‘Majestic Twelve,’ Mitchell replied. ‘They’re moving to shut down any opposition they encounter, and both you and your friend Ethan Warner are at the top of their list.’
Lopez struggled to make sense of what Mitchell was saying.
‘The why haven’t you put a bullet in my brain?’
Mitchell gripped the wheel tighter, as though it was a struggle to get his words out.
‘There have been some developments of late,’ he rumbled, ‘that have caused me to question the role of Majestic Twelve.’
Lopez watched the big man for a long moment before a smile spread across her features.
‘You turned coat on them?’ she mocked. ‘Wow, they must really have tugged your chain, Mitchell. Pension benefits from a criminal organization not what you were hoping for?’
Mitchell had in the past detected Lopez’s sarcastic nature and was surprised to hear it return so soon, the fiery Latino swiftly reverting back to her natural self.
‘Majestic Twelve has grown immensely in power over the past few decades,’ he replied. ‘Ventures that would have been unthinkable to them in the 60’s are now commonplace, and it appears that they consider themselves the effective rulers of western civilization. MJ-12 considers the President of the United States to be merely a cypher, an official elected to appease the public, to make the population of our country believe that they actually have a say and influence on how the country is run. In truth the president has little real power and Majestic Twelve has enough of both the Senate and Congress in its pocket to ensure that any policy unpalatable to them is easily over-ruled.’ Mitchell sighed. ‘That’s not what I signed up for.’
Lopez leaned toward him and jabbed a finger into his big, round shoulder.
‘But you did sign up, didn’t you?’ she accused.
‘I was deceived,’ Mitchell growled back at her. ‘We were signing up to serve our government. Most of us were Vietnam veterans, vagrants with nowhere to go and despised by our own people, the people we thought we had fought to protect from the advance of Communism. Instead, we were spat on and rejected.’
‘Not our country’s finest hour,’ Lopez admitted as she leaned back in her seat.
‘We were the perfect patsies, vulnerable to the promises of a cabal like Majestic Twelve, wealthy and powerful and able to indirectly control assets of the intelligence community. We were trained under the radar by former CIA operatives and deployed to serve the interests of big business instead of our country. Within weeks of accepting their offer I went from living in a cardboard box in Anacostia to earning five figures a year and having my own home again.’
Lopez shook her head.
‘So it didn’t ever cross your mind as odd that you never set foot in the CIA or FBI buildings?’
‘Deniable assets,’ Mitchell replied, ‘paramilitary units attached to clandestine services. After Vietnam, they claimed that the government needed an arm of the military and intelligence community that could be used in complete secrecy without upsetting Congress, which was as keen as anybody to discredit both further overseas military action and appease the public mood. Majestic Twelve capitalized on that.’
Lopez watched the traffic passing them by as Mitchell drove, and realized that she needed to capitalize on this moment while she could.
‘Tell me everything,’ she said. ‘Tell me what their end-game is, what they actually want.’
‘Uncertain,’ Mitchell said. ‘Majestic Twelve was formed in 1947 as a result of the supposed crashed flying saucer incident in Roswell, New Mexico, but also in response to a series of events in the aftermath of the Second World War that occurred in Antarctica.’
‘Antarctica?’ Lopez echoed. ‘What the hell happened up there?’
‘It’s a long story, which you’ll hear about soon enough,’ Mitchell promised. ‘Point is, MJ-12 was an official and militarily supported group until somewhere in the 1970’s, when it was shut down by the government of the time. That’s why the trail of data that investigators follow always dries up and why MJ-12 is generally considered a myth – they officially were removed from all government documentation and all assets and references destroyed. The reason for the excise was that MJ-12 was considered surplus to requirements with the rise of the Black Budget and the expansion of highly secretive military facilities like Area 51 at Groom Lake in Nevada, Edwards Air Force Base, Cheyenne Mountain and others. In essence, military contractors like Lockheed Martin and Boeing took over the development of highly classified projects and rendered MJ-12 obsolete.’
‘So they re-formed outside of the government,’ Lopez figured.
‘Exactly,’ Mitchell confirmed. ‘The most powerful men among those ejected from the government’s circle of trust continued the Majestic Twelve mandate but this time remained highly secretive in their own right. The idea was that employees of the group would serve, not actually knowing that they were serving Majestic Twelve. They recruited operatives, training staff and military hardware using contacts within the military-industrial complex, and needed their own paramilitary force to perform military actions when the United States government were unwilling to put troops on the ground in foreign countries, should the need be required to sustain profits in their business ventures outside of the US.’
Lopez leaned back in her seat as she digested what Mitchell had told her.
‘They become ever more powerful, growing in influence and stature as they commit to profitable ventures around the globe, unhindered by the law, and eventually begin to rival the US government in power.’
Mitchell nodded as he eased off the freeway.
‘Majestic Twelve now has the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation in their pocket, the Speaker of the House, numerous other officials both here and overseas as well as at least four Presidents and Prime Ministers from around the world. They cannot directly influence the president as, remarkably, he managed to win the presidency without their financial backing. But they can and do guide US policy by pressuring Congress with political lobbying, financing the campaigns of politicians in return for policies favorable to their business ventures. When overseas they deploy their paramilitary forces to achieve by force what money cannot, which is why you’re here.’
‘Me?’
Mitchell nodded.
‘I have been outcast by the group for failing to assassinate the President of the United States, or at least ensuring that he died at the hands of Abrahem Nassir.’
Lopez gasped and smiled again.
‘I almost forgot – Ethan must have come through!’
‘He did,’ Mitchell acknowledged, ‘as he annoyingly often does. But his success, and in part my failure, have forced MJ-12’s hand and now they’re on the warpath. The Defense Intelligence Agency’s efforts to root them out have grown from a mild annoyance to a serious threat and they’re acting upon that. I was incarcerated in Florence ADX without trial, and was forced to enact an emergency escape plan I’ve had in place for two decades. It was a one time thing, so I can’t run it again. I’ve played my hand and by now MJ-12 will know it.’
Lopez blinked.
‘You escaped from a security max prison?’
‘Preparation is everything, Miss Lopez,’ Mitchell replied. ‘Now, Majestic Twelve has deployed a paramilitary force to Antarctica, hot on the heels of Ethan Warner and a smaller team sent by the Defense Intelligence Agency to the same location. We need to support them as soon as possible.’
‘Ethan’s in Antarctica?’
‘Yes,’ Mitchell confirmed, ‘because whatever it is that MJ-12 wants is up there. I intend that they will not get hold of it.’
Lopez stared at him for a moment. ‘What’s my part in all of this?’
For the first time, Mitchell smiled.
‘I’ll need you with me to help prevent me from getting shot when I walk into the Defense Intelligence Agency.’
Lopez shook her head.
‘I’ll be damned,’ she whispered, ‘you’re really switching s
ides?’
Mitchell looked at her, his dark eyes smoldering with restrained anger.
‘Majestic Twelve lied to me when they recruited me and have betrayed me for a single decision of which they didn’t approve,’ he growled. ‘That makes me very angry.’
Lopez’s guts contracted slightly as she reflected on what a man like Aaron Mitchell might consider as being very angry. She said nothing more as Mitchell drove slowly toward the DIA Headquarters at Anacostia-Bolling.
***
XIV
Antarctica
General Andrei Veer stood in the cavernous rear of a C-130 Hercules transport aircraft and surveyed the men seated before him. There were one hundred of them in total, each crammed onto the narrow seats lining the fuselage of the gigantic aircraft, and between them were rows of tightly packed ATVs – All Terrain Vehicles, each with four am-tracks and rear-mounted machine guns, and each capable of transporting two armed men across the ice at high speed.
Veer was a giant of a man and stood with his arms folded across a barrel chest, his face half concealed by a thick, dark beard. Cold gray eyes that seemed a reflection of the bitter Antarctic continent far below them scanned the faces of his men and saw neither hubris nor doubt in their gazes.
‘We deploy in ten minutes!’ he boomed, his thick Slavic accent loud enough to be heard above the roar of the Hercules’ four massive turboprop engines. ‘Our target is in the north of Queen Maud’s Land and the Totten Glacier, and we know that an armed force of unknown origin has been deployed to prevent the United States of America from achieving its objectives. It’s our job to ensure that they do not succeed!’
A roar of Hoo-Rar filled the interior of the aircraft as the soldiers, a mixture of former Marines, Army Rangers and other highly skilled units clenched their fists as one and punched the air. Dressed in white Arctic camouflage and with M-16 rifles clutched to their chests, they were heavily armed and well suited to the task at hand.
‘Our primary mission is to recover a highly classified military satellite that is descending out of orbit prematurely toward the glacier,’ Veer shouted above the roar of the engines. ‘The enemy is made up of scientists and soldiers of unknown allegiance but we should not underestimate them: they will be well armed, highly paid and highly motivated, just like all of us. The difference is that the satellite belongs to our country, and we will get it back from them!’
‘Hoo-Rar!’
Veer pointed to the ATVs and the aircraft around them.
‘Expect hostile action! Deploy with full and lethal force! If there are no survivors from the enemy team, then our President will not have to explain to the world what happened up here and the security of our country will remain inviolate!’
‘Hoo-Rar!’
Veer reached for a face mask that lay on the rear of an ATV beside him. He prepared to don the mask and then shouted:
‘Thirty seconds, open the doors!’
The C-130’s loadmaster punched a series of large buttons attached the fuselage wall, and instantly a huge ramp at the rear of the aircraft began to slowly lower and provide a vertiginous view of the world below. The sky above was a deep indigo blue flecked with stars, and behind the aircraft’s massive turboprop engines swirling vapor trails glowed gold in the sunrise as they billowed into the distance in the aircraft’s wake.
The air was cold enough to take Veer’s breath away, ice clinging to his eyebrows and beard until he donned the mask. Oxygen flowed from the mask, allowing him to breath in the bitter cold and the high altitude, low pressure air as he strode to the ATVs. His men lined up on either side of the aircraft’s fuselage, where two hatches were manned by the loadmasters.
A red light high on the fuselage wall suddenly turned green, and the loadmasters opened the hatches to allow a freezing gale to flow through the aircraft as Veer roared into his microphone.
‘Go, now, now, now!’
The troopers deployed one after the other, hurling themselves out of the open hatches either side of the aircraft into the frigid air thirty thousand feet above Antarctica. Veer turned and watched as the loadmasters, all of them protected by masks and Arctic survival clothing, began pushing the ATV’s out of the Hercules.
The vehicles fell away behind the craft one by one, large parachutes deploying behind them and billowing out to slow the vehicles’ descent toward the ice far below. Veer watched for a moment longer as his men poured from the Hercules into the void, and then he sprinted down the fuselage, running faster than the ATVs rolling off the back of the aircraft as he reached the point of no return and hurled himself off the back ramp of the Hercules into the abyss.
Antarctica was sprawled below him, a vast continent of ice bathed in an orange glow from the rising sun behind Veer as he plummeted away from the Hercules. The roar of the aircraft’s engines faded swiftly into memory as he reached terminal velocity, following the black specks of his men as they rocketed in freefall down toward the barren, frigid wastes far below.
The Antarctic coastline demarked clearly the mouth of the Totten Glacier to their south, the glacier tiger-striped with long dark shadows from ridge lines and ranges of hills spreading for miles across the empty, desolate continent.
The roar of the Hercules’ engines was replaced by the scream of wind rocketing past Veer as he plummeted ever downward. He checked his altitude and then squinted down at the icy wastes far below, seeking any sign of their quarry. Within a few moments he spotted a series of glowing streaks, perhaps twelve trails or plumes churned up by vehicles travelling far below them on the surface. On his visor, a small blinking red light marked the location where the signals his employers had detected from what they called Black Knight had been.
Veer spoke into his microphone, loudly enough to be heard over the roar of the wind buffeting past him.
‘Enemy seen, deploy between them and the target. Repeat, cut them off!’
Veer tucked his arms and legs in and tilted his body down, accelerating as he sought to catch his men up and be the first to touch down on the Antarctic wastes. His massive body raced downward and he plummeted past some of his men, who quickly accelerated along with him as they plunged through thin veils of cirrus cloud, the surface of Antarctica increasing in detail below them. Veer could see the vehicles’ plumes more clearly now, the machines heading north toward the same spot marked on his visor with the red icon.
A last glance south revealed the presence of a fairly large ship many miles away, anchored near the coast. Veer grinned inside his mask, knowing that the team on the ice would believe themselves the only people even aware that Black Knight even existed.
They won’t know what’s hit them.
***
XV
Totten Glacier, Wilkes Land,
Antarctica
‘All call signs report in!’
Ethan gripped hold of the ice glider’s handles as he glanced back over his shoulder. The Polar Star was anchored in the frigid black water of the glacier’s mouth, surrounded by immense chunks of flat, floating ice that had calved off the enormous glacier into the Antarctic Ocean.
The low morning sun flared across the horizon behind the ship, the ocean sparkling like burnished copper beneath its glare as the SEAL team deployed their equipment and maneuvered their vehicles into position at the head of the convoy.
The ice gliders they were using were extraordinary tandem twin-seat vehicles, set on three skis in a tricycle configuration, with the two independently suspended outboard skis located at the end of curved arms in the manner of a seaplane’s wings and floats. Behind Ethan, who sat in the rear cockpit of one such craft, was a bio-fuel powered Rotax 914 aircraft engine attached to a three-bladed pusher-propeller with variable pitch. The four-cylinder turbocharged engine pushed out a hundred horsepower and was capable of driving the glider at an incredible eighty miles per hour across the ice.
In the enclosed cockpit, a GPS-enhanced radar system designed to detect voids in the ice and report coordinates to the rest o
f the team was allied to a computer-controlled aiming system for the two machine guns embedded in the glider’s nose. Ethan checked his harnesses and reveled in the warmth billowing into the cockpit from the engine as the driver, Lieutenant Riggs, looked over his shoulder.
‘All set?’
Ethan offered the soldier a thumbs-up and then Riggs opened the throttle and as one the twelve ice gliders soared away from the coast, following a path alongside the glacier as they headed in-land toward the source of the signals detected by NASA and the Defense Intelligence Agency.
‘The location of the signals is just over a hundred miles in from the coast,’ Riggs reported. ‘We’ll be there in a couple of hours, so just hang on and enjoy the ride.’
Ethan gripped hold of the sides of his seat as the glider accelerated across the ice, which was sparkling white in the low sun and striped with deep blue shadows stretching away from them, cast by low hills and jagged, angular outcrops of solid ice shaped by the winds that frequently scoured the barren snow fields.
On a monitor in front of him Ethan could see the GPS display mapping the frigid Antarctic wastes, and on it a small red spot that blinked on and off, demarking their destination deep in the ice fields. Ethan knew that each ice glider carried a small amount of personal baggage along with the SEAL’s weapons and equipment. Weighed down by the excess gear the vehicles were limited to around sixty miles per hour across the ice, much of which was maintained by their momentum once moving. The engine behind him roared, his ears protected by a headset that allowed him to communicate both with the driver and the other members of the team.
Ethan looked out of the long, tear-drop shaped canopy and saw other ice gliders blazing across the ice nearby, their propellers whipping up spiralling vortexes of snow behind them that glowed and sparkled in the sunlight. He turned back to the view forward and almost immediately he spotted something on the display before them.
The Black Knight Page 9
