by A. D. Winch
The lab felt empty, but it was far from quiet. A whirring fan kept the lab inflated, and noise from the hangar outside pierced the plastic sheeting. Before she walked out through the door, Doctor Khan looked back at the two pods and the silver dart. She wondered whether being human was preventing the scientists from getting any of the craft to fly or whether only aliens or those with alien DNA inside them could achieve this feat. If this were the case, then they would never get any of them to move. It was a theory, and it obviously did not apply to opening the pods as both Professor Schwarzkopf and herself had achieved that.
Sighing, she turned away from the craft. Jean Kurtz stood silently in her way. It was impossible to guess how long she had been there. For once, she had entered the lab without the prescribed protective clothing. She stood in Doctor Khan's way in an oversized white lab coat that covered most of a grey business suit she was wearing.
"And what are you thinking about?" she demanded in her whiny voice.
"It doesn't matter," Doctor Khan replied softly.
Kurtz snorted. "Then why do you look sad?"
Doctor Khan shrugged her shoulders.
"I have just been speaking with Professors Warne and Li. They are not happy with you. They are worried that at the meeting with Agent Angel we have nothing to tell him and that this is all your fault."
"But it's not my fault," Doctor Khan replied, her voice rising with every word. "It was I who opened the pods, not them. They're mistaken."
"But they fear that you gave him false expectations."
"How could I? I wasn't allowed to speak. You reported what had happened. You inferred that it was your work rather than mine that had opened the pod."
Kurtz smiled falsely and shook her head slowly. "Poor Khan. The problem with not having English as your mother tongue is that you don't understand the nuances of the language."
"English is one of my mother tongues!"
"Then you should know that we are one team. As a team, we are a chain. We stand and fall together. However, if one part of that chain is a weak link…"
"I am not a weak link!"
"Or a problematic link, then it has to be replaced."
"Without me, we would have never opened the pod again. When Professor Schwarzkopf escaped, we were lost. I got us back on track."
"Don't exaggerate your role, Khan. I am the leader of this group. I got us back on track with my leadership, not you. And as your superior, I demand to know what you were thinking before, when I came in."
Doctor Khan turned to look back at the pods and breathed slowly. If she said nothing, Kurtz would use this against her. If she lied, then Kurtz would know as she had always been a terrible liar, which left her with no option but to tell the truth.
"I was questioning whether it was possible to move these craft, as we are only human. As far as we know, only extraterrestrial beings have piloted them."
"How could babies pilot crafts? That is what was in the pods. They were on a pre-programmed course down to Earth."
"Then why build something like them? I can sit inside one as a fully grown adult. They are, therefore, not meant for just babies, and much easier designs could have been chosen to bring them to Earth. For example, escape pods that had been used before to bring astronauts and cosmonauts back from space."
"It is an interesting theory Khan, but it is too little too late. We meet with Agent Angel in approximately ten minutes, and my team has failed to carry out his wishes. You have failed to carry out his wishes! Now, go and get ready for the meeting. Keep your mouth shut when I talk and don't be a problematic link."
Doctor Khan stormed past Kurtz and held back the desire to push her over. Kurtz watched her go and then approached the pod. If Agent Angel became furious about the lack of progress on the craft, then she would blame Khan. The man did not seem to like her anyway, so it would be an easy way to deflect blame. Even so, she was worried. Only thanks to Khan had they succeeded in opening the pod, and without her insight they may well have not got this far. She buried her hands deep into the pockets of the lab coat, and they rested against her pot-bellied stomach.
Both pods were such strange-looking craft that she doubted whether they flew at all. Perhaps that is what she could tell Agent Angel. Schwarzkopf had had a conversation with her about this some months previously. She placed one hand on the pod and left the other in her pocket. The metal was cold, smooth and faultless. As she stroked her palm downwards over the curves, she began to feel confident that it would fly and could see it shooting gracefully across the sky. Her hand seemed to meld with the metal, and she was holding the pod above its supports as if it weighed no more than a plastic bag. The sudden realization of what she was accomplishing shocked her. Her brain could not comprehend how she could hold such a large object in only one hand. Instinctively, she pulled her other hand out of her pocket to try to support the non-existent weight. The pod fell silently back onto it supports.
Jean Kurtz walked towards the meeting in a daze. Her brain was trying to make sense of what had just happened, and she failed to notice anything going on around her. Mechanics moved out of her way, and squadrons marched past as she wandered across the vast hangar. She was so consumed with events in the lab that she failed to notice that her 'autopilot' had taken her past the meeting room. She had continued much further and was in a much warmer corridor. The increased heat woke her from her thoughts, and she looked around. She had stopped beyond the door to the surveillance room. If she had not had a meeting to go to, she would have laughed about her location, but she did not want to be late. She checked her watch and then continued back up the grey corridor. As she reached the surveillance room door, it swung open, and Agent Angel stormed out. He did not notice Kurtz standing behind and marched away up the corridor.
The door slowly closed, but Kurtz placed her fingers around it, and it came to rest against her palm. It had not been her intention to come here. It had not been her intention to block the door. However, something inside her had done both of these things. She looked at her watch again. The meeting was about to start. She would be late, but she felt strongly that this opportunity would benefit her more in the long term.
Silently, Kurtz crept through the gap in the door and into the surveillance room. She had been here before on several occasions but only under invitation from Agent Angel, never alone. The room was quiet except for fans in the roof which kept the displays cool. The light from this huge bank of screens cast a cinematic glow over the room, but there was only one person in the audience.
Agent Hoover sat at his desk about thirty metres ahead of Kurtz. He was typing on his keyboard and scanning the screens, then typing on his keyboard and scanning the screens, then typing on his keyboard and scanning the screens. The pattern seemed never-ending. Kurtz gazed at him. His movement resembled that of a machine rather than a person. It was as if he was a robot - an obese, pale-skinned, red-faced, bloated robot. However, he was not the reason she had come into this room, and she headed towards the back where no light reached and the darkness was constant.
The floor was concrete, and she was worried that she might be heard. Bending down, she removed her shoes carefully and walked barefoot. She did not want to risk making any sound that may alert Hoover. With each passing step, she moved away from the flickering light and into the dark. A low rasping noise could be heard over the whir of the fans, and the room became warmer still.
Something changed, and she sensed that she was no longer alone in the dark. Goosebumps popped up on her arms and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Quick footsteps, light and childlike, circled her, but she could see nothing. She fought back the urge to run and stayed exactly where she was - too scared to move further forward and too resolute to move back. The footsteps quickened and seemed to be closing in on her. They were behind her, then in front; to the left and then to the right. It was impossible to keep track and then they stopped.
A hand crawled up the inside of her lab coat. Pointed fingers pu
lled at her blouse until it hung loose. Kurtz held back the reflex to scream and continued to stand like a statue. She felt the fingers push her blouse aside and then the clammy hand rested on her stomach. A noise unlike any she had heard before came from the black in front of her and then she was alone. It was at this point that Kurtz remembered to breathe, and then she silently fled.
"I'm pleased you could join us," Agent Angel said sarcastically from behind his lectern. "Sit down! I'm sure there is a space for you somewhere."
She scanned the small room. It was rammed with her team, agents and faces on computer screens. Everyone was looking at her.
"Since when did you wear shoes on your fingers?" Agent Angel asked menacingly, looking at the white pumps she was wearing like gloves on each hand.
Jean Kurtz chose not to answer. She put the pumps on the floor and slid her feet into each one before taking a seat.
"I will ask you why you are late in due course, Miss Kurtz, but for now Agent Lip was speaking."
Agent Lip considered whether it would be worth the effort to kill Jean Kurtz. She decided that it would not be and instead nodded towards her.
"As you well know, as part of Operation Shutdown I have been in regular contact with Agent Hoover. White King and Black Queen are all over the internet, but the OSS has yet to be mentioned. You could argue that this is strange, but the most convincing argument is that no one knows about this agency. Agent Bernard and his team have successfully distributed the idea that the 'Battle of Morocco' is a forthcoming motion picture, and there is an online buzz about this release.
"Our fear of data being released, has yet to materialize. I doubt very much that Professor Schwarzkopf gave us the only copy of the data he stole from the OSS, but even so this is a pleasing result so far. The time this has given us has meant that Agent Bernard has been able to create a complete set of duplicate documents with the locations, dates and names changed. These are all ready to go when needed.
"Unfortunately, none of this solves the problem of what may happen if this data is released. Such an event will cause an 'attack' but an unorthodox one and coordinated by media companies rather than military personnel. If such an event does occur, we need to remember first and foremost that this is a secret base. Nobody knows it is here. Unless we draw attention to ourselves, the media will not wander aimlessly into the desert. If data is released that details this base our first response will be to go into hiding. In other words, mobilize all staff below ground. We will begin drills to vacate the outside area in the shortest amount of time right after the meeting.
"There is one approach road to this base. As we speak, a temporary warehouse is being built over the checkpoint there. This will block the road and will be filled with old, harmless missiles. Anyone who uses this road, even though this is doubtful, will think it is a dead-end and used for the storage of dangerous weapons. This in itself will be a news story. Only a fool would be stupid enough to try and drive around it."
"What happens if we need to get supplies onto the base?" asked one of the scientists.
"Until this threat is over we will use what we already have. We are fully equipped to survive at least six months on a siege footing, longer with strict rationing.
"Moving on, it is a very real possibility that media helicopters could be sent to try and find the base. We can intercept these as I mentioned when I first discussed this. In conclusion, we are ready. The base is secure, secret, and no-one can get onto it unless we allow it."
"Thank you, Agent Lip. You have discarded the idea of nuclear weapon testing?" Agent Angel asked with a smile.
"We will use this as a last resort."
Agent Angel smiled genuinely and rubbed his huge hands together.
"We are prepared. That is what I like to hear. I posed a problem, and you found a solution. Agent Cairn, any sightings on the targets that I am not aware of?"
Agent Cairn leant forward, and the veins in his thick neck pulsed as he replied, "No, Sir. The targets have gone underground, but they won't stay buried forever. We just have to be patient and bide our time."
"But can we bide our time?" Agent Angel asked, addressing the rack of faces on the computer screens.
They all answered together, and there was a garbled response of, "Yes, no, don't know."
"Alaska, you start. You seem to be leading the way with IHBs."
A brown-bearded scientist looked down at his notes before replying. "We reinserted the embryo into a surrogate mother. For a while, it seemed that it would take. Unfortunately, there were complications and the body rejected it. This doesn't mean that every female body will reject such an embryo, and we see this as a solvable problem. Before we repeat this task, we want to make sure that we find or develop the perfect body in which to grow an IHB. We have all been sharing research on this matter," he moved his head left and right, motioning towards the other faces on the screens. "Our combined work has been beneficial and as long as we remain patient and conserve the DNA samples remaining from White King, we are confident of success."
Agent Angel asked, "You said on a previous occasion that you were onto the first stages of growing a human embryo completely into a child on culture media. Progress report."
The brown-bearded scientist shook his head. "If we had an unlimited supply of DNA from White King then it might be possible. Yet, we feel that it is a waste of precious resources to continue when the surrogate mother option seems a more plausible solution."
Agent Angel picked up a black pencil and snapped it with ease. He paced up and down in front of them all.
"I'm so close," he roared, "but why can't we achieve what Larsen achieved with White King and Black Queen? What did she have that we don't?"
The small crowd in front of him stayed silent.
"It's infuriating!" and he banged his fist down hard on the lectern. "But it's okay, for now Jean Kurtz can cheer me up," he added sarcastically. "What do you have to report? And why were you late?"
Jean Kurtz smoothed the white lab coat over her legs and smiled at Agent Angel. She felt confident that he would be pleased.
"I can answer both questions with one answer. I am late because just before the meeting I managed to lift the pod from its stands. This is not full flight, but running begins with just one step. I would have liked to have achieved more, but I would have missed the meeting completely."
The other scientists, in particular Doctor Khan, looked at Jean Kurtz with their mouths wide open.
"And you can prove this, Kurtz?" asked Angel suspiciously.
"I invite you to the lab after you have concluded this meeting, and I will show you."
"In that case, the meeting is over. Dismissed!"
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Chapter 12 – Collecting Modern Art
The OSS still received readings from their surveillance equipment inside and outside the Meyer Villa, but they were ones that Andrea wanted them to receive. She had discovered that some of the cameras watched locations that she and the others would not be going to. These were left to relay real-time images back to the OSS. The remaining cameras were deactivated and a looped film, recorded the day before, would play instead. By the time Eric, Ursula, the Benjamins, Alexander and Johan arrived; they were able to walk freely up the driveway to the front door.
They planned to stay in the villa for as little time as possible. There was a real fear that, in spite of Andrea's precautions, it would not take long for the OSS to discover that something was amiss and send agents to investigate. The 'celebrity' incident with the Albanians had worried them further. If anyone saw them in Prague, it would not take long for this sighting to be posted on the internet as well.
After a short tour for those who had never been there before, Andrea met them all in the larder and took them through to the cellar. It was pitch black, and she switched on the floodlight. Johan and the Benjamins stood at the top of the uneven steps and looked down at the floor below. The Benjamins were shocked that such a lar
ge space had been covered in so much junk. They did not know what lay before them, and walked down the stairs. Johan, however, could not believe what he was looking at. Some objects he had seen only in Hangar 84 many years ago, others he had heard about but most of them he had never seen the likes of before.
"It is a collection of alien artefacts. A museum!" he said incredulously and he joined the others below as fast as he could.
"What do you think we need, Johan?" Eric asked. "You've worked at Roswell and if we are going to create a convincing looking UFO crash then we need to make sure we take convincing looking stuff."
Johan stood in the middle of the items and felt like a child in a toy shop.
"I don't think it matters. Any of this will do. It's incredible," he replied. "Think about what I told you in the campervan. Everything that was found on the day of the crash at Roswell was not from this world. What I see in front of me is no different. I can't believe my eyes. I know you told me that your father had been collecting, and you had discovered his collection in your cellar, but I was not expecting this. This is extraordinary. None of these objects look man-made, and even if they are, the forgery will fool most people."
"Shall we just take anything then?" Ursula asked, struggling to pick up a shiny black item that best resembled a Samurai sword but weighed considerably more.
"No, we need to think about what we can best transport. We must only choose the lightest items."
Ursula dropped the object she was trying to lift, and a loud clang echoed around the cellar.
"But not only the smallest ones," continued Johan. "If we have various sizes then I think that it will be more believable."
They selected items for an hour. As they worked, Alexander chose particular pieces that were the same size as Eric, Ursula and Johan. He found a toolkit and manipulated each piece until he had created large, hollow spaces inside them. By the time he had finished, he had three sarcophagi. Using corrugated metal, he constructed a door for each one that could be slid over the opening from within and cover the person inside. He stepped into the first sarcophagi and tried it out. It was like getting into a coffin. The corrugated metal rested against the side of his body, and he moved the sheet so the hole was blocked.
