‘If they come out shooting, well, we’ll shoot back and finish them that way. In either case, Roland Oliver can continue operations as before.’
Charles Gainey nodded, and reached for the coffee pot. ‘And the second choice?’ he asked.
McGrath swallowed before replying. ‘It’s somewhat radical, Mr. President,’ he began.
Groom Lake Air Force Base, Nevada
The sound began behind Hunter, and it took him a second or two to realize what it was. Toni Welsh was on her feet, staring at Ketch and moaning softly.
‘You bastard,’ she said simply and quietly. ‘You total fucking bastard. You mean you were swapping me for a fucking CD player?’
Her voice rose to a scream on the final words and then, with a speed that took everyone by surprise, she launched herself at Ketch, fists flying, nails going for his eyes. Hunter grabbed her and dragged her off, Evans helping, and together they led her back to the camp bed.
‘Quiet, now,’ Hunter said to her. ‘We need him to help us get out of here. Just sit quietly, and look after Christy-Lee. OK?’
Toni nodded, suddenly calmer, and sat down again.
Evans remained standing beside the camp bed. ‘She’s coming out of it,’ he said, bending down and stroking Kaufmann’s brow.
Hunter resumed his seat, and faced Ketch again.
‘I can’t believe this,’ Evans said.
Even as the words left the doctor’s mouth, Hunter suddenly realized that if Ketch was telling the truth, most of the pieces of the puzzle that had started in the field outside Beaver Creek would fall into place.
‘You –’ Hunter started to say, but Reilly interrupted him.
‘I can,’ he said.
‘Actually,’ Hunter agreed, after a moment, ‘I think I can too. So what was the deal, Ketch?’
‘Look, you have to understand that this started long before I came out to Groom Lake. None of it was my idea. I just administered the system.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Reilly growled.
‘Just answer the question,’ Hunter said wearily to Ketch. ‘What was the deal?’
‘OK. After the first few contacts with the EBEs, the American Government was presented with an offer from one particular race of aliens – what are commonly known as ‘greys.’ The aliens offered the government access to a whole range of technology in return for the right to harvest some of this planet’s natural resources.’
Ketch paused and looked around the office. He had the undivided attention of everyone there.
‘You must appreciate the political climate at the time,’ he went on. ‘The Second World War was over, but the Iron Curtain was coming down, and we knew that the Russians either had nuclear weapons, or were about to develop them. Communist domination of the world seemed a real possibility. I guess the government decided that it was worthwhile allowing limited alien exploitation of the planet in return for the kind of technology that allowed these creatures to fly from star to star.
‘The problem was,’ Ketch went on, ‘that it didn’t stop there. The American Government agreed an exclusivity deal with the aliens, to avoid them dealing with any other nation, and started paying for the technology with whatever resources the aliens wanted. At first it was just rare earth elements, minerals, and so on, but soon it was made clear to the government that what the aliens really wanted, what they’d wanted all along, was human beings. Like it or not, human flesh is regarded as a highly-prized delicacy by several alien species.’
‘You mean it never occurred to anyone that the aliens could simply mine the moon or Mars or some other planet, or capture asteroids, for these elements they were supposed to need?’ Evans asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Ketch replied. ‘Possibly, but back then scientists didn’t know what was on the moon, and maybe they thought that some minerals were unique to the Earth. Maybe they did realize that the aliens must have had an ulterior motive, but were so desperate for the technology that they just ignored their doubts. I really don’t know,’ he repeated.
‘OK,’ Hunter said. ‘That’s another matter. So what happened when the aliens demanded their pound of flesh?’
‘The government was appalled at the idea, but by that time the American industrial machine had got used to these ‘breakthroughs’ that were actually being provided by the aliens, and the threat from Russia seemed even more acute than before. So, reluctantly, the government agreed. At first, the aliens were only allowed to harvest tramps, drifters, drug addicts, prostitutes, alcoholics, mental patients and long-term prisoners who would ‘die’ in captivity. The kind of people that nobody would really miss.’
Reilly snorted in disgust, and Ketch glanced over at him. Hunter waved the pistol for Ketch to continue.
‘But once the aliens had established the principle, once they’d got the concession, as it were, for this part of the universe, they began to alter their demands. Initially, the changes weren’t too significant. They insisted on proper medical checks to ensure the subjects weren’t suffering from any disease or illness that might adversely affect their ‘trade-in value,’ then they asked for an increase in the quota. And all the time, the technology kept being provided, and the government kept agreeing to more and more.
‘The final change the aliens insisted on was the biggest and most controversial. They only wanted to harvest women, because the flesh tastes sweeter.’
Hunter heard a low moan behind him, and raised a calming hand to Toni.
‘And the government agreed?’
‘Yes. By that time, they were so deep into the relationship that they couldn’t not agree. The aliens made it very clear that if their requests were refused, they would just take their business elsewhere, to Russia perhaps. The government simply couldn’t allow that to happen. So this place was constructed, to streamline the whole process. We provide the subjects, assemble the quotas here, and then pass them on to the aliens for processing.’
Everyone in the room was hanging on Ketch’s every word.
‘That’s totally horrendous,’ Hunter said. ‘Absolutely fucking appalling. It’s completely unacceptable on every possible level, and I believe it completely. There are just two questions I’d like answers to.’
Ketch looked at him warily. ‘Yes?’ he said.
‘Why “Roland Oliver” and “Omega”?’ Hunter asked.
‘Roland Oliver’s easy, if a bit sick,’ Ketch said, relaxing slightly. ‘The expression “A Roland for an Oliver” means an exchange, a quid pro quo. It derives from Roland, the legendary nephew of Charlemagne, and his comrade Oliver, celebrated in the Chanson de Roland. Somebody just took the two proper names and added them together to make the name “Roland Oliver”. I guess it seemed funny to him at the time. And “Rolver” is just a contraction of the same two names.
‘The whole matter of alien contact has its own security classification in the American system. It’s all classified as “Omega”, which is the last letter of the Greek alphabet, because it’s the “last secret”. “Omega” is so highly classified that even the name Omega is omitted from all tables of security classifications. Is that it?’
‘No,’ Hunter replied. ‘That was the first question. The second is about the processing. Why is the casket next to the table tipped up at an angle, so that the occupant can see what’s happening?’
Ketch peered nervously past Hunter at Toni Welsh. ‘You’ve got to keep her off me,’ he said.
Hunter looked around at Toni. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘try to stay calm, OK?’
She looked at him and nodded.
‘It’s all to do with hormones,’ Ketch said. ‘Apparently, a rush of adrenaline improves the flavour of the meat, and the easiest way to generate that is to terrify the subjects. The aliens worked out that they would achieve this quite easily if they just showed the next subject what was happening to the one before them.’
Not even Evans’s restraining hands were enough to stop Toni as she launched herself at Ketch, and it took the combined efforts of H
unter, Evans and Reilly to drag her off him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sunday
Oval Office, White House, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C.
Charles Gainey lay back in his chair, stretched his arms above his head and looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. McGrath sat on the edge of his seat, his cup of coffee untouched on the table in front of him. The President’s eyes had widened when McGrath had outlined his alternative plan for dealing with the situation at Groom Lake, but he hadn’t said a word in response.
Minutes ticked away, then Gainey sat forward and fixed McGrath with a penetrating gaze. ‘It’s worth looking at,’ he said. ‘But first give me your reasons for suggesting it.’
McGrath heaved a sigh of relief. ‘There are really three, Mr. President,’ he began.
* * *
Groom Lake Air Force Base, Nevada
Lieutenant Keating tossed his cap onto the coat rack and sat down at the desk. He would never have admitted it to the sergeant, but he was somewhat at a loss to know what to do next.
The call about the intruders hadn’t come from any recognized source, although it had obviously been from somebody outside Groom Lake who knew about the base itself. More importantly, the caller had known about the existence of the Rolver Sytems’ building, which was probably the most secret location on the base. That severely restricted the number of people who could have made the call, and forced Keating to take the substance of the message seriously.
The building didn’t look as if anything untoward had happened there – he had seen no sign of forced entry. On the other hand, it was apparently deserted, although it was marked in the Groom Lake security notes as being in use twenty-four hours a day.
He had to call somebody. The question was, who? When he’d decided there was only one person he could telephone, he sat behind the desk for several minutes before reaching for the receiver.
* * *
‘That really is sick,’ Hunter said, to nobody in particular.
‘I know, I know,’ Ketch replied, his left cheek bleeding steadily from two deep scratches inflicted by the nails of Toni Welsh’s right hand. ‘But you have to appreciate that this is, from the point of view of the aliens, just another commercial operation. They want to do everything in the most efficient and cost-effective way. The tipping casket cost them almost nothing to implement, but achieves the objective very efficiently. It’s just good business.’
‘I’ll give you “good business”, you bastard,’ Reilly spat, and Hunter raised a calming hand.
‘We got involved in this because of a murder in Montana,’ Hunter said. ‘A guy out hunting died when a human thigh-bone got driven vertically downwards into his head. A fresh human skull was later found in the same general area. According to our pathologist, both bones had had all the flesh stripped off them by some sort of a machine. Did that have anything to do with this operation?’
‘No,’ Ketch said, puzzlement in his voice. ‘At least, not directly. But there was some poaching reported a few days ago.’
‘Poaching?’
‘The grey aliens aren’t the only ones operating in this area,’ Ketch said. ‘There was an incident involving an unauthorized landing somewhere in the mid-west. It’s possible the occupants of the craft jettisoned the bones of one of their victims as they left the atmosphere. That could have been the source, I suppose.’
‘How do you know about these poachers, as you call them?’
‘The greys keep us fully informed,’ Ketch said. ‘They detected the landing, and destroyed the craft when it was well clear of the Earth’s atmosphere. They’re keen to protect their concession here.’
‘I’ll bet they are,’ Reilly growled.
‘Where am I?’
The voice was small and soft, and galvanized Hunter. He jumped up, spun around and walked over to the camp bed. Christy-Lee was awake at last.
‘How do you feel?’ Hunter asked.
‘Awful,’ Christy-Lee murmured. ‘I’ve got the mother and father of all migraines, and I can barely remember who I am.’
‘Do you know me?’ Hunter asked.
‘Of course I know who you are, you ugly bastard,’ Christy-Lee said, with the ghost of a smile, and Hunter grinned down at her.
Reilly appeared at his shoulder holding out a couple of white tablets.
‘Aspirin,’ he said, ‘courtesy of our host. Found a bottle in his desk drawer. Good to see you again, Agent Kaufmann.’
‘Thanks, Dick,’ Hunter said, and passed the tablets to Christy-Lee. ‘Sorry we’ve no water, but see if you can swallow them anyway.’
‘So where am I?’
Hunter stroked her brow gently. ‘It would take too long to explain now,’ he said, ‘and Dick Reilly and I are sort of busy at the moment. Just lie still and rest, and I’ll come and talk to you when I can. OK?’
‘OK,’ Christy-Lee said. She gave Hunter’s arm a squeeze, put the two tablets in her mouth, and closed her eyes.
‘Now,’ Hunter asked, sitting down in front of Ketch again. ‘The machinery down in the processing room or whatever you call it. Who designed it?’
‘The aliens,’ Ketch said. ‘They wanted a system that would cope with a range of different sizes of subject, and which would work with speed and efficiency. There were no existing designs which could be adapted –’
‘Well thank God for that,’ Reilly muttered, and Ketch glanced at him.
‘So,’ he continued, ‘the aliens designed their own, and we built it. Most of it was fabricated in workshops right here on the base, and then we just assembled it in this building.’
The Sony tape recorder clicked, and Hunter opened it, flipped over the tape and pressed the record button again. Hunter looked behind him at Toni, who was sitting on the camp bed holding Christy-Lee’s hand.
‘I’m sorry about this,’ he said, ‘but I’m going to have to ask Ketch some other questions about the processing equipment. Do you think you can sit there and talk to Christy-Lee, or think of something else, or at least keep your hands off him until I’ve finished?’
Toni glared at Ketch, but gave Hunter a brief smile. ‘I’ll try,’ she said.
Hunter turned back to Ketch. ‘OK, for the record, how does the processing equipment work?’
‘This isn’t pleasant,’ Ketch said.
‘I know. I’ve seen it. Just get on with it.’
‘Very well. It’s quite simple and efficient. First, the casket is canted at an angle in front of the table, and the lid is removed while the previous subject is processed. Then the casket is moved by the conveyor belt to the end of the table, and the subject is pulled by the securing straps onto the bed of the table itself. The casket slides down to the floor, and another conveyor belt carries it away to be cleaned and disinfected.
‘The table is stainless-steel, and has slots for the fabric straps to slide into. The lower limbs are severed first, joint by joint and starting at the feet, by thin steel wires which are pulled down through the joints by hydraulic rams. Each wire carries a powerful electric current which cauterizes the severed blood vessels and stops most of the bleeding. The sections of leg are dropped through an opening beside the table where they’re cleaned and bagged, ready for shipment.
‘The hands and arms are removed in the same way, and usually by that stage the subject is dead from pain and shock. Then the trunk is opened up by power-operated cutters, and all the internal organs are clipped off and bagged. The alimentary canal is stripped out and discarded, and this is the only part of the body which isn’t used. The head is severed from the trunk and packed separately. Human brains are a particular delicacy to some alien species, and I understand they’re usually served straight from the skull.’
Ketch’s matter-of-fact explanation silenced the office. Although, apart from Christy-Lee, they’d all seen the processing room, none of them – except Toni – had seen processing in action, and even she hadn’t been aware of what happened to the human body parts after
the vivisection had taken place.
Hunter straightened up in the chair and shook his head. ‘Monstrous,’ he said. ‘Absolutely, completely, fucking monstrous. I don’t care what the benefits have been to home consumer electronics, or whatever fucking section of American business has made most use of alien technology, this is completely unacceptable.’
Ketch smiled at him. ‘There’s nothing you can do about it,’ he said, ‘and in my opinion the programme is a good thing.’
‘It’s what?’ Hunter snapped.
‘A good thing. Most of the population of this planet achieve absolutely nothing during their lifetimes. They’re born, they spend seventy or eighty years converting food into shit, and then they die, and they contribute nothing at all to anything or anyone. We don’t even get to use their bodies for fertilizer. At least with Roland Oliver we get some benefit from their deaths.
‘Even worse, the bastards breed like rabbits. A woman with an IQ of one twenty plus will be satisfied with a couple of kids she’ll hope will actually do something with their lives. Trailer-park morons and Mrs. Average American Woman don’t feel fulfilled, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean, unless they produce six or seven kids, each of whom will be just as stupid and useless as their parents and who’ll lead the same totally pointless existence. They consume, they don’t contribute, and we’re much better off without them.’
Hunter simply stared at him. ‘Hitler, I seem to remember,’ he said slowly, ‘had much the same idea, but I thought the sickness had died out with him and his Nazi friends. I really can’t believe you mean what you’ve just said.’
‘Oh, but I do,’ Ketch replied, his confidence growing, ‘and it’s time you woke up to the facts of life out here. There are just the two of you, plus some passengers.’ He nodded towards Evans and Toni. ‘You’re stuck in the middle of the most secure military establishment in the United States, surrounded by armed men, and no doubt with more on the way. The project you’ve stumbled on has been approved by every American President since Eisenhower, and I even hold a current Presidential Order which authorizes any action that I care to take.’
Trade-Off Page 33
