a horse could cover the direct route to Vanessa's location faster than even an all-wheel-drive vehicle.
"Loren!"
She turned; Clay was holding out a lightweight armoured vest, which she knew was actually designed by and shaped for a woman. He smiled: "Don't forget your corset".
Within ten seconds, she had her riding jacket off and Clayton was helping tighten the Velcro straps which bound the ballistic vest around her torso. She pulled her riding jacket back on and buttoned it; striding to the door, she fluffed out her silk scarf and headed for the stable. To an innocent observer, there was nothing visible to show that she was armed and armoured - which might just give her a critical advantage in a firefight.
Obviously, no-one knew what had caused Vanessa to trigger her PLB.
Loren sighed: Only one way to find out.
She re-checked the straps securing her saddle then unhitched Satan's reins, mounted up and headed out, planning a near-direct line to Vanessa's location. She had popped a small JABRA Bluetooth earpiece into her left ear. Linked to the cellphone in her jacket pocket, the little black curved unit was held in place by the strap of her riding helmet, so that she could maintain contact with Clayton.
The news was not good: "Vanessa's PLB has been stationary for more than ten minutes."
Loren urged Satan onwards, crashing through the western forest on the edge of the Manderley estate and past the lakeside summerhouse towards the stable block where Vanessa's PLB was bleeping steadily.
She hobbled Satan on the edge of the clearing and drew her Browning from the holster in the small of her back. Reaching up, she slid one M4 from the long holster built into the left side of her saddle. As she advanced slowly past Vanessa's horse, she noticed that the matching rifle holster in Vanessa's saddle was empty.
She followed the smooth-soled imprints of Vanessa's riding boots through the dust, towards the main stable block. An unfamiliar car, on out-of-state plates, was parked close to the door. As she walked cautiously around the vehicle, and she noticed that the front tyre was flat. This was clearly the result of Vanessa's intent to delay any possible escape by the vehicle's driver; Vanessa had knifed the tyre with the hoof tool which she always carried, to remove stones from the hooves of her horses.
Within 20yards, she started finding 5.56mm shell casings – the M4 had been used. Further on, she also found 9mm cartridge casings - and then she identified some 7.63mm short (Russian) casings. There had clearly been some kind of firefight.
Vanessa's boot-prints continued towards the stable block. She had clearly been following some other characters who were wearing work-boots, based on the impressions left behind. In the doorway, Loren found the first body: a male dressed in working clothes. He wasn't wearing the small lapel badge which identified Manderley staff – or "friendlies" in the context of a firefight.
"Good girl Vanessa, one hostile down."
"Just be careful, Loren; the cameras in the stable block are all out." Clay's voice, speaking quietly so as not to disturb her spatial awareness as she stepped into the danger zone, crept into her ear.
She looked up: a fire-axe had been slammed into the main control box helpfully marked "CCTV circuits".
"note to self; let's not make it easy for the bad guys next time", she thought to herself as she crept stealthily into the building. The smooth soles of her riding boots – designed so that one could instantly slip out of the stirrups if one came to part company with one's horse – made no sound.
Wooden splinters and shards of dry-wall littered the staircase: clearly somebody had been shooting holes in the upstairs of the building. The downstairs area, consisting solely of stabling and feed-store, were unoccupied by humans but she had to be sure; Jester and Neville both looked idly at her, then resumed their feeding in their respective pens.
The sound of exertion, a grunt, then a snapping sound, drew her attention to the upstairs area. This was the location of the operations centre where Vanessa had been heading for when she left Manderley House earlier in the day.
Slinging the M4 over her shoulder (the Browning would be more use in the confined space of the office suite), Loren inched forward. As her eyes came level with the upper floor, she looked down the corridor and her heart sank.
Apart from the blood decorating the walls and ceiling, she had a perfect view of the soles of Vanessa Steed's riding boots. The red LED of the PLB was visible, flashing in the low light of the corridor.
But the slumped angle of Vanessa's feet implied that there was no life-force controlling the leg muscles. The walls were spattered with bloodstains,
Loren advanced carefully. A huge hole had been blasted out through Vanessa's left shoulder and the back of her riding helmet had also been blown out.
Neither wound would have been survivable, but nevertheless Loren checked for a pulse in the blood-soaked Union Flag silk scarf around Vanessa's neck: nothing. Vanessa's left hand, with its signet ring, still held her SIG. Her sightless eyes stared along the corridor.
Further along the corridor, a man's body lay sprawled on his back. Loren kicked away his weapon and then checked his face quickly: Koloshenko!
At least Vanessa had made certain of the Russian's demise.
She looked back at Vanessa's slumped body: "well done, cousin", she whispered, then turned to concentrate on her mission once more.
Loren followed the source of the noise towards the Admin office at the far end of the corridor. Another well-built man was systematically using a pry-bar to force open the secure filing cabinets.
His mistake had been leaving the ugly little Polish PPS43-CS machine-pistol on a desk.
Loren stepped back into the corridor and across into one of the other rooms, alerted Clay and then stepped forward to engage the unwanted visitor whom – in all likelihood – she could hold responsible for Vanessa's savage murder.
Vanessa would have probably suggested – in the British sense of fair play – letting the guy have a chance. Loren looked down at the shattered remains of Vanessa's head and came to a different rationale: "He's on my turf and he has done harm."
Browning raised, she stepped into the office, picked up a box of paperclips and hurled them off into the corner furthest from her – and the murdering intruder.
His reactions were lightning quick- but Loren was quicker. Plus, she had been familiarising herself with the recoil of the Browning just an hour before.
Instinctively he turned towards her; she checked quickly and confirmed no ID pin in his lapel. He also presented her with a perfect position for centre-of-mass targeting.
Hostile.
"Freeze!" (British fair play) as his hand reached for the machine-pistol. "Silly man!" She opened fire one nanosecond later.
All four of Loren's rounds hit the intruder. The round through his heart was followed up by her final coup-de-grace through the forehead. Even so, she followed SOP and confirmed the lack of a pulse: she carelessly wiped the blood from her fingers on his shirt and stood up.
Suddenly she was infused with a coruscating rage; she drew back her foot and kicked the corpse in front of her.
"That's for my cousin."
Somehow, cleaning the splattered blood off her riding boots that evening would be cathartic.
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However, Loren's day of action was not yet over.
As the echoes of her gunfire faded away and her hearing returned, Loren carried out a quick run-ground-check of the upper floor – there was no-one else. She dragged a horse-blanket out from the store cupboard and laid it, gently and reverently, over Vanessa's body. The red LED of the PLB in Vanessa's boot heel continued to flash.
She updated Clay, then her other ear picked up the sound of an approaching vehicle.
"Clay – is there anyone else nearby who could be friendly, or have I got this bastard's friends incoming?"
"Wait one, Loren."
Clay checked quickly with the security team (who were, of course, located right over on the other side of Manderley estate) then was back in her ear to update Loren.
"Sorry Loren you are on your own. No friendlies in range"
"No worries, that makes it easy for me."
She patted her riding jacket and chuckled: "Remember I have my three Easter eggs to greet them."
"Good girl; I feel sorry for them; I am on my way over. Keep this channel open."
"Sure thing, Clayton."
Loren retrieved her M4 and loaded another full mag into her Browning, tucking the part-used magazine into the top of her riding boot for swift retrieval. She gathered Vanessa's SIG and built a nest at the top of the stairs. A wide upstairs window gave her a perfect view of the roadway which entered the stable block from the other side.
She had a perfect sniper's position, with the morning sun behind her. The solid brickwork of the stable block would provide defilade from any grenade fragments when she engaged the incoming hostiles. She smiled grimly as she waited, M4 at the ready and grenades laid out.
The unwelcome visitors would not know what hit them.
The car was a twin of the out-of-state vehicle which Vanessa had disabled earlier. This was further evidence that "the hostiles are incoming".
A quick glance out enabled her to confirm that neither of the front seat occupants were wearing the Manderley ID pins; this made them fair game.
She pulled the pin of the first grenade, counted to two then lobbed it on an upwards trajectory so that it would be descending directly over the vehicle when…
One of the occupants managed to stagger out from the shattered vehicle: she dropped him with a round from her M4.
Nothing else moved in the stable-yard.
M4 at the ready, Loren advanced cautiously towards what was left of the car. Placing the muzzle of her weapon in each neck, she reached out her other hand and checked each corpse for pulses – nada.
Circling the vehicle for a second time, she instinctively stripped each occupant of their weapons, stacking the resulting small armoury on the hood and the trunk lid.
As she reached the rear seat on the far side of the car, she was marginally surprised to discover that the dead occupant of that seat had been female. Loren only realised this when she retrieved a pair of slim automatic pistols – along with two ceramic knives – from the woman's knee-length boots which hid her weapons under a normal-looking pair of pants. In fairness, the imploding metal roof of the car had sliced the head from the body. Death had been instantaneous for three of the four occupants but she had needed to check each corpse.
"You cannot be too careful": she smiled ruefully.
A hand-grenade is truly the ultimate gender-equality weapon!
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Tuesday 25th April 2000: 12:15hrs EST
The clean-up and repair activity, in and around the stables block, eventually took nearly 40 hours.
Agency clean-up specialists had arrived by CIA helo within two hours of the cessation of hostilities. A couple of large garbage trucks – all suitably anonymous – had arrived at dawn on the Monday. Patching and repainting of the stable block (both exterior and internal walls were being treated simultaneously) was also well under way.
A refrigerated truck was supporting the autopsy analysis of the six dead intruders: Loren had insisted that Vanessa did not share the journey with her killer and his cohort.
"Ballistics analysis has thrown up a slight anomaly." Clayton frowned: "As you know, I do not like anomalies. You obviously saw the state of the back of Vanessa's riding helmet?"
Loren nodded, then Clay continued. "The round which destroyed Vanessa's brain was a fragmentation round and we dug a second slug out of the drywall lining in the wall behind where she had probably been standing when the shooting started with Koloshenko. The drywall slowed the momentum of the round and we had a better look at it."
He continued, looking grin. "The calibre and the striations on the rounds do not match any of the weapons found on scene. Also, she obviously took out Koloshenko with her final headshot (because we dug her handgun slugs out of him and she hadn't used her rifle inside the building), but that was obviously before she was hit in the head. So, that begs the question…"
Loren nodded: "Who terminated Vanessa?"
Clayton looked at her bleakly, his expression full of concern.
"What is it, Clayton?" She touched him gently in the wrist – as a gesture of concern.
"We believe – there has been a rumour for a while - that Koloshenko had a brother…"
"Ah crap" thought Loren.
"Now he tells me?"
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Somehow, learning a few days later that "Mac" had gone undercover at a naval base to uncover a coven of witches who were being demonised just appealed to Loren's warped sense of humour!
Then she began the serious business of arranging to transport Vanessa's body home to the UK.
Vanessa Steed deserved a proper burial.
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End of Ch05 of "Grave of the Witch" - "Clayton's Angels ride into danger"
Mike: England, 16-JUL-2022
*END