“Looks like the cavalry has arrived,” said Grant.
“Better late than never,” said Maclean, getting up to his knees. He looked skyward and waved at the drone as it flew right over the top of them.
Andrews smiled. “Good shooting.”
“Thanks, sir,” replied the operator. “I’ll pass that on to the ground team in Kuwait.”
A sergeant stood up and pointed at the monitor. “Colonel, we’re not alone. There’s another drone circling our people.”
“Where?” asked Andrews. “I don’t see it.”
“Sir, it’s there. I spotted it on the thermal scanner.”
“I’ve got nothing on my radar screen,” reported an Air Force captain.
“The bastards have got themselves a stealth drone,” said Andrews. “It may be invisible on radar, but it’s not to the thermal camera. Sergeant, find it and destroy it.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant replied enthusiastically.
The comms tech sergeant stood. “Colonel, Eagle-Six is once again asking for permission to proceed to the objective.”
Andrews nodded. “Send them in.”
It was time to bring his people home.
Grant checked the body of the dead British assassin but came up empty-handed. There wasn’t a single thing on him that could be used to identify his remains.
“Any luck?” called out Maclean as he rummaged through the other man’s suit.
“Nothing,” replied Grant. “No point wasting any more time on these two. Let’s head to the ATV and call the colonel.”
“Good idea.”
Above them, the stealth drone had just lined them up with another missile when it exploded. The sky lit up with a brilliant fireball. Burning pieces of wreckage fell to the ground.
Both men cheered the friendly UAV as it made another pass over them.
In the distance, the rhythmic beating of helicopter blades told them that help had arrived.
5
Charlotte, Montana
Susan Dove rolled over in her warm bed and stretched her arms over her head, letting out a long yawn. She was tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep. A nightlight, shaped like a bumble bee, lit the bedroom with a dull orange glow. She sat up and listened for her grandmother before kicking off her covers and climbing out of bed. Susan walked over to her toy chest, quietly lifted the lid, and grabbed her favorite doll. She liked it because, like her, it had long black hair, brown eyes, and the tanned complexion of a Native American.
She brought a finger to her lips. “Kelly, we have to be quiet, or Grandma will hear us.”
Susan imagined the doll agreeing with her as she took a seat on the carpet beside her bed. “What would you like to do?”
Susan smiled and nodded at the unspoken suggestion. “Good idea. I’ll get the tea set, and we can have some tea before going to bed.” She stood, walked over to a small plastic table, and picked up the teapot and two cups. Susan placed the toys on the floor and took a seat. She was about to pour the tea when the nightlight flickered on and off before going dark. The blackness was pierced by a bright white light that appeared on the wall in the shape of a small door.
A wide smile grew on Susan’s face. Her friend was back. In her world, there was only her and her grandmother. Abandoned as a baby, Susan had grown up on a farm with very few children nearby to play with, so her mind had become her play place.
The doorway grew bright. Susan brought up a hand to block the light. A slender arm reached out of the opening and offered a hand. Susan stood and took the hand in hers. She smiled, welcoming her guest before stepping back.
The light quickly dimmed.
Susan bent down and picked up one of her plastic tea cups. “I’m glad you came back. Would you like some tea, too?”
6
Pope Field, North Carolina
Grant parked his brand-new, black Jeep Wrangler, got out, and gazed appreciatively at the azure sky. From experience, he knew the temperature and humidity would soon soar, making the day hot and sticky. Grant wasn’t wearing his uniform. Instead, he wore tan slacks with a black polo shirt and a pair of comfortable shoes. Grant’s light brown hair had grown out since his time in Alaska. He walked to the front entrance of a two-story building with a sign out front that read Information Services and stepped inside. Thank God for air conditioning, he thought as the air deliciously cooled his face. Like their old building, this one was also a front. An enlarged and modernized Project Gauntlet was being established in the sub-basement of the facility. As part of Fort Bragg, Pope Field was uniquely stationed close to the U.S. Army’s Special Operations Command and its thousands of highly trained operatives, should they be needed.
Grant took the stairs down and entered his passcode into a numbered panel next to a sealed door. Next, he stepped close so a retinal scanner on the wall could verify his identity. A second later, the door slid open, and he walked inside. There was a corridor leading to Gauntlet’s new operations center, where a dozen or so daytime duty shift officers and non-commissioned personnel sat behind their computers, working on gathering data on any unidentified object sightings. On the wall were six screens showing various images from around the world supplied to them by NORAD Headquarters. Grant entered the room and smiled when he saw Captain Erica Jones was on duty. He waved at her and walked over to her workstation. Her Air Force uniform fit her lithe body like a second skin.
“Anything on the go?” he asked.
Jones shook her head. “No, as far as UFO activity goes, it’s all quiet across the globe right now.”
“I’ll take quiet any day of the week over mayhem and terror.”
Jones smiled briefly. “You had best move along. Your better half is already here. I think he’s waiting for you in the briefing room.”
“Steady on, he’s not my better half,” replied Grant. “Besides, he’s not even close to being my type.”
“Who is, then?”
Grant looked Jones in the eyes. He’d been waiting for the right time to ask and said, “I think you are, Erica. Would you like to go out with me for dinner tonight?”
Jones hesitated for a moment. “Sure, why not? I get off at 1700 hours.”
“Okay, I’ll pick you up from your place at 1900. I know an excellent little Italian restaurant off base we can go to.”
“Sounds great, but you still have to get a move on. Colonel Andrews will be in shortly, and he’ll expect his morning brief to start at 0830 hours, sharp.”
Grant nodded and made his way to the briefing room. The nighttime duty officer, an Air Force lieutenant, nodded his head in greeting before continuing to review his presentation on his laptop. James Maclean sat at the far end of the table. In front of him were two tall cups of coffee.
“I thought you’d like a cup of Fort Bragg’s finest,” said Maclean, holding up a cup. His blond hair was now almost down to his ears, and he was wearing a blue, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and some well-worn jeans.
“I would and thank you,” Grant said, taking a cup and sliding down into a chair next to his friend. “I chatted with Erica when I came in. With nothing to report, this should be a short meeting.”
“Yeah, she told me the same thing.”
Grant leaned over and whispered, “Did she intimate to you that people think we’re a couple?”
Maclean chortled mischievously. “No, that was my idea. I’ve seen the way you look at her. For an officer, you sometimes lack confidence around the fairer sex. I figured if you were goaded into it, you’d ask her out on a date.”
“Played by my best friend. What’s the world coming to?”
“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Jeremey Hayes as he entered the room, a large stack of papers in his arms. He never seemed to change. His curly red hair was a mess, and he wore his usual tweed jacket, with a blue bow tie tied around the neck of his freshly pressed white shirt.
“Morning, Professor, take a seat,” said Maclean, pushing a chair out for Hayes with his foot.
“Thanks,” Hayes replied as he took his seat.
“Say, Professor, while I was out on my morning run, a thought crossed my mind.”
“Oh, and what might that be?”
“I thought you once said that if something can be detected on radar, then it’s manmade, and not from another world.”
“Yes, I do recall saying something like that.”
“Then how did the pilot of the jet chasing the alien drone manage to lock a missile onto it?”
“That’s easy to answer. As usual, the initial reporting was wrong. It would appear the Chadian pilot used his plane’s cannons to try and bring it down when he couldn’t get a lock with his missiles.”
“Okay, I’ll buy that.”
The door opened. Elena Leon and Colonel Andrews joined the people in the room. The three men respectfully stood and waited for Andrews and Elena to sit. As they arrived together almost every day, Grant began to suspect they had become more than just close work colleagues.
“Gents, please take your seats,” said Andrews.
As soon as everyone was comfortable, the lights dimmed, and the duty officer began his presentation. As expected, it took only a couple of minutes to cover the night shift’s activities. Andrews thanked the officer and then dismissed him.
Andrews looked into the faces of everyone in the room. “I got back late last night from D.C., where I had the opportunity to personally brief the secretary of defense on our most recent assignment. He liked what he heard and asked me to pass on his sincerest thanks for a job well done.”
Grant shook his head. “Sir, with all due respect, in my humble opinion, the mission was very nearly a disaster. Sergeant Maclean and I failed to retrieve the alien drone—if that’s what it truly was—and were almost killed by the very same assassins who murdered our people in Iraq and Georgia.”
“While I share some of your sentiments, Captain, I can’t characterize what happened as a disaster,” replied Andrews. “Please take a minute to consider the following. First, we’ve proven our enhanced capabilities to operate far from the States on foreign soil. Our interoperability with the Special Operations Command worked smoothly. And second, the opposition didn’t get their hands on the drone, either. Which in my books is a good thing.”
“Yes, Colonel, all of those things are positives, but the people we’re up against are fanatics. I’ve said it before; they’ll never stop until forced to. It’s a scary thought, but it looks like they’ve got people everywhere. Has the Air Force’s special investigative branch been able to identify the person in Space Command who tampered with our surveillance satellite?”
Andrews nodded solemnly. “It didn’t take long. They determined it was a senior master sergeant who had a gambling problem and needed the money to pay off some hefty debts. He was the one who uploaded the commands to the satellite, causing it to cease working.”
“Have they arrested the traitor?” asked Maclean.
“No. The police found his dead body hanging from a rope in his basement. It looks like he killed himself the same day we conducted our mission.”
“Or somebody hanged him,” offered Grant.
“Either way, for now, the trail stops cold with him,” said Andrews.
Maclean raised a hand. “Sir, I know this may be a bit off topic, but it’s been driving me to distraction. Have you been able to gain any further insight on who exactly the black ops personnel were in Alaska, who managed to brainwash an entire town into forgetting what happened there?”
“I asked the sec of defense that very question and was informed in no uncertain terms to let it go,” replied Andrews. “He told me to focus on my job and nothing else right now.”
“He knows; he’s just not telling you, Colonel,” said Grant. “I’m worried that one day our paths will cross, and they’ll decide we’re in their way and act accordingly.”
“Then, Captain Grant, you will always have the right of self-defense,” said Andrews. “Now, let’s not worry about them anymore and carry on with the business at hand.”
“Sir, have you had any thoughts about my suggestion of increasing the size and composition of the field teams?” asked Hayes.
Andrews looked at the professor. “Yes, I have given it considerable thought over the last couple of months and decided that our current construct of two military members and two civilian scientists working together is producing results, so why change it?”
“I agree, sir, but why stop at one team?”
“Jeremy, if you have good people in mind who you trust to do the job as well as the four of you, I’m listening.”
Hayes sat back and crossed his arms.
“Don’t worry, Jeremy, in time we’ll enlarge the number of field-deployable personnel, but it’s going to take time to find the right people. Let’s not forget that it was by pure luck the four of you were brought together.”
Grant said, “Sir, I know you’re not keen on it, but I still believe that we should bring the Special Forces personnel working with us into the picture. The last thing we need is for a platoon of Rangers to show up on an objective and be confronted by something they’re mentally unprepared to deal with.”
“The captain has a point,” said Maclean. “It’s hard enough on our psyches, and we’ve all accepted the fact that we’re facing an otherworldly threat that makes a hardened terrorist brandishing an AK look like a Cub Scout.”
Andrews shook his head. “My orders from the secretary of defense on this are clear. For now, they can continue to believe they are here to assist us in the extraction of operatives who are in danger of being killed or captured by hostile forces.”
Grant leaned forward in his chair. “Colonel, if push comes to shove, at least think about briefing the Ranger detachment leader before he leads his men into battle.”
“To be forewarned is to be forearmed,” added Elena.
Andrews raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I’ll think about it. Now, if there’s nothing else to discuss, I consider this part of the morning brief to be closed.”
“What do you mean by this part?” said Maclean.
Hayes stood up, walked over to the lectern, and typed his password into the laptop sitting there. A picture of the leather bag Grant had taken from the treasure room appeared on the screen behind Hayes’ head.
Maclean let out a groan. “Why do I get the feeling that I should have brought more coffee with me?”
“Please, Sergeant, even you might find what I’m about to say interesting,” said Hayes.
Andrews fixed his gaze on Maclean. “I think what Doctor Hayes is about to say will be of great interest to us all.”
Grant kicked his friend under the table and whispered, “Don’t push it. The colonel doesn’t look in the mood for your shenanigans today.”
Hayes began. “Folks, the bag recovered by Captain Grant is an unbelievable archaeological find that, according to radiocarbon dating, dates back to around the third century BCE.” The next picture showed the contents of the bag laid out on a table. “As you can see, there were six scrolls inside the bag, all of which were thankfully protected inside sheaths made of ivory.”
“Where did the scrolls come from, Jeremy?” asked Maclean.
“Ancient Egypt. From the time of the Ptolemaic Dynasty to be more precise. It’s not hard to imagine that at one time they may have been housed in the Great Library of Alexandria before it was burnt down by the Romans in 48 CE.”
Maclean toasted Hayes with his coffee cup. “Okay, you win. You do have my attention.”
“Five of the scrolls are remarkable in that they contain information on the people who lived in the region of the Upper Nile during that period. The scrolls cover things like taxes, records of marriages, births, and deaths. Any Egyptologist getting their hands on this information would have a field day shedding light on how the people were administered by the ruling elite of the period.”
Grant grinned. “That’s all very interesting. What’s in the sixth
scroll, Jeremy?”
“I was saving the best for last,” replied Hayes, bringing up an image of an unrolled scroll. On it was a hand-drawn map.
Grant stood and walked closer so he could study the picture. It was unlike any map he had ever seen.
“The map you see before you was made by a cartographer using several different sources of material,” explained Hayes. “The sources he used to create this world map are listed on the right-hand side of the scroll in ancient Greek.”
“I thought the known world was restricted to the Mediterranean Sea and bits of North Africa and Asia in those days,” said Maclean. “This map has the eastern coastline of North and South America on it.”
“As well as Antarctica,” added Grant. “It’s too far north, but it’s unmistakably Antarctica.”
“It can’t be Antarctica,” said Andrews. “It wasn’t discovered until the 1700s.”
“The ice shelf wasn’t spotted until 1820, sir,” said Hayes.
“What are those markings below Antarctica?” asked Maclean, pointing at the map.
Hayes looked over at the map. “Truth be told, I’m not sure. I’ve never seen writing like that before. It could be a form of early hieroglyphs. I’ll need an expert on ancient languages to take a look at the map and see if they can tell us what it says.”
Grant said, “The top half of the continent clearly shows rivers and mountains. How can this be? Hasn’t the entire continent been under ice for millions of years?”
Hayes changed the picture. On one side was Antarctica as drawn on the Egyptian map, and on the other, a NASA image showing how the continent would look today without any ice on it.
Andrews stood. “This can’t be. The northern portion of the continent is identical to NASA’s representation.”
“This is incredible,” said Elena. Her eyes were aglow. “It proves that the Piri Reis and the Orontius Finaeus maps aren’t the only maps out there showing Antarctica as ice free.”
The Founders Page 3
