“Hey, you should hook up with a Doctor…what the hell is his name. Botcher, Bonner, something like that. He had a similar story. You remember Langford? He was going to do a story on the guy but could never verify what the guy told him.”
“Really? Where is Langford now?”
“At Channel 5, the last I heard.”
Snapp called over to Channel 5 and was able to locate Langford.
“Hey George, what’s up? Long time no see,” Langford said.
“I was talking to Royster and your name came up. I just thought I would see what you were up to,” he told him.
“Sure it did. I know you too well Georgie-boy. What do you need from me? A job or information?”
“Can’t a guy check up on an old friend?”
“Sure he can but…”
“Okay. You win. Royster said you were doing a story on some doctor by the name of Botcher, or Boyer or something along those lines. He couldn’t remember exactly. I came across some material and I wanted to check the source. I think he might help me,” Snapp told him.
“Not the UFO stuff? Look, I talked to the guy. Nothing he said could be verified. He is a nice enough guy, if a tad eccentric. Basically it was not worth much as a story. Believe me, I tried to make a go of it,” Langford said.
“Would you mind if I took a look at it? My story isn’t about him. I just need confirmation on some details.”
“Well buddy, I wouldn’t risk my professional career on anything he confirmed or denied. He is a bit of a fruitcake,” Langford said.
“I’ll be careful. Can you give me his name?”
“Doctor Dan Barnett. Doctor Dan to his friends, the few he has.”
“Where can I find this guy?”
“Hell, you want me to write the story for you too?”
“Don’t bust my chops. I saved your ass plenty of times over here,” Snapp said.
“Oh sure you did. Well, the last time I talked to him he had a home over on Locus Street. Some place in the 3200 block. Big old house with a huge garage attached. It’s on the corner I think. You’ll spot it. It’s as weird as he is.”
“Thanks. Look, I owe you a beer. I’ll give you a call and we can get together and shoot the shit,” Snapp said.
“Sure, when pigs fly,” Langford replied as he hung up.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Snapp pulled into the drive. At one time there must have been an iron gate across the entrance. Two massive stone pillars stood on each side of the drive. The house was just like Langford had described it. Old, with peeling paint on the woodwork. It must have been quite elegant at one time but it was rundown now and seriously needed a renovation.
He parked and went up to the door and rang the bell. No one came so he rang it again. He was just starting to leave and go around to the garage when someone opened the door.
“Yes, can I help you?”
“I hope so. I’m George Snapp. I was hoping to locate a Dr. Dan Barnett. Does he happen to live here?”
“Who are you again?”
“George Snapp.”
“Why do you want to talk to him?”
“Well, it’s rather personal.”
“So you might as well tell me, I’m his personal secretary,” she said.
“I see. So the doctor does live here?”
“You’re not too bright are you? I said I was his personal secretary. Why else would I be here?”
“Yes ma’am. May I please speak to the doctor?”
“Wait here. I’ll see if he wants to talk to you. Are you a reporter?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. You’re like bad pennies, you just keep turning up,” she said and closed the door.
He looked around the yard while he was waiting. The landscape was in much better shape than the house. He wondered if it was a hobby of Barnett’s or of the secretary.
“Beautiful aren’t they,” a man’s voice said from behind him.
He turned and saw a well groomed man, probably in his sixties or early seventies. He had a white beard and was right at six feet tall, George guessed. He looked to be in fairly good condition for his age. He had his glasses down on his nose. He looked like what George envisioned a scientist looking like. He certainly didn’t look like a fruitcake.
“Mr. Snapp? I’m Dr. Barnett. My secretary said you would like to speak to me. She warned me you were a reporter, not some of her favorite people I’m afraid,” he said, taking a seat on the porch swing.
“I’m afraid she is right. I am a reporter. I won’t try to smooth talk you and I don’t want to waste your time. I’ll come right to the point if that is okay with you?” George said.
“Then by all means, come to the point,” the doctor said.
“I am thinking about doing a story on Area 51. Specifically the facility called S-4. Are you aware of such a place?”
The doctor took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief from his coat pocket.
“I take it you have had the good sense to do a background check on me. You must know that I indeed do know about S-4. I spent a great deal of time working in the EBL facility.”
“EBL?”
“Extraterrestrial Biological Lab.”
“Extraterrestrial? You mean as in little green men?”
“Whatever you would like to call them Mr. Snapp.”
“Sir, I did do some checking on you and I can find nothing to back that up,” Snapp said, sitting down on the porch banister.
“Then you haven’t been looking in the right places,” the doctor said, smiling and mopping his brow with a second white handkerchief that he took from his other jacket pocket. He folded it very precisely before replacing it.
“And where are the right places?”
“Look at the body of my work. What I was trained for. Whom I have worked for. Do you know who EG & G is?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Snapp admitted.
“You need to find out. I’ll tell you one thing. They do the hiring for the scientists who work at Dreamland. No one gets into that place until they have vetted them first”
“And they will confirm that you worked for them?”
“Good heavens no. They will totally deny it. Not only that, they will tell you that they don’t even know what or where Area 51 is.”
“So how is that supposed to help?”
“That’s what you need to find out. Who the hell is EG & G? Why do their people handle the security for the entire area? Why they will deny supplying security for many of the Nuclear Reactor sites around the US? Start by finding out just what they do and who else they don’t work for,” he said and chuckled.
“Doctor, this really isn’t helping much,” Snapp said.
“Why don’t we take a little walk? Maybe I can show you something that will put you on the right track.”
The doctor got up and slowly straightened, rolling his neck around. George could hear the creaking noise from where he sat.
“Please, come with me,” he said and led George through the house and into the large building out back. It was not a garage; that was for sure. It was a laboratory and it was exceedingly well equipped with stainless steel tables, tubes with different materials in them, an electron microscope, and many other items that he didn't recognize.
“Here,” the doctor said, opening a filing cabinet and taking out a large book. It was filled with pictures, paper clippings and documents. Right in the very front, on the first page was a badge that said: