Disclosing the Secret

by Vincent Amato

  Jake couldn’t help but be distracted. His eyes wondered for a second as he detected a faint but familiar wisp of perfume fill the room.

  Is that HER scent? Jake wondered.

  He drew in a deep breath through his nose. There was no mistake; he knew that signature fragrance.

  Jake’s lopsided smirk now stretched out to a wide smile. “I won’t need to.”

  The soldier was incredulous. “I cannot imagine what you could possibly have to smile about!”

  Jake’s eyes narrowed to a soul penetrating gaze. “Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn.”

  At first the soldier seemed somewhat confused at the remark. Then, with a trickle of realization, he spun to face what was behind him. When he saw it his blood went cold, and his eyes bulged at the sight of the weapon now being leveled at him.

  *

  Self-preservation is the first law of nature, second only to the imperative of protecting a loved one. Natasha felt her primal urges blaze through her core as she silently appeared in the doorway. As if in slow motion, she leveled the gun she’d picked up from one of the fallen soldiers downstairs. Bringing her hands together in alignment with her hulking target, her knuckles turned white, her fingers clenching the gun in rage. Closing one eye, Natasha pivoted her head until she could see the huge figure through the gun sight. When everything lined up, she closed both eyes, turned her head away and discharged her weapon.

  *

  Jake dropped to the floor as bullets sailed over his head, covering his head to protect himself.

  The soldier didn’t get time to re-aim his weapon at Natasha. His arm had only swung around halfway toward her before his torso was engulfed in a hail of bullets. The extended arm holding the pistol burst in a spray of crimson red as bullets sailed through muscle tissue. His hand involuntarily flexed, causing it to fire as it swung toward Natasha, sending another stream of bullets across the room. Gunshots roared. Spent shells clinked onto the hardwood floor. Plaster and timber debris was sent ricocheting around the room, engulfing Jake in a haze of dust and splinters.

  Most of the bullets that found their mark on the soldier were embedded in his ballistic vest. Nevertheless, the force of the bullets rendered him unconscious before his body hit the floor.

  Eyes still clenched tight, Natasha kept firing, her weapon ticking over even though its magazine was now completely empty.

  Slowly, the white haze cleared as the dust settled in the room. Jake was still sprawled on the floor, his arms over his head. His clothes had turned to a lighter shade from the dust. Faint light streamed sideways into the room through newly formed holes in the walls. The unconscious intruder lay face down in a twisted heap, his arm pumping out blood. The only sound that could now be heard was that of Natasha’s empty weapon clicking over as she kept pulling the trigger.

  Realizing it was over, Jake sprung to his feet, leaping over the soldier’s body toward Natasha.

  She dropped the gun as soon as she saw Jake move. He pulled her in, both arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace.

  Jake’s cheeks pressed hard against hers. “Would it be a cliché if I said I’m so happy to see you?”

  She didn’t respond; Natasha just held onto him.

  As Jake’s heart rate calmed and his adrenalin subsided, he noticed her cheeks were moist. He gave her a kiss and gazed deep into her eyes. They were watery. She pulled back from him, bottom lip quivering.

  If a line of reason had ever existed, Natasha had now crossed it. Shocked beyond belief at her own actions, she stood frozen, staring at the bleeding body on the floor. Sensing Natasha’s fear, Jake crouched down near the motionless figure and reached to feel a pulse.

  “Don’t worry,” Jake said, feeling around the soldier’s chest. “He’s got a vest on; he’ll be okay. You only got him in the arm.”

  Natasha’s face was bloodless with dread.

  Jake stood. “What is it?”

  She struggled to find the words. “They came for me too. I got away.”

  Jake’s heart sank, and he suddenly felt short of breath as his chest tightened with fear. Silently he grabbed her, squeezing her tight.

  It was then he felt a low rumble vibrate through the floor.

  Their eyes met; Natasha had felt it as well. “An earthquake?”

  CHAPTER 63

  Silent and unseen, a remotely piloted matte black drone circled at an altitude of 25,000 feet above Jake’s neighborhood. Onboard, its light detection and ranging (LiDAR) technology and computer enhanced imaging (CEI) radar was trained on Jake’s upstairs study. It was technology borrowed from F117A stealth fighters; the LiDAR and CEI radar were able to see objects in a house to the resolution of an inch at an altitude of 30,000 feet. It allowed a F117A to track a person walking from room to room and identify the model of side-arm hidden in their jacket. Currently the drone’s surveillance instruments were streaming video and radar telemetry to a dark-colored van stationed in Jake’s street.

  Alpha stood behind the seated agent monitoring the incursion to apprehend Jake Marcel; the van was a mobile command center packed with computer servers, display monitors and assault rifles. Alpha’s eyes flashed concern at the LCD monitor displaying the video stream.

  He had watched as the thermal image of Natasha’s slender form had picked up an object from a motionless operative and slowly advanced toward the room now occupied by Jake and Alpha’s second-in-command, Bravo.

  The agent was providing support to the assault unit. “Bravo, there’s a Tango approaching your six. Respond.”

  Both Alpha and the support agent were fixed on Natasha’s red thermal image closing in on Bravo and Jake. There was no response.

  The support agent turned to Alpha and said, “Sir, it’s possible that his comms unit was damaged in the altercation.”

  “She wouldn’t dare!” Alpha whispered, seething.

  Seconds later the monitor showed a red thermal image of Bravo holding a surrendered Jake at gunpoint. Natasha’s form was raising a weapon.

  Alpha exploded into his comms unit, “Shake them out!”

  The rear doors of the unmarked van flew open; Alpha was still barking commands as he stormed out into the street: “Unit Two, blockade the street! NOBODY LEAVES!”

  Instantly the side doors of a second van opened to reveal a strange looking gun mounted on a turret. Larger than a traditionally mounted 50 millimetre caliber machine gun, the device comprised two large dishes that produced high-intensity, low-frequency sound waves similar to those generated during an earthquake. When focused, the high-energy sound waves were a non-lethal weapon. They cause nausea and disorientation in combatants by saturating the inner ear, which regulates spatial orientation, with high energy sound.

  When focused on a building, the high-energy beam makes the structural elements resonate. Cycling the beam through various low frequencies causes the building to continue to tremble when its natural frequency is matched by the sonic weapon. When that happens, the vibration intensifies until the building literally shakes itself apart.

  With a deep rumble, the sonic weapon’s hum intensified as it focused on Jake’s house. At first the house creaked and groaned, as if irritated by the inaudible sound waves being focused on it.

  As the energy of the beam intensified, the windows started to vibrate. Then the walls began to tremble. Eight seconds later the house began swaying back and forth as if under assault by its own private earthquake.

  In front of the trembling house two of Alpha’s teams materialized from another parked van to form a roadblock in front of the neighboring properties on each side of Jake’s residence. Two soldiers headed for the rear of the house to cover the back door. Another two soldiers remained on the front lawn, readying their weapons.

  The agent monitoring the live thermal stream watched as Jake appeared to hold onto the walls, struggling to keep his balance. Natasha was holding her stomach as she followed, also appearing to have difficulty walking. Jake paused then stumbled into what looked lik
e a bedroom. He retrieved an object from underneath a desk then rummaged through a couple of drawers. Finding what he was looking for, he wrote something on it then took Natasha’s hand to lead her down the stairs.

  The controller used a joystick to zoom in on the moving couple as they struggled to keep their footing, gripping the walls as they rushed through the house into the garage.

  Outside, two soldiers holding position on the front lawn exchanged glances at the sound of a motorcycle revving over the trembling sound of the shaking house. After giving confirming hand signals, they repositioned themselves on the driveway immediately in front of the garage doors.

  They exchanged puzzled looks, but held their positions, as the sound of the bike’s revving engine seemed to move from the garage into the house.

  Inside the van, the agent’s brow furrowed in confusion as he watched the video stream. The heat signatures from Jake and Natasha appeared to have driven into the trembling house.

  Alpha watched in astonishment as the house’s front door exploded outwards, smashed through by the raised front wheel of Jake’s motorcycle.

  The waiting formations of soldiers were freeze-frames of confusion and surprise as the bike screamed across the footpath, crossed the road, and gunned up the driveway on the opposite side of the road, avoiding both roadblocks and the waiting soldiers on the driveway in front of Jake’s garage.

  The soldiers’ eyes followed the sound of the bike, its engine howling as it crashed through a backyard fence to find the parallel street on the other side of the houses.

  All eyes turned to Alpha as the scream of Jake’s engine faded in the distance.

  *

  Twenty minutes later, Jake was still tearing through deserted suburban streets. He checked the mirrors and the sky but didn’t spot anyone in pursuit.

  He pulled over in the front of cascading steps that led to the large wooden arched doors of an old church. Beside the church was the cemetery that was his grandfather’s final resting place.

  “Why are we stopping? We need to get out of here!” Natasha’s voice was frantic.

  Jake fully understood Natasha’s trepidation. The shock of what had occurred back at Jake’s place had solidified her worst fear. Natasha’s eyes told him what he already knew; that everything had spiralled wildly out of control and now they were on the run.

  But was it really within the realms of possibility that their lives were now in danger because of what they knew? Or even worse, for what they had in their possession?

  Jake dismounted. “They don’t only want to kill the messenger, they want to kill the message! Wait here!”

  Eye’s wild with fear, Natasha watched in silence as Jake approached the arched double doors of the church and knocked twice. The creaking of a heavy metal lock being turned could be heard from inside. The door moaned as it slowly swung open. Inside stood a priest, his expression a mix of concern and annoyance.

  The priest hesitated at the sight of Jake, a flash of recognition in his eyes. “Can I help you?”

  Jake stared as the words hung in the air. It was the same priest who had approached Jake at the cemetery when he had retrieved the small non-terrestrial crash piece from his grandfather’s tomb.

  Jake plunged his hand into his jacket to produce a small object wrapped in a T-shirt. He held it out to the priest and said, “I need you to keep something safe for me.”

  CHAPTER 64

  Mr. Sabre stepped through the doorframe where Jake’s front door had once hung. As a NSA agent Sabre had been trained to think on a macro-evolutionary level, setting aside any ethical, moral or legal concerns and focusing on the preservation of the human civilization. Collateral losses in the form of civilian lives had always been justified, outweighed by the need to protect the masses from external non-human interests.

  Sabre’s mandate was to keep the ET truths from touching humanity’s delicate consciousness no matter the unfortunate human collateral. However, protecting the masses from the secret was effectively protecting the masses from themselves. Or rather, protecting an unready, immature civilization from its own negative reaction resulting from learning the truth. A truth that had the potential to tear the fabric of human society from the inside out.

  The house was a frenzy of movement. Downed combatants were having their wounds attended to while agents were searching through cupboards and drawers.

  “Sir, they’ve fled the premises.” Alpha’s robotic report came from behind.

  Turning slowly, Mr. Sabre met the emotionless eyes of his second-in-command, who was approaching from the front door. Sabre stepped back out into the early morning light appearing over the suburban rooftops.

  “What about the road blocks?” Sabre’s tone was razor sharp.

  “They didn’t work, sir,” Alpha said, hesitating, his expression turning to one of confusion. “But our drone is still tracking them. They seem to be heading for the open desert.”

  Alpha’s response was met with an intrigued look from Sabre. The NSA leader seemed to consider it for a moment. What was in the desert?

  Enraged now, Sabre pushed past Alpha and stormed toward the closest SUV. “We’re going to need air support. Round up everyone.”

  *

  Nellis Air Force Base occupies over 4,000 hectares of the Las Vegas Valley in Nevada and is home to more aircraft squadrons than any other military installation in the United States. Located at the north-east tip of downtown Las Vegas, it’s approximately 290 miles from Los Angeles and 288 miles from the Grand Canyon National Park.

  Four black SUVs converged on the multi-lane entrance to Nellis, storming toward the security checkpoint. Two armored guards materialized from their security hut to meet the approaching convoy, halting in surprise as they watched the vehicles tear past without stopping.

  Inside the base’s Combined Air and Space Operations Center, the Air Force Chief of Staff General John Archer was midway through a phone conversation with the security of the National Security Council. His eyes darted between the 10-foot high wall screens that overlooked the Operations Room and his internal security now amassing at the room’s entrance.

  The disturbance at the entrance to the operations room drew the general’s attention. Contingents of armed soldiers in black fatigues were muscling their way past base security, led by a black-suited figure.

  “Yes, sir.” the general replied into the phone, his eyes trained on base security now threatening to draw their weapons on the intruding detachment.

  Before the base security guard could level his gun he found himself being flipped over the shoulder of one of the intruders. Seconds later the three remaining security personnel were being met by overwhelming firepower, the nozzle of FN SCAR assault rifles directed at their faces. With the line of defense now nullified and dropping to their knees, the man in the black suit approached the general.

  General Archer put down the phone. “Are you the one they call Sabre?”

  A tense silence filled the room.

  The general continued. “You have no right to storm in by force, despite your clearance with the NSC!”

  “Actually, I have every right,” Mr. Sabre said, his voice eerily calm. “Cosmic Clearance, Top Secret UMBRA, National Security – pick one. I have an enemy of the state on the move and only a short window to apprehend him. I’m going to need to second all available helicraft.”

  “Sir?” A controller manning one of the 500 flat-screen monitors in the command facility looked up from his terminal. “There’s a call for Mr. Sabre coming through on the priority line; it’s from NORAD.”

  The general glared at Sabre. “You’re having your calls directed here too now?”

  Archer read between the lines. The North American Aerospace Defense Command, NORAD, is a defense surveillance and aerospace warning facility servicing the North American region. Housed inside Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado, NORAD provides tactical missile warning and attack assessment to the governments of Canada and the United States, as well as tracking
both domestic and foreign satellites. If Sabre was taking calls from NORAD, the general suspected the information would be classified above his own clearance.

  “Put it on loud speaker.” Archer commanded.

  “Go ahead, you’re on with Mr. Sabre,” the controller’s voice boomed over the speakers feeding the command center.

  “Sir, we’re tracking a Fastwalker on approach to the western coast.”

  The general was glaring at Sabre. “What the hell is a Fastwalker?”

  The booming voice went on: “On its current trajectory it’s going to enter the upper atmosphere in 22 minutes at a speed of mach 28.”

  The general did the calculation in his head. “The space shuttle never reached that speed. What is that thing?”

  Sabre ignored the question, instead turning toward the controller managing the call. “Can you patch their telemetry onto your screens?”

  Looking almost scared, the controller’s eyes darted at the general, as if to ask permission. With a dismissive wave, Archer silently agreed. After clicking through a number of windows on his screen the controller looked up at the main screens that were the focal point of the command center.

  Its current radar map tracking local air traffic dissolved into an image of the United States. A thin yellow line representing the object’s path extended from off screen and slowly lengthened over the North Pacific Ocean toward the United States western coastline. A gray dashed line then extended from the moving object’s current position to predict its direction. The dashed gray line stopped in the Nevada desert region, based on the object’s speed and rate of descent.

  “Sir.” Alpha was handing Sabre a small tablet. “Telemetry from the drone tracking the target.”

  Sabre took hold of the tablet, studying the bird’s eye view of Jake and Natasha tearing across a road that appeared to cut through an arid unpopulated area. He zoomed out and swiped to a screen that plotted the bike’s location over a larger map. Jake was now outside the city limits, headed for open desert.