by John Sneeden
“Do you want me to go back through all my predictions to see how many came true?”
Kristine held up a hand. “Please, no.” She laughed. “Now that you mention it, he was pretty bad.”
Zane squeezed her shoulder. “I guess spotting scum is a subset of my professional skills.”
“Well, you did have him pegged, that’s for sure.”
Zane leaned back and glanced down the hall. “Switching gears, where is our fearless leader?”
“Waiting for you in his office. Do you still remember the way, or shall I escort you?”
“Unfortunately, I still remember.”
She gave him a little wave. “Let’s catch up when you guys are done.”
“Will do.” He pointed at her. “I want to hear about your product.”
She laughed and returned to her seat.
Zane strode past the maze of glass offices. The Oracle liked the openness of glass, claiming it produced happier and more productive employees. Tellingly, he didn’t apply the same rules to his own space.
Several technicians waved at Zane as he passed by, unable to break away from phone conversations. He missed being here. He wished he could have arrived earlier and spent some time catching up but knew that wasn’t possible now. Whatever the Oracle wanted to talk about was likely going to take up the entire evening.
As he approached a set of oak double doors at the end of the hall, a voice spoke from the speaker to the right. “Come on in, Watson.”
There was a quick buzz followed by a series of clicks. Zane turned the handle and entered.
The office would be the envy of any CEO. The exterior wall was composed entirely of tinted floor-to-ceiling glass. The Oracle’s massive desk and ergonomically correct chair were situated in front of the glass, allowing Delphi’s chief to swivel around and take in the view if he needed inspiration.
A modern-looking conference table filled the right side of the room, and a circle of leather chairs was arranged on the left. Set in the wall behind those chairs was a nondescript door. Zane knew that just beyond, a spiral staircase led to the roof. The Oracle was a connoisseur of fine cigars, and the hidden retreat allowed him to enjoy a smoke in the evening.
As the Oracle rose from his seat, Zane could see the spires of Arlington office buildings behind him, their interior lights just beginning to glow as evening settled over the city. A few miles away was the Potomac River, winding its way east toward the nation’s capital.
The Oracle walked around the desk. “I see you can’t even make it through vacation without getting shot,” he said, pumping the operative’s hand. He looked down and said, “Speaking of which, how is the leg?”
“It’s seen better days.”
The Oracle frowned. “A little bird told me the wound got infected.”
“Unfortunately, your little bird was right. I’m so pumped full of antibiotics that I could probably drink a gallon of sewage and survive.”
The Oracle waved him over to the leather seats.
Zane rubbed his leg dramatically as they moved toward them. “You know, it’s funny, but I never seem to get any comp time or pay no matter what happens to me out in the field. I’d like to speak to HR before I leave.”
The Oracle shook his head. “Comp pay? Aren’t you the man who owns two personal airplanes? And besides, I am HR, so you can just talk to me.”
As Zane approached the seating area, a man rose out of one of the chairs. Zane hadn’t noticed him before. He was in his early thirties, with dark hair parted on the side. Pulling off a pair of reading glasses, the man stepped forward and extended a hand. “Zane.”
“Brett Foster,” Zane said, grasping his hand. “Were you hiding over there?”
Brett returned to his seat. “Sorry. I had to get a message out to someone in the field. Figured I’d let you two exchange pleasantries first.”
Brett Foster was the chief technology specialist for Delphi. He had attended MIT in the early 2000s and graduated with honors. After graduation, he’d entered private industry, working for several research and development companies at the famed Research Triangle Park in North Carolina. As fate would have it, one of those companies was a consultant for the CIA, and that was when the brilliant young techie caught the eye of the head administrator of the CIA’s Office of Information Technology. His work was so well regarded that his name eventually made it all the way up to the director himself.
Knowing the CIA couldn’t pay Foster enough to pull him away from private industry, the director passed his name on to Alexander Ross. Ross was then able to couple the excitement of covert work with a substantial increase in pay to lure him to Delphi.
“We’ve kept Brett busy lately,” the Oracle said after they were all seated.
“Is there ever a time when he isn’t?” Zane asked.
“This is a whole new level of busy,” the Oracle said.
Brett looked at Zane. “Let’s put it this way… I’ve spent the night here four times this week.”
Zane raised an eyebrow. Delphi employees were highly motivated individuals, and long hours were the norm, but spending the night that many times in a week went beyond anything he’d ever heard of before. It made him wonder what was going on.
“I’m impressed,” Zane said.
“So, if anybody deserves a pay increase, it’s him,” the Oracle said.
Zane sat forward and placed his arms on his knees. “I take it the overnighters are related to why I’m here?”
“They are.” The Oracle glanced at his watch. “Although that will have to wait until our other guest arrives.”
Zane frowned. He hadn’t been told that someone else would be joining them. Who was it, and why hadn’t the Oracle told him before?
“How about a drink while we wait?” the Oracle asked as he rose from his seat and walked toward a mini-fridge in the corner. “Watson, as it’s after seven, ordinarily I’d offer you some alcohol for your leg. But I don’t think our guest would be too thrilled to find you holding a glass of Scotch.”
Suddenly Zane realized who was coming. No wonder the Oracle had been coy.
“Besides, if you’re up for it, we’re all going to the Old Ebbitt when this is over.” The Oracle stooped and retrieved three bottles of water. After closing the door, he handed a bottle each to Brett and Zane.
Zane opened his and took a sip. “So, who is our illustrious guest?”
The Oracle stared at Zane. “I think you can probably guess.”
As if on cue, a loud beep sounded from a device on the Oracle’s desk, followed by Kristine’s voice. “Dr. Ross, Assistant Director Hathaway is here.”
The Oracle walked over to the desk and pressed a button. “Thank you, Kristine. Please send him down.” He then pressed another button to disengage the lock.
A few seconds later, the door opened and a tall man with dark hair entered the room. The assistant director of the CIA was dressed impeccably, as always. His charcoal Italian suit was adorned with a crisp white pocket square, and his laced Oxfords were polished to a mirror-like sheen. Zane had often wondered if the man ironed and starched his boxers.
“Brooks, nice to see you again.” The Oracle extended his hand before nodding in the direction of the leather chairs. “I believe you remember Zane and Brett.”
“Ah, Zane Watson.” Hathaway always spoke with a contrived accent that Zane placed somewhere between British and high intellectual. The man was fake before fake became cool. “What a relief to find you here and not out in Europe, causing an international row.”
“I’m just glad that you’re still funding those rows,” Zane replied.
Hathaway shot him a look before turning to shake Brett’s hand.
The Oracle gestured toward the chairs. “Please have a seat.”
Hathaway made it no secret that he detested Delphi. He was an agency man and found it unthinkable that any operation should ever be farmed out to a private organization.
As everyone took their seats, the Oracle walked over to a switch n
ear the door and dimmed the lights. As soon as the room darkened, the lights of the surrounding buildings suddenly shone through the window with greater intensity.
The Oracle rejoined the group and sat down. “Zane, Brooks wanted me to bring you up to date on something that has… how shall I say… been passed around like a hot potato.” He paused, looking first at Hathaway and then at Zane. “Without beating around the bush, the whole thing arose in the aftermath of your operation in Switzerland and France.”
Zane raised an eyebrow. “What? Other than smoothing things over with our allies, that was put to bed weeks ago.”
The Oracle drew in a deep breath. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t, not by a long shot. In fact, it looks like we’re just starting to peel back the skin of a very big onion.”
Zane’s brow furrowed. What on earth was he talking about?
The Oracle nodded at Delphi’s chief technology specialist. “Brett, please start the slides.”
CHAPTER SIX
BRETT LIFTED A controller and pressed a button. There was a dull hum as a projection screen lowered out of the ceiling. Once it was in place, he made a few keystrokes on his laptop, and an image appeared.
Zane frowned. What on earth was he looking at? It appeared to be a scientific diagram, with a series of four concentric circles. The smallest circle was labeled Earth.
The Oracle leaned forward in his chair. “Watson, as you may or may not know, there is a division of NASA that monitors celestial objects using radio waves.”
Zane nodded. “The DRA. Division of Radio Astronomy.”
Hathaway’s eyes widened, clearly in surprise that the operative knew the answer.
“Bravo, Watson. In addition to their work with celestial objects, the DRA also monitors the universe for sounds.”
“What sorts of sounds?” Zane asked.
The Oracle paused for a moment, as though considering his answer. “Any sounds, but particularly those they believe might be sent by intelligent beings.”
“ET.”
The Oracle nodded. “Yes, ET.”
Zane’s mind flashed back to Delphi’s last operation. A group led by Russian billionaire Alexander Mironov and former Roman Catholic priest Vincenzio Marrese had taken over the CERN command center in Prevessin, France. The takeover gave them unfettered control of the Large Hadron Collider, or LHC, the most powerful particle accelerator in the world. Their plan had been to use the collider to open a doorway to the heavens, through which they thought would come an alien visitation. Mironov and Marrese believed these same aliens had visited earth in ancient times, bringing with them the technology that had been used to construct a number of megalithic structures around the globe, including those in Egypt and South America.
A Delphi team led by Zane had thwarted those plans, but at great cost. The collider had been pressed beyond its working limit, triggering explosions that caused extensive damage to several buildings and the collider itself. In addition, Dutch physicist Markus VanGelder was killed by one of the blasts.
But something else had happened that night, a series of events that continued to haunt Zane to this very day. As a battle raged for control of the center, he followed former priest Marrese to the underground tunnels that housed the collider itself. He soon discovered that Marrese was holding captive Philippe Bachand, a pastor from Geneva who had assisted Delphi.
During the subsequent chase, Zane discovered that a mysterious column of light had appeared while the collider was in use. He had also seen at least three giant creatures, all of whom seemed to have come out of the column of light. In the intervening time since the mission, Zane had noticed that the memory of their appearance had faded. In fact, it had faded so much that he now wondered exactly what he had seen, if anything. Were the giants some sort of alien beings? Or were they figments of his imagination, brought on by smoke inhalation and the effects of anesthetic agents he’d been given earlier that night?
After the event was over, French police and emergency personnel combed the facility, but no reports of anything out of the ordinary ever surfaced. If something had been found, Zane felt sure word would’ve gotten back to Washington.
The Oracle cleared his throat and continued. “As I mentioned, the events at CERN didn’t mark the end of the story. On the night of the operation, the DRA picked up an odd sound coming from the area around Geneva and Prevessin.” He used a laser pointer to indicate the area between the innermost circle and the next one out. “It came from the troposphere, the first layer of the atmosphere.” He looked at Zane. “Apparently that sound was recorded around the same time that Mironov’s team operated the collider.”
Zane returned Ross’s gaze. “Does NASA believe there is a connection?”
The Oracle nodded. “Officially, they’re reluctant to talk, but when you get them alone, there are a few who say a wormhole was beginning to open. Others believe it was some sort of celestial link between our dimension and another one.”
“Back to the noise.” Zane paused then asked, “Do the NASA scientists believe it was made by the collider itself?”
“No. Again, this sound had a unique signature. CERN has been around for a while, so any noise emanating from the collider would be something they’d have on record.” The Oracle nodded at Brett, who pressed a key on his laptop. The next slide appeared, depicting a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a goatee. “The DRA subgroup that monitors these sounds is led by a man named Dr. Stetson Clark. Dr. Clark knew from news reports that the US had been involved in an operation near Geneva, and called his contact in Washington to let him know what they had found. And that’s where I’ll let Brooks take over.”
Hathaway stood and took the laser pointer from Ross. “As you can imagine, the US government takes any and all intergalactic communications seriously—”
“Wait,” Zane interrupted. “We’re already classifying this as an intergalactic communication? Isn’t that a little premature?”
Hathaway glared at the operative. “If you’d wait and listen to what I have to say, then you might change your mind.”
The Oracle turned toward Zane. “Let him finish, Watson.”
“As I was saying, the US government takes all intergalactic communications seriously, as it also does any reports of UFOs, strange craft, alien beings, and abductions. And it’s probably no surprise that we view these things through the lens of national security. That means that all cases are handled by the CIA and its affiliates.”
“Which would include Delphi,” the Oracle said.
“Correct,” Hathaway said. “In any event, while certainly compelling, the sound that registered that night did not set off any alarms in DC. It was what came in its wake. Something we believe could be one of the most important discoveries in decades.”
Zane frowned deeply.
Hathaway then nodded at Brett, who brought up the next slide. Zane leaned forward when the image appeared. It was a detailed map of South America, with a black dot blinking over northern Brazil.
Hathaway looked at Zane. He seemed pleased that he now had the operative’s attention. “The director asked Dr. Clark to look into the matter further. We needed to know if this was a simple anomaly or something that warranted further attention.
“A few days later, the director received a call from Clark. They had found something significant in one of the reports generated by their monitoring equipment.” Hathaway used the laser pointer to indicate the blinking black dot. “Just minutes after the sound was picked up in France, there was another corresponding sound picked up here, in Brazil.”
Zane nodded and whispered, “The Amazon basin.”
“The sound in Brazil had all of the same intrinsic properties as the one from France,” Hathaway continued. “In fact, we believe it was a response… a signal… a communication of some sort.”
“Is that near a town or village?” Brett asked.
“Not that we know of,” the Oracle said. “You’re talking the heart of the rainforest.”
; “I’m no expert on audio transmissions,” Zane said, “but I just find it hard to believe they can’t identify either sound.”
“We have to rely on what they’ve told us, Watson,” the Oracle said. “They’re the—”
Hathaway cut him off. “There is one thing I neglected to tell you. I got a call from Dr. Clark this morning, and he was able to pass along something that has, quite frankly, deepened the mystery.” He looked at Zane. “Alexander told you that the signature of the sounds was unique. Actually, that’s not entirely true. The DRA team was finally able to make a partial match, a slight overlap with a sound they cataloged several years ago.”
The Oracle’s brow furrowed. “From where?”
Hathaway nodded at Brett. “I sent Mr. Foster an additional slide late this afternoon.”
As Zane watched, the image of a galaxy appeared. He recognized it immediately.
“The sound they found in their database originated in our closest neighbor, the Andromeda Galaxy. It was hard to pinpoint the precise location, but they believe it came from an area of dark matter.”
“Good grief,” the Oracle muttered.
“Yes, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but as I said, I just received the information this morning.”
Zane leaned back in his seat. “So what does this mean?”
Hathaway looked at the Oracle, who got up and took the laser pointer back from him. Brett advanced to the next slide. The image that appeared wasn’t what Zane expected. It appeared to be an official photo of an Asian woman, much like one on a driver’s license or company identification. Zane studied her face. He guessed she was in her early or mid-thirties. She was more pleasant-looking than attractive.
“This is Wu Mei-ling,” the Oracle began. “She is the daughter of a low-level Chinese diplomat, at least that’s the official version.”
“In other words, she’s a spook,” Zane said, his eyes still fixed on the picture.
“Yes, she is,” the Oracle said. “And apparently a good one.” Brett advanced to the next slide. Another photograph appeared, this one depicting a man in his forties with brown hair. “This is David Parsons, the agency’s senior field officer in Taipei, where Ms. Wu was operating. He had established contact with her and was in the process of recruiting her when disaster struck.
