The UFO Conspiracy Trilogy

by David Bischoff

  Emily Elliot ignored both Gabriella and her drink, continuing to outline the empire she worked for.

  “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Schroeder,” Gabriella said. “If you get a chance, could I get your autograph?”

  “Certainly,” said Max Schroeder.

  “I’ll be right over there. Not much business today. I really meant it—I mean, if you need an extra or anything. I’ve done a lot of work in the theater and I’ve got some head and body shots you might want to look at and—”

  Emily Elliot turned her head and stared daggers at the young bartender. “Sod off, you silly whore-bitch.”

  Gabriella’s mouth dropped, and Emily picked up immediately where she’d left off.

  “Ah—Emily, I don’t think that was necessary,” said Max, looking extremely uncomfortable. “I’d be glad to see what you have, later. I apologize.”

  “Um... Okay...” Gabriella swept away, eyes glistening with held-back tears.

  Yow, thought Jake, looking at Emily with renewed respect and perhaps even a little fear. This woman had a tigress springed inside of her.

  “I can’t abide that sort of sucking-up,” said Emily. “I adore sucking, but not sucking up. Don’t you, Jake?”

  Jake felt a sexual twinge surge. “Umm... Yeah, I know what you mean!” He took another sip of the strong drink, and was suddenly quite glad he’d decided to drink today. It was definitely helping.

  What he should do, maybe, was to ask Schroeder to come out in the parking lot alone. Yes, that was it... Leave Emily back here with her Perrier and lime to have a catfight with Gabriella. That should occupy her.

  But where the hell was Manning?

  “Looking for somebody, Jake?” said Schroeder, looking a little bit suspicious.

  “Your companions, perhaps?” said Emily.

  “Yes, Jake. I confess, I was rather hoping to see Everett Scarborough today.”

  Jake looked doubtfully at Emily. “You don’t think they’d be here in Tucson with me? That would be a little risky. No, they’re tucked away, hiding quite safely for the time being.”

  “And they sent you out into the danger, eh, Jake?” said Emily.

  Jake smiled. “I can take it.” He sipped. “You know, this is all really interesting.”

  “We would like to get Everett Scarborough involved directly,” said Emily. “After all, it is his story.”

  “Yes, but I’m writing it.” Jake felt a twinge of worry. Where the hell was this conversation going? “Scarborough’s entrusted me with that role—and anyway, I can’t tell you where he is. That’s a highly delicate, very confidential matter.”

  “Jake!” Emily was suddenly smiling beatifically. “Jake—you can trust us!”

  Suddenly, Jake was aware of a lithe, smooth nyloned foot touching his left calf, traveling up his shin. A delicious shiver caught him unawares and when he turned to Emily, a playful invitation shone in her eyes.

  “Oh, Yes, of course. I know that.” Jake got up. “Look, we’ll continue this conversation later. Right now, I’ve got to see a man about a horse.”

  “Of course, Jake,” said Schroeder.

  “It’s over there,” said Emily, eyes still playful. “The sign reads Cowpokes. Don’t poke the cow too hard, Jake.”

  Jake walked toward the front of the bar. He ventured a look back. Schroeder and the woman were looking in the opposite direction, conferring.

  He could risk a look.

  At the far end of the bar was a long window, heavily draped. Jake parted this and peered out.

  The window provided a sweeping view of the restaurant’s parking lot. It was here that Scarborough was supposed to have parked the Winnebago.

  A Cadillac, a Dodge, a Honda, and a couple of Toyotas were parked on the blacktop.

  No Winnebago, no Scarborough.

  Where the hell was he?

  Jake let the drapes drop and went off to the men’s room. He used the urinal, splashed some water on his face, pulled out a Camel and lit it. Smokin’ in the boys’ room, he thought, puffing furiously.

  Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?

  He put the Camel out in the sink, and walked back out into the bar. Schroeder and Emily Elliot were still talking, so he hazarded another look.

  The Honda was leaving. Still no Winnebago.

  He checked his watch. 3:31.

  No, 3:32.

  This wasn’t like Scarborough at all. Something was most definitely wrong.

  Jake swallowed hard, and decided to make the best of a bad situation. Well, if Scarborough and Manning didn’t show up, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about this new Emily Elliot number in the equation. Just yet, anyway.

  Jake sat down and immediately picked up his margarita and drank a swallow.

  “Find it all right?” said Emily.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is there something bothering you, Jake?”

  “Hmmm. No. I mean... well yes, of course there’s something bothering me. This is really a pretty goddamned tense situation, guys! I mean, I hope you realize that all kinds of people are after us!”

  “Yes, of course,” said Emily Elliot. “How very exciting. That what makes it such a good story.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” said Maximillian Schroeder, smiling with a disconcerting unctuousness. “We want to help you all, Jake. We truly do.”

  Jake Camden took another drink, but the salt and the lime and the tequila were doing absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.

  Where the hell was Everett Scarborough?

  Chapter 24

  “Where am I?”

  The words seemed to come from Everett Scarborough’s mouth even before he was fully conscious.

  “You’re safe, Dr. Scarborough,” said a voice in the darkness. “Quite safe. We have no intentions of harming you.”

  “Everett?”

  Marsha’s voice.

  Scarborough moved, and immediately perceived more pertinent details in the situation: He was in a chair in a dark room and his hands were tied quite securely behind his back. Even as he struggled, a light came on, blinding him.

  “You are secured for your own protection, Doctor,” said the voice. “And the situation is only temporary, depending upon your cooperation.”

  “Marsha! Where are you?”

  The light on Scarborough dimmed. Another light sprang on: a funnel of light, coned down on a person sitting in a chair, across from him. She, however, was not tied.

  “Everett!” she said, standing up and going to him.

  “You may untie him if you wish to, Lieutenant Manning,” said the voice. “Be advised, however, Doctor, that you can be rendered unconscious again easily—and the next time, you will not be untied.”

  Scarborough nodded, disoriented but chastened. They clearly did not mean to harm him; and it would be of absolutely no worth to get angry and violent again.

  “Are you okay, Marsha?”

  “Yes. Actually, I feel better. I had a headache I didn’t tell you about, and it’s gone.” He could feel the tugging at the bonds as she worked them off. “Everett—where is this strange place?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, looking around at the stark darkness. “Either we’re on the set of a German expressionist film of the twenties... Or we’re in the Twilight Zone.”

  Laughter from the darkness.

  “Very good, Dr. Scarborough.”

  It was not a nasty laugh.

  A figure stepped forward and it was not Rod Serling.

  Rather, it was the older of the two men.

  He held his hands up to show that they were empty and stopped a few yards away from the two of them.

  “Now then. We need to talk.”

  Scarborough felt the bonds come loose. He pulled his hands around and rubbed circulation back into them. He kept his temper in check.

  “Yes. We need to talk. But first, where are we?”

  “A deserted warehouse in Tucson fitted to our purposes.” The eyes shone with
out expression. “Prepared just for this meeting, actually.”

  A warehouse.

  Yes, thought Scarborough, a warehouse. The air was cool—air-conditioned cool in the late-May Tucson heat—and there was the telltale sound of the engines of temperature adjustment in the background. But if he listened closely enough, Scarborough could also hear the sounds of traffic. Only an occasional car, true, but nonetheless recognizable. Not the city proper, then—the outskirts? A suburb? His impression of Tucson, from earlier visits, was of a sprawling city. As to exactly what part of this city the warehouse was in—well, Scarborough hadn’t the faintest.

  “You appear to have a captive audience,” he said. “I suppose that’s why you brought us here.”

  “You certainly didn’t appear inclined toward a friendly discussion back at the cabin in Summerhaven,” said the taller man.

  “But you suspected that eventuality, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, nor can we really blame you, Everett Scarborough. Apologies seem ridiculous, but may we merely say that it was necessary.”

  “There’s something I don’t understand,” said Marsha, taking two steps forward, hands to her hips. “I mean, here we are now—talking with you face-to-face… Why have you waited this long for this discussion? Or, better yet, forget me—why didn’t you come to Scarborough at the very beginning? You could have saved yourselves and us a lot of trouble!”

  “Could we? I think not.” The older man snapped his fingers. Almost immediately, the younger man brought out a straight-backed chair and placed it on the cement floor. The grey man sat down.

  “If two men in business suits came to you and said they were aliens from another planet, Dr. Scarborough—would you have believed them?” said the younger man in soft but assertive tones.

  “No,” said Scarborough. “I suppose not.”

  “You could have tried. You could have spared him all of this silly business.”

  “No. You are being preemptory, Ms. Manning,” said the older, crossing his legs with a casual self-assurance. “Suffice to say that we know Everett Scarborough well enough to realize that the time was never right—until now—to come forward. Can you disagree with that, Dr. Scarborough?”

  “I can, but I won’t. I want you to get on with your explanation, please. Start off with the welfare of my daughter!”

  “Diane is in good health and an excellent state of mind. She is presently at a house in another part of the country where she is being treated well and undergoing an extensive education of her own choosing... She is learning about the universe, Dr. Scarborough.”

  “What? Do you have her drugged? She hasn’t asked about me… or even her boyfriend, Tim Reilly?”

  “Oh, certainly. She has indeed. But we have assured her that you are both working out your parts in the tapestry of the plan. And she believes us, Dr. Scarborough. Your daughter is a remarkable individual. Intelligent, inquisitive, emotionally and intellectually open—she is a credit to the human race.”

  “How could you understand the human race, if you’re aliens?” asked Marsha.

  “Can’t you perceive, Marsha Manning, that we are not much different than you?”

  “You’re saying that you’re human?” said Scarborough.

  “Not precisely. Genetic cousins. But perhaps we can discuss the scientific background at some later date. Now, we must discuss the present situation.”

  “I must confess, I’m all ears.”

  “You see, Ms. Manning,” the seated man gestured expansively. “The eminent Dr. Scarborough has been prepared for this. He’s now listening attentively.”

  “He hasn’t got much choice, has he? Neither of us do. Don’t keep us in suspense... what are you going to do with us?”

  “Talk to you.”

  “And what then? If we don’t do what you say, are you going to brainwash us? Take us to where you took Diane?”

  “No, to both. But please, allow us to get to that point,” said the younger man.

  “If we had intended to harm you, we would have done so by now.”

  “You may call me Robert,” said the younger man.

  “And you may call me James,” said the older. “We could tell you our alien names, but that seems unreasonable at this point. But names do help, I suppose.”

  The thought that seemed to have been rumbling around at the back of Everett Scarborough’s mind tumbled forth now.

  “Camden!”

  “Oh my God, yes!” said Marsha. “We forgot about Jake!”

  “Pardon?” said James.

  “We were supposed to meet our friend Jake Camden at a Tucson restaurant. We—” Marsha stopped short of coming out with the rest, looking over at Scarborough for guidance.

  Scarborough saw no problem with continuing. “We have reason to believe that Maximillian Schroeder, the writer who—”

  “We are acquainted with Schroeder...”

  “Yes, well, we think he’s kind of a double agent, working for White Book and Black Book.”

  “Oh, most assuredly. That is quite true.”

  “We were going to kidnap him.”

  “An extreme measure…”

  “We didn’t know what other step to take...” said Marsha.

  “No, we are not criticizing,” said the man who had called himself James. “We understand your desperation. Please do not misinterpret us... We are sympathetic to your plight, despite what you may think.”

  “What time is it?”

  Robert looked at a watch. “Slightly past four in the afternoon.”

  “Damn! Poor Jake!”

  “You’ve got to let us get him,” said Scarborough. “He could be in danger.”

  “Jake Camden?” Robert laughed. “Hardly. He’ll merely assume that there was a problem—engine difficulty with the Winnebago, say. He will have his meeting, make deals, and then go back to the cabin to see what happened to you. Doubtless, he’ll reschedule a meeting, thinking that you may wish to have another pass at the kidnapping. But worry? I don’t think so—be assured that we have agents watching out for his safety. We’ve been protecting Jake, you see, Scarborough. Just as we’ve been protecting you.”

  “He’ll get nervous,” said Scarborough. “He’ll drink. All we need now is for Jake to get picked up for drunken driving.”

  “He won’t.”

  “But why… why this charade, why this whole string of games?”

  “We will start at the beginning, and perhaps you will understand by the end. This is what we are counting on at this point, Everett Scarborough. Your understanding and your cooperation... your cooperation from free will, and not coercion!”

  “That’s nice to know,” said Scarborough tartly.

  “We mean that sincerely, Everett Scarborough. We are not the evil creatures you might imagine.”

  “I’m not crazy about your methods.”

  “Perhaps when you understand the desperation of our situation, you will understand why we have done what we have done.”

  “We’re listening, James... Robert. Take your time—apparently we’re not going anywhere, now...”

  Marsha said, “I look forward to the non-coercion part.”

  “You see, Robert, I told you they would not be without a sense of humor, albeit sardonic,” said James. “But on to the story.”

  And so, the alien named James began.

  “We are not from the planet Earth, nor from anywhere near your solar system. We are prohibited by our People from telling you more than we are Emissaries, sent on a mission.

  “Our People are spread over the stars and we venture out regularly to scout new territory. It was on one such mission many years ago that the planet Earth was discovered. The fact that it was populated by people much like ourselves was not surprising, since many of the races of the galaxy were ‘seeded’ by the Predecessors—an ancient race which spread intelligent life through the galaxy. However, what did surprise that scouting party was the degree of technology that had already been reached. Calculations
showed that the warlike nature of the nations of the planet Earth combined with the humans’ scientific advances would spell atomic weapons soon—a significant step toward travel off one’s planet. A full evaluation of the planet was needed, at which time the evaluating party would decide whether or not it would be wise, and feasible, to contact world leaders and make our presence known.

  “Occasionally, our ships were seen as ‘flying saucers’ by individuals and other aircraft—but I assure you, most of the reports during the various flaps were just as you suspected, Scarborough. The result of hysteria focused upon aerial phenomena.”

  “But some of them were true.”

  “Yes.”

  “The Kenneth Arnold incident in Washington?”

  “I don’t think it’s necessary to go over these case by case, Scarborough. “

  “But the Arnold flying disk incident—the beginning of the modem age of the flying saucer.”

  “You still cling to your shell of ego, do you not?” James chuckled ruefully.

  “Ev, what difference does it make?” said Marsha. “Let him get on with the story!”

  “It makes a lot of difference,” said Scarborough.

  “Your hypotheses and conjectures on the Kenneth Arnold case in 1947 were amazingly accurate, Dr. Scarborough—and no, we never flew so many ships together. And we certainly did not intentionally parade in front of private aircraft.”

  Scarborough realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it out in a sigh.

  “Yes. Again, you were largely correct, Scarborough. Only occasionally were our ships seen.”

  “Let me get this straight, though,” said Marsha. “You came from another planet on these ships... And you go back and forth between here and that planet? How many ships did you have…?”

  “Those sorts of details are not necessary. However, you should know that we are members of a lengthy mission. Our ships are not equipped with star drive. We were dropped off by a larger vessel—a ‘mother ship,’ if you will. When our mission is completed to the satisfaction of ourselves and to the specifications previously laid out as guidelines by the architects of the extraterrestrial contact program, then that mother ship will be summoned again, and we will take our leave. However, this has been a difficult and troubling planet—and thus our lengthy stay.”