"What have you tried to investigate?"
"FEMA/detention camps. Foreign claims on assets as collateral to dollar holdings. HAARP 2, reputedly relocated to the Pacific Northwest. Chemtrails and the possible CIA connection. Underground living complexes. The UFO events at O'Hare and L.A. International. In fact, we had one person check out Denver International Airport."
"Any luck?"
Markus shrugged. "Minimal, thus far. The person looking into the airport tried to befriend one of the underground baggage sorters and was reported to the TSA. Another investigator attempted to get interviews with the pilots at L.A. International, and was scared off by the DHS after the pilots allegedly complained."
I gazed out at the pool, missing the mesmerizing form of Lilith Killian. As intelligent and charming as my host was, I found that I was enjoying this conversation less and less. I was looking forward to going to my room and collapsing on its big bed.
"You really think I could do any better?" I asked.
"I believe you have a certain balance of qualities that the others lack. As a former Marine, you know how to handle yourself. I don't see anyone being able to intimidate you. You're skeptical, but willing to believe what your own eyes are telling you."
"That's how you stay alive in combat."
"I know that only too well from a two-year paid vacation in Vietnam back in the sixties."
I gave him a thin smile. I wasn't even slightly tempted to trade war stories with him. Two bullshit wars in my lifetime were enough for me.
"You say you'd pay me a year's salary for a few months work - plus expenses?"
"Yes. May I ask what you earn, approximately, per month?"
Discussing my income wasn't one of my favorite pastimes, but I decided to play along.
"Usually around five or six thousand."
"How would you feel if I offered double that - shall we say forty-eight thousand for four months?"
Whoa. I sat up straighter. "You'd be paying that out of your own pocket?"
"I and other like-minded individuals have established a fund."
"Would you assign certain investigations, or would I be digging into things on my own?"
"We have certain things we want to focus on," said Dr. Killian, "but you'd be free to follow your own initiative in the course of an investigation. However, during this period I would ask that you not divulge whatever we learn – no blog posts or articles until we've put all the information and evidence together."
"Makes sense. Though in a few months, I can't see going deep undercover anywhere."
"That's true. You'd have to find alternate investigative methods."
I couldn't stop a mini-adrenaline rush as I considered Markus's offer. Twelve grand a month was nothing to sneeze at. On the other hand, I knew nothing about conducting investigations, and who knew what trouble I might create for myself? It was one thing to offer speculations on a website, but if you actually uncovered something serious, the dark lords might do something worse than set up a disparaging disinfo site.
"I understand your hesitance, Hayden," he said. "I'll leave you to your own meditations for now. I need to check on a few things and maybe do some writing. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen or take a swim in the pool. I'll be in my study at the west end of the second floor if you need me."
"Thank you, Professor."
"Thank you for listening to my little sales pitch. I hope you know that I wouldn't make it if I didn't consider the cause important."
"So what do you think is going to happen in four months?"
Markus stood with one hand braced on the table. He was staring straight at me, but I had the impression he wasn't really seeing me.
"That's speculative," he said.
I gazed into his eyes, but they seemed focused on something beyond me.
"Is there anything you're not telling me?"
Professor Killian's gaze snapped back to me with a rueful smile. "It's just that I expect circumstances to come to a head sooner rather than later that will force our and other governments to show their hands."
"Would you mind going into more detail about that?"
"At some point," he said with a soft sigh. "For now, I just want you to know that I do fear for the fate of humanity, apart from selfish concerns for myself and my own family."
"I don't doubt that." I had the uncomfortable feeling I was missing some subtle subtext, but as curious as I was I decided not to push him. "I'll think about it, Professor."
"That's all I can ask."
Markus Killian departed with a grave nod. I watched him climb the stairs with springy steps – not bad for a dude in his early seventies – and then I was alone at the long, Last Supper table. After a while I roused myself and stepped outside.
I walked past the pool up a grassy knoll. To the west, the last glow of sunlight spotlighted the nearby mountain peaks. A small blue lake drifted into view between the trees below. And above, stretched out on a flat grey rock, lay the long-legged, sculpted form of Lilith Killian gazing up at the darkening sky. She hadn't seen me.
My breath lodged in my chest. I hated myself for that. MGTOW, dude, MGTOW. Sounded like some ancient Chinese koan. The girl was so completely the stuff of my fantasies that it was crazy. Why did she have to be here now? These days, I not only made a point of avoiding beautiful women – I wouldn't even let myself fantasize about them. I refused to give them that power, as I had Melinda. Not that Melinda was anywhere in Lilith Killian's league. No one was, except a supermodel. A supermodel with a high I.Q.
I hiked down to the lake, hoping to clear my head. Fantasy women were the least of my concerns. I dropped down on a rock and gazed out on the small lake. Slyly, insidiously, Markus Killian's proposition was working its way into my head, probing my defenses. Investigative journalism wasn't my thing – not to mention risking my life – but hadn't I always said I wanted to do something to make a difference? Was I too much of a pussy to do that when the opportunity was served to me on a fucking silver platter?
I heard gravel crunching behind me. I whipped around half-expecting government agents. But it was only Lilith Killian, a droll smile on her full lips as she stepped through the loose rock with the grace of a gymnast.
"I call it Walden Pond," she said, nodding to the lake.
She strolled past me to the water's edge. I resisted the urge to make some clever comment or start a conversation. After a minute or two, she turned and arched an eyebrow at me.
"So my dad's little sales pitch didn't work on you?"
"He told you he was planning to make that offer?"
"He confided his devious plan to me."
She turned back to the lake, sparing me having to look at her face. Unfortunately, her backside was just as visually compelling.
"Your father seems to believe things are going to come to a head in the near-future," I said.
"He told you that?"
"Yes. But he wouldn't go into any details." I paused, keeping my eyes on her shoulders and the strawberry blond hair spilling over them. "Do you know anything about that?"
"I know the world is made up of two types of people: those who see the emperor's not wearing any clothes and those who see him wearing clothes because everyone says so and because it's unthinkable that he'd be naked. How many of each type do you think there are?"
"I'd have to say way more people fit in the 'he must be wearing clothes because everyone says so' camp."
"Way more is an understatement."
"I don't think you answered my question about what's supposed to happen in a few months."
"No. I don't see any point in speculating. Too many variables."
Lilith backed off the lake and settled on the rock beside me, stretching her long legs out into the gravel-sand.
"Are you reconsidering my dad's offer?" she asked.
"I'm thinking about it."
"You want to be one of those good people who do something."
"Don't know if I'm one of the
good people, but I sure as hell hate being punked. Powerful people are getting away literally with murder every day, and that pisses me off. Still, governments and dictators have done horrific things in the past, but the human race always snaps back."
"Tell that to the Native Americans."
That made me think for a few moments.
"I'm not sure I see the analogy," I said. "It's not as if the elite or our government are more advanced civilizations conquering us."
I was somewhat gratified when she was the first one to avert her eyes. She gazed at the orangeish glow spreading over the lake like a reflected nuclear explosion. After a few moments, she pushed to her feet.
"Good luck with your decision," she said.
THE KITCHEN smelled like a cooking orgy.
I followed the intoxicating aromas of coffee, bacon, and pancakes down the spiral staircase the next morning, and found Markus and Lilith wielding spatulas and pancake mix in their large, country-style kitchen.
"We thought all the clanging and smells might wake you up," Markus greeted me. "Help yourself to some coffee. We're just about ready for you."
But was I ready for them?
"Thanks," I said. "I hope you didn't go through this trouble for me. My usual breakfast is coffee and a granola bar."
"We could never hope to match that," said Lilith. "But hopefully you can make do."
"It's a Saturday morning tradition," Markus chuckled. "Lilith has developed some superb gourmet skills which she likes to exercise periodically."
"I like to pretend the eggs are brains and I'm really performing brain surgery when I make a soufflé," said Lilith. "Which reminds me."
She popped open a nearby oven and slid out a tray of what appeared to be small cakes. Soufflés? The tsunami of aromas threatened to overwhelm my senses. The scene struck me as surreal. Lilith, future neuroscientist, making strawberry crepes?
They piled everything on a huge serving platter and carried it to the dining table. Lilith snapped out plates and silverware with the brisk motions of a professional card dealer. I helped myself to everything on the platter, wondering if I'd be able to move once I'd crammed all of it in my stomach. But you only live once, I told myself. Of course, you also only die once.
Dr. Killian and Lilith started chatting about her classes and the chlorine percentage in the pool. I guessed the professor was giving me some space regarding his business offer. Or maybe he assumed I was a lost cause?
Strangely enough, I'd decided to take Professor Killian's offer, conditional on one or two things. But I liked to negotiate from strength. If Markus didn't bring it up – wanted to play coy or really was just plain indifferent – then I was walking out of here with a handshake and a fare-thee-well. In the meantime, the breakfast had my full attention.
About halfway through the breakfast, Markus cleared his throat casually.
"Have you had any further thoughts about my proposition?" he asked.
I resisted a smile. Finally, what I'd been waiting for.
"I was wondering about payment," I said. "Would it be monthly or a lump sum?"
"I was thinking one month in advance, and then the first of each month," said Dr. Killian.
"I was thinking half up front and the rest at the end."
The professor nodded agreeably.
"Also, considering the risks, I'm thinking a flat seventy-five thousand for four months. Roughly my year's salary."
Lilith snorted. Dr. Killian looked uncomfortable, but instead of replying reached for his cup of coffee and took a thoughtful sip. I continued chowing down on a stack of pancakes. How had I gone most of my life without a big breakfast? Maybe the health gurus were onto something. I was curious and mildly hopeful but I was also happy to walk away from this deal. Negotiate from strength, as my dad always said.
"Maybe he wants a new BMW and a penthouse to stay in while he's at it," said Lilith to her father, who responded with a strained smile.
"I'd settle for just the BMW," I said.
"Is that what you want, father?" Lilith asked. "A greedy mercenary?"
Markus Killian let out a soft chuckle. "He's been searching for truth without pay on his own."
"Correction. A latent greedy mercenary."
I had to smile. But I wasn't going to let myself be shamed by Ms. Entitled Hot Girl into backing down. Never apologize when you're negotiating. Yeah, that was another of my dad's sage sayings.
"Do we want a polite, pushover type of person?" Dr. Killian asked her, giving me a thin smile. "Is that the kind of person who will stare down a government or corporate bureaucrat? Or are we looking for someone who won't take no for an answer? Someone who has the no-nonsense determination and hardheadedness of a Marine?"
"Hard assedness , more like."
"Hey, thanks for noticing!" I peeked modestly back at my derriere. Lilith rolled her eyes. But she was smiling.
Markus Killian turned to me, his eyes turning grave. "Are you willing to commit yourself fully to this, Hayden? Give it your all, as they say?"
"Oorah," I murmured.
"I don't want to mislead you. This isn't going to be a 9-5 kind of job. More like 24/7. And much of the time it may not be pleasant."
"Sounds a lot like my job in Afghanistan."
Dr. Killian smiled and nodded. "That may be."
"Then you're agreeing to my terms?"
"I agree."
"I'll need a little time to finish off my last job with Caldera." As Markus started to frown, I added, "But that's no more than ten to fifteen hours. I could probably do that on my own time if you want to get started right away."
Dr. Killian's face relaxed. "It will take a few days for you to get, as they say, into the swing of things. We will need to create an alternate identity for you. A background of employment, credit cards, Colorado driver's license."
I was staring at him. "You can do that?"
"I can't, but I know someone who can."
"Hmm. I'm impressed." And a little worried. There was more to this mild-mannered physics professor than I'd imagined. "What did you have in mind as my first assignment?"
"Something close to home. The Denver airport. It could be the hub of many anomalies."
"Any ideas about getting to its lower floors, assuming they exist?"
"We have some theories about entrances far removed from the airport. Depending on your inclinations, we could start there or attempt to penetrate the airport itself."
"Some airports participate in a security testing program, don't they? People try to sneak past security, and usually succeed, from what I've read."
"That's true." The professor pursed his lips. "I seem to recall that the Denver Airport is a participant in that program, and that a private company rather than the DHS was contracted for that purpose. Perhaps we could arrange for you to be an employee of that testing firm, assuming I'm right about that?"
I was nodding. "That kind of identity would be nice to fall back on if I got caught."
"Indeed. I'll mention that to my friends and we'll look into it."
"Sounds good."
I finished off my breakfast – more like a breakfast, lunch, and dinner – and wiped my face.
"For now," said Professor Markus, "my research team has prepared a paper on the DIA as well as other subjects of interest. I'll get the DIA paper now. You'll probably want to peruse it. I'll also get you your first payment. Half of the total, I believe?"
"Sounds good. Ah, Professor" – he paused as he rose - "I wonder if there's any way we could keep the payment under the radar? You know, to soften the tax bite?"
Lilith let out a dry chuckle. "Of course. We don't want any obvious connection between us. I'll be back in a moment."
As the professor retreated, Lilith eyed me over a bottle of sports drink.
"So was all your hesitation an act to get more money?" she asked.
I barely resisted an urge to tell her to go fuck herself. But it was a legitimate question. She didn't know me, after all.
"No, it wasn't an act. I may not like what's happening in my country, but I like my life. Doing what your dad wants could get hairy."
"Of course, if most conspiracy theories are bullshit, you wouldn't be in any danger."
"Right now, I'm hoping they are. But even if most of them are bullshit, investigating them is still going to be a total pain in the ass."
Markus Killian returned with a manuscript and a large padded envelope in hand. He laid them out on the table before me. I opened the envelope, sliding out neat bundles of cash – mostly one hundred dollar bills. Thirty-seven thousand and five hundred dollars. Fucking A. I couldn't stop myself from grinning.
"You don't want me to sign a contract or something?" I asked.
"No. I trust that your word is your bond."
"It is."
I slid the bills back into the envelope, feeling a bit of gooseflesh at that amount of money and also because Markus kept so much cash on hand. This was serious outlaw shit. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed or worried.
"You're not going to count it?" he asked.
"Later." I smiled through my poker face. "If you trust me, I guess I can trust you."
I distracted myself from the mounds of money by picking up the twenty or thirty page manuscript and flipping through the pages. Despite the staple-job, the writing and diagrams were not amateurish. The title read: DENVER INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, AN ANALYSIS. Though it didn't list an author, the tone was professorial.
"Did you write this?"
"No. And to be clear, Hayden, this isn't for publication. It's for your eyes only."
I thumbed through a few pages. The more I read the more it struck me as a professional military intelligence paper meticulously assessing theoretical and strategic possibilities. No conspiracy rhetoric or fantastic claims. This was as dry as an Army field manual, but I found it mesmerizing.
"This is serious stuff," I said, lowering the manuscript. "It's like it was written by the CIA or military intelligence."
"Yes," said Professor Killian. "And I have several more like it on various subjects."
"Who wrote them? I don't mean their names – I don't need to know them - just who they are in general."
Operation Indigo Sky Page 3
