by D F Capps
Chapter 33
Air Force One landed in Oslo, Norway early in the morning of December 10th for President Andrews’s first international good will tour. Andrews had the jitters and a knot in his stomach. He politely endured the photo ops and public handshaking, smiling and acting as if he really wanted to be here. By a little after ten, Andrews’s entourage proceeded on to Stockholm, Sweden for the presentation of the Nobel Prizes. This was the first time in over twenty years that an American had received the Nobel Prize in Literature, although, as usual, American scientists were well represented in chemistry, physics, and physiology.
Andrews and Martha attended a state dinner in Helsinki, Finland with the Prime Minister, the president of Finland, and the other eleven ministers who governed the country. Formalities completed, Andrews and his wife entered the armored limo that would return them to Air Force One for the trip home. Once the limo was in motion the forward bench seat opened and Secret Service Agent Sidney Dodd crawled out.
“Let me check your makeup,” Martha said. She examined Dodd’s face and compared it to the president’s. Sidney Dodd was a close look-alike to the president, although thinner. He was always kept away from the president to reduce the possibility of someone making the connection. The critical biometric markers of eye distance and mouth were the same between Dodd and the president, but theatrical makeup was needed to widen the cheek bones, nose, and chin in addition to reshaping his ears.
Andrews’s emotions were churning. Martha used to be so attentive to all of the minor details about him when they were together on the campaign trail for so many months. Now, she seemed distant to him. She just didn’t seem distant with Sidney Dodd. She sparkled when she was around him. Is this what we looked like when we were out? he wondered. He felt weird, almost dispossessed when he looked at Dodd made up to look like him. It was disconcerting at best. He wouldn’t have any part of it if he could help it, but what he had to do was critical, and people had to believe he was on his way back to Washington. His Cabinet and the Chiefs of Staff could not be allowed to know what the president was about to do. Too much hung in the balance.
Was it his imagination, or was something going on between them? Was he jealous? Was that the feeling he didn’t like? He looked out the window of the limo and tried to focus his mind on the upcoming meeting with Yuri Pasternov. It wasn’t working. He returned his attention to his wife. Martha noticed a small spot on his shirt where a tiny bit of gravy had dripped. She took out an eyebrow pencil and marked Dodd’s shirt to match.
As the limo approached Air Force One, Andrews reluctantly climbed into the compartment under the bench seat and Dodd took the president’s place next to Martha. According to their plan, Dodd and Martha would exit the limo and walk to the steps leading up to the door of Air Force One. They would turn, wave to the crowd and photographers, then board the plane.
Andrews waited impatiently in the cramped compartment until the limo stopped and his driver told him it was clear. He crawled out slowly and did a quick visual check of the surroundings. He was in a small, empty hangar. The large folding door was closed and there were no windows. This was where the limo would remain until it was loaded on a C-130 by the Secret Service and flown back to Washington, D.C.
Three members of the president’s personal military unit entered the personnel door. The officer-in-charge (OIC) tossed a long, dark, bulky hooded coat to Andrews.
“It’s cold out there, sir. Twenty-eight below zero with a damp wind coming in off the ocean, so wrap up tight.”
Andrews zipped the coat up and tied the fur-lined hood around his face. The soldiers walked him out to an older car with Finnish plates. They left the airfield and headed west as the darkness closed in around them under a heavily clouded sky. Andrews tapped his fingers on his knee as his anxiety kept building. He had to keep his mind focused on the meeting with Yuri Pasternov.
His mind drifted back to Martha and Agent Dodd. Were they involved? It was a six hour flight back to Washington. Too much time and too little to do? he wondered. He had trusted her completely. Was that a mistake? What would he do if Dodd and Martha . . . ? Realistically, he could fire Dodd, but what would that accomplish? For political reasons he wasn’t going to divorce her. He felt powerless in the middle of what he imagined to be a love triangle. How ironic, he thought. The most powerful political figure in the world: powerless.
Two hours later they turned north and followed a plowed dirt road through the forest to a clearing with a small cabin near the eastern edge. The border between Russia and Finland ran through the middle of the clearing. The driver pulled the car up to the cabin and all four of them got out into the stiff, freezing breeze. They stepped back from the car as two Russian soldiers with a canine searched the vehicle while two others stood guard. When the Russians were satisfied that there was no bomb, or other weapons present in the car, they swept Andrews and his men with security wands. They compared Andrews’s face to the biometric markers they had on file to verify his identity. The Russian soldiers used a blue-green laser to signal that everything was okay.
Three men walked out of the western edge of the forest and over to the cabin. President Andrews shook hands with Russian President Yuri Pasternov.
“Thank you for meeting me under these circumstances,” Andrews said.
Pasternov didn’t say anything. He simply extended his arm toward the cabin doorway.
The inside of the cabin was warm and cozy, the fireplace blazing. Two comfortable chairs waited beside the hearthstone.
“It’s too cold to stand on formalities,” Pasternov said as he removed his heavy coat. “So why all of the secrecy?”
Andrews handed his coat to his OIC. The two presidents sat in the chairs provided, facing each other. Andrews had rehearsed a number of opening lines over the last two days, but none of them seemed right. He decided instead to speak from his heart.
“The military leaders in my country are a formidable force,” Andrews said. “I’m sure they are in yours, as well.”
“I’m satisfied with the arrangement,” Pasternov said. The look of distrust in his face seemed like an impenetrable wall.
“We can’t afford to be any longer,” Andrews said. “The Joint Chiefs of Staff and my Secretary of Defense are pushing for a nuclear first strike against your country.”
Pasternov appeared unfazed by the statement. “I know this already. For decades your CIA spies have infiltrated the former Soviet republics, turning one after another against Mother Russia, buying their leaders and bringing them into this NATO farce. I know all about your missile bases and your subterfuge in Ukraine and Belarus. My friend, the president of Belarus, is old and sick. You can’t wait to take his country from him and turn it into another member of NATO, just as you have done with all of the others. The only surprise is that you are willing to say this to my face. Why say this now?”
“Because we can’t afford to be enemies any longer.” Andrews expected a firm response, but Pasternov’s inside knowledge of U.S. strategic thinking startled him. He nodded and smiled as if the response was fully expected. At least it gave him the opportunity to approach the real issue at hand. “If we do not stand side-by-side and fight to protect our world, there won’t be anything or anyone left to fight over. We have a common enemy and we must join together and fight them if we are to survive.”
Pasternov leaned back in his chair, disgust deepened in his expression. “And who do you propose to be our common enemy, China?”
Now the conversation was getting back on track to where Andrews needed it to go. He shook his head. “No. We will need China to join us. They are in the same danger we share.”
“And what is that?” Pasternov folded his arms across his chest.
He doesn’t want to hear what comes next, Andrews thought. Best to slide into the subject carefully.
“There is a very small group of people in my country who share critical information with a similar group within Russia. They told me very little. In their
opinion, I didn’t have a need to know. I suspect the situation is the same for you. But I did need to know and so do you. Once I found out, I had to force the rest of the information out of them. You may have to do the same.”
“What is it you think I need to know?”
Pasternov relaxed his arms and placed them in his lap. Partially open, Andrews thought. Now is the time.
“The Zeta Grey extraterrestrials supposedly working with our military and select defense corporations are deceiving us and using us. They have not kept any of their promises. The limited medical experiments and use of animals has grown way out of control. What they are doing threatens the survival of the human population on our planet. We have to stop them.”
Pasternov glanced around the room in dismay. “You are insane. You come to me as a madman, telling me we have to do things that cannot be done. Why should I spend any more time listening to you? Why?”
He didn’t blame Pasternov for not believing. He didn’t believe it at first, either. But conditions have changed, he thought. It was time to put everything on the table and see what happened.
“Because I have the ability to stop the Zeta Greys. I have the technology to shoot down their saucers, and I will share that technology with you, if we can stop being enemies.”
Pasternov shook his head.
“Now I know you are mad. That technology does not exist. Even if it did, you would never withdraw your missile bases from our borders. Your generals would not allow that to happen, ever.”
He’s ready, Andrews thought. He just needs another small shove in the right direction.
“You already have half the technology we need: your woodpecker system, ionospheric heaters, and your phased array antennas. You need to increase the nanometal content in your atmosphere, just as we have been doing, so you can selectively electrify portions of the upper atmosphere. That will stop the Zeta Grey saucers from entering and landing on our planet. If you will coordinate the atmospheric electrification with us, together, we can protect eighty percent of the planet from intrusion by the Zeta Greys.”
Pasternov shook his head again, but Andrews could see his resolve starting to wane.
“Why should I believe you?” Pasternov asked again. “My people tell me the Zeta Grey problem is not significant, that it is all under control,”
Andrews smiled and nodded.
“Three reasons. First I can demonstrate the technology to you, personally. Second, once you see the technology, you will want to get the truth from your own people. They are lying to you. Third, I am prepared to demonstrate to you in no uncertain terms that we are no longer enemies. Do you want to see the technology?”
Pasternov turned his head slightly away, but still maintained eye contact. This is like fishing, Andrews thought. He’s hooked. Now all I have to do is reel him in.
“Do I want to see what? Photos, drawings, or some video? No. Such things are worthless.”
Of course they are, he thought. “I can do much better than that,” Andrews said. “Are you willing to step outside for a few minutes?”
“For what? Lights in the sky? I have already seen those.”
Okay. Now it’s time, he thought.
“Have you been inside one?”
Pasternov’s expression turned serious. Andrews turned and nodded to his OIC, who spoke briefly on a small radio.
“You ready to go for a ride?”
They stepped outside and watched as a glowing white oval craft glided silently over the trees and settled into the clearing fifty feet from the cabin. The white glow faded once it landed and the clear canopy opened from the front.
* * *
Diane Zadanski leaned forward and removed her helmet. She stood up in the narrow cockpit and looked at the group of men standing in front of the cabin. She recognized President Andrews and President Pasternov, of course. From her briefing with Admiral Hollis an hour ago she had an intellectual understanding of the situation, but an intellectual understanding was one thing. She was unprepared for being up close with people she was trained to think of as the enemy. It was unnerving, dangerous, and unpredictable. Those emotions swirled inside of her, barely under control.
“Lieutenant Zadanski, this is Yuri Pasternov, the president of Russia. Yuri, you ready to see what this thing can do?”
She took a deep breath. They were really going to do this, weren’t they?
President Pasternov glanced at Andrews and then back at Diane. He walked swiftly over to the fighter craft and climbed up onto the wing. Diane handed him a helmet and motioned to the rear seat. Pasternov put the helmet on, climbed in, and strapped into the harness.
“It’s cold Lieutenant. Let’s go.”
His eagerness made her even more nervous. She glanced at Andrews, who simply smiled and nodded back at her. She had to trust something, she thought, and right now Andrews was the only thing available.
Diane leaned back, attached the communications cable to Pasternov’s helmet, checked his harness, and pushed his head back into the padding. She turned forward, put her helmet on, and strapped in. She took another deep breath as the clear canopy closed. She powered up the thrusters. The craft began to glow bright white and then bolted up into the air.
“President Pasternov, can you hear me all right?”
What she wanted right now was a rearview mirror, so she could see Pasternov’s reactions. Flying blind was as dangerous as it got. She wasn’t blind, but having someone she didn’t know or trust sitting right behind her, where she couldn’t see, felt like the same thing.
“I can,” Pasternov said. “Where are you taking me?”
That was an interesting shift, she thought. The president of Russia was deferring to her. If he was willing to trust her, what did that mean about the situation?
“Where did you want to go?” she asked.
“Up.”
Well, she thought, that was simple enough. She banked into an upward angle and hit the thrusters. Within six seconds they cleared the lower atmosphere and entered the edge of outer space. Diane slowed and rotated the craft so President Pasternov could view the planet below through the canopy. The lessened gravity didn’t seem to slow the Russian down at all.
“This is amazing. It’s so beautiful, I could sit here forever.”
She understood. This was the first time she had been this high above the planet. The view was exquisite and breathtaking. But the reality was that this was also where the Zeta Grey saucers were.
“I’m afraid we can’t stay. We’ll attract too much attention from the Zeta Greys.”
“Of course.” He sounded disappointed. “Where to now?”
“Flying is one thing, weapons are another,” she said. “I understand you were asked if you have an old bunker, or heavily armored facility, that is no longer in use. Something we could use for a demonstration?”
“Yes.”
He seemed reluctant to get to the business part of the assignment. Personally, she didn’t fault him for that. It was so beautiful up here it was inspirational.
“In the north, just above the Arctic Circle, a little west of sixty degrees east longitude. Can you find that?”
“I can.” She dived back into the atmosphere and streaked east-northeast. “What are we looking for?”
She was actually starting to like this guy. Too bad he was the president of Russia.
“A low building, nuclear blast proof. It will be covered with five meters of snow. There are old radar domes around it.”
Diane tapped her interactive screen and quickly located the building. “You sure nobody’s in there? It’s about to get two holes punched through it.”
She heard him chuckle softly.
“That, I will have to see for myself.”
She smiled. For never meeting a Russian before, this was going remarkably well. No wonder the Russian people admired their president.
“Okay. Center top agreeable with you?”
Now she really wished she could see his expression.<
br />
“Why not,” he said.
She flew in at thirty miles up, dived quickly, fired both particle beam cannons together, pulled up, and banked to the left a mile above the ground. A grin crept across her face as she imagined the Russian president looking up through the two holes in his armored bunker. She returned to the cabin on the border of Russia and Finland, landing in the same spot as before. Pasternov unbuckled his harness, removed his helmet, and stood as the canopy lifted into the air.
He checked his watch. “All of that in three minutes. Very impressive, Lieutenant. Very impressive.”
She smiled and nodded, acknowledging his praise.
* * *
President Andrews followed President Pasternov back into the cabin.
“I have twelve flight simulators sitting on two C-130 cargo planes. You’ll need an underground facility to escape detection by the Zeta Greys and train your pilots. Those simulators and the technical specifications for the fighter craft are yours if you agree to look at the truth regarding the situation with the Zeta Greys.”
Andrews pulled a USB drive from his pocket. “This drive contains three large files. The first has the names of those individuals and organizations in Russia who are corrupted and cooperating with the Zeta Greys, including the evidence against them. A second, much smaller file, names the people you can trust. The third file is the complete design and material specifications for a large particle beam cannon with an effective range of two hundred miles. You will need to build enough of them to protect your transmitter sites from the Zeta Greys. Will seventy-two hours be enough time for you to evaluate that information and make a decision?”
Pasternov was smiling for the first time since they had met.
“It will,” Pasternov said. “You are offering me a lot. I assume you need something substantial in return.”
He understands exactly how the political system works, Andrews thought. The rest is going to be straight forward from here.
“I do. I need your incoherent backscatter arrays tied in with our network so we can detect and track all of the Zeta Grey saucers, plus I need your transmitters in Novgorod, Irkutsk, Nakhodka, and Antarctica tied in under our operational control.”
