by Terence West
* * * *
Christina regained consciousness in a stark white room. Setting up in the bed, she looked around the room. Reaching up she wiped her hands across her face. "Where am I? What happened?" She blurted out.
Sitting in the chair beside Christina's bed, Susan Anderson felt relieved. "Christina honey, are you okay?"
Looking over at her mother she had that far away look in her eye. "What happened to me Mom?"
Reaching over to the bed she grabbed Christina's hand. "You fell and hit your head, dear. You've got to be more careful." She took a long breath. "Your teacher said that you just started screaming in the middle of class, then you ran out of the room. Mr. Jones tried to stop you but you just ran out the front door."
"I remember now. I tripped on the steps and fell down." She reached up and felt a bump on her head. Closing her eyes she leaned back against the wall. "It has been a long week."
"I know honey." She was trying to be comforting. "You lay down and try and get some rest. I've got to get home."
"Why do you have to go, Mom? Can't you just stay with me?" Christina had always hated hospitals. She always felt queasy when she was in one.
"I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm meeting someone a little later."
"Who?"
Susan paused. They hadn't told her about the Private Investigator yet. "A man named Jake Silver ... he's a Private Investigator."
"A private investigator? What do you need one of those for?"
"Your father and I felt that we needed more results than the police were giving us." She felt as if she was apologizing to her daughter. "We did it for you, so you could have some kind of closure. So you could know what happened to you."
"I told you what happened. Mom." She turned away from her mom. "I knew nobody would believe me."
"That's not true. You know we—"
She was sobbing heavily. "It is true, Mom. You all think that I'm crazy! I'm talking about hovering blue lights and little green men. No wonder no one believes me."
"We believe you, Christina. That's why we hired a private eye." She was pleading now. "We want to believe you."
Turning her head to look at her mom she smiled. "Thanks."
Standing up, Susan leaned over the bed and kissed Christina on the forehead. "Everything's going be all right. You try and get some rest and I'll be back soon." Pulling up the sheets, she kissed her daughter again and walked out of the room.
* * * *
"Alpha One to Reconnaissance Team, come in Recon."
"Recon Team here. Go ahead Alpha One."
"We will be in range in three minutes."
"Understood."
"Alpha One out." Colonel Hunter stood on a small hill above the wreckage of Red Bird. The warm winds whipped through his hair. It was a hot and dry day in the desert. For miles around all he could see was light brown. Light brown dirt and light brown sagebrush. Adjusting his sunglasses, he tapped the mic on his walkie-talkie. "Major Griggs, do you copy?"
"Yes Sir."
"Air support will be in the area in three minutes. Get your men out of the way when they do their sweep. Copy?"
"Affirmative."
Stepping around in front of the white Jeep he stared at the crater. It was immense. All vegetation one hundred and fifty around the crater had been charred. The search team had found shards of glass mixed in with the sand. Whatever had hit, it had been hot enough to sear sand into glass, and left a hole big enough to land a plane in.
He began to hear the tell tale sounds of rotor blades. Turning around, he saw a helicopter approaching from the south. It was similar in shape and size to Red bird, and also carried the same crew compliment.
The speaker on his walkie-talkie sputtered to life. "Alpha One to Recon team."
"Recon here," Hunter answered. "Go ahead Alpha One."
"We are ready to begin the search."
"Acknowledge Alpha One. Begin search directly above crater and radiate outward."
"Copy." There was only static for a moment. "Colonel, what are we looking for?"
"A second crash site."
* * * *
Jake knocked on the front door. He was impressed with the Anderson's house as soon as he pulled into their driveway. The three-story house dwarfed Jake's own in comparison. Knocking again, he heard a voice inside telling him that she was coming.
Opening the door, Susan Anderson stood in the thresh hold. "Hello, Mr. Silver. Come in." Jake walked into the house. He was impressed at its lavish decorations. Susan walked past him and stopped at the door leading into the kitchen. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Let me just finish up in the kitchen and I'll be right with you."
Jake nodded and seated himself on the nearest couch. He looked down at the hard wood floors. This stuff looks better on TV, he thought to himself. Moments later, Susan emerged from the kitchen. "Nice place."
Walking into the living room she seated herself on a couch opposite Jake's. "Thank you." Susan put on a modest smile, "it's home."
Sitting up on the couch, Jake pulled a small notepad and pen out of his jacket pocket. "I'm ready to start if you are."
Shifting in her chair, Susan crossed her legs. "Okay, where do you want to start?"
"Christina's friends. Tell me about them," His voice was matter-of-fact.
She felt bad about saying this, "She doesn't have many. She has a best friend named Libby Jacobs. They're always together. She was the one that brought her home from school the day it happened."
"Tell me about Libby. How much do you know about her?" He was taking notes as she talked.
"She's a nice girl. She's had dinner with us many times, but Christina told me that Libby has a bit of a wild side." Susan felt like she was gossiping about her daughter's life.
Jake could see that this was making her uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if this is bothering you Susan, but this is information I need if I want to have a successful case."
"I understand, this just feels so," she searched for the right word, "awkward."
Jake nodded. "I don't know how I would feel if a total stranger came into my house and started asking me questions about my daughter."
She smiled, "let's go on."
"Have there been any signs at home that Christina may be changing?"
"In what way?"
"Altered sleeping pattern, loss of appetite, strange mood swings," Jake answered quickly. "Things like that."
Susan thought for a moment. "No, she seems the same. She's always been a good student, and she always respects our wishes. She's a very good girl Mr. Silver."
"Please, call me Jake." He made several notes on his pad before continuing, "how would you describe Christina's sex life?"
The question horrified Susan. She had never thought of her daughter that way. "I'm not sure what you're asking."
"Is she sexually active?" Jake had always found the best result in asking these types of questions was to get to the point, not skirt around the subject.
"Not that I know of. I mean she's had a couple of dates, but..."
"So you're not sure?" Shifting in his chair, he tried to find a more comfortable position. "A lot of parents really don't know if their kids are sexually active. I know when I was a kid, the last people I wanted to tell that I was having sex were my parents."
Susan tried to force a smile.
Jake knew this was making her extremely uncomfortable. "Let's continue," Jake made a quick note on his pad. "What do you and your husband do for a living?"
Susan perked up at the relative ease of the question. "I'm a house wife, and Jon works for the military."
"So your husband makes enough money to support the family and lavishly decorate this house?"
"Oh, no," Susan laughed. "We're renting this house. Jon makes enough money to support the three of us, but not enough money to buy a beautiful house like this." She was a little more at ease now.
"You said your Husband works for the military. Is he an enlisted man?"
"No. He's a researcher
. Back when we lived in Colorado, he worked at a firm that developed gene therapy for people suffering from diseases. He's doing good work trying to help people."
"What does he do now?"
"The same thing, I think," Susan answered honestly. "We don't talk about his work."
"Does he work at Nellis Air Force Base?"
"All I know, is that he drives to the airport every morning and takes a plane to work. Where he goes, I don't know."
"How did he get this job?"
"He told me he was approached by some Military personnel who were interested in his work. They offered him the job." She leaned forward in her chair. "Look Mr. Silver, I don't understand what this has to do with our daughter."
"You never know, Susan. I'm just trying to be thorough." Closing his notepad, he tucked it back into his jacket pocket. "Sometimes even the smallest detail can have the biggest effect on a case." Standing up, Jake turned and began to walk toward the door. Susan stood up and followed him. "When is the soonest I can speak with your daughter?"
Susan stepped in front of him and opened the front door. "She's in the hospital right now, but when she—"
"She's in the hospital?" Jake cut her off, "For what?"
"She fell today at school and hit her head pretty hard. They had to rush her to the hospital. She has re-aggravated her concussion."
"What hospital is she at?"
Susan paused. "She's at the University Hospital."
"You mean UNLV's hospital?"
"That's right."
"Do you mind if I stop in and see her?"
Susan was hesitant. "I'm not sure that's such a—"
"It's very important that I hear her side of the story, Susan."
"All right. If it will help."
"It will." Jake smiled politely, "thanks for your time. If you have any questions, here's my card. It has my cell phone number along with my hotel's phone number and my room number on it."
"Thank you Jake. We really appreciate this."
Jake shook her hand and walked out the door. Stepping on to the walkway, he became very aware that it was still raining.
"Does it usually rain like this?"
Susan shook her head. "From what our neighbors tell us, it hardly ever rains this much in Vegas."
Jake nodded. "Thanks again." The rain pounded down on his head and shoulders. Pulling his jacket up over his head he began to run towards his car parked in the driveway. Grabbing the door handle on his car, he threw open the door and jumped inside. Shaking the rain out of his hair he leaned back in his chair.
"This case is getting more and more interesting." Pulling the keys out of his pocket, he started up his car's engine and put it in gear. I think I'm going to pay a visit to Christina, but first I need to head down to the police department and see if I can take a look at the police report.
Chapter 5
General Perry prominently displayed his five stars on the shoulders of his dark blue Air Force uniform. He was slightly taller than General Davis and several years younger. His hair was brown and was beginning to slightly recede. He had a wide face with a thick brown beard. His eyes were like black lumps of coal staring out under thick eyebrows. He was a hardened man. Being the President's chief advisor on Area 51, he worked closely with the President and made most of the decisions regarding the facility and operations. He had attained the job shortly after being promoted to a five star General.
It had always annoyed Davis that Perry had made five-star general before he had. David had been in the service a full ten years longer than Perry and had been passed up for promotion several times, while Perry had gotten a promotion the first time he came up for it.
They were standing in the main hangar of Area 51. It was a cavernous room carved straight out of the mountain behind it. The walls were layered with thick steel plates that blocked out prying eyes and satellite photos. Every surface was polished to a high glossy shine.
Several men in expensive business suits accompanied General Perry. These were the Air Force's, Army's, Navy's, and President's chief Advisors. "What are we looking at, General Davis?" Perry said gruffly after a moment.
General Davis tuned to the men and began to give the standard tour. "This hangar, as well as most of the base, is carved deep inside the mountain and could, in the event of war, survive a direct nuclear assault. Plus, we have the longest landing strip in the world. Area 51 was originally designed in the 1930's to study the effects of an atomic attack. We had six hundred and twenty five square miles to detonate the bombs. This area became known as the 'Tonopah Test Range'." Davis led the advisors deeper into the hangar. "Back then we were just considered part of the Nellis Complex. We didn't even have an official name of our own. We were often referred to as the 'Red Triangle', or 'Dreamland'.
"The Atomic Energy Commission formally dubbed us 'Area 51' back in 1958. By this time, most of the super powers of the world were beginning to express a lot of concern about the growing UFO phenomenon." Davis began moving through the hangar with the other men accompanying him. "So the US Government deemed it necessary to have a Top Secret facility to research and study these events and The Groom Lake Complex was born."
One of the advisors stepped forward. "Pardon me, General Davis, but we all know the history of the facility. What we're here to talk about is your progress."
"My apologies gentlemen, I'm usually giving this tour to Washington Bureaucrats who don't know their asses from holes in the ground." Davis began to laugh, but stopped quickly when no one else did.
General Perry was standing silently in the rear of the group, observing Davis' every move.
Davis began to feel slightly uncomfortable. "If you'll follow me gentlemen."
Walking towards the rear of the enormous hangar, Davis led the men to a giant steel door. The door was close to fifteen feet high and sixty feet wide. Moving to the right side of the door, Davis stopped in front of a waist high rectangular table. In the top of the table were several computer screens and controls. Removing his Identification card from his jacket pocket, he slid his card through a slot on the left side of the control panel. In the center of the panel a door slid open revealing another screen with an outline of a hand on it.
A cold metallic voice sprang from the control box. "Please place hand on the screen for identification."
"These are the latest in security devices, Gentlemen." Placing his right hand on the screen, a white bar of light scanned it. "These devices are fool proof. You can duplicate the key cards we use, but you can't get in unless you have the correct hand print, and no two hand prints are exactly alike."
The metallic voice appeared again. "Thank you, General Davis." Turning to look at the men behind him, he saw the blank expressions on their faces. They were obviously not impressed.
The huge door began to slowly slide open revealing another enormous room. The men were in awe as the objects inside came into full view. The room was full of activity. Men and women in white body suits with respirators were working on several strange crafts. Davis spread his arms like a ringmaster in the center ring of a circus. "Welcome to our main research facility."
The room was filled with five saucer-shaped crafts. Three were completely intact, and the other two were partially taken apart. The crafts had highly polished silver shell, with a transparent dome in the center of the top and bottom. Each craft was flat on the top and bottom, and about forty feet wide at the center. They were all docked on individual platforms with three struts leading up to the front and the sides of the crafts. "These are all the crafts we have recovered since 1947."
The Presidential advisor stepped up front. "Have we ascertained if these craft are, or will be operational once repaired?"
"Our boys over at S-4 have repaired three of the crafts. Once they were brought here, they were tested."
"What were the test conditions?" General Perry asked abruptly.
"We tested the hover and flying capabilities of the crafts." The group walked closer to the first craft s
o they could inspect it. "The first test was here on the base. We wanted to find out if these things still worked, so for each craft we did five separate hovering tests each varying from one minute up to fifteen minutes. All craft passed the tests."
The Navy's advisor began to run his hand across the front of the craft. "Its skin is rough, and rather warm to the touch."
"The design of the skin is very ingenious." Davis smiled. "Have you ever seen a shark chase after its prey in the water? They're faster than greased lightning and they have rough, sandpaper-like skin. Their skin is made up of millions of tiny teeth-like structures called 'denticles'."
The Navy's advisor was loosing interest. "I fail to see—"
"Now just hold on a minute while I explain. It has been found that a rough surface, rather than a completely smooth surface, moves better. It allows the air stream to flow along it. Not off it like a smooth surface." Davis ran his hand across the ships surface, "and as for the warmth, we have no idea what causes that."
"What about the metal itself. What is it?" The Army's Advisor was now inspecting the craft.
"We're not sure what it is, yet. It's lightweight, flame resistant, and ultra thin. A piece of this material that's once inch thick, can stand up to a piece of steel that's approximately a foot thick." The men were completely in awe of the craft.
"Where were these craft recovered from?"
"The very first craft was recovered from Roswell, New Mexico in 1947. The other four were recovered at various crash sites around the country since then. Until this base became fully operational in 1960, all the crafts were kept at a top secret hangar at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base." Turning away from the crafts, Davis began to walk toward the door. "Now, if there's no more questions, let's continue the tour through the rest of the base."
The group of men began walking towards the massive doorway that lead back into the main hangar. Making sure he was the last one out, Davis slid his card through the control panel again. The massive doors slowly sealed shut.
* * * *
The Las Vegas Police Headquarters was nothing like Jake had expected. Originally from New Orleans, he was used to crumbling brick buildings with tall steel fences all the way around. Here, the Police Headquarters was a four-story building with white stucco siding. It was very clean in appearance, surrounded by various shrubs and trees.
