David Golemon - Ripper

“He was quite an officer, I can tell you.”

“Sir,” Patton braved, “code 5656, what is that?” Patton leaned in closer to Wilson. “And that officer could not be working for the archives; I don’t think the army would waste him there.”

Wilson continued to smile as he nodded his head. “There is no such thing as a code 5656, nor do we have any army staff officer on detached duty to the National Archives. Why on earth would we need soldiers doing file clerk work … as you said Lieutenant, why would the army waste a man there?” The president patted the silent Patton on the back and then moved off. That was all the information the future general ever learned about the strange lieutenant colonel on detached service from the National Archives.

For the rest of his military life, Patton would never be the same. He would overcompensate for every moment of fear he would ever encounter. Men would know the crazed general in later years and never know why he acted the way he did. They would never understand that the famous man had entered hell and saw the darkest side of men.

In that time long ago Patton assumed that the professor and his miracle drug had succumbed to his attack, but he would never know that Perdition’s Fire would only ferment and become stronger until it would be released among his countrymen one last time.

Hell on earth was buried and forgotten along with Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, and the infamous Jack the Ripper.

Geologist Sarah McIntire studied the cave’s lower passages but could see little in the klieg lighting that had been placed by the students from Baylor University. She was accompanied by three undergraduate kids that knew nothing of Sarah’s real employer, and that was the way it would be kept. Not even the professor, or even the doctor from the University of Mexico and his twenty students, had any idea just who Sarah really was and who she was employed by.

The Event Group had placed Sarah on the field expedition not long after the joint venture was announced by the two universities to explore and document one of the many excavated caves that had been used as small armories and hideouts at the turn of the century by none other than Pancho Villa, the Mexican revolutionary. The stash of weapons, food, and horses were placed inside the natural cave formations by the bandit before raiding into the Texas border towns across the Rio Grande River. Sarah and her two-man security team were there to document not the bandit’s secret hideaways, but the ancient cave paintings that everyone outside of the higher fields of learning seemed to ignore. If she found them to be authentic, and she could tell this by the geological makeup that the paintings were depicted upon, she would then authorize further study by the Event Group and their anthropological division.

The small man stepped up to Sarah and whispered as he squeezed past her in the narrow cave passage.

“Not exactly Carlsbad Caverns is it?”

Sarah smiled at Jason Ryan who was part of her two-man security team. She half turned and shined the small flashlight into his face.

“We can’t have everything, Mr. Excitement. And as a matter of fact I’m beginning to think this could be quite a find for the Southwest. I think these were made by Southern Cheyenne Indians, and not the Apache people like the good professors believe. We do need to get a team down here from the Group; it looks like some of the theories that have been floating around by the Anthropology Department may be true about the Southern Cheyenne having led raids against the Apache this far south. This may be the proof they need.”

Jason kept his face expressionless and then yawned as wide as he could.

“Asshole,” she said as her light went from him to a space that was void of pictograms. The spot was hollowed out, as if a piece of the granite had been sliced out by a power tool.

“Yeah, well this asshole could have been playing football today, but Director Compton thinks you need a babysitter on this gig. Why am I—”

“This is wrong; some idiot has cut into this wall and taken…,” she stopped speaking and shined the flashlight farther down the cave wall. “Damn it! Someone’s stealing this stuff.” She moved the light back to Jason who had his own light out and was looking at the ground.

“Yeah, well whoever they were wore U.S. Army — issue combat boots, and one,” he pointed to a smaller set next to the larger, “ladies, or midget male, designer Timberland work boots,” he said as his light picked up several more footprints in the loose soil of the cave floor. “You know, for the past two days, starting across the border in Laredo, I’ve had the feeling we were being followed. I wrote it off as just being paranoid about everything lately.”

“This is criminal. Hell, no one’s supposed to know about this place. You think someone knew we were coming here and followed us?”

“I don’t know, but Sarah, Mexico is a convenience store for antiquity theft, you know that. Hell, I bet when we head back through the border you can pick up a piece of this wall at the flea market in Nuevo Laredo.”

“It’s sickening. Come on, let’s get these kids back to the cave opening,” she said as she shined the light on her wristwatch. “I promised to meet Jack and his mother for dinner in Laredo at seven.”

“And I better get you there on time for the big meeting — scared?” Jason asked with a smirk.

Sarah didn’t answer as she moved the light over at least six areas where the cave paintings had been removed by modern power tools.

“I asked if you’re scared meeting the colonel’s mom.”

Sarah finally looked over at her friend. “Absolutely terrified, now shut the hell up about it.”

Jason smiled and started to follow Sarah out of the lower passages of the natural cave system, shouting at the students in English and Spanish for them to head back to the surface.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about his mother. I mean the colonel’s a nice guy isn’t he? Someone had to have taught him right. I’m sure they are just like one another. Hell, you may even find out that he cried when he was a kid when he saw Bambi’s mother got killed.”

“That isn’t helping Ryan!”

In the bright sunlight Sarah placed her sunglasses on as the first of the two buses of students pulled out, heading north to the border. The second bus filled with university students from Mexico City would head south to a cheap hotel that was rented for them. Sarah waved at the bus as it passed by. She then glanced over at her security escort of two men. Ryan was bent at the knees and was examining something in the dirt. Jason straightened and moved to follow the academic team toward where Sarah was standing.

“I would like to thank you for your excellent evaluation of the geological deposits surrounding the pictographs, Miss McIntire. I must send a letter of appreciation to your employer.”

Professor Salvador Espinoza, dean of anthropological studies at the University of Mexico, was smiling and holding out his hand. Next to him were three professors from that department, and bringing up the rear was the lone professor from Baylor University, Dr. Barbara Stansfield. Jason Ryan brought up the rear, and that was when Sarah noticed Jason raise his sunglasses and then point to the ground next to the American professor’s boots. He then lowered the sunglasses when he saw Sarah had indeed noticed her footwear.