by Unknown
No later, and no earlier, than 6:00 p.m. Central European Time.
Wyatt felt his stomach churning.
Easy-peasy. What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 56
Wyatt felt, rather than heard, the twin Rolls Royce engines fire up; a power plant that was capable of propelling the Gulfstream G650 at close to supersonic speeds.
Allison’s jet was, without a doubt, the quietest airplane he’d ever traveled on.
The cardinal and his aide were sitting side by side, opposite him on the starboard side of the craft. They were talking in Italian, either out of convenience, or, more likely, because they were speaking of things they didn’t want anyone else to hear.
The CERN physicists were scattered about the plane, each with their laptops open, fingers moving quickly…and frantically…across keyboards. No doubt some last minute calculations, and probably communications with the Large Hadron Collider folks at CERN.
Allison, Wyatt, and John were sitting together at the conference table. They’d have to move over to their regular seats in a few minutes once takeoff commenced, but for now they were enjoying just chatting together.
Wyatt guessed that the other two were just as nervous as he was, although Allison was bravely soldiering on, trying hard not to show it. The senator was cracking his knuckles a lot, something he’d never seen him do before in the short time he’d known him.
Wyatt liked John, and he could see why Allison did, too. He was a straight-shooter and one of those rare politicians who actually believed he could change Washington.
Up until this Gargantuan thing became suddenly critical and imminent, John had indeed intended to run for president. He thought he could make a difference. He’d talked about it with Wyatt, some of the things he would have done with the tax code and financial institutions, both of which he believed were out of control.
Wyatt also liked his ideas on foreign policy; that the U.S. had allowed itself to be dragged into far too many conflicts with no consideration of the cost in lives and dollars. With the country now approaching a national debt of a staggering twenty trillion, it was in serious trouble, with most people not being even slightly aware of how serious it really was.
As well, John felt there were far too many secrets and, in order to change the direction of the country, he felt that some of those secrets had to be revealed. As long as things remained secret, power was unbridled because no one was ever held accountable. When there was always the comfort of knowing that virtually anything could be covered up, then anything at all could be done.
Anyone could get away with anything.
He believed that the C.I.A. should be disbanded, and the activities of the NSA curtailed. Wyatt thought those two ideas alone would probably have gotten the senator killed. But, instead, the thing that had put his life in danger was his knowledge of Majestic 12. The leaked papers from Farmington.
Footsteps approaching, owned by the captain, Cole Howard.
“Hey, guys. Wanted to let you know we’ll be ready to take off in a few minutes. I’ve filed that flight plan you gave me, Allison. They gave me a bit of a hard time about the descent to 9,000, but I finally got it cleared.”
Allison smiled. “Well, they always gripe, don’t they? Especially the air traffic controllers in France.”
“Yeah, a bit of a power trip, I think. But, once I mentioned that it was a CERN experimental flight, they got in touch with the folks at the facility and I’m guessing they got their marching orders. CERN seems to carry a lot of weight in both Switzerland and France.”
Allison nodded her head in agreement. “With CERN straddling the border with both countries, and the massive investments they’ve each made, maybe that project has actually forced them to get along. Hey, perhaps that’s the secret to peace? Build a massive scientific community under every shared border in the world? It would force everyone to talk nice to each other. Perhaps even North and South Korea would get along?”
Cole laughed. “Oh, I love your optimism, Allison. Maybe someday, huh?”
Cole seemed to be about fifty or so—grizzled features, but easy on the eyes; probably a former fighter pilot, like a lot of the commercial flyers were. He had that look about him—kind of a combination of Harrison Ford and Daniel Craig.
The co-pilot came out of the cockpit and sauntered down to join them. Dave Hall was quite a bit younger than Cole; thirtyish, blond hair, blue eyes. Looked the part of a California surfer.
He tapped Cole on the back and waved his wristwatch in front of his eyes.
“It’s 4:00, Captain. Time for us to scoot.”
“Yep, we’re good to go. Okay, folks, strap in.”
Wyatt stood. “Smooth flight today, Cole?”
He nodded. “Should be, Wyatt. But, you never know when flying around the Alps. And, Geneva has the Jura mountain range as well. Occasionally, the weather systems from the two chains fight against each other. We’ll see. Forecast looks pretty good, though.”
Allison and John moved over to the single seats. Wyatt chose one across the aisle from her.
She looked up at Cole. “So, you guys understand what it is we’re doing? And, why it’s important we be at those coordinates I gave you…at exactly 6:00?”
Cole nodded. “No problem. It’s 4:00 now. We’ll be on site at around 5:40 and we’ll circle at 9,000 feet. We’ll time it so that we’re right over those GPS numbers at 6:00. You said there’s some experiment you have to observe right at that moment. So, don’t worry, we’ll get you there. It must be one hell of an important experiment for us to be flying this unusual route.”
Allison fastened her seatbelt. “Yes, CERN is releasing some low-level magnetic waves, which will interact with chemtrail clouds at the 9,000-foot level. No danger to an aircraft like ours, but we need to see the effects those special waves have on the metal particulates in the clouds. I repeat—it’s crucial, Cole, that we be at exactly 9,000 feet, at those coordinates, at exactly 6:00. Failure is not an option.”
Cole shook his head. “I’ll never understand you scientist types—and you happen to also be a hotel magnate. But, I guess, as they say, you can take the girl out of the physicist, but you can never take the physicist out of the girl. This experiment sounds drab as hell, but, as usual, we’ll do our duty for you.”
Allison smiled. “I know you will.”
“Hey, if you get bored, come on up to the cockpit. You can take over the controls for as long as you want.”
She laughed. “I think I’m a bit rusty. Been lazy for the last two years, letting you guys do all the flying. Haven’t even had my mandatory medical checkup.”
Cole turned to walk up the aisle. “Well, we’ll leave the door unlocked if you change your mind.”
After Cole disappeared, Wyatt leaned across the aisle.
“So, you’re a pilot, too?”
Allison smiled modestly.
“Yes, I learned a long time ago. Instrument-rated, too, so I’m qualified on this jet. But, I wasn’t kidding—I am rusty, and I’ve been a pampered little princess over the last few years. These guys are so good, I just relax now and let them do all the flying. It’s kinda nice. Like when a person takes the train to work once in a while instead of the car. A nice treat not to have to worry about driving, and just be able to lean back and read the newspaper.”
Wyatt looked into her smiling eyes, and at that moment he didn’t know what he felt. Probably a combination of love and hero worship. The most amazing woman he’d ever met. He would trust her with his life…and, ironically, he was doing exactly that today.
He knew in his heart she would trust him with hers, too.
He whispered. “I love you. Do you know that?”
She reached across the aisle and rubbed his arm. And whispered back, “I love you, too.”
Wyatt put his hand across hers and lowered his voice to an even softer whisper.
“It sounds like these pilots have absolutely no clue about what we’re really doing. You made up a
cover story. Why?”
“Judgement call. First of all, too much to tell. The story is too long and the science is too surreal. You and John have had lots of time to get used to all this, and you’ve seen some of it up close and personal already. With the attempted murders, the bunker, Willy’s bizarre transformations, your ‘remote viewing’ episode. It’s been a lot to absorb, but for you guys it’s been a long stretch already. And, I’ve had time to explain it all to you, including this wormhole concept.
“But, these are my pilots. That’s all they are. Nothing more sophisticated than that. They’re clever and capable, but this is all way beyond them. They would never sign on to a mission like this. I know them—they’re the types who crack open a can of beer every night and watch a baseball game. Meet up with the boys in the pub on nights when they’re not flying. They’re not deep, they’re natural sceptics, not the least bit curious about anything beyond their tight little worlds. I decided I couldn’t take the chance on telling them. If they refused, we’d be in trouble trying to line up someone else at the last minute.
“We also had absolutely no time to indoctrinate government pilots into doing this run. Only a few people know about Majestic 12 or this Gargantuan threat, and hardly anyone stepped forward to volunteer even to be just a passenger on this mission, let alone a pilot. Except for our own little band of pioneers, that is.
“All of the members of Majestic 12 have gone into hiding now, including that bastard, Chad Powers. Bunch of cowards. None of them volunteered any expertise for this mission. I think once we’re back there, Wyatt, I’m going to track that Powers prick down and kill him myself. A wooden stake in the heart, maybe? The world will be a safer place in the future if I transform into a child killer for just that one menace. He can’t be allowed to grow up into the munitions manufacturing Satan that he is.”
Wyatt squeezed her hand. “Calm down, hon.”
She giggled. “What makes you think I’m not calm?”
Wyatt laughed, and changed the subject. “It sounds like you could have just flown this plane yourself.”
“No, Wyatt. That would be taking a chance. I haven’t flown in two years.”
“Don’t you need to maintain a certain number of hours to renew your license?”
She shook her head. “In the U.S., there is no renewal of pilot licenses. They’re issued for life. But, for my rating, I need a complete medical every five years and a flight review if I haven’t flown for six months. I’m way overdue for both. Sure, I could fly this thing, but to make sure this mission goes off without a hitch, I had to have the best pilots for us.”
Allison gestured her head in the direction of the cockpit. “And, those two guys are the best there is, believe me. Both former fighter jocks, skilled as hell.”
“Do you feel a bit guilty deceiving them?”
Allison grimaced. “I did at first—but not for long. This is just too important to worry about guilt. And, if it works, they’ll be going back to the sixties with us, of course.”
She giggled. “I guess once they notice that Elvis and the Beatles are at the top of the charts, I’ll have no choice but to explain everything to them!”
Wyatt frowned. “When this happens, and we’re back in 1963—where the hell are we going to be?”
“You mean location?”
“Yeah.”
“Right here, over Europe. In fact, right over where this is going to happen. Geneva. CERN.”
“But, there won’t be a CERN.”
“No, it will just be open land between two mountain ranges. There will be a Geneva, of course, and that’s where we’ll land. Although, the airport controllers will be a wee bit shocked to see a jet like this suddenly appear on their screens coming in for a landing.”
Wyatt shook his head again. Then, he leaned back in his seat as the plane began its taxi towards the runway. His stomach was gurgling away as he wiped his sweaty hands against his pant legs.
In a few seconds, they’d be in the air.
Heading for Geneva.
And, after that, where the hell they’d end up was anyone’s guess.
Chapter 57
Allison was in dreamland. The smooth motion of the plane had soothed her to sleep, the same kind of soothing she remembered from back when she was a toddler. Cradled in her mother’s arms on road trips, her dad at the wheel humming a tune to himself, the swaying motion of the car rendering comfort almost identical to a rocking basinet.
Motion always had that effect on her. And, funny, in all of those motion-triggered dreams, including this one, she knew it was only a dream. A part of her was still aware of the conscious world, while another part was firmly entrenched in whatever images she was dreaming about.
Her head was resting against the seat’s window ledge. She’d left the blinds open, enjoying the warmth of the setting Sun against her cheek. For the most part, the flight had been smooth, except for the occasional little jolt.
Images were racing through her brain. Her and her brother with their parents enjoying Christmas morning in the old Chicago family home; summer at the lake splashing and frolicking in the sparkling water; playing Monopoly out on the sauna deck on warm evenings; diving off the dock into the dark forbidding water late into the night.
And, skinny-dipping when she was all alone.
Then, her dream skipped to 1963, at least how she thought it to be from books, movies, and documentaries. A different era, and an era at least as troubled as the one she was in now. Even that decade had faced the danger of extinction.
The Cuban Missile Crisis, when nuclear annihilation had been so close it had been palpable for the people who had lived through it.
Allison visualized in her mind what that world would look like.
The old cars, made with a hell of a lot more character and pizzazz than the ones in her era. The method of dress—at one extreme still old-fashioned, styles from the 50s hanging on for dear life. Contrasting with the ‘Beatle’ haircuts on the boys, the long stringy hair on the girls, and the flowing gowns of the flower children.
Beads, braids, beards, free love, nakedness embraced, torn bell-bottom jeans and shared marijuana joints.
In some ways, similar to 2015, but, in reality, a lot more innocent, pure, and simple.
The 60s didn’t seem to have the phoniness that 2015 presented. And, strangely enough, women had come a long way by the 60s, but it seemed to Allison that in a lot of ways women had taken a step back by the time the 2000s rolled around. More demeaned, more objectified, and more willing to be seen as sex objects. Whereas, women in the 60s seemed more defiant, more confident.
She pictured her and Wyatt strolling along hand in hand, on a street that was totally different than the ones she was used to. Colorful, quiet, happy, safe. She didn’t know why—perhaps it was because she was with Wyatt?
Where would they live? What would they do? Would Wyatt be a police officer?
Would she be able to re-join the JPL as an astrophysicist? There would be no record of her university degrees, so that would be a challenge.
Would she join her father’s hotel empire instead? How could she? He wouldn’t know her. She’d have to apply as just a regular job applicant, which would seem weird.
And, she was reluctant to even entertain the idea of sitting her dad down and telling him who she really was and where she was from. She didn’t mind interfering with Kennedy to save the world, but was scared at the thought of interfering with her own family. What might that do to the balance of things? To them? To her?
Allison knew, of course, the exact date and time of her parents’ and husband’s murders. That car trip along the Oregon coast five years ago, when the assassin’s vehicle came at them head-on, forcing them over the cliff. She might be able to prevent that now when the time arrived. She could plan to be there, or somehow delay their arrival at that point. But, should she?
Would Majestic 12 even exist? Perhaps, if they succeeded in this mission with Kennedy, he might intervene and dis
band the group? It was possible. Which, of course, would change everything. There would have been no need for her parents and husband to be killed.
Her husband.
How would she feel when she saw him again? She wasn’t sure. All she knew now was that she loved Wyatt, and her heart was telling her that those feelings were stronger than she’d ever felt about Jack. Or, anyone else before Jack.
Suddenly, she jerked awake. A moment of turbulence, stronger than the innocent little jolts that had been poking at her.
Allison sat up straight and glanced at her watch. It was 5:45. Fifteen minutes to go. She was angry at herself for sleeping so long. How could she have allowed her mind to cut it so close?
She looked out the window. They were over the Geneva area now, the Alps off to one side and the Jura range on the other. Mountains framing the entire Geneva zone.
The scene wasn’t a calm one, though.
The splendor of the landscape was tainted by ferocious dark clouds, symptoms of a system that had them surrounded. Swirling, angry clouds that seemed alive, fingers reaching outwards, flirting with the wings of the sleek jet.
The plane began its descent. She felt it instantly in the seat of her pants.
Cole started circling the plane as well, getting ready to be at the exact coordinates Allison had given him. She gazed down at the ground—her trained pilot’s eyes estimated that they were already at around 15,000 feet.
Allison turned her head and looked back at the others.
The cardinal and his aide were gazing out the window, no doubt well aware that the moment of truth was close. They seemed calm, resigned.
Senator Hartford just smiled and gave her a silent thumbs-up.
Amazingly, the four CERN scientists were still tapping away at their keyboards. At seeing that, Allison gasped and jumped out of her seat.
“Put those laptops away! Now! We can’t take a chance on the hard drives being erased by the magnetics. That’s why we gave you lead-lined cases, for God’s sake!”
The scientists sheepishly obeyed.
