The Roswell Conspiracy

by Boyd Morrison

  “Don’t even say that.”

  “Believe me, if this starts to buckle, I’m going to run like hell. Stand over by the exit in case this doesn’t work.”

  Jess hesitated, then reluctantly moved to the passageway opening.

  “Now what’s the first symbol?” Tyler asked.

  “The spider.”

  Tyler found the tarantula and rotated the bottom disk until the etching was matched up with the line.

  “Next?”

  “The condor,” Jess said. “Don’t mix it up with the hummingbird.”

  “Bigger wingspan on the condor, I assume.” He rotated the second stone disk until the condor was above the spider.

  They continued on in the same way for the next nine symbols. None of the wooden beams had moved, but Tyler wasn’t expecting them to until he reached the last disk.

  “What’s the last symbol?” Tyler asked. His back ached from pulling on the heavy disks.

  “The astronaut.”

  “Okay,” Tyler said. “Get ready to run if this doesn’t work.”

  “If you start to feel it buckling, get out of there.”

  “I will.” Tyler put his hands on the disk’s handle and paused to look at Jess. “I’ve often thought about running into you again. I’m glad I did.” He smiled. “It’s been fun.”

  Before she could reply, he pulled the handle. The disk ground against the other stones as it rotated. Tyler put every bit of remaining strength he had into the final heave.

  The astronaut etching lined up with the notch and something snapped inside the column. Two of the wooden beams fell all the way into their slots on the pillar. Tyler prepared to jump, but all the other beams remained in place.

  The xenobium gleamed from its honored resting place nestled on a cradle of obsidian glass, within reach of human hands for the first time in over a thousand years.

  “It worked!” Jess yelled.

  Tyler exhaled sharply. “And I’m not dead!”

  “That too.”

  He used the crowbar to nudge the xenobium out of its holder, and the ovoid relic fell out, thumping onto the top riser before rolling off and coming to rest on the floor of the chamber. Tyler clambered down, took the lead-lined apron out of his pack, and carefully wrapped it around the specimen.

  “Is it safe to hold?” Jess asked.

  Tyler ran the radiation meter over it. “Not for long. I’ll be getting an x-ray-equivalent dose every two minutes while I’m carrying it.”

  “Then let’s go.” She scooped it up.

  “Let me hold it,” Tyler said.

  “You’ve been next to it for ten minutes already.” She walked quickly toward the exit while Tyler followed carrying both lanterns. “That officer is going to be pretty surprised at what he missed.”

  “We can’t tell him,” Tyler said. “If the Peruvian government finds out what we’ve done, they’ll lock us up and who knows what will happen to the xenobium.”

  “What about Nana?”

  “We’ll leave the pyramid open when we exit. Once Colchev finds out we have the xenobium, he’ll find us.”

  They retraced their path out of the pyramid. When they reached the opening, Jess climbed out first. But before Tyler could do the same, she barreled back down the steps.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s them!”

  “Colchev? Where?”

  “At the parking area. I saw his gray hair. He’s got two men with him.”

  “And Fay?”

  Jess nodded. “They’ve got her, Tyler. And they’re coming this way.”

  FORTY-SIX

  Grant munched on a second breakfast burrito, the salsa running down his hand. From his position he had a good view of the house where they were expecting the Killswitch to arrive. The food vendor had been only too happy to rent out his truck for the day at a reasonable mark-up. Although the vehicle was closed for business, with the awning rolled up and side window closed, its familiar presence wouldn’t arouse suspicion to any occupants in the drug gang’s hideaway.

  In the hour they’d been observing the home, no one had come or gone. Grant thought they might be in for a long wait, so he helped himself to the vendor’s supplies. He figured it should be included in the price.

  “How can you eat that?” Morgan said with a measure of disgust on her face.

  “Easy,” he said, and stuffed the rest of it in his mouth. “Best burrito I’ve had in months. Seattle isn’t known for its Tex-Mex.”

  “I don’t want to think about what kind of meat that is.”

  “Doesn’t matter. My stomach’s like an iron cauldron.” He wiped his hands on a paper towel. “This was a great idea, if I do say so myself.”

  “I won’t be able to get the smell of taco sauce out of my hair for weeks.”

  Grant rubbed his bald head. “You could always try my hairstyle.”

  “It wouldn’t look as good on me.”

  “Why, Agent Bell, is that a compliment?”

  She snorted in feigned exasperation, but she also turned red. Grant smiled. It seemed like he was starting to make an impression.

  A van approaching from the opposite direction slowed to turn onto the side street where the house sat.

  Grant and Morgan donned their goggles. Bright red crosshairs bloomed on the back of the van.

  “We have a winner,” Grant said.

  The gate to the house slid aside, and the garage door opened. The van pulled inside, and the door closed behind it.

  Morgan took off the goggles and radioed Benitez. “That’s our van. The explosives are in the house.”

  “We’re ready to move in.”

  “Remember, no one touches the explosives except us. When the house is secure, Westfield and I will take possession of the explosives and bring the couriers into custody.”

  “Understood. We move in two minutes.”

  “Copy that.”

  They weren’t going for subtlety in this operation. Two tactical teams would approach the house, one from the front and one from the back to make sure no one escaped. Everyone on the team had gas masks. Benitez had wanted to use concussion grenades for the breach, but Morgan was afraid of damaging the Killswitch, so she insisted on tear-gas grenades instead, telling him that the explosives might be detonated by the concussive blast.

  Three men would cover the garage door in case the targets attempted to escape in the van. The rest of them would go through the front door, prepared to shoot anyone who resisted.

  Once they found the Killswitch, Benitez would provide escort back to the American border, where they would secure the weapon until the Air Force could arrange for protective transport back to Wright-Patterson.

  Grant squeezed into his ballistic vest and put his helmet on over his mask. Morgan did the same.

  “You don’t have to go in with us,” she said, her voice muffled.

  “You think I’m going to wait in the truck?” Grant said.

  “I dragged you along on this. It’s not your job.”

  “Morgan, I’ve done this kind of raid dozens of times in Iraq and Afghanistan. If there’s a better way to get the adrenaline pumping, I don’t know what it is.”

  “You enjoy this?”

  “You don’t?”

  “Flying does it for me.”

  “Taking down bad guys does it for me.”

  “If that’s true, why aren’t you still in the Army?”

  “Because I hate sleeping in barracks and eating MREs.” There was a lot more to it than that, but Grant wasn’t going to go into the details now.

  Benitez’s voice came through the radio. “We’re set to move in, Agent Bell.”

  “Ready here,” she said.

  “Do not get out of the truck until my unit is deployed.”

  “Understood.”

  Grant positioned himself at the food truck’s rear door, his M4 assault rifle at the ready. Morgan checked her own weapon twice. Her breathing quickened to the point that she sounded like Darth V
ader hyperventilating.

  “Have you ever done this before?” Grant asked.

  She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “Only in simulations.”

  Grant fell back on his days as a sergeant leading soldiers fresh out of boot camp into battle.

  “Remember to verify your targets before firing. This probably won’t take more than thirty seconds, but if it does, things will get confusing fast. Stay with me and you’ll be okay.”

  She gave him a thumbs-up with a rock-steady hand, and her breathing slowed.

  The tactical team’s truck sped past them, its tires squealing as it came to a stop in front of the house. Men in full assault gear spilled from the rear.

  “That’s our cue,” Grant said, and threw open the back door.

  He ran at top speed around the corner until he was in the shelter of the massive black truck, Morgan on his heels the whole way. He took up a position next to Captain Benitez, who gave a command in Spanish.

  A policeman took aim with the grenade launcher. With a thud, the tear-gas grenade shot across the fence and through the front window with a perfect bulls-eye.

  That’s when all hell broke loose.

  As smoke billowed from the target house, a hail of gunfire rained down from the homes to the left and right of it, taking out two of the policemen in the first few seconds.

  The police opened up, and the neighborhood was instantly transformed into a war zone.

  Grant saw a face appear in the window to his left. He took aim and fired. For a soldier trained to hit targets at over two hundred yards without a scope, the distance to the neighboring house across the street was practically point-blank range. The man’s head disappeared in a red mist.

  Morgan fired her own weapon, but Grant didn’t take the time to see if she hit anything.

  Bullets from high-powered rifles continued to slam into the tactical vehicle. The armor would protect them, but Grant knew that some of these drug cartels carried heavy weaponry like rocket-propelled grenades. If they used one of those, the situation would deteriorate quickly.

  More gunfire erupted from the back of the three houses. Benitez yelled at his men in Spanish. Grant hoped he was telling them to fire gas at the other houses because if they stayed out here much longer, they’d be cut to ribbons.

  Grant had expected coughing gang members to spew from the main house after the tear gas took effect, but he realized that no one had left the house. It was highly unlikely that a drug cartel would have gas masks, and in a confined space like that, covering your face with a rag wouldn’t do much good.

  So what were they doing? Maybe they were holed up in the garage.

  He saw that Morgan still had her goggles hanging from her neck. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she twisted around, a wild look in her eye betraying how amped up she was by the gun battle. He gestured at the goggles and took them from her. He leaned out so he could see through the truck’s windshield and held them up to his mask.

  No red crosshairs in the garage. He panned over the rest of the house. Nothing.

  Until he looked down.

  The crosshairs were descending below street level. Then they disappeared, no longer able to penetrate the dirt that shielded the ID dust from the sensors.

  Grant dropped the goggles from his face.

  “We’ve got to move in now!” he shouted to Morgan. “We’re losing the Killswitch!”

  “What? How?”

  “Captain Benitez was right. They’ve got a drug-smuggling tunnel.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  “Did Colchev see you?” Tyler asked Jess.

  She was sure he hadn’t turned her way when she popped out. “No, but they’re headed straight for us. They’ll see the opening any minute.”

  With Colchev and his men only a few hundred yards away, Tyler and Jess couldn’t come out of the secret passage without being spotted. Unarmed, Jess knew they’d be easy prey.

  “At least we won’t be ambushed like on Easter Island,” Tyler said. “That gives us a small advantage.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I’ve got to collapse the chamber. It’s the only way to be sure. We can’t let Colchev get his hands on the xenobium.”

  “You’ll be killed!”

  “This isn’t a discussion.” He took the lead apron from her and stuffed it in the backpack. He gave her the crowbar and said, “Come on.”

  Carrying the backpack, Tyler ran toward the central chamber. Jess followed, expecting him to climb back up to the pillar, but instead he crossed the chamber and went out through the larger main entrance on the opposite side.

  The wide passageway turned right and ended at a brick wall after another thirty feet.

  With a look of concentration, Tyler examined the wall, then turned 360 degrees.

  “What are you doing?” Jess asked.

  He laid a hand on the wall. “This is facing south, right where we found the entrance to the pyramid when we were searching for Colchev. I’ll bet the priests walled it up before they buried the whole place with mud.”

  “What’s your point?”

  He dropped the crowbar by the wall. “You’re going to use that to hack your way out of here. You’ll need to hammer the crowbar with another brick to chisel out the mortar.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “We can’t go back the way we came in, so this is the only other choice.”

  “But it could take hours. They’ll be here any second.”

  “Which is why we will have to make them think you’re dead.”

  “What do you mean, ‘dead’?”

  “Just trust me.” She began to protest, but he shoved the backpack into her hands. “Follow my lead.”

  “But Nana—”

  “You and Fay will be all right.”

  “Will you?”

  “That’s not important.” He rushed back to the central chamber. Several approaching lights reflected off the walls of the secret passage on the other side. They didn’t have much time until Colchev and his men entered the room.

  When Jess moved to join Tyler on the pillar’s riser, he stopped her before she got out of the chamber’s main entrance.

  “Stay there with your back against the wall,” he said. “Don’t make yourself a target.”

  She turned off her lantern and stepped to the side so that the pillar stood between her and the secret passage, leaving just enough space so that she had a slim view of the opening.

  Tyler set his lantern down and pulled on the top disk. A few more bricks rained down. Another strong pull, and the whole ceiling would fall.

  He waited, keeping tension on the handle.

  The lights stopped just outside the chamber.

  “Come in, Colchev!” Tyler called out. “But don’t shoot. We’re unarmed.”

  Colchev’s lights were extinguished. After a moment, Jess could see a man crawl out of the gloom, survey the chamber, and pull back quickly.

  “Let us see your hands!” came a booming basso voice.

  “I can’t do that,” Tyler said, the body of the pillar between him and the secret passage. “Did you see the collapsed bricks in that chamber you passed?”

  A pause. “Yes.”

  “The same thing will happen in here if you try to fire at us.”

  The lights went back on. A young man dressed in jeans and a denim jacket emerged carrying a submachine gun. He took a look around the chamber, including the ceiling. Then he nodded.

  Colchev and a bearded companion, both armed with pistols, followed the first man into the chamber with Fay propped in front of them. Colchev put down the metal case Tyler had used to secure the Easter Island xenobium.

  “Nana!” Jess shouted. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t give them anything for me.”

  Still as gutsy as ever. Jess breathed a sigh of relief.

  Colchev’s eyes went from Jess to Tyler. “This isn’t going to end well for you, Dr. Locke.”

  “
Maybe not. But then you won’t get the xenobium.”

  “You have it?”

  Tyler nodded in Jess’s direction. “She does.”

  “How do I know that?”

  “I’m sure you have a radiation detector. You should be able to tell from there.”

  “Zotkin,” Colchev said. The man next to him took out a meter like Tyler’s and waved it around.

  “There’s a strong radiation source in the room, but I can’t tell where it is from this far away. She may have it.”

  “What are we going to do about this standoff?” Colchev said.

  Jess held her breath. She had no idea what Tyler was planning.

  “A trade,” he said. “Fay for the xenobium. Then you leave.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s that simple.”

  “I accept. Have the girl bring over the xenobium and we’ll let her grandmother go.”

  “No. One man goes with Fay and the radiation detector over to Jess at the main entrance. Your man checks out the backpack she’s carrying. When he verifies that the xenobium is inside, Fay stays there and he goes back. Then you head out one at a time with the flashlights so we can see that you’ve all left. When you go, you’ll take your weapons but leave the ammo on the floor so that you can’t ambush us on our way out.”

  Colchev thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Agreed. Give the detector to Kiselow.”

  Zotkin handed it over to the man in the denim jacket. Before Kiselow started walking, Tyler said, “One more thing. Kiselow drops his gun. I want to see that he’s unarmed before he makes the trip. Turn out your pockets and show me your waistband and ankles.”

  Kiselow looked at Colchev, who nodded again. The man handed over his submachine gun and a pistol from his belt holster to Zotkin, then showed Tyler that he was now unarmed.

  “Okay. Go ahead. Slowly.” Tyler kept watch on Colchev and Zotkin, who had the submachine gun trained on Fay. “If you fire or if you or Zotkin take one step farther in, the whole place comes down.”

  “I only want what’s mine,” Colchev said.

  “It’s not yours!” Fay shouted.

  “It will be in a minute unless you all want to die.”