The Zeta Grey War: New Recruits

by D F Capps

  “I have just been informed that the body on Marine One was not President Andrews.”

  Sean grinned. “Then where is the president?”

  “He’s right here,” James said as he opened the door and President Andrews stepped through.

  “M-Mr. President,” Farnsworth said. “I—I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  Farnsworth was clearly caught off guard.

  “Of course you are,” Andrews replied. “The Secret Service and the FBI have some questions for you, so if you will follow the agents behind you . . .”

  Farnsworth glanced around. Four Secret Service agents surrounded him.

  Sean smiled and thought, This is an even bigger story than I expected.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I must ask you for an indulgence,” Andrews said. “You are here as witnesses to a major event in American history. There are more people involved in the attack on Marine One. We need time to identify and locate all of them. I must therefore ask you not to publish or leak anything to the public until we have those people in custody. Each of you will have the inside scoop on the people and events related to the attack on Marine One.”

  Murmurs ran through the small group of reporters.

  “For how long?” a reporter asked.

  For almost being killed, Sean thought Andrews looked surprisingly confident and in control.

  “Twenty-four hours,” Andrews said.

  Not very long, Sean thought. “Are you asking us, or is this a demand?”

  Andrews looked directly at Sean. “Officially, I’m asking for your cooperation.”

  Sean grinned. “And if we don’t cooperate?”

  Andrews looked totally serious. “Unofficially, I will hold you liable as accomplices after the fact for treason and the murder of eight people. I think you can find it in your heart to help us out for twenty-four hours. Don’t you?”

  You’re going to owe me big time, Sean thought as he nodded. And I won’t hesitate to call in the favor.

  * * *

  FBI director Matt Clemens entered the Oval Office. Andrews motioned him over to the couch.

  “Is Farnsworth talking?” Andrews asked.

  Clemens smiled. “He is. He couldn’t wait to cut a deal.”

  Andrews nodded. “Is he naming who else was involved in the attack?”

  “To the extent that he knows, yes. With the death penalty hanging in the balance, his lawyer is encouraging him to cooperate fully.”

  He should die for what he’s done, Andrews thought. But if we can get the rest of the people involved in this assassination plot, it just might be worth watching Farnsworth rot behind bars.

  “What about satellite coverage of vehicles in the area of the attack? Any progress on that?”

  Director Clemens pulled a packet of files and photos from his briefcase and set them on the low table in front of the couch.

  “Yes, sir. We currently have eighty-seven people identified and under surveillance. Mercenaries, as you suspected.”

  Andrews leafed through the files. “Any defense contractors involved?”

  Clemens nodded. “Two, so far. Still checking on a third. We should have an answer on that within the next six to eight hours.”

  Andrews reached into his pocket and withdrew a USB drive.

  “I have a list of people I want investigated. This list is for your eyes only. Keep these people and any of their associates out of the loop. You’ll find supporting documents and some additional comments in the file on this drive. Time is of the essence.”

  Clemens took the flash drive and headed out the door.

  * * *

  “We need to talk,” Andrews said.

  Martha turned to face him. “I was just changing clothes for dinner, what’s going on?”

  He looked around the bedroom, glanced at the original landscape painting hung on the wall. His heart felt heavy, and his breath was shallow, nerves tightened his stomach.

  “About Sidney Dodd,” he began softly.

  A pained expression filled her face. She looked away, tears forming in her eyes.

  “I know you two were close.” He glanced at the floor, searching for the right words.

  “Close?” She stood with her mouth slightly open, a look of dismay on her face. “What do you mean by close?”

  “I . . .”

  She put her hands on her hips. “What are you saying? You think Sidney and I were close? You think we were what? Having an affair? Is that what you think?”

  He shrugged. “You just seemed so attentive to him. So . . .”

  “Attentive?” She stepped forward, the flush of anger coloring her face. “When was I attentive to Sidney Dodd?”

  He swallowed hard. “The limo. In Finland.”

  She scoffed. “And after all these years together you think I’m that kind of woman? You actually think I would do something like that? What’s wrong with you?”

  Breathing rapidly, he stepped forward. “You just looked so happy to be next to him, fussing over his makeup, his appearance.”

  She glanced away from him and then back, focusing her incredulous expression on him. “I was helping you! You were the one who had to meet with Pasternov in secret. That whole thing was for you! Sidney had nothing to do with anything else but keeping your precious secret. How could you?”

  He held out his arms. “Look—“

  “No. You look!” She shook her head. “I’ve been here for you, supporting you and the horrible demands of this job. I don’t deserve to be treated like this.” She grabbed her clothes from the bed. “Tell the staff I’m having my dinner alone.”

  “Martha . . .” He reached out for her.

  “No! I’ve had enough.” She stormed out of the room. “I’m staying by myself.”

  * * *

  Agent James entered the Oval Office and closed the door. Andrews motioned to a chair.

  “I have a very personal question and I need a completely honest answer from you.”

  James sat slowly, concern wrinkling his brow. “What do you need to know?”

  Andrews hesitated. “Sidney Dodd and Martha.”

  James frowned, apparently considering exactly what Andrews was asking. Then he relaxed and his shoulders slumped. “You’re thinking they were . . .”

  Andrews stared back, waiting to hear what James would reveal.

  James shook his head. “I know where each of my agents are at all times, just as I know where you and Martha are every minute of the day and night. They were never alone together, if that’s what you’re getting at. Sidney Dodd was a good and faithful agent. He never did or said anything questionable. His death is a great loss to us and should be to you, as well.”

  Andrews nodded. “It is. I just needed to make sure.”

  “The time they spent together was when she was coaching Dodd on your mannerisms and expressions. There was never anything beyond that.”

  Andrews smiled and stood. “Thank you. I appreciate your honesty.”

  Chapter 46

  “At dawn the situation with the Russian tanks on the border of Poland reached a critical point,” General Lansdale said. “As you can see from the satellite image on the main screen, Russian tanks have reached the border. They’re marshalling their forces for a massive invasion.”

  It was 1:00 a.m. President Andrews once again sat in the Situation Room with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. If Pasternov was doing what he suspected, now would be the time. “Have any Russian tanks actually crossed the border?”

  “They are all in position to do just that.”

  Andrews looked General Lansdale directly in the eyes.

  “I know I’m a civilian, and I don’t have the military experience you do, but I do have a question. Hypothetically, if you were in command of the invasion of Poland, from Russia’s perspective, would you proceed without full air support?”

  General Lansdale stood watching Andrews, but said nothing.

  “General Tessier. How long would it take the Russians
to move their air force assets into position to support an invasion force the size of the one on the border of Poland?”

  General Tessier squirmed in his chair. “Two to three days. Thirty to thirty-six hours in an extreme emergency. They would need jet fuel, replacement bombs and missiles, repair parts . . . All of that would be brought in by trucks or trains.”

  Andrews nodded in acknowledgement. “How many Russian air force assets are in motion?”

  General Tessier looked away from Andrews and just sat quietly, staring at the table.

  Director of National Intelligence Grunwitz’s phone buzzed. He read the text. “Sir, we’re getting preliminary reports that some Russian generals on the front lines have . . . died.”

  “Meaning?” Andrews asked.

  “One moment, sir.” Grunwitz typed quickly, paused, and typed some more. He read the text on his phone and looked up at Andrews. “How did you know, sir?”

  Andrews relaxed back in his chair. “Know what?”

  Grunwitz glanced at his phone again.

  “Top Russian generals are being purged, sir. A major shake-up is taking place in the Russian military. You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”

  Andrews leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. “I told you Russia is not our enemy.” Pasternov was in, Andrews thought. Only Hua remained uncommitted.

  “You knew the movement of thousands of Russian tanks was a ploy to get the generals out of Moscow. Pasternov moved his forces to the border of Poland in order to protect himself from a military coup.”

  Air Force General Tessier’s phone also buzzed. He read the text on the screen. “Sir, Russian planes are in the air, but they are not headed for the eastern border. They seem to be involved in some sort of aerial spraying. I don’t understand, sir. What’s going on?”

  Andrews nodded at Franks, who opened the door to the Situation Room. Six military police officers stepped into the room.

  “Be grateful that we do things differently than the Russians,” Andrews said. “General Lansdale and General Tessier, you are both under arrest for treason and murder. General Parsinian and Admiral Dosinski, while you were not directly involved in the plot against me, you had some knowledge of what was happening and you did nothing to warn me, or to stop the attack on Marine One. You are hereby relieved of command. I expect your letters of resignation on my desk within the hour. You will find that a number of your colleagues also have been arrested and even more are joining you with letters of resignation. After you resign, the FBI will have extensive questions for you to answer, so don’t be in a hurry to go anywhere. Attempt to leave and you will be arrested.”

  Chapter 47

  Sean Wells strolled along a sidewalk not far from the White House at 2:00 a.m. He had been tipped off by one of his informants that something big was happening. This better be worth it, he thought. Middle of the winter, middle of the night? What could be this important? Nothing much seemed to be happening. He stomped his feet on the sidewalk, trying to keep the circulation going. The lights were all on in the West Wing, but that must happen from time to time anyway. This wasn’t his usual haunt, so he wasn’t sure.

  He had a camera with a good telephoto lens hanging around his neck. He raised it and took a look as several people emerged from the West Wing door. He took his first photo. Two men in suits with an army general wedged between them got into a large black car. He watched through the camera lens as the vehicle swung around and headed north. The license plate started with the letter J. He took his second shot of the plate. Department of Justice, he thought. FBI, maybe? Then an Air Force general emerged from the door accompanied by two more men in suits just as another black sedan pulled up. What in the world? The general had his hands behind his back. Handcuffs? Sean took several more photos. Could the first general have also been in handcuffs? It was hard to tell.

  A third car pulled up to the door. A Navy admiral walked out the door and ducked into the black sedan. No handcuffs, but he was still escorted by men in suits. Sean continued to take photos. As the vehicle swung around he captured the J on the license plate. He pulled his phone and called his editor. After four rings an angry voice answered, “What?”

  “Ed, it’s Sean Wells. Have the presses started printing the paper for the morning edition?”

  “Yeah, we put that to bed two hours ago. Why are you calling me at this hour?”

  It figures, Sean thought. “Because you may want to set up for a special edition. Something is happening at the West Wing. It looks like some of our top military leaders are being hauled off by the FBI.”

  He gave Ed a moment to wake up.

  “The what? How many?”

  More people came out of the door.

  “Here comes the fourth one in the last five minutes. Hang on.” He shot more photos. “You know how we’re waiting on that story about the shoot-down of Marine One? The twenty-four-hour hold will be up at ten in the morning.”

  He shot two more photos.

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  Sean grinned. “I think this is the other shoe dropping. From what I can see, some of our top military brass could be involved.”

  There was a long pause from Ed’s end of the conversation.

  “Are you serious? An attempted military coup? Here?”

  Sean took another photo. “I’m serious. There are only twelve of us in the media with an inside track. This is huge. Here comes number five. At least he’s not in handcuffs.”

  Sean held the phone against his shoulder as he refocused and took three more photos.

  “Handcuffs? Some of the top brass is in handcuffs?” Ed said, apparently trying to contain his excitement.

  “One that I know of for sure, probably two,” Sean replied.

  Over the phone, he heard sounds of movement from Ed.

  “You getting pictures of this?”

  Sean snapped another photo. “Oh yeah.”

  More background sounds coming from Ed’s phone.

  “I’ve got you on speaker. I’m getting dressed. I’ll be in the office in twenty minutes. Email me those photos. Don’t wait. I don’t want you arrested and your camera confiscated.”

  Ed was right. He needed to get these photos into the New York Times system before anything happened to them. “Okay, sending now.”

  Sean ended the call, pulled the connecting cord from his coat pocket and plugged the phone into the camera. He set up the email, slipped the phone into his side pocket, and continued shooting the parade of black sedans escorting military leaders from the White House. By two-thirty the cars stopped arriving and no more men came out of the doors.

  Sean checked his phone. All of the photos had been sent. He called for a cab and started walking toward Pennsylvania Avenue. The same thing had to be happening at the Pentagon, but with the location and layout, he wasn’t going to be able to get anywhere near the place.

  * * *

  Sean went through the photos from the White House and cross-referenced them with known profiles of America’s military leaders and Charlie’s files. Everyone in question was a member of the Partnership. He held his hand over his mouth as the inevitable conclusion swirled to the front of his mind.

  He’s taking down the Partnership, Sean thought. Or at least he’s trying to . . .

  The Partnership had the protection of the attorney general, but who was protecting the president? Politically, Andrews would soon be under siege. This was a hornet’s nest of epic proportions. In Sean’s experience, you didn’t survive without powerful friends, and right now, Andrews didn’t seem to have any.

  Chapter 48

  Diane knocked on the door to the security office of Peregrine Base.

  “Zadanski,” Collier said. “What’s on your mind?”

  He sat back and cocked his head.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about my encounter with the Zeta Greys on the ground.”

  She fidgeted with her hands.

  “On Baffin Island?”

 
“Yeah.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets. “I was lucky there were only three of them. If they got into the base, we wouldn’t have any weapons that would be effective against them. With their telepathic ability and night vision, we’d be in real trouble.”

  Collier seemed amused by her nervousness. “You think they could get into the base?”

  She glanced around the room. “Yes, I do.”

  He sat up, his expression turning serious. “You apparently have an idea. What is it?”

  She scrunched up her face. “Do we have any flashbangs?”

  He looked puzzled. “No. Those would be used by only special forces, SWAT teams, or the FBI.”

  She nodded and paused to think. “They’re very bright and loud, aren’t they?”

  “Very much so, yes, and they have a substantial physical shock wave.”

  She smiled. “On Baffin Island, my tactical flashlight momentarily blinded one of the Zetas. How many flashbangs can you get for us?”

  He typed on his computer. “Here it is: the M84 stun grenade. How many are you thinking?”

  She drummed her fingers on the door jamb. “A couple hundred?”

  He looked at the screen and shrugged. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

  * * *

  That afternoon Diane lowered the landing pods and brought her craft to rest in the flight bay of Ceti Research. Theo stood, grinning, as she opened the canopy and stepped out onto the stone floor.

  “You’re here,” Theo said.

  She laughed. This was only their second meeting together and already they had a thing going. It was silly, but she liked it. “I’m here.”

  Theo reached out and took her by the hand.

  “I have several things planned for you. Would you like the grand tour of Ceti Research first?”