Out of Time (The Adventures of Eric and Ursula Book 4)

by A. D. Winch

  The teams of mechanics knew the drill. They grabbed fire extinguishers that were stored near to the aircraft and ran towards the drone. There was no sign of fire, but fuel was leaking onto the floor, and it would only take one spark from the damaged cables to cause an explosion. Mechanics removed the safety pins and pulled the triggers on their extinguishers. White foam shot over the drone, the cables, and the floor around it. The risk of fire reduced, but smoke was beginning to creep out from the crumpled nose.

  Back in the pilot's room, Andrea looked at the images being relayed from a smashed wing camera until foam covered the lens. She had achieved her first objective and calmly walked away from the controls. Before she left the room, she removed a phone from her pocket and took photos. She made sure that they added the GPS coordinates from the spot above the base where she landed earlier. As she closed the door behind her, she could hear the muffled cries of the drone's real pilot as she saw the damage Andrea had caused.

  Four figures in white, protective lab coats left the temporary lab to the sound of shouting in the hangar. They were covered in protective clothing from head to foot, and their faces were hard to see. They glanced briefly at the crash and then walked off in the opposite direction. Built into the cave wall was a long, wide corridor, and they walked towards it. Johan led the way confidently until they reached the infirmary. He stopped them outside the room where Eric had been kept. There was no one in the neatly made bed, and a nurse rushed past them.

  "Are you sure you can get to the alien from here?" Johan said quietly.

  "Yes, but I'm coming with you." Eric told him.

  Johan took hold of Eric's arm and pulled him into the room. Ursula and Karima followed and stood by the door, guarding the exit.

  "You're not coming with me. You have your own job to do. Let me deal with him," Johan whispered.

  "I want my revenge," Eric hissed.

  "And you will have it, but you must allow me to do this for both of us. I promise that I will avenge you."

  "But…"

  "No buts, Eric. Buddy Angel will kill you. If you are lucky. He will try to kill me as well, but I have lived my life, and you must live yours. You have to go."

  "I'm not going to see you again," Eric said sadly, suddenly sensing Johan's fear.

  Johan shook his head. "You're probably right."

  He began to cough violently. It was unexpected, and he was unable to get to the handkerchief in his pocket in time. The iron taste rose up from his throat, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand instead. As he pulled it away, Eric could clearly see blood smeared across Johan's pale skin.

  "What's wrong with you?"

  "Nothing," Johan lied.

  "After what we've been through and what we're doing now, you could at least tell me the truth!" Eric shouted.

  "Quiet," Ursula begged, looking towards them. The corridor was empty but it wouldn't stay that way if loud voices were heard.

  Eric said nothing and Johan took hold of him. He dragged Eric to the corner of the room with a strength he didn't know that he possessed. For months, he had kept a secret that he had not wanted to tell anyone, but now he was forced to. He pushed Eric into a wheelchair and put shaking hands on the boy's shoulders. Johan's head dropped forward, and he brought his mouth close to Eric's ear. He spoke quietly so only Eric could hear, and his voice trembled.

  "Do you know the hardest thing to admit to ourselves?" He didn't wait for an answer. "It is that we are going to die. We all know that it is going to happen. I may die today, but I hope not. I will die in the next few months though, and I know this for certain." He paused and took a deep breath. "I have terminal lung cancer. I have had this disease for as long as I have known you. I am dying, and there is nothing I can do about it. You are also dying Eric, as is Ursula, but I strongly believe that there is a cure for you. But you must act now. Your revenge will be to live, Eric, and for that we must part."

  Eric stood and spontaneously hugged Johan.

  "You saved me," Eric whispered.

  Johan held the boy tightly and replied, "And you saved me Eric, but now we have to act. There is no time for sentimental goodbyes. Speed is of the essence. Please tell Alexander I'm sorry. Now we have to do this!"

  Eric let go, and Johan turned away from him before he could say anything else. The door was still closed, but Johan opened it and pushed Doctor Khan out of the room. The two of them walked back the way they had come. When they reached the hangar, they walked from one side to the other. They took a passing interest in the crash as they went past. Smoke billowed from the nose, and the mechanics were trying to remove the crumpled metal so they could extinguish the source. A soldier approached the two scientists. He explained that it was too dangerous and ordered them to move away. They followed his words and did not stop until they went through an entrance nearby.

  "Just get your important items," Johan whispered to her. "I will meet you behind the lab as soon as I can."

  "Where are you going?" Doctor Khan asked desperately.

  "I have to see an old friend," Johan told her and walked towards Agent Angel's office.

  Back in the infirmary, Eric had regained his composure and had pushed the wheelchair to the door. Ursula could sense that any conversation about Johan was off-limits.

  "As I told you before," Eric began. "I have only ever been to this room with a bag on my head and in a wheelchair. You push, and I will direct you with my eyes closed." He jumped into the wheelchair. "Are you ready?"

  Ursula nodded.

  "Then let's go."

  Andrea walked into the hangar and looked briefly at the damage she had caused. Close to her was an Aurora jet. The dark grey, triangular body seemed to suck in any remaining light and dwarfed Andrea. She walked past it, then past the Raptors and the Black Hawk helicopters until she reached trucks at the end of the row. It was quieter on this side of the hangar. All attention was on the crashed drone. Andrea removed her phone and took photos of the hangar and its vehicles. Once again, the GPS coordinates were recorded.

  A line of jerry cans stood close by. She picked up the nearest to her. Alexander had told her to find something that may draw attention to the base. Logically, fire would achieve this purpose. The lid was easy to turn, and when it came loose, she could see liquid sloshing inside. She took two cans.

  Andrea walked around the back of the trucks until she reached the far wall of the hangar and could continue no further. She moved carefully towards a truck's cab and peered out from behind it. Nobody was looking her way. She had forty metres of empty floor to pass before she reached the camouflage netting, but the hangar was still dark, and the emergency green lighting provided excellent cover. If anyone did look her way, it was doubtful that they would suspect anything out of the ordinary.

  The jerry cans were pulling at her arms, but her grip was tight, and she would not drop them. She took one last look and then strode out. Andrea walked fast but did not rush. When she reached the netting, she lifted it up, slid the jerry cans underneath and then followed.

  Outside the hangar, the low mountains surrounding the base were backlit in dark blue rather than black. The sun was beginning to rise. Andrea knew that she did not have much time and stopped for a second to take a photograph of the hangar entrance and then of the runway. Both were dark, but enough could be seen for people to ask questions. She picked up the jerry cans again, found a path leading upwards and began to climb. The path was steep, and rocks moved underfoot as she walked, but this did not slow her down. She was completely alone. Operation Shutdown had driven the OSS into the mountain.

  High above Andrea, a golden eagle circled in the dawn sky. She ignored it and continued to climb. When she reached the peak, she climbed down the other side until she could see the dim lights of Roswell far away. She put the jerry cans down, opened one and then stopped. She was unsure how to proceed. After so many years in close contact with people, she still did not fully understand human nature. Her actions since the drone crash conform
ed perfectly to the escape plan. Problems had presented themselves, but she had rapidly found solutions. She had even made the logical decision to take the fuel. However, she no longer knew how to proceed in the most effective manner.

  If…then clauses were rapidly processed. If a fire is lit in a deserted area, then people will come to extinguish it. If a fire is lit, then people will keep away. If a fire is lit, then people will be curious. Curious? That was the key word. She had to make people curious. Andrea took the open jerry can and used half the contents to write a huge 'h' on the mountainside. She joined this to a huge 'e' and poured out diesel until the can was empty. The diesel in the other can provided the 'l' and 'p', and the fuel glistened on the ground. Andrea considered how she would light the letters without any matches or a lighter, and concluded that she would have to make fire.

  Small clumps of dry twigs and branches were scattered on the ground, and Andrea collected a bunch. She brushed them around the inside of the jerry cans until they were covered in the remaining diesel. She held this in one hand and then searched through the rocks and stones until she found a piece of flint. Andrea knew that it was possible to make fire from flint and steel but as she banged the stone against the jerry can, she did not know if she could make it work. Small sparks flew from each collision, and she held the dry branches closer to the jerry can. Sparks bounced off and onto the dirt or flew on to the branch without lighting. Andrea persisted, until a spark ignited and a twig began to burn. As the diesel ignited, the fire quickly spread, and Andrea held the fiery lantern to the tip of the 'h'. The diesel lit and quickly spread, illuminating the letters and burning 'help' into the hillside. For two minutes, the letters burned and she took another photograph. She had taken enough now and emailed them to an address Jason had set up. It would be his job to spread these across the world wide web. By the time the photos had been sent, the fuel was gone, and the flames went out. Dark black letters had been left on the hillside.

  There was nothing more that Andrea could do. She took one last look at 'help' and asked herself, if humans had seen this then would they come? If they did then she did not want them to find her, and she began the long walk across the desert to Roswell.

  "Incoming," Jason said to himself as Mémé entered his room.

  "Are you talking to me?" she asked as she found a place on his crowded desk for the plate of ham and cheese. She had wanted to bring bread, but had ruined the dough.

  "No," he said, without glancing up and stuffing a cracker into his mouth. "This," and he pointed to the screen as crumbs flew over his hand.

  A window had appeared on his screen with message written above it. It read, uploaded video of UFOs please distribute. Jason watched the short film of blue and yellow lights in the night sky. The video finished and message appeared on the screen again. He opened up the email and scanned through the photos of the OSS base. Each one had the GPS coordinates stamped across the bottom.

  "What are they?" Mémé asked.

  "They're ammunition, Madame B, and I have to send them around the world." He rammed a piece of cheese between his teeth. As he chewed, he said, "I'll start with my media group. More fuel for the fire."

  "Oh," Mémé uttered. "Do you want any more food?"

  "This food is great Madame B. Merci beaucoup."

  "I'll come back later with some dessert."

  "Epic!" Jason replied.

  Mémé did not know what he meant but took this as her cue to leave.

  Of the five hundred media companies that Jason had sent the OSS data files to, less than fifty had opened the email. Of those that had, only eleven had read more than one file, and none had felt there was enough visual proof to investigate further. This all changed when the photos arrived, and they watched the 'UFO and plane crash' video near to the base. A number of the big networks contacted the Roswell Daily Record, and journalists were sent out to investigate the location given by the coordinates in the photographs. Suddenly media groups were sensing a story, and the race was on to get it to the public first.

  Back to Contents

  ***

  Chapter 21 - Old Friends

  Johan stood outside Agent Angel's office. He contemplated whether he should knock first before entering but decided against it. He held the gun in his hand and pushed the door open silently. Buddy Angel was sat behind his desk in the near darkness, talking on the phone. There was an eerie green glow in the room.

  "A UFO suddenly appears, a plane goes up in flames in the desert, one of our drones crashes into the hangar, and our data is suddenly released. Goddam it Hoover, don't argue with me! We are under attack, and I bet my bottom dollar that I know who is behind it…" On hearing footsteps, he looked up. "Schwarzkopf!"

  As he said Johan's surname, he could see the traitor standing inside his office with a gun pointing in his direction.

  "John Schwarzkopf," he said loudly, putting the phone down. "As I live and breathe. Of all the people I didn't expect to see here, you were top of my list."

  Agent Angel began to get up.

  "Stay there, Buddy," Johan told him, slowly stepping towards the two leather chairs in front of the desk.

  "Don't be like that. We both know that you are not going to shoot me. You're a scientist, not a soldier. Whereas, I am a soldier, and that is why I also have a gun."

  Agent Angel's hands moved onto the desk and in one of them he held a revolver.

  "If we were going to have a shoot-out, I wouldn't put my money on you, my old friend. You just…"

  He never finished the sentence. Johan pulled the trigger. The gun was more powerful than he had expected, and he struggled to hold it straight as the bullet shot out from the barrel. It buried itself in Agent Angel's shoulder with a thud, and the revolver fell out of his bear-like hand.

  "Goddam, that smarts, John!" he said, trying to make a joke of it as he grimaced in pain. However, he could not hide that he was seething. He ignored Johan's order to stay where he was and got up. His arm dropped limply by his side, and blood poured from the wound and soaked into his desert-coloured top.

  "Good shot. I think you've gone right through my tendon, but I doubt that you meant to. Judging by the pale colour you have turned, I think you expected to kill me. That's the problem with hand weapons, John, they require a great deal of strength to shoot in the direction you intended. The recoil, as you've just experienced, can be quite something. I'm going to my chair, John. I'm going to sit down, and then I'm going to open the bottle of Bourbon on the table and pour us two glasses."

  Johan looked at the table and saw the bottle and tumblers all ready to be used.

  "You knew I was coming?"

  "I wish I had. Then I would have substituted the Bourbon for cyanide," he said calmly, emphasizing that this was not a joke.

  Agent Angel slumped into the chair and winced. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and down into his grey beard. He picked up the bottle with his good hand and poured two glasses of Bourbon. Johan remained rooted to the spot and watched Buddy carefully.

  "Sit down, John. Don't be shy. You can still point the gun at me, and you'll be closer. It will be easier to kill me that way, but you won't now. There is no question that killing me was your intention when you walked in here but, as I have already said, you won't do it now. You see that I am in pain. You don't have the mettle to finish me off."

  "You don't know that."

  "Yes, I do. Now you see me wounded, your brain is telling you to help rather than harm me further. Don't take it badly, it's not uncommon. It's why we desensitise soldiers until they can kill on demand."

  Johan would not admit it, but Buddy was right. To kill the man sat before him suddenly seemed so much harder. To end his life in this way, now that it was real and not something he had imagined, would be a crime from which Johan knew he would never recover. He sat down heavily but continued to point the gun at Buddy.

  "Have a drink. To make things easier, let me take a sip from both glasses, so you know they are not poisoned
and then you can choose the one you want."

  Johan waited while Buddy drank, but he did not take either glass.

  "I'll choose then," Buddy said and took the one nearest to him. He drank the contents down in one and studied Johan with the glass still in his hand. "Why did you come here to kill me, John? We were friends, weren't we?"

  Johan's head was spinning. His simple plan to find Buddy, pull the trigger and leave, had unravelled spectacularly. He had never intended to sit down and drink with the man. To answer questions and… Questions filled his head that he too wanted answering. He needed to understand. Without telling Buddy, he needed to put him on trial so he could justify pulling the trigger when the moment came.

  Johan picked up the glass of Bourbon and drank it down in one shot. A coughing fit followed, but he managed to keep his gun pointed at the murderer sat opposite him. Agent Angel said nothing but lit a cigar instead. He blew the smoke purposefully towards Johan, who coughed.

  "I came to kill you because you killed Ingrid, and you also had Eric Meyer's parents killed."

  "I didn't kill, Ingrid."

  "Don't lie to me. I know she was in the European Space Station. I know that the OSS found her. I know that missiles were fired from Diego Garcia. You killed her."

  Agent Angel raised his good arm in the air. "Goddam it John, I didn't kill Ingrid." He paused and took a long drag on his cigar. As he blew the smoke towards Johan, he added, "You did."

  Johan fought back the desire to laugh and asked, "How could I? I thought she was dead."

  "Let's be honest with each other, John. Over the years you worked for the OSS, and the subsequent years when you thought you were working for the government or the CIA or the FBI or NASA or any other agency, you enjoyed your work. Admittedly, most of the time you were working for me and the OSS, but you weren't to know that until I needed to bring you back here. Over all this time, your discoveries, many of which I pushed your way, made you famous within your field and, for a short while, with the public too. You enjoyed your relative fame, John, you know you did. You enjoyed showing off your new discoveries to important people, and I enjoyed reaping the rewards of your work.