Rick pockets the picture and looks over the briefcase. A metallic silver samsonite with black trim it looks like any other out there. When opened it reveals a black cloth liner with dark gray foam block, three cutouts reveal cylinder containers that hold used depleated Uranium shot. ( they are the leftover shots from anti-tank 30mm rounds) the cylinders have a lead look and feel to them, and lock down with four clasps on the lid. The General shows you the door and Rick slips out in to the hall, the door shuts then locks after you.
Back in your room you shoot some pictures of the stolen photo, and hand it over to Barett, and head out to get some food in the dining room. Shelia meets you at the kitchen doorway at shoots you a look that says, be more careful. Then shows you to the food, the rest of the gang has already dug into the cheese and crackers and olives. Barett comes wandering in a few minutes later, smiling big. After a quick meal Shelia tells you to relax for a little bit then you will head down to the port and catch the last ferry from Gozo to Malta, this one will take you direct to the Oracle Casino where your rooms are at.
Maria looks around and says " lets take a stroll thru the gardens before we go". Rick grabs the camera and does some digital scans and the like, with some nice shots of Maria.
The ferry ride is short but boring, you learn from "spanky" that the General is well known in the spook world, and has held several cabinet positions in the past over security. It turns out that Spanky was a transfer over from the "Royal Green Jackets" because he wanted more action, although he never served under Wineburg, he knows about his history.
Shelia on the other hand is not his daughter, that is her cover. She is working as a spook keeping a eye on drug traffic coming out of the middle east, opium and the like. She was made on her last bust and is laying low, and doing background analysis on intel.
The hotel you have is very nice, they take your bags, and show you to the rooms. Large suites with connecting doors at the sitting rooms ( each suite consists of a large sitting room, a large bathroom with jetted tub, and bedroom with king size bed. There are three rooms, one for each couple. It's just before midnight now and Barett suggests using up the complimentary game chips downstairs in the casino, before turning in for the night.
What does Rick do ?
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Rocking the suburbs.......
Just a few images from old sketch books that I found. I like the one of Barett with the lighter, He looks like he is planning to burn something down. On the other hand, he may be planning on hurting someone...or he is just lighting a simple mavatav cocktail.Thursday, June 19, 2008
Rick and Maria's trip II
Rick should have better things to do, he should be a good guest. But alas he is a Coontail Brother. Rick looks things over, and quietly sneaks back into his room, climbs out the window on to the porch, and waits for a minute, letting his eyes adjust. Looking around to make sure he is alone, and seeing that the coast is clear, he spider crawls along the edge of the building under the windows of the kitchen, where the light, throws square blocks of illumination onto the ground. He can hear the muffled sounds of Shelia talking to the help about food and towels, and the clinking of dishes. The rain has let up and the wind has calmed down, the fast moving storm has just about passed over and the stars are peeking through the clouds in spots. Rick can see a strip of light coming thru a window about 25 feet ahead, right in the room at the end of the hall. He prowls up to the window and sneaks a quick peek in before pulling himself tight againest the wall. The curtains are pulled tight but a thin triangle is left open at the bottom. From this limited postion he makes out a T.v. on, a large desk in one corner, tall bookcases line the far wall. The room is richly decorated with animal heads and antiques. The window is cracked slightly and could be opened from the outside. He waits and listens carefully, not hearing anything but the drone of the news on the tv, Rick figures he could enter the room unnoticed. Having scoped out the room as best he could he figures that no one is in there right now. What does he do ?
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Coontail Myster Part III
“You never cease to change do you? Once a paranoid always a paranoid I guess.” Melissa joked to no one in particular as the sheriff's truck disappearing down the road.
“That must be why I love you.” She said to herself.
She waited for ten minutes and then followed.
It started to rain again. Barett’s mind traced back and forth through the clues he had so far as the gray rain thudded against the windshield. After a thirty minute drive up Highway 101 he came to the exit that lead to Old WA 9 road and a minute later he arrived at Bob’s house that sat at the edge of the lake. There were a few more cars around than there should be.
Bob was a strange duck. His house was small but very upscale. It was tucked away into the towering green trees on the shore of Lake Quinault. Barett had never figured out where or how Bob had made his money, but you could always find the guy hanging around the one and only town bar/restaurant early every morning gathering stories and gossip like a fly the never fails to show up for a picnic. Bob was in everything but never did a thing. Strange how he always seemed to have a lot of cash stashed somewhere.
Looking around as he drove up Bob’s driveway, Barett easily spotted the small group of people gathered together.
"Just like flies." He thought.
They were standing outside the big five bay garage/barn-like building Bob used to meticulously store all of his ‘toys’. His backhoe was out in the rain and muddy which Barett instantly thought was odd. Bob was selfish with his stuff. He never brought it out because he never did any work but that wasn’t the point. He drove around in a beat up Chevy while the nice cars and other large equipment just sat inside the bays with diapers wrapped around the oil pans like they were plaited with gold. The only way Bob would have his precious backhoe out in the rain was because he was dead.
But he wasn’t. It wasn’t Bob because he was sitting in a puddle crying like a two year boy who had lost his mommy. The small crowd parted for the town sheriff to reveal the gruesome scene.
He wasn't expecting this. He was speechless and taken by total surprise.
Someone, by the looks of it had used the backhoe to plant a telephone pole in front of the barn and then had taken someone and crucified them in a St. Peter’s cross style.
Barett just stared dumbfounded with everyone else. What the hell was this!
The body looked like it was a part tiger. It was big and shirtless and hung upside down, the head about 2 feet off the ground. Words were written clearly across the chest of the body for everyone to see, in the same blue marker that as was found on Luz, the girl that got sandwiched between the bus and Cadillac. The words were “John Darling”. Here was another dam Peter Pan reference. He know this because he had been reading it. But there was more this time. Above the man’s feet was a wooden plaque with writing on it just like what Pontus Pilot had done when he ordered one to be placed above the Christ when he was crucified. The writing on this sign here was also in three different languages. Two of them Barett could only guess what language they were but the third appeared to be Latin. It read Puer Aeternus.
The morbid crowd followed three steps behind as Barett moved closer to get a better look. The man’s face was bloody mess and Barett's fear was confirmed as he looked closely at him. Again it was someone he knew from the University. It was Thomas Ramsden. Big Tom, as he called him, was a fellow grease monkey professor and boxing partner Barett had worked out with back in Everett. They had gotten along marviously.
It looked like someone had beaten him pretty good before hanging him up. No an easy task mind you.
As Barett continued to examine and look for clues, the body moved.
“Holy dog fart! He’s still alive you idiots!”
Barett moved quickly to start removing his friend from the make-shift cross when an all too familiar sting slammed into him, biting hard into his back. It was followed by a sound in the distance of a sharp crack in the woods.
The caliber was big but his armor had stopped it.
Barett was pissed! Someone was playing with him and trying to finish Tom off in front of his eyes. The crowd of people wisely remembered that they had some better place to be at that minute and scattered. Barett was along as a human shield. He spun, pulled his .45 and scanned the forest. He heard shots, but this time they weren’t aimed at him. Then Melissa’s voice cracked over the radio.
“ Barett! I have a problem here!”
More shots. Two? No three different guns were firing.
“BARETT, GET YOUR . . .”
Boom echoed a shotgun.
Then silence of the falling rain was all he heard.
What does Barett do?
“That must be why I love you.” She said to herself.
She waited for ten minutes and then followed.
It started to rain again. Barett’s mind traced back and forth through the clues he had so far as the gray rain thudded against the windshield. After a thirty minute drive up Highway 101 he came to the exit that lead to Old WA 9 road and a minute later he arrived at Bob’s house that sat at the edge of the lake. There were a few more cars around than there should be.
Bob was a strange duck. His house was small but very upscale. It was tucked away into the towering green trees on the shore of Lake Quinault. Barett had never figured out where or how Bob had made his money, but you could always find the guy hanging around the one and only town bar/restaurant early every morning gathering stories and gossip like a fly the never fails to show up for a picnic. Bob was in everything but never did a thing. Strange how he always seemed to have a lot of cash stashed somewhere.
Looking around as he drove up Bob’s driveway, Barett easily spotted the small group of people gathered together.
"Just like flies." He thought.
They were standing outside the big five bay garage/barn-like building Bob used to meticulously store all of his ‘toys’. His backhoe was out in the rain and muddy which Barett instantly thought was odd. Bob was selfish with his stuff. He never brought it out because he never did any work but that wasn’t the point. He drove around in a beat up Chevy while the nice cars and other large equipment just sat inside the bays with diapers wrapped around the oil pans like they were plaited with gold. The only way Bob would have his precious backhoe out in the rain was because he was dead.
But he wasn’t. It wasn’t Bob because he was sitting in a puddle crying like a two year boy who had lost his mommy. The small crowd parted for the town sheriff to reveal the gruesome scene.
He wasn't expecting this. He was speechless and taken by total surprise.
Someone, by the looks of it had used the backhoe to plant a telephone pole in front of the barn and then had taken someone and crucified them in a St. Peter’s cross style.
Barett just stared dumbfounded with everyone else. What the hell was this!
The body looked like it was a part tiger. It was big and shirtless and hung upside down, the head about 2 feet off the ground. Words were written clearly across the chest of the body for everyone to see, in the same blue marker that as was found on Luz, the girl that got sandwiched between the bus and Cadillac. The words were “John Darling”. Here was another dam Peter Pan reference. He know this because he had been reading it. But there was more this time. Above the man’s feet was a wooden plaque with writing on it just like what Pontus Pilot had done when he ordered one to be placed above the Christ when he was crucified. The writing on this sign here was also in three different languages. Two of them Barett could only guess what language they were but the third appeared to be Latin. It read Puer Aeternus.
The morbid crowd followed three steps behind as Barett moved closer to get a better look. The man’s face was bloody mess and Barett's fear was confirmed as he looked closely at him. Again it was someone he knew from the University. It was Thomas Ramsden. Big Tom, as he called him, was a fellow grease monkey professor and boxing partner Barett had worked out with back in Everett. They had gotten along marviously.
It looked like someone had beaten him pretty good before hanging him up. No an easy task mind you.
As Barett continued to examine and look for clues, the body moved.
“Holy dog fart! He’s still alive you idiots!”
Barett moved quickly to start removing his friend from the make-shift cross when an all too familiar sting slammed into him, biting hard into his back. It was followed by a sound in the distance of a sharp crack in the woods.
The caliber was big but his armor had stopped it.
Barett was pissed! Someone was playing with him and trying to finish Tom off in front of his eyes. The crowd of people wisely remembered that they had some better place to be at that minute and scattered. Barett was along as a human shield. He spun, pulled his .45 and scanned the forest. He heard shots, but this time they weren’t aimed at him. Then Melissa’s voice cracked over the radio.
“ Barett! I have a problem here!”
More shots. Two? No three different guns were firing.
“BARETT, GET YOUR . . .”
Boom echoed a shotgun.
Then silence of the falling rain was all he heard.
What does Barett do?
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Coontail Myster Part II
It rained like it was the end of the world for three days straight. Then it just rained like it normally did in the winter on the Washington coast, always. Little could be done other than interview witnesses, checking out both vehicles involved in the accident and filling out reports. The whole thing was a big stinking pile of nonsense. No one knew anything. No one had seen anything. And he had only a few disjoined clues.
Barett sat at his old oak desk in the little sheriff’s office, his head bowed down in his propped up hands, thinking. The one of the two florescent lights flickered incessantly on the papers Barett had been reviewing and writing up. A cup of now cold coffee was used as a book propped, which lay half open and forgotten at the side. He wasn’t finding any answers there other than the guess that someone was playing the role of ‘Captain Hook.’ The girl, Luz Millican was her name, had died from two puncher wounds found just bellow her sternum. It wasn’t a knife that had punched her because the path had curved upward into her heart. Curved like a hook. She had killed in her nightgown and had some bloodied flowers, posies to be exact, found in her pockets.
Ring a-ring o' roses,
A pocketful of posies.
a-tishoo!, a-tishoo!.
We all fall down
Or the other way he knew it,
Ring around the rosies,
A pocketful of posies.
ashes, ashes.
We all fall down!.
He had liked her. She was a smart girl with potential. She was good looking too. Give her one more year and if he cared enough he would seriously have thought about pursuing a relationship. But he had left and really didn’t care if he would have seen her again or not. She was just another girl. But now she had shown up dead 200 miles away from Everett to a town no one should know about and no one should know he was here. Maybe it was coincident but he didn’t believe that. It felt like someone was after him.
The front door slammed open. Barett looked up from his desk to watch the familiar figure of Melissa, cloaked in her dark green poncho come in, dripping wet but happy.
“Here is your toxicology report.”
She pulling off the poncho and hung it on the hat & coat rack next to the door, adding to the abundant puddle of water that was dripping from a leak in the roof. She walked over and dropped the open packaged like a bombardier on his desk and then took the seat opposite him. Melissa leaned back on the wooden chair like she always did and banged her feet up on the desk while Barett took the report.
The data didn’t tell him anything. There was nothing unusually in her. He had expected drugs or something but she was clean. This was frustrating.
He looked up.
Melissa was smiling at him.
“What?”
“You.”
“What do you mean me?”
“Look at you. Barett Coontail the local sheriff all serious and up in a huff about some death.” She smiled big. “You are full of surprises.”
He had opened his mouth to say something back when the phone, a black rotary model of all things, rang.
“Hello”
“Sheriff, come quick!” a shaky male voice replied.
“What is it Jed?” Barett had recognized the mailman’s voice.
“Some uns been all hunged up and killed.”
“Where are you at.”
“Out here on Old Wa 9 at Bob’s place on the lake.”
Barett knew the place. It is a real nice house just east of the Amanda Park.
What does he do and what does he take? Does Melissa come with him?
Barett sat at his old oak desk in the little sheriff’s office, his head bowed down in his propped up hands, thinking. The one of the two florescent lights flickered incessantly on the papers Barett had been reviewing and writing up. A cup of now cold coffee was used as a book propped, which lay half open and forgotten at the side. He wasn’t finding any answers there other than the guess that someone was playing the role of ‘Captain Hook.’ The girl, Luz Millican was her name, had died from two puncher wounds found just bellow her sternum. It wasn’t a knife that had punched her because the path had curved upward into her heart. Curved like a hook. She had killed in her nightgown and had some bloodied flowers, posies to be exact, found in her pockets.
Ring a-ring o' roses,
A pocketful of posies.
a-tishoo!, a-tishoo!.
We all fall down
Or the other way he knew it,
Ring around the rosies,
A pocketful of posies.
ashes, ashes.
We all fall down!.
He had liked her. She was a smart girl with potential. She was good looking too. Give her one more year and if he cared enough he would seriously have thought about pursuing a relationship. But he had left and really didn’t care if he would have seen her again or not. She was just another girl. But now she had shown up dead 200 miles away from Everett to a town no one should know about and no one should know he was here. Maybe it was coincident but he didn’t believe that. It felt like someone was after him.
The front door slammed open. Barett looked up from his desk to watch the familiar figure of Melissa, cloaked in her dark green poncho come in, dripping wet but happy.
“Here is your toxicology report.”
She pulling off the poncho and hung it on the hat & coat rack next to the door, adding to the abundant puddle of water that was dripping from a leak in the roof. She walked over and dropped the open packaged like a bombardier on his desk and then took the seat opposite him. Melissa leaned back on the wooden chair like she always did and banged her feet up on the desk while Barett took the report.
The data didn’t tell him anything. There was nothing unusually in her. He had expected drugs or something but she was clean. This was frustrating.
He looked up.
Melissa was smiling at him.
“What?”
“You.”
“What do you mean me?”
“Look at you. Barett Coontail the local sheriff all serious and up in a huff about some death.” She smiled big. “You are full of surprises.”
He had opened his mouth to say something back when the phone, a black rotary model of all things, rang.
“Hello”
“Sheriff, come quick!” a shaky male voice replied.
“What is it Jed?” Barett had recognized the mailman’s voice.
“Some uns been all hunged up and killed.”
“Where are you at.”
“Out here on Old Wa 9 at Bob’s place on the lake.”
Barett knew the place. It is a real nice house just east of the Amanda Park.
What does he do and what does he take? Does Melissa come with him?
Friday, June 13, 2008
The Trip Equipment wish list
Rick, from his brother’s recommendation, is testing out two new guns types he hasn’t used much. The first is the MP5K-PDW with suppressor and 4x30 tri-ring scope with strobe flashlight and weaver base laser sight with 10, 30 round clips of frangible round. Rick is bringing two H&K P30 9mm guns, one for himself and the other for Maria. He will have 20 extra magazines also using frangible shells.
He is also bringing some equipment for Reconnaissance but this equipment will easily pass as tourist toys. He is bringing a Canon EOS 1Ds Mark III 21.1MP Digital SLR Camera. He is taking the high-end high resolution camera for later recon evaluation. But Rick and Brett are also planning to have some fun with the camera with the girls in documenting the trip and getting some sexy shots.
Camera:
Canon EOS 1Ds Mark III 21.1MP SLR
Lens:
Zoom - EF 300mm f/2.8L IS USM w/ Canon EF 1.4X II Extender ($4,400.00)
EF 24-70mm f/2.8L USM ($1,190.00)
Wide - EF 24mm f/1.4L USM ($1,170.00)
He also has the following:
Wire cutters, Victorinox Swiss Army Oxodized SwissTool, duct tape, black electrician’s tape, and small briefcase that houses a compact computer Rick designed and built.
He is also bringing some equipment for Reconnaissance but this equipment will easily pass as tourist toys. He is bringing a Canon EOS 1Ds Mark III 21.1MP Digital SLR Camera. He is taking the high-end high resolution camera for later recon evaluation. But Rick and Brett are also planning to have some fun with the camera with the girls in documenting the trip and getting some sexy shots.
Camera:
Canon EOS 1Ds Mark III 21.1MP SLR
Lens:
Zoom - EF 300mm f/2.8L IS USM w/ Canon EF 1.4X II Extender ($4,400.00)
EF 24-70mm f/2.8L USM ($1,190.00)
Wide - EF 24mm f/1.4L USM ($1,170.00)
He also has the following:
Wire cutters, Victorinox Swiss Army Oxodized SwissTool, duct tape, black electrician’s tape, and small briefcase that houses a compact computer Rick designed and built.
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