I ate all the pills you gave me. That didn’t make any sense. Lynn wouldn’t talk like that. She wrote the number again: 202-358-4635. That had to be it. Angie quickly dialed the new number hoping she wasn’t about to wake someone else.
“You have reached the Department of Homeland Security. Please listen carefully to the following options, the annoying voice said. “If you know the parties extension you are trying to reach you can dial it at….”
That was it. Lynn had mentioned that he was from Washington and connected with some agency. This had to be the place. She listened as the directions droned on.
“For further instructions or an emergency please hold for the operator.”
If it was an emergency? Hell, she would be dead by the time they got around to answering her, she thought.
“Department of Homeland Security, how may I direct your call?”
“Yes. I have an emergency. I need to speak to someone from Homeland Security immediately.”
“What is the nature of your emergency?”
“Nature? I think something terrible is happening at Groom Lake,” she said.
“I’m sorry. Did you say Groom Lake?”
“Yes. Area-51, Groom Lake. In Nevada.”
“Nevada? You will need to contact the local office. If you will hold, I can give you that number,” the operator said.
“No,” Angie yelled but it was too late.
She hated these damn systems. Right at this moment she wanted to shoot the dumb bastard that invented it. She redialed and had to wait while it babbled on until the operator came back on the line.
“Department of Homeland Security, how may I direct your call?”
“Look. I just called there. I have an emergency situation. I need to talk to some there in the Washington office. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“What is…”
“Goddamn it. Listen to me. This is an emergency. Don’t you get it? That means I don’t have time to be jerked around. I need help right now,” she said, her voice rising higher and higher.
“You don’t have to be rude. If you will just hold I’ll switch you to the duty desk,” the operator said.
“Homeland Security, Duty Officer.”
“Yes. I need help. This is an emergency of the highest nature. Do you know who Raymond Eller is?”
“Mr. Eller? Is this a joke? Mr. Eller was the Director of the agency. He passed away yesterday,” he replied.
“That’s what I am calling about. I know where he is. He is not dead. I need someone that will listen to me,” she said, fighting to keep under control.
“Where are you calling from?”
“What? What does…Nevada, Okay? I work at the government facility at Groom Lake. Mr. Eller is here. Someone has kidnapped him and is holding him. Please. I need to get this to someone who will listen,” she pleaded.
“You’re saying that Mr. Eller is alive and being held in Nevada at some government facility?”
“Yes. Yes. That is exactly what I’m saying.”
“I see. Why don’t you give me your number and I will have someone contact you,” he said.
“Look you little shit. I’ve had it with you and your system. You get me to your superior or I swear to God, when I am done with you, you will have your shorts in such a knot that you will talk in a high voice for the rest of your life. This is Raymond Eller I talking about,” she yelled into the phone.
She had reached the end. All of the pressure and tension of the last few days came boiling out.
“I’m sorry but the President announced Mr. Eller’s death last evening. I don’t think the President would get something like that wrong. What did you say your name was?”
She sighed, trying to think what to do next. She glanced at the rearview mirror and saw a white Jeep Cherokee come around the back of the drugstore.
“Look. They are coming to get me, maybe even kill me for what I know. You tell someone that you got this call and you may just end up being a hero. If not, then you are just as much a part of Raymond Eller’s death as they are. He is being held at a place called Beacon, at the south end of the Nellis Gunnery Range complex in Nevada. Do you unde…”
He could hear a noise that sounded like a pop and then the phone drop. The horn of a car was blaring and suddenly it stopped.
“Hello? Hello? Are you still there?”
“Who is this?” a man’s voice said.
“Who is this?”
“Look, whoever you are, this lady escaped from a sanitarium earlier today. We have been looking for her. Whatever wild story she told you, it was just that, a wild story. Sorry for bothering you,” the man said and hung up.
“Hold…” but the line was dead.
Now what the hell? He looked at his watch. He only had twenty-five more minutes on this shift and then he could take off for the weekend. If he said anything he would get sucked into staying longer and filling out an incident report. Crap. The last thing he wanted to do was hang around Washington filling out some paperwork about some nutcase that called in about the dead director. Besides, they would think he was as crazy as she was for writing it up.
The two men had lost Angie when she bolted out of the house and took off. Both had just nodded off when her car raced down the street and around the corner.
“Shit. Wake up. Beck just took off,” he passenger yelled, slapping the driver on the shoulder.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Get going. She just turned the corner,” he yelled, pointing down the street. The driver started the car and jammed it into drive and shot off down the street. He skidded around the corner but they couldn’t see her car.
“You were supposed to be watching the house,” the driver snapped.
“Up yours. I just nodded off for a second.”
“If we don’t find her, you explain it to the general,” he said turning down a side street.
“Where the hell could she have gone?”
“Head for the main road,” the passenger ordered.
The driver slid around another corner and gunned the engine. He ran a red light and accelerated as fast as the Cherokee could go. They exited the on ramp and sped down the main highway, trying to look in all directions at the same time.
“I don’t see anyone up ahead. Damn it. Where the hell is she?” he said banging his palms against the steering wheel.
“There. At the Walgreen’s,” the passenger said, pointing.
The driver jammed on the breaks and skidded to a grinding halt. He did a U-turn across the median and bounced up on the road heading back toward town. He took the exit and almost hit an oncoming truck as the Jeep fishtailed, the rear end fighting for grip.
“It would be better if you didn’t kill us before we get there,” the passenger said calmly.
The driver ignored the remark. He slowed down when they got to the drugstore, turned off the lights and let the car idle around the corner. They could see she was animated through the back window. The cord of the pay phone was threaded through the window.
The driver of the Jeep gently put on the breaks and the two men got out, ducked down and started toward the car. They were close enough to see her when she looked in the mirror and then turn to look behind the car.
“Run, she saw us.”
They both took off running. The driver could see her yelling into the phone as he raced up to the window. He aimed his gun at her head and pulled the trigger. The side window shattered and blood splattered across the windshield and dash. Her head snapped to the side and she fell forward. The blaring horn shattered the morning air. He reached in, shoved her over and picked up the phone.