David Golemon - Event

Collins looked around the reception area once more. On one wall hung a massive portrait of Abraham Lincoln, a painting he had never seen before. The oil portrait depicted him sitting and reading a book, of which the title was obscured. On another wall, and a bit smaller, was a portrait of Theodore Roosevelt, complete in his hand-tailored Rough Rider uniform. Next to that was a picture of Teddy's fifth cousin, Franklin. Situated along the walls were glass-encased models of sailing vessels, ironclads, and other distinguished warships. Set back into the far wall were two huge wooden doors, each of which stood nearly fifteen feet in height, and the big brass handles gleamed in the office lights. Above the doors, in gold script engraved on a long oak plaque, was an inscription: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. Then below that, in smaller script: In this labyrinth lay the truth of our world, our civilization, and our culture.

"Good words, aren't they, Major?" the woman asked.

"Good, yes, a little ambiguous maybe," Collins answered, looking from the plaque to the small, smiling woman as he turned to face her.

"They will become a tad clearer to you before your duty is up here. My name is Alice Hamilton. I've been with the senator on an official basis since 1947 and now assist Director Niles Compton."

Collins was astounded. This woman, who looked no more than sixty at the extreme, would have had to come to work here when she was in her teens, and that would still make her somewhere in her late seventies. Talk about the years being kind to a person, Jack thought.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but you said 1947?"

"I did, Major; I came here when I was eighteen, after losing my husband during the war. It's been a nice stay, and being I was always afraid to miss too much, I refused to go away. The senator, who is now retired from the Group, is here as a special adviser to Dr. Compton, and, well, he always said he would keep me informed if I up and left, but I don't trust the old coot. I like being in the thick of it," she said, clenching her hands together.

She paused and gestured to a man who was typing away at a keyboard at the desk nearest to them. "John, will you be so kind as to take the major's bag down to his new quarters on your way to take your break, please?"

The man stood, smiled, walked over, and took the major's bag. He straightened and said, "Welcome to the Group, Major, we saw you on C-SPAN last fall and admire you for standing your ground."

Surprised at the remark made about his appearance before Congress, Collins looked again at Alice. "I wouldn't think you would need the services of someone like me here. What is this, some sort of think tank?"

"Think tank?" The woman thought a second, knitting her brow as if contemplating this concept. "Why, yes, I guess we are. That and many other things, Major." She smiled that award-winning smile again and stepped toward the big doors. "The senator and Dr. Compton are Waiting and they'll be happy to answer all your questions." Alice grasped both handles and the doors swung open easily, and she stepped aside to let the major enter and then followed.

The office was large; it had flat-screen television monitors mounted every foot around the circular walls, which were covered in rich wood paneling. Behind the mahogany desk hung another portrait of Lincoln--in this one he just sat facing the artist with a closed book in his lap. Next to that was a large portrait of Woodrow Wilson, poised with ink pen in hand.

A man was sitting on the edge of the giant desk, reading some papers he held at arm's length, when he noticed the two people enter the room. He straightened and stood with the aid of a cane, tossing the papers on the desk as he made his way toward Jack and Alice. A second, smaller man sitting in the large chair behind the desk also stood and quickly followed the first, eager to greet their new guest.

One of the most imposing men Collins had ever seen stood there before him. Jack stood six foot two and this man was looking down at him. He figured him to be at least six foot six and appeared to be in his mid-to late eighties. He wore a three-piece, black, pin-striped suit with a red bow tie; his silver hair was swept back from his forehead and was in need of cutting. But by far his most outstanding feature was the black patch he wore over his right eye. A long, jagged scar ran from his jawline up through the patch and disappeared into the wavy hairline. The other man who joined them was quite a bit shorter. He wore glasses and was balding and had at least four ballpoint pens in his shirt pocket.

"Senator, Dr. Compton," Alice Hamilton began, "I would like to introduce the newest member of the Event Group, Major Jack Collins, United States Army. He's with us from the Fifth Special Forces Group, and his last duty station was in Kuwait City, attached to the Ninth Special Operations Team." She gently nudged Collins forward. "Jack, this is Senator Garrison Lee, retired, from the great state of Maine, and former brigadier general, U.S. Army intelligence, and one of the founding members of the Office of Strategic Services, and Dr. Niles Compton, the director of our department."

"We didn't need a history lesson on me, woman," Senator Lee said, looking at Alice, then over at the major. "Major Collins!" the man exuberantly greeted him, shifting the cane from his right to his left hand, holding the now free hand out to the major. Collins shook but didn't say anything in response. "Read a lot about you, son," the senator continued. "Glad you saw fit to join this band of fools." The man stepped aside to allow Jack to shake hands with Dr. Compton, who nodded his head and then pushed his glasses back on his nose.

The senator looked at Alice. "I take it he's signed his secrecy papers and disclosure forms?"

"Yes, that was taken care of at Fort Bragg," she answered with a frown, noticing the senator was a little unsteady on his feet as he greeted the new arrival.

"Thank you, Alice. Would you bring in a tray of coffee, please?"

Alice politely gestured with a roll of her elegant hand toward the credenza against the far wall, where sat a steaming silver service.

"When in the hell did you bring that in?" he stammered with eyebrows raised.

"As usual, you two were engrossed in one of your field reports," she quipped, winking at the major.

"Uh, thank you," Lee grumbled as if he were clearing his throat. "Now get the hell out of here." His one uncovered eye glared at her.

She gave the senator a mock salute, with palm facing out.

"That's a British salute, woman! When in hell are you going to learn?"

She ignored the remark, turned, and left the room, closing the huge doors gracefully behind her.

The senator, after glaring at the door a moment, gestured for Collins to take a seat in a rather large leather chair in front of Compton's even larger desk.

"Please, have a seat, Major; I'm sure you're more than just a little curious about our business." They walked toward the back of the room. "I know your papers say temporary duty, and I know you didn't exactly volunteer for this position." He smiled. "You see, we were owed a favor, and you, sir, are that favor."

Before the senator could continue, Niles Compton broke in, "Major, I'm afraid I must tend to an urgent matter. I'll be back momentarily. I apologize, but my duties since taking over as director require me to be in four places at once."

Jack watched Compton hurry out of the large office.

"Niles is probably the smartest person in the country, that's why the president chose him to be my successor, but he worries about small things too much, not that he micro-manages his people, it's more his taking the time to see they have the tools they need to succeed. Have a seat, Major, and relax," Lee said.