END
CLASSIFICATION: TOP SECRET, Q CLEARANCE, ADDRESSEE ONLY
She attached a cable from her laptop into a breadloaf-sized black box that she’d been given by a Secret Service man when she’d been inbriefed for her new job in Washington. All she knew was that the box was supposed to encrypt her message so that only the addressee could read it. She plugged the cord coming out of the box into her phone socket and waited until a green light glowed on the side— apparently it did its own dialing.
Duncan waited until the green light went out, then she unplugged all the machinery. She walked to the window of her hotel room and looked out, watching the people scurrying about, going into and out of casinos. How would they react if what was hidden in the desert beyond the buildings were revealed to them? If they learned that, at least once upon a time, mankind had not been alone in the universe?
If it was shown that while their ancestors were still living in caves and struggling to make arrowheads, aliens were visiting the Earth in craft we still couldn’t understand?
Those were the large, theoretical questions. Of more immediate concern to Duncan was to follow through on the instruction she’d received from the White House chief of staff. The President was concerned about what he had not been getting briefed on in the twice-yearly status reports from Majic-12. Because the organization had been around so long and had members from almost every major government agency of significance, he didn’t trust using normal channels to check it out; thus Duncan’s assignment. She’d had Turcotte assigned to her based on the recommendation of the President’s national security adviser. Apparently Turcotte was some kind of hero for actions on a classified mission overseas. She’d briefed him personally, but he had not yet called with anything.
Duncan rubbed her forehead, walked over to the bed, and lay down. She sincerely hoped the people out at Area 51 would give her some good answers tomorrow and that they’d be of a higher quality than the ones she’d been given so far.
Major Quinn noted the alert signal blinking in the upper right-hand corner of his computer screen. He finished the order he was working on and transmitted it, then accessed the signal that had caused the alert.
Since the Cube had access to every piece of top-of-the-line equipment the government possessed — and access to all codes and encryption techniques — Dr. Duncan’s message to the White House chief of staff had taken less than six seconds for the Cube computer to decrypt. Quinn read the text. He connected the name “Turcotte” to the man injured on the Nightscape mission into Nebraska. Another complication he didn’t understand. This was Gullick’s territory.
He printed out a hard copy and walked to the rear corridor, taking the message with him. Gullick wasn’t in his office. The code above the handle to Gullick’s private quarters read DO NOT DISTURB. Quinn stood for a few seconds in thought, hand poised to knock. Then he turned and went back to Gullick’s office. He clipped a top-secret cover on the message and placed it in General Gullick’s reading file.
CHAPTER 17
“I’ve told you my reasons for being here and helping you. How about telling me your reasons?” Kelly asked.
They were holed up in Johnny Simmons’s apartment.
Turcotte was less than thrilled about being there, given that it looked as if Simmons had been picked up by Gullick’s people. But Kelly had argued that no one knew about their connection with Johnny, so there was no reason for someone to come looking for them here in Phoenix. Besides, they needed to stay somewhere en route to Dulce, and a motel was out of the question. The apartment was on the second floor of a modern complex, and it did not appear that anyone had been inside for several days.
Turcotte had expressed misgivings about stopping at all. He wanted to push on to Dulce and try to infiltrate it this evening. But Von Seeckt had told them of the planned rendezvous with Professor Nabinger the next morning at this location, and Kelly had agreed that they ought to wait. Turcotte had reluctantly accepted their decision. Turcotte was slowly accepting that they all needed each other: Von Seeckt held the knowledge to get them out of their predicament; Kelly was to be the voice to the public that would ensure their safety once they acquired the information they were after; and he held the expertise to keep them safe and acquire more information.
“My story will have to wait until tomorrow,” Von Seeckt said. He was seated near the window, looking down two stories at the parking lot. “Professor Nabinger will have the same questions, and I do not wish to tell it twice. It is difficult to tell and covers many years.”
Kelly looked over at Turcotte. “Well?”
“I’ve already told you what happened. I just arrived in time for the Nightscape mission.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t come out of a hole in the ground prior to that,” Kelly said. “How did you get sucked into working at that place? You said something earlier today about an assignment.”
“I was in the army, and they cut orders assigning me there.” Turcotte stood up. “I’m going out to the store. Anyone want anything?”
Without waiting for an answer he walked out and headed for the stairs. Kelly was two steps behind him.
“You’re not getting away that easy. There’s something you aren’t telling. Why’d you help Von Seeckt? You were one of the bad guys. Why’d you change sides?”
Turcotte went down the stairs, Kelly at his side. “I told you. My commander wanted me to apprehend some civilians in Nebraska. I didn’t like that. Also, they tried to kill Von Seeckt. I don’t approve of kidnapping or murder, even if the government is the one sanctioning it.”
“Yeah and pigs have wings,” Kelly said. “I don’t buy it. You—”
Turcotte whirled and faced her, the action so swift that Kelly stepped back, startled. “I don’t give a damn what you buy or don’t buy, lady,” he said. “You ask too many questions. You let Von Seeckt have his secrets. How about letting me have mine?”
“Von Seeckt is going to tell us his when Nabinger gets here,” Kelly countered, stepping in closer to Turcotte.
“Come on. You didn’t just arbitrarily decide to go against your orders and your training. You must have had a reason. And I do have a reason for asking. I’ve been set up before by the government and I’m not going to naturally assume that you’re telling me the truth. We only have your word about what took place in Nebraska. For all I know it never happened.”
Turcotte looked off past her toward the western horizon, where the sun was balanced on the edge of the planet. “All right. You want to know about me? I got nothing to lose anymore and maybe if we survive this mess, you can print it somewhere and people can know the truth.
“I was involved in an incident at my last assignment before coming back to the States,” Turcotte said. “That’s what they called it: an incident. But people died in this incident.”
He shifted his eyes back to her and the look was not kind. “You’re a reporter. You’ll like it. It’s a good story. I was assigned to a CT — counterterrorist— unit in Berlin when it happened. Everyone thinks it’s all great over there since the wall went down, but they still have a terrorist problem. Same as it was in the seventies and early eighties. In some ways worse because there’s bigger and better weapons available to the bad guys from all the old Warsaw Pact stockpiles, and there’re a lot of people in those countries who’d sell anything to get their hands on Western currency.
“The only difference between now and back in the eighties is that we learned our lessons from those old days and now we preempt terrorism. And that’s why you don’t hear about it so much anymore — not because the assholes have gone away. People are so naive.”