Majestic

by Unknown

  “And, yes, John, you’re used to being in control. But, right now, you’re not, and it’s going to have to be that way if you want to have any hope of surviving another attempt on your life.”

  John reached up into the overhead bin and pulled down his briefcase. He flicked it open and brought out his cell phone.

  Allison reached up and grabbed his hand. “What are you doing?”

  “I feel isolated from everything. Have to find out what’s going on in the news.”

  She ripped the phone out of his hand. “I assumed you were more tech-savvy, John. From now on, until I say otherwise, no cell phones. Aren’t you aware how easy it is to track these damn things? Don’t even turn the stupid thing on.”

  John looked sheepish for a second, then he recovered. “Okay, you’re right. I forgot. But, I feel really vulnerable right now. I’m used to being in touch with people 24/7. The real danger is largely over now, isn’t it? They won’t try again.”

  “Sit down and enjoy the rest of the flight, Senator. The scenery out that window is spectacular.”

  John grunted and put his cell phone back in his case. Then, he threw the case onto the seat beside him and reluctantly sat down.

  “You do trust me, don’t you, John?”

  He looked at her, eyes glistening all of a sudden. After a few seconds of silence, he said, in a soft tone, “Yes, I do. After what you did for me back in Vermont, risking your own life to save me—and killing three men to do it—how could I not trust you? I owe you my life.”

  “Good, then just let me do what I do.”

  He smiled. “Yes, you seem quite capable. If I get to be president, maybe I can convince you to join my cabinet? How does Secretary of Homeland Security sound?”

  Allison laughed. “If you had a spot for a Secretary of Astronomy I might take you up on that offer. Otherwise, I’ll continue to run Diamond Hotels.”

  “Maybe I can create that position.”

  “You’ll be president—you can do anything you want. Well…almost.”

  “Does the President know about Majestic 12?”

  She shook her head. “No, not as far as I know, anyway. After Truman formed the group in 1947, he mandated that the Executive Branch would never have the chance to interfere. And, to my knowledge, it never has.”

  John was silent for a few minutes. “Okay, I’ll ask again. What’s in this Osoyoos place?”

  “My company owns a vineyard and winery there, called Diamond Vintage Wines. We actually supply most of our hotels in North America with the wines we produce from that winery. Wonderful blends, award winners all.”

  “Good. I could use a glass of wine—or maybe something stronger. Then what?”

  Allison chuckled. “That’s it for now. You’ll find out when we get there.”

  * * * * *

  The rented Hyundai Sonata Limited, trimmed in a sleek arctic white color, weaved its way south along scenic Highway 97, passing along the entire length of Skaha Lake until it transformed itself seamlessly into Vaseux Lake. The entire drive to Osoyoos was lined with lush vineyards, snaking from the rolling hills right down to the edge of the highway.

  John’s eyes were wandering from one side of the highway to the other, taking in the constantly changing landscape.

  “God, it’s gorgeous here. If I wasn’t running for my life, I might actually enjoy this.”

  Allison turned her eyes from the road for just a second—it was a curvy one, so a second was all she could risk.

  “Yes, it is beautiful. My dad bought the vineyard about thirty years ago, made some much needed improvements, and now it’s world class. I always enjoy coming here. The people who work for us are marvelous. We pay them very well, of course, but they have incredible loyalty to us for more reasons than money. Our wine master, Derik, is from Germany. And, his wife, Gerndle, is a real charmer. Very intelligent folks and very committed.

  “About fifteen years ago, their young son was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Inoperable. My dad wouldn’t accept the diagnosis, so he arranged for young Kurt to be flown down to the Mayo Clinic for an operation and a series of follow-up treatments. Dad paid for everything. Kurt was only ten years old—it took a year, but he was completely cured. He’s twenty-five now, and studying medicine at the University of Calgary. He told me he wants to be an oncologist. Amazing how some gestures can make such a permanent impact on people’s lives, huh?”

  “That’s quite the story. I can understand why they’re so loyal to you.”

  “It’s more than that. I don’t think they feel they owe me or my family anything. They just had a chemistry with my dad right from the beginning. They would have done anything for him, too, if they had the resources. Anyway, my dad bequeathed that they always be taken care of, and I’m honored to uphold that promise. And, they know that I will. They’re like family to me.”

  “Amazing. And, humbling. I’m not as rich as your dad was, or as you are, but with whatever wealth I’ve had I have to admit that I’ve never done anything for anyone.”

  Allison reached over and rubbed his arm. “That’s not true, John. As one of the two senators from Vermont, you’ve done an awful lot for your constituents. You’re just not giving yourself enough credit. Take stock—you’ll be surprised. And, if you become president, just think of the difference you’ll make then.”

  John snorted. “Maybe not. Sounds like the president role is more of a puppet existence than I ever realized. And, hell, I may not even live that long. Look at me now—a possible presidential candidate driving around with a murderer in a part of Canada with names of towns I can’t even pronounce!”

  Allison choked on her Dentyne gum. “The way you said that, it does sound kind of strange. But, remember, all three of those killings were self-defence.”

  “C’mon, Allison. Are you forgetting about all the deaths you said you voted in favor of in your Majestic 12 meetings?”

  She swallowed hard, then spoke in almost a whisper. “No, I’m not forgetting—although I’m trying to. I guess swinging that frying pan at Clint’s head, and firing into the chests of those other two killers, made it more real to me. But, voting in favor of protecting secrets seemed nobler, more honorable. It doesn’t seem that way to the same extent any more, but, for my five years of serving on that board, it was just a remote function.

  “We didn’t know the targets, we were just convinced that we were doing the right thing to protect the American people from things that would scare them to death at the very least, and cause unbelievable chaos at the very worst. So, there was a kind of…rationale behind it.”

  “I think I understand. But, don’t you think people deserve to know?”

  “I’m not sure what I think anymore. You’re a seasoned politician. How do you feel about what you now know, the things that Farmington shared with you?”

  “There is intelligent life out there in the universe, and they’ve been visiting us for a very long time. You people at Majestic 12 have convinced the world that most of those visits were hoaxes, that they weren’t real. They were real, and they’re probably coming for us. If I had a family, I’d want them to know.”

  “Why, John? So you could quit your job and just enjoy life? On what? On what money? How would life continue? Would we have any police forces, or fire departments? Would governments survive? Would society act in a decent manner, or would it just decide to take what it wants, when it wants?

  “What quality of life would exist during those many years before an event happened? Think about that. What would normal people do? How would they live? Would they turn into animals?”

  “Well, now I know about it, and I still want to be president.”

  Allison shook her head. “You’re stronger than the average person. But, think about this. What would it be like being president of a country in absolute anarchy, where no one obeyed the laws, no one observed common decency anymore?

  “Forget about anyone paying their taxes, and good luck arresting them and throwing them in
prison. You’d be lucky to have anyone working at enforcement any longer, let alone enough room in the prisons. It’s a real dilemma, John. You haven’t thought it through. You want to blow the lid on this, but is that the right thing to do? Really?”

  John was silent for a few minutes. “You told me your dad was getting ready to blow the lid, too. That’s why he was killed.”

  “Yes, and that knowledge is what’s causing the conflict I’m feeling now. It’s too close to home now. I’m giving you all the reasons for Majestic 12, the rationale behind the decisions we made—and I don’t even know if I believe them anymore. What we’ve done is barbaric. It’s twisting my brain and soul around in knots.”

  “You saved my life.”

  “Yes, I did. You’re the first example of the conflict I’m feeling, after discovering the truth about my father. I also happen to think you’d make one fine President of the United States. We still need a strong leader until the end comes, and so do all the other countries who don’t have the technology to know what we know. We also need strong leaders afterwards, for those who survive.”

  “The Russians and the Chinese must know.”

  “I don’t know how much they know—our respective governments don’t do a great job of talking to each other, do they? But, maybe they do know, and maybe they have their own versions of Majestic 12. Anyway, that’s way above my pay grade.”

  John scratched his head. “I’m puzzled, though. All you know so far is about a bunch of UFO sightings, landings, and beams being shot down to Earth. There’s no timeline here. Not yet, anyway. What’s the harm in warning people, disclosing what we know, putting plans of action in place and getting the public’s support for those plans?”

  Allison glanced over at him, puzzled. “Is that all that Farmington shared with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He must have been holding out on you, keeping back a trump card.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He didn’t tell you about Gargantuan?”

  “What the fuck is that?”

  Allison turned the car off the highway onto a secondary road. “We’re only about ten minutes away now.”

  “Answer me! What the fuck is Gargantuan?”

  Allison sighed. “I promise I’ll tell you more later. Right now, we need to get you settled.”

  They drove in silence until the winery finally came into sight. Allison always loved this place—very isolated from the tourist traffic, and the concrete and glass structure looked like it was right out of a Star Trek movie.

  She pulled up in front of the building and parked the car. “Don’t forget your briefcase, John.”

  “What am I going to do for a change of clothes?”

  “Don’t worry—there’s plenty here for you to choose from. We’ll take care of you.”

  Allison led the way up the stairs and into the front lobby. An attractive middle-aged blonde woman ran out to greet her from a glass enclosed office.

  “Allison! What a surprise!”

  Allison wrapped her arms around her and gave her a big hug. “It’s been a while, Gerndle. You’re looking wonderful. How’s Derik?”

  Gerndle waved her hand. “Oh, he’s the same. Out in the oak room testing some samples. He’ll be so happy to know you’re here.”

  “And Kurt?”

  Gerndle held up her hand with her fingers crossed. “So far, top of his class. Hoping that continues.”

  “I’m sure it will. Gerndle, this is John Hartford, a friend of mine and an esteemed guest. He’ll be staying with us for a while in the ‘Treehouse.’ Has to be a secret. He’s a very important man, and his life is in danger. Lips need to be sealed. Understand?”

  Gerndle reached her hand out and John shook it. She squinted her eyes. “You do look familiar, but I won’t ask anything more. If Allison wants you safe, we’ll keep you safe.”

  John nodded. “Thanks, Gerndle. I’m honored.”

  Gerndle nodded back. Then, she spun around. “Follow me. I’ll get you settled.”

  After a quick detour to her office to retrieve something from her desk drawer, she waved her hand and said, “Let’s go. We can chat later.”

  They walked down a long corridor, and then out through a back door and along a small stone pathway, which led to a small building. Allison always thought it resembled the outer shell building of a cemetery crypt. It stood alone, amongst lush grapevines and dense fruit trees. Black, solid stone, twelve inches thick, and only about 200 square feet.

  Gerndle thrust out the remote device she’d taken from her office, and pressed on it with her thumb. They heard the click of the lock and she opened the door wide.

  While motioning them inside, Gerndle flicked on a light switch and then shut the door behind them.

  Allison looked down at the familiar sight in the center of the floor. The room had nothing at all inside it except for this one hatch—round, about six feet in diameter, and with a metal handle in the center.

  Gerndle pointed the remote down at the floor and pushed a button. There was a loud click. She reached down and pulled up on the hatch by the handle. Once it had opened completely, it swung back on its hinge and rested on the floor.

  She then punched another button on the remote. The sinister aperture revealed by the open hatch suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree—all the way down.

  Allison always thought it resembled a submarine’s conning tower, right down to the steep metal ladder. Which was its only way in or out—except, of course, for the hidden escape tunnel.

  Senator John Hartford turned and stared at her, pale face and wide eyes betraying his shock.

  He positioned himself closer to the opening and reluctantly gazed down into the brightly-lit abyss.

  Barely heard, he muttered under his breath, “What the fuck?”

  Chapter 37

  “Go ahead, John. I’ll be right behind you…or should I say…above you. About 30 feet down, you’ll reach a catwalk. Step onto it and wait for me.”

  John shook his head in disbelief.

  Slowly and carefully, he made his way down, glancing up once to make sure Allison was following him. He trusted her, but still wasn’t completely sure about everything.

  This woman was full of surprises—first, she’d warned him about his life being in danger, then admitted to being a member of Majestic 12, and finally killed three men and engineered his escape to Canada.

  And, to top things off, after the horror they’d gone through in Vermont, they’d flown together in the lap of luxury on her private jet to what seemed to him like hillbilly country in the mountains of Canada’s West.

  Now, here he was climbing down into the bowels of the earth in a vineyard that was obviously more than just a vineyard.

  Step by careful step, John made it to the catwalk—basically just a metal gangway attached to the wall of a structure. It reminded him of a fire escape walkway.

  He stepped onto the catwalk and the first thing he noticed was a thick metal door with a keypad lock. He looked down along the length of the steel structure he was standing on and saw three more doors identical to the one in front of him. Each of the four doors were separated by about forty feet. He estimated that, considering the distance on each side of the outermost doors, the entire structure was about 200 feet across.

  Allison sidled past him onto the catwalk and keyed in a combination. He heard a beep, and the sound of the lock’s tumblers releasing.

  “Okay, John, this is it. Your new home for a while.”

  Allison pushed open the heavy door and flicked a light switch on the wall.

  John just stood on the threshold for a few moments, stunned at the welcoming sight in front of him.

  The ceiling was a good ten feet high, graced by a chandelier in the front foyer. A long hall led past several doorways, right to the very end, which opened into a large lounge area.

  He whistled. “God Almighty, Allison. What the hell do you have here?”

  She ignored his questio
n and walked on ahead. She pointed to her right. “That’s the kitchen, and it leads into a large dining area.” She pointed to her left as she walked. “These three doors are bedrooms. You can take your pick.”

  Allison led the way down to the lounge area, with John following in stunned silence. She stopped at the entrance and made a flourish with her hand. “Everything you need for relaxing.”

  John’s eyes wandered around the massive room. It was adorned with a couple of sectional sofas in the corners, facing towards a big screen TV mounted on the wall. One wall of the room opened into a small office alcove, complete with a desk and computer. Another wall was graced with a wet bar, the glass shelves on the wall decorated with a countless selection of spirits and liqueurs. Built into the lower section of the wall was a wine cooler, filled to the brim.

  He looked over at Allison, his mouth open—but he forgot what he was going to say.

  She laughed. “I know. A little bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”

  John pointed to a far wall. “Those two sets of drapes. How can you have windows way down here?”

  Allison walked over to it and pulled aside one of the drapes, revealing a blank wall behind. “Just an illusion. Trick of the mind. Helps relieve claustrophobia if the mind thinks there’s a window behind. Just like on a cruise ship when you’re unlucky enough to have an inside cabin.”

  “And, you have TV and internet reception down here?”

  “Yep, cable and WIFI. Can’t promise they’ll still work if there’s a major cataclysm, but in a minor one they should be operational.”

  “Jesus. Of course, I’ve heard about these things, but I’ve never seen inside of one. It’s just as luxurious as a high-end condo.”

  Allison nodded. “The idea being that if we’re going to be cooped up for a while, we might as well be comfortable. You may have noticed when you were out on the gangway, that there are three more units side by side. All four are identical. They can be kept separate and distinct, or connect through blast doors in the storage area.”