YOU ARE CURRENTLY SEEING BLOG POSTS IN PROPER CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER. While in this mode, the links at the bottom and top of each page are not correctly labeled. However, the left pointing arrow always advances forward in time, and the right pointing arrow retreats.
Several days ago, we received word from Stephen that another ghost child had been activated. This one had purchased almost two dozen different tickets to Denver. (I would have expected this practice to raise red flags with Homeland Security, but I’ve now been educated in the ways of the wealthy, and discovered that this is not at all uncommon.)
Unlike Speed Demon, who was a show unto herself (in various senses of the expression), this one has a whole entourage waiting. And all of them are dressed, whether subtly or overtly, in clothes patterned on shades of red and white. We considered, of course, whether this could be a hostile reception rather than a friendly one, but the demeanor and activities of the red&whites suggest the latter interpretation.
The leader of the entourage is the man we showed earlier. Here’s his slightly altered photo once again:
He’s come several times, in sync with the purchased but unused tickets. He arranges his people carefully, including placing several behind secure areas. (The fact that he is able to do so may explain why Denver International Airport is used by more than one True Immortal. The conspiracy theories regarding DIA may in part reflect a connection to an immortal organization.)
With each possible arrival, he sets up multiple means of transportation, so many, in fact, that we suspect he plans to use body doubles to confuse any pursuer.
He will most likely confuse us too. But in attempting to follow the new arrival for as long as we can, we expect to learn more about the methods of this “red&white” organization.
So far, there have been numerous false alarms, but no actual appearance of the “ghost child.” — (Continued in my next post) Strattera
I mentioned in my last post that the leader of the red&white entourage arranges multiple alternate means of transportation each time one of the flights booked by the new “ghost child” arrives. In this post, I plan to show some of the more interesting.
Of course, there are autos and limousines. But prior to each occasion a set of helicopters and private planes also shows up, and then leave when it becomes clear that the expected person has not arrived. (Presumably, he is not traveling under his actual name, and so the deplaning passengers must be observed individually. )
Here is a photo of several of their planes on the ground together:
But these are very small planes, and notoriously unsafe. One can’t imagine a True Immortal risking a flight on one of these. I’m not sure exactly what they intend these for.
This other craft, photographed by Flyss as it flew overhead, is of a different caliber.
These are capable of flying on a single propeller, and can handle high winds. It is believable that a True Immortal would risk a flight in one of these.
Their organization also possess a number of construction-grade helicopters, otherwise known as sky-cranes.
In calm weather, these are solid as brick.
It’s a substantial operation, and it will be interesting to learn who it’s intended to receive.– (continued in my next post) Strattera
Continued from my last post:
Interesting: more than a dozen of these have accumulated at a nearby municipal airport.
(Click to enlarge.) Notice the red & white stripes on the helicopter, as well as the color of the clothes of its occupants.
(Continued from my last post.)
A little review: As you may recall, the group of Immortals who call themselves The Illuminati are run by a board of 12 members, plus a 13th who only occasionally involves herself. Of these, eleven manage their own organizations of Hafeems and mortals, marked out by distinctive colors and symbols.
The “blue&blacks” are a paramilitary force run by an Immortal we are calling “Sollaya.” When in full regalia, they wear clothes entirely of blue and black, with the “Illuminati Symbol” emblazoned on the back and the letter “S” on front. Members the “red&whites” function as a sort of military police, and wear bright red uniforms, white berets, white sashes around the necks and white armbands emblazoned with the letter “L.” The “yellow&blacks” wear yellow jackets and trousers with black beaded trim and a letter “B” embroidered in black on the back of their jackets. There are also green&golds, silver&oranges, and several others.
When on public operations, they considerably tone down their presentation, but always retain certain identifying elements. Thus far, we’ve encountered red&white symbology in the entourage waiting to greet an arriving ghost child at Denver International Airport. But now a few elements of the blue&blacks have appeared on the scene.
Distinctively blue/black helicopters such as this one have been appearing near DIA and also at nearby municipal airports:
(Colors somewhat Photoshop-enhanced for visibility.)
Furthermore, someone who appears to be a liason officer from the blue&black organization has joined the red&whites waiting at DIA. He’s someone we’ve seen before, but not shown on the blog until now. (Continued in my next post.) — Strattera
I mentioned in my last post that we are now seeing increasing involvement of the blue&blacks in the vicinity of DIA prior to the arrival of a new “ghost child,” apparently serving as backup for the red&white organization.
I showed a photo of one of the many blue/black helicopters we’ve observed. Now, I wish to post an image of a person.
The photograph below was taken in San Francisco, when Flyss and I were out there investigating the Veteran’s War Memorial.
We actually didn’t identify him as anyone important until more than a month later, when we’d had time to go carefully through images we taken in SF. The photo above enlarges if you click on it, and the symbol is visible if you look closely at his blue coat on the left side, just beneath the button.
Here’s a cropped, blown up view:
(Again, click on the image to enlarge it.) If you still find the symbol difficult to see, here is a Photoshop-enhanced version of the above. The symbol (or the half of it that is visible) is inside the white rectangle.
You can understand why we didn’t notice this immediately.
Obviously, the man pictured here is not a True Immortal, but is instead a Hafeem or an ordinary mortal. But he is clearly a blue&black. And he’s currently present at DIA. He seems to be the only blue&black present, which is why I suggested that he’s functioning in a liason capacity.
Clearly, the Immortal Illuminati value the person who is imminently arriving.
Flyss will pick up the thread now. — Strattera
If this is any help to you Ox, he’s been checking out this door a lot:
It’s in a long row of hangers:
The area is huge, and mostly deserted. Here’s another view of the door, showing how lonely it is in this direction too:
I spent some time there after the BH boarded a commuter plane to DIA. Strattera confirmed he’d arrived, and so I felt free to look around.
I was looking at the window and trying to figure out if the yellow patches were painted on or just reflections, when this happened, settling the question nicely:
Being the ever prepared investigator I’ve just recently grown up to be, I’d already picked the lock on this storage locker, and now I ducked inside it.
I heard a car drive out of the hanger, its engine echoing in the hollow space, and then the echo cut off as the hanger door shut again.
My own car wasn’t too far away, and I managed to get to it before their car made it entirely out of the maze of the airport complex. I followed it to a rather interesting site. –(continued in my next post) — Flyss
Continued from my last post.
So I followed the car that came out of the hanger.
Nice ride! Doubt it’s a senile old hafeem in a wheelchair the BH’s after this time.
But this one does live in a rural area, like the other one did. After he left the airport, he drove off up a series of country roads, and at a certain point if I’d followed him I’d have been obvious, so I had to hang back and watch best I could with binoculars. (Strattera wasn’t with me. We’d divided forces, and he stayed at DIA to follow that action.)
I’m fairly sure the compound below is where he drove to. I can’t say exactly what it is I’m looking at, though.
(As usual, all these photos enlarge by clicking on them.) Here’s a closeup, enhanced as best I could in Photoshop:
Off to the left there seem to be some fairly major power poles. The compound, or whatever it is, looks exceedingly peculiar.
The BH was still at DIA, leaving that complication out of things. So I proceeded to try to get closer. (Continued in my next post.) — Flyss
As I’ve been discussing, the red&white “military police,” backed up by the blue&black paramilitaries, have been holding dry runs for the arrival of someone they must value greatly, considering the amount of personnel they’ve thrown into the process.
Into the middle of this walked someone we’ve known for some time: the Bounty Hunter. Oxadrenals thinks that he knew nothing about the airport operation, but that he was following a Hafeem who is somehow involved.
But the man is certainly a professional. When he arrived at DIA from the municipal airport Flyss was staking out, he picked them right out of the crowd as he passed. We were watching him, and knew who he was, or we wouldn’t have noticed his reaction, because it was scarcely a reaction at all: He merely diminished.
He’d stalked into the airport a man with a purpose. When he saw them (though what it is about them that caught his attention, I don’t know) he became to all appearances a man who had never known purpose. In his normal state, he is full of physical and mental energy; he became a man without any edge to him at all.
He ambled through their complex security operation, and I am certain they didn’t see him.
But when he left, he headed straight back toward the compound to whose edge Flyss was working her way up to. We phoned to let her know. However, by then other things were happening. (Continued in Flyss’ next post.) — Strattera
As I said in my last post, I decided to get closer to that peculiar looking compound.
From one direction, there’s an endless corn field:
I used to play in those when I was a kid. There’s a trick to moving through them without disturbing the stalks. If you crawl carefully through the “corn tunnel,” you are truly invisible.
I got myself closer to the compound and took a few photos. I still wasn’t all that close, though, and the final stretch was too exposed to cross, as you can see here.
Given that I didn’t dare go out in the open, here’s the best photo I could manage:
If anyone has any idea what this is, let me know. — Flyss
P.S. The sky is remarkably full of planes around here.
(Continued from my last post.)
Thanks for the signal, Ox, but no sign of the BH here. Just lots and lots of planes. Here’s one model I see a lot.
And there’s also plenty of these mosquitoey things buzzing around:
I guess I stay hunkered down in the corn till it’s dark.
Instead of using my own car, I called for a ride. Very sensible of me. But now a whole caravan of autos are coming down the road. Did they tap into my signal?
They just drove on by. And now Strattera’s here. I want to signal her: Drive on, don’t stop!
But she’s stopped.
Do I go out onto the road? Yeah, I guess I do. — Flyss (Continued here.)
(Continuing from Flyss’ last post.)
That VIP ghost child finally arrived. As you may remember, she’d purchased tickets for dozens of flights. Each time one of the flights arrived, her entourage would move into position. The plane would then unload; they’d watch the passengers deplane; she wasn’t among them; they’d stand down.
They acted exactly the same -this time too. The only reason we know something different happened is because of what Flyss had noticed earlier in the day. Though, in fact, she wasn’t consciously aware of what she’d noticed, and it didn’t click for her until she watched the passengers come in.
One of the passengers arriving on this flight (which originated in London) was a perky young woman with short red hair wearing a reddish dress and a beaded necklace. It suddenly struck Flyss then that the airport had too many women perky young women with short red hair wearing reddish dresses. That was it: the only sign.
What came next was a demonstration of supreme skill (and also proof that Flyss was right.) The woman who got off the plane entered the DIA train at terminal C, screened by red&whites. At terminal B, two similar (though not identical) women with short red hair got off from different cars. One got back on the train; another took the walkway. At terminal A, it happened again, except now there were four of them.
The various women we managed to follow got on one elevator or another, and when the doors opened often two such women got out At the parking garage levels, at least two dozen red-haired women in red dresses got out of one or another of the sixteen possible elevators over the next thirty minutes. Many of those got into cars subtly marked with the red&white pattern. Others got into cars with no such markings at all. Still others walked back into the airport, some through security, and some not. A few we observed getting on helicopters or small planes. Most of them we entirely lost track of.
Here’s one of them, photographed with a blue&black plane behind her.
As Strattera said, when the red-headed lady arrived at DIA and turned into two dozen red-haired ladies, we quickly gave up on figuring out who was who and raced over to the nearby muni airport where the BH had been hanging around, in hopes that where the real one was going. (Or, to be more accurate, we raced over to a bit of high ground about a half mile away where we could watch with a telescope. Too far away for my camera, sorry.)
Not more than two minutes after we got in place, one of those big heavy construction-type helicopters touched down, and a red-headed lady stepped out.
By the way, even before I get sick of calling her the “red haired lady” I’m going to give her a codename. I’m going to call her “Molly.”
Doesn’t she look like she should be called “Molly,” with that grin and bright lipstick?
Of course, I don’t know for sure if this Molly was the original arriving Immortal or one of her body doubles. And you can naturally wonder how we could have gotten to the airport ahead of her. But maybe they let a lot of fake ones go before she did. Anyway, what happened next pretty much proves that she’s the Molly.
She was instantly surrounded by her entourage the moment she got off the helicopter, and they wafted her over a short distance to an airplane like this one.
But before she got in, one of the hangers opened up nearby.
*It wasn’t this exact hanger exactly, but it was pretty much the same kind of hangar.)
Then, a low slung black car raced out of the hanger toward her at high speed.
(More in my next post.) — Flyss
When the car came racing toward them, I expected the Molly’s entourage to open fire on it, but they didn’t. Instead, they opened ranks and let it drive on in.
What happened next was hard to see, but here’s my take on it. (a) It was the BH’s Hafeem who jumped out of the car. (I’m talking about the Hafeem living in that odd compound.) (b) The Molly hugged him for dear life. (c) They both climbed in plane and took off.
What happened after that made us gape. We kept up the gaping so long, in fact, that we almost got ourselves killed. — Flyss
It was a white knuckle ride, but nothing bad happened. No helicopters. No ambushes. No frying pans. We glided out of the Federal lands, and came down out of the mountains into the ye olde yuppie/hippie college town of Boulder, Colorado.
I was still expecting to find Mollies at every turn as we pivoted through the town (no longer going fast because they have traffic cameras on every lampost here, and you can go to jail for reckless endangerment if you crowd a bicyclist.) But everything stayed fine. Boulder is not exactly my kind of city — it’s a tad too tame — but I do like it, and no matter how yuppified, I still have fond memories of the Pearl Street Mall And especially the Boulder Bookstore.
There were crowds of people everywhere, musicians, jugglers, German tourists and the like, and it just wasn’t the sort of place where servants of immortals are likely to parachute in and shoot you. Strattera and walked hand in hand down from the top of mall and I was finally beginning to truly relaxed when we saw her.
She was walking out of my beloved Boulder Bookstore, looking away from us, just a young woman with reddish hair who could be anyone.
I think I might have paused for a second, but that was all. I mean, people do have red hair.
But, as I might not have stressed enough earlier, the Mollies are not actually clones of each other. They’re clearly different people. At the airport, they were all dressed similarly, it’s true, and they all had light skin and various shades of red hair, and looked about 25, but that was all that was the same about them.
This woman wasn’t dressed at all like the Mollies we’d been looking at. She was just a girl with red hair, and so I shook my fears away and we walked past her.
And then she spoke to us. (continued in my next post) — Flyss
The Molly in black spoke to us as we passed. Here’s what she said:
“Did you think we were going to hurt you? The Molly doesn’t hurt the mortals who love her. It’s only natural that mortals should love her, she understands that. “(She didn’t actually use the name “Molly,” but a different name that sounds a little like it.)
She put her hand to her waist, and I thought she was pulling out a gun, but it wasn’t a gun — it was a kind of old fashioned walkie-talkie. Except that wasn’t what it was either. It did look something like a walkie-talkie, but it was inlaid with jade and had strange script written on it, and the antenna was made of black glass.
“This is the scepter of the Molly,” she said, more or less. “With it, I can take you in to us. You can come to live where we live. The Molly would take care of you. You could even become like me, and serve her in her in her own image.”
I pulled away, ready to bolt, and she looked sad. “There is no other chance for you,” she said. “If you leave, you will not have the chance again.”
Strattera asked, “If we leave, what will you do?”
“Nothing,” she said. “We will never look for you, never see you, never touch you.” She held out the “scepter” thing.
I hesitated. I don’t know why.
And then I felt Strattera next to me, and I stepped away from the Molly. I took another step, and then I turned and ran. We both ran out of there. We got in the car, and headed off fast as we could, high up into the mountains, where the walls of a canyon enfolded us, and we drove until it was dark, and we kept on driving. — Flyss