by Steve Alten
“I don’t know. It felt like an earthquake.”
A second tremor shook the subterranean facility; the disturbance followed a moment later by a deafening siren and whirling yellow lights.
Joyce felt the blood rush from her face.
“What the hell is going on?”
“That siren is a warning. Strategic Command is about to go into a full alert.”
“What would—”
“I have no idea,” she yelled, ripping off her surgical gown, “but you need to finish up without me. If we go into a full alert, anyone not wearing a Zebra badge or higher will have exactly sixty seconds to vacate the facility before they are shot and killed … and that includes my son!”
* * *
General Thomas J. Cubit climbed out of a transport tube, his hair and clothes disheveled from having been “vacuum-flushed” twenty-two stories out of his suite. “Christ, I hate these damn things … speak to me, gentlemen.”
“Sir, one of our ARV’s is hovering above Dulce Mountain firing low level scalar bursts at us.”
“Who’s piloting the craft?”
“According to the duty roster, Captain Joshua LaCombe is the pilot—”
The lights blinked off and on as another scalar shot penetrated the complex’s electromagnetic shielding.
“—only the ship’s computer isn’t getting a DNA match. The co-pilot is listed as Captain Jeffrey Allen … only I can’t even get a corroborative history on him.”
“Somebody get me a goddam headset and connect me by thought-wave.”
“General, three visiting Council members are demanding to know why Strategic Command hasn’t gone on full alert.”
“There are civilians with young children living here; I’m not about to give an order that leads to marines shooting kids.”
“Sir, Zeus-2 will be in firing range in seven minutes.”
“General, we have a pit crew loading an interceptor drone onto an elevator platform. ETA for launch … under sixty seconds.”
A tech arrived with a headset, offering it to General Cubit who snatched it from him and powered the device on.
This is General Thomas Cubit. Would the pilot or pilots of the ARV firing upon our facility please identify themselves.
Just me, General Cubit. Small world.
Shariak? My God … you actually made it through the rabbit’s hole.
“General, ARV-2 is on the platform. ETA for launch is twenty seconds.”
Adam, listen to me—I’m on your side … we were the ones who selected you. There’s an ARV interceptor drone ready to launch. You need to hit us with a Level-Six EMP … quickly!
The powerful electromagnetic pulse passed through the subterranean complex at near light speed, shutting down the electrical grid, reducing the Dulce facility to emergency power.
Good. That should shut down power to the lifts and buy us a few minutes. Shariak, how did you acquire the ARV?
Someone put out a TWEP on me. One of the would-be assassins was a counter-intelligence agent at OSI. Her boyfriend arrived aboard the ARV … apparently they had plans to sell a ZPE unit. The boyfriend shot the pilot … the pilot vaporized the boyfriend.
Do you know their names?
The pilot was LaCombe. The OSI agent was Kelly Kishel; her boyfriend … Chris Mull.
Colonel Johnston … you bastard—
“General, are you able to communicate with the pilot?”
“Yes. This was an unannounced test of the EMP Shield. Stand down warning.”
Shariak, I know who issued the TWEP order and I’ll handle it. Get the hell out of here before the Air Force arrives or a Zeus satellite vaporizes you.
What about Jess?
She’s safe … she’ll be heading back to D.C. today.
Why me, General?
MAJI’s silent majority is making a move against the ruling fringe element. The movement selected twelve potential access points to release zero-point-energy. Each access point was assigned an escort.
And I was yours?
No. Jessica was mine. You were Barbara Jean’s.
Jess’s mom?
Never mind that now. Implanted in the fourth finger of your fiance’s right hand is a flash drive with schematics for three different ZPE generators. Get it to Greer; he’ll know what to do with it.
What about the ARV?
Crash it or ditch it. Zeus was designed to target and destroy any vessel crossing over into our physical dimension. There are already three of them in orbit … one is moving into firing range as we speak!
* * *
The forward view screen suddenly zoomed into space, focusing upon a rectangular object …
Recognizing the killer satellite, Adam quickly engaged the ARV’s Delta configuration, slipping the ship into transdimensional space.
41
JESSICA GAZED OUT OF THE FIRST-CLASS passenger window at the autumn sky. Dusk bled over the darkening city in crimson and purple, the lights of Dulles International Airport beckoning to the east.
Her mind drifted back three thousand air miles and fifteen hours ago …
She had found herself stumbling down a dimly lit corridor illuminated by yellow emergency lights while strangers in lab coats raced by. Her mouth was dry, her right hand felt strange, and someone had taped a gauze pad to her left forearm.
Twenty minutes later the power had returned, along with the memory of being prepped for surgery.
A security guard escorted her back to the women’s lockers. Stripping down, she was weighed and searched by a female attendant, then sent through the showers to the other side. Locating her locker, she dressed, and at 6:37 a.m., rode the elevator up to the Maglev train station on Level-9, her packed bags already there along with eight other techs, all of whom seemed excited to be going home.
Sarah had packed her a breakfast sandwich and a container of freshly-squeezed orange juice. Lydia had refused to allow her to leave Dulce until she was given medical clearance. They had held the train up forty minutes before Dr. Spencer confirmed her bloodstream was clear of any foreign objects.
Finally she had boarded the train, receiving nasty looks from the other passengers. Selecting an empty row in back, she took the window seat, reclined her chair and dozed off …
“Excuse me? Are these two seats taken?”
The train had stopped at Los Alamos to pick up a single passenger—a raven haired woman, bearing the gaunt, pale complexion of someone who had spent far too many months working indoors.
“I’m sorry … what?”
“I asked if these seats were taken.”
The train suddenly accelerated, causing the woman to lose her balance. She fell forward across Jessica’s lap, her right hand grabbing hold of Jessica’s bare left arm to keep from tumbling head-over-heels.
“I’m so sorry.”
Jessica wiped the woman’s sweat from her biceps. “It’s okay.”
* * *
The Maglev train arrived at the subterranean complex beneath Edwards Air Force Base at 8:13 a.m. Fifteen minutes later Jessica found herself standing beneath an actual cloudless blue sky, breathing the fresh desert air.
She could have taken a private jet bound for Pittsburgh and Washington, but turned the offer down. Instead she accepted a van ride to LAX and booked a ticket on the next direct flight to D.C., wanting nothing more to do with MAJI.
She called Adam at the airport, but only got his message machine. “Hey babe, it’s me. I’m coming home tonight, arriving in Dulles at 6:15 p.m. on Delta. I can’t wait to see you and hold you … and just love on you. I missed you so much.”
* * *
Jessica’s heart raced as the wheels touched down, her left forearm sore where the woman had dug in with her nails. She rubbed it, conscious of the stiffness coming from her fourth finger.
Maybe Adam knows an ER doctor who can take this thing out tonight.
* * *
Adam stood at the security checkpoint which separated ticketed passengers from gues
ts.
Twenty thousand air miles and fifteen hours ago he had found himself knocking on the Greer’s back door, the ARV hovering ten feet off the ground in the clearing behind him.
“Morning, doc. I’ll swap you a pair of crutches for an ARV and a zero-point-energy device.”
Adam shared his tale over a four a.m. breakfast. Thirty minutes later they had made plans with the man who had spent the last thirty years communicating with extraterrestrials receiving an in-flight tutorial on how to operate the man-made UFO.
They embraced outside the closed gas station in Cassopolis, Michigan. Adam watched the ARV shoot straight up into the graying sky, leaving him alone on the deserted country road.
Remembering the bikers, he rolled up the garage door and climbed in the rental car. Locating the keys in the ash tray where he had left them, he started the vehicle and sped away.
* * *
Returning to Chicago was all about establishing alibis. Adam had flown into O’Hare International a day earlier; therefore, he needed to depart from O’Hare.
He had received Jessica’s voice mail when he had landed in D.C. at 3:25 p.m. He just had time to return to his apartment, shower, and strap on his regular prosthetic leg before Gene Evans arrived to drive him back out to Dulles.
* * *
The petite blonde with the athletic figure broke into a wide smile as she dashed up the inclined corridor and past the velvet ropes, leaping into her fiancé’s arms. Wrapping her lower limbs around his waist, she locked in their kiss until Adam’s legs began to buckle.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Wow, that was some kiss.”
“I’m serious. We’re going to have a baby!”
He hugged her. “That’s the best news I’ve had in a long time.”
“Asshole!”
Adam and Jessica turned to find a middle aged woman glaring at them.
“If I were you, missy, I’d leave this scumbag before he abuses you, too.”
They watched the woman walk away while others stared and pointed.
Adam shook his head. “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”
“And even more we can’t. Doesn’t matter. I’ve decided to take a year off from work.”
“A year, huh? You do realize I’m unemployed.”
She slid her arm around his waist as they walked together toward the escalator leading down to baggage claim. “I’m sure we’ll manage to get by.”
* * *
Ten minutes later they had Jessica’s luggage and were waiting for Evans to circle around with the car. The bodyguard pulled the black Mustang over to the curb by the passenger pick-up zone and popped open the trunk. He loaded Jessica’s bags while the couple squeezed into the tight back seat.
“Adam, wouldn’t you rather stretch out in front?”
“No, I like it back here with you.”
The bodyguard climbed in the driver’s side, rummaging through a gym bag he had retrieved from the passenger seat.
“Jess, this is Gene Evans. We served together in Iraq.”
“Nice to meet you, Gene.”
The bodyguard spun around, a big smile on his face—
—a Beretta in his hand.
He managed to fire two rounds before Adam grabbed hold of the barrel. Using both hands, he twisted the gun toward his assailant—the third shot striking Evans in the right temple, killing him instantly.
“Jess?”
“I’m okay … I’m okay.”
He turned, relieved to find one slug had hit the seat between them, the other burying itself in the quadriceps of his prosthetic left leg.
Jessica smiled nervously, her hands shaking from the adrenaline rush. “Not much of a shot for a bodyguard, was he?”
Tears of relief poured out of Adam’s eyes. “I guess not.”
The white van rolled up next to the Mustang’s driver’s side door. A hand reached out of the open passenger window … holding a palm-size controller.
The explosion splattered blood across the back windshield, blinding Adam. He spit the warm liquid out of his mouth as he screamed Jessica’s name, desperately wiping at his eyes to locate what remained of his beautiful fiancée.
42
Annapolis, Maryland
THE IMAGE COULD HAVE INSPIRED a Norman Rockwell painting; the leaves golden and red and purple with fall, the church white, the sky cobalt-blue. Autumn in America—a pastel of life … invaded by grief.
Men in black suits, women in black dresses, veils and purses. Black limousines occupied the church parking lot, the news vans relegated to film behind a barrier patrolled by police officers in black uniforms.
The explosive that had blown off Jessica Marulli’s left arm had caused her to bleed to death in under thirty seconds, making the mortician’s work especially difficult. The casket had been ordered closed, the viewing chamber limited to the immediate family and close friends.
Captain Al Marulli refused to wear his dress uniform. His wife, Barbara Jean, had to be heavily medicated before she could be led inside the limo. For forty minutes the parents of the deceased attempted to be gracious hosts—the polished-wood casket situated at the front of the room carrying its own gravitational weight.
Adam sat in the second row next to his brother, Randy, and his sister-in-law. Dr. Steven Greer was seated behind him.
No one spoke. Everything that had to be said had already been said. There were no more tears to be cried, all that remained was to channel the anger.
In due course the reverend entered the chamber to announce that it was time to begin the ceremony. Senator Hall and his wife joined the procession line of guests exiting to the chapel.
Last in line, Captain Marulli led his wife past their daughter’s fiancé. Barbara Jean paused to brush her hand along the top of Adam’s head. Then she looked at Dr. Greer, who remained seated behind him.
“Be respectful … be quick.”
The two men waited until the chamber emptied. Adam quickly locked the doors, turning his back on Dr. Greer who opened the casket. Removing a thin carrying case from his jacket pocket, the former ER physician took out a scalpel and tweezers and set to work on the deceased woman’s right ring finger.
In less than a minute he had the flash drive in a small zip-lock bag and the casket was closed.
Adam waited until Greer patted him on the back before opening the door to allow the pallbearers to wheel his fiancée’s remains into the chapel.
Dulce, New Mexico
General Thomas J. Cubit stood in the assembly hall, addressing the members of Council who were watching him on video by invitation only.
“The zero-point-energy unit was stolen by counter-intelligence agent Chris Mull, one of Colonel Johnston’s top men. Mull and his lover, OSI agent Kelly Kishel, intended to sell the device. Against the recommendation of the majority of Council, Colonel Johnston took it upon himself to issue a TWEP order on Adam Shariak in order to cover up Mr. Mull’s tracks.
“In order to steal the ZPE unit, Mull acquired a fake device and attempted to blackmail Dr. Marulli into assisting him with the crime. Mull’s plan was to implicate the director of our Zeus program, along with our best ARV pilot, Captain Josh LaCombe. It was the ARV that would provide Mull with a means of removing the zero-point-energy unit from Dulce.
“Things went sour for Mr. Mull when he arrived at the MAJI drop-site in Cassopolis, Michigan by ARV, only to discover Colonel Johnston had double-crossed him by issuing a TWEP order on both him and his girlfriend, Agent Kishel.
“Why would the colonel issue a TWEP on Mr. Mull and his girlfriend? Because Dr. Sarah Mayhew-Reece, the assistant director at Zeus, had learned that Dr. Marulli had replaced Mull’s fake ZPE unit with the real device in order to prevent the crime. She reported Jessica’s actions to Dr. Joyce LaCombe, Captain LaCombe’s wife, and the head of our genetics department.
“Our clean-up crew arrived at the Michigan drop point to find the bodies of Agent Kishel, who had been killed by members of the Devi
l’s Diciples, and Captain LaCombe, who was shot and killed by Mr. Mull. There were also three dead bikers, one terminated by Agent Kishel, the other two by Mr. Mull.
“In a fit of rage, Mr. Mull then returned to Dulce aboard the ARV, intent on enacting revenge on Colonel Johnston. I attempted to talk him down while we readied our interceptor drones. He fired a disruptor burst and fled when one of the Zeus satellites moved into firing range.”
A Council member from the United Kingdom addressed him via audio hook-up. “Where is the ARV now, general?”
“It was last tracked over India.”
“Who gave the TWEP order on Dr. Marulli?”
“Again, that was Dr. Death. Shariak’s driver was hired to take out Shariak; the biological explosive had been adhered to Dr. Marulli’s skin during the ride to Edwards Air Force Base by Colonel Johnson’s co-conspirator, his wife, Yvonne.
“Gentlemen and ladies, the aftermath of these crimes is devastating to MAJI. Dr. Jessica Marulli was not only the brains behind Project Zeus and an invaluable young mind, but her parents both served MAJI loyally for a combined seventy-plus years.
“Dr. Marulli’s murder firmly splits MAJI into two camps. There’s the old guard; a radically conservative minority that has controlled MAJI’s agenda through a campaign of fear, orchestrated by Colonel Johnston and his MK-Ultra psychotronic threat. Then there is a progressive majority who feels it is time we disclosed our technological advances to the rest of humanity in an attempt to prevent an environmental cataclysm and thwart a radical false flag event that, if launched, will slaughter billions.
“Gentlemen and ladies, it is time for MAJI to crawl out of the shadows and into the light. Either we make bold changes immediately and stop this insanity, or there will be nothing left of humanity to salvage.”
Annapolis, Maryland
The procession of black limousines continued rolling through the gated entrance of Wardour on the Severn. Relegated to the main house, the mourners fed on deli platters and attempted to comfort their hosts.
