“That’s a familiar story,” Terrell said with a forced groan. “We’re always having kooks trying to sneak in looking for flying saucers… or the secret UN base. Or the Aurora project.” He steepled his fingers. “Anytime there’s classified work that demands high security, people will speculate about what’s behind closed doors.” He shrugged. “Can’t be helped.”
Paige cleared her throat. “Yes, sir, but I saw it. It wasn’t a NEST helicopter flying in low, and it wasn’t a Stealth bomber. It was something shimmering, almost invisible, and extremely fast.”
“Maybe you were too excited to know what was going on —”
“Colonel Terrell, don’t feed me any lines,” Paige said in a no-nonsense voice. “I’ve got the clearances, and it was nothing I’ve ever seen or heard before in my life. Now tell me — is there any truth to these UFO stories?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what happened out there?”
“I told you,” said Terrell. “It must —”
“Colonel Terrell,” Craig interrupted softly. He carefully put his coffee cup on the table in front of him and flexed his bandaged leg. “Sir, don’t you think you owe us something?”
He nodded to Paige, who drew her mouth tight and sat stiffly on the couch. She watched Terrell as if he might be a snake ready to strike. “Without us, your base would be sitting in the middle of a big crater right now. Come on, tell us what’s going on.”
Terrell pressed his lips together. “You know, most people don’t even know this base exists. Even fewer ever get to see inside. That should be enough for you.”
Craig raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, it’s not enough for me.”
Terrell scowled. He drummed his fingers on his wooden desk, then got up to stride across the room, carefully shutting the door to his office. “It doesn’t matter what clearances you have. No one has a Need To Know about our Special Access Required programs up here. For example, in the early eighties our Air Force HAVE BLUE project was an SAR program that built the F-117A Stealth fighter.”
“You’re avoiding the question,” Craig said simply.
Terrell stood against the closed door for a moment, then moved to the stereo boom box sitting on the credenza. Putting on a jazz CD, he turned the volume up and stepped over to the couch. Paige and Craig scrunched close to each other.
“You never heard this from me.” The lieutenant colonel spoke in a low tone that no one outside could hear over the music. “What you saw was the prototype of a ‘visible stealth’ aircraft, code-named HAVE NOT. One of our test pilots overflew you at close range, enough to rattle your vehicle. Then he used HAVE NOT’s high-power microwave weapons to knock out every one of your electronic systems.”
“Visible stealth?” Craig looked puzzled. “I’ve heard about microwave pulses to stop a car dead in its tracks — some police forces are starting to use that as a non-lethal countermeasure. But ‘visible stealth’ seems to be a contradiction in terms.”
Terrell folded his hands together. “Just as regular stealth is invisible to radar frequencies in the electromagnetic spectrum, we are developing materials and coatings that are invisible at optical wavelengths. The visible light that human eyes can see. It’s the same principle.” He drew back. “But aliens and UFOs?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Paige’s blue eyes went wide. “An invisible fighter plane using microwave-pulse weapons to knock out electronic systems?” She winced as she bumped the bandage on her nose. “No wonder people think you have UFOs up here.”
The Jazz music continued to play. “None of that information is scheduled to be released for a few years,” Terrell said with a hard edge in his voice. “And since you’re both Federal employees, we will file felony charges if either of you allows this to leak to the public.” He walked briskly to the stereo, which he clicked off. “And I’ll deny everything.”
Paige grinned. “Of course you will.”
Craig looked innocent. “If what gets out, Colonel? That Ms. Mitchell helped stop the militia, single-handedly wrestling Sally Montry out of the land rover and holding her under arrest until help could arrive?”
Terrell shook Craig’s hand. “I’m glad we see eye to eye on this, Agent Kreident. Meanwhile, let’s get you out to the flightline — we aren’t cleared to keep visitors up at Groom Lake this long.”
CHAPTER 49
A knight on horseback cradling a twenty-foot lance trotted in front of Craig and Paige, his polished armor clanking. With one gauntleted hand, he raised his visor, saluting the crowd as other riders swirled around him, bearing colorful pennants.
Trumpet blasts announced the knight’s entry as his horse whinnied and pawed the dirt in front of the reviewing stands, ready to charge across the arena. In the Excalibur’s raised stands, the spectators applauded. Buxom damsels dressed in low-cut flowing dresses threw flowers up at the crowd from the arena.
Craig winced with a twinge of pain as he leaned over to Paige. Although bandaged, cleaned, and shot with antibiotics, he still ached all over. What he wanted most was a long, hot bath and a long, deep sleep.
He studied Paige in the dimness of the stands before speaking. She wore a long black dress, complete with a slit up the side that revealed her shapely legs. Her blond hair lay against the silk fabric, and when she flipped a strand behind her shoulder, she glanced over at him. Only the thick white bandage on her nose spoiled the effect.
“Looking at something?” she said, her voice muffled and nasal.
“Yes indeed.” Craig reached for his drink, a bottle of Samuel Adams beer. One of the best beers the Excalibur had to offer, according to Paige.
She sipped her own beer, a thick Guinness, then leaned back against the hard chair with a wistful smile.
The crowd laughed as a court jester was stuck in the rear end by a knight’s lance. Regal-looking King Arthur sat on a throne next to his queen, while Merlin performed magic tricks. The soundtrack boomed loudly from the arena speakers.
Paige looked amused at his expression. “Still have your mind on the militia, Craig?” she asked. “Or is it Sally Montry?” She crossed her legs and leaned forward to whisper in a conspiratorial voice. “Or is it those UFOs?”
“Don’t get me started,” said Craig. “Just don’t get me started.”
He drained his beer glass and pushed it across the table, then positioned himself to ease the ache in his injured leg. “With the information on the Eagle’s Claw we got from Jorgenson’s home, and Mike Waterloo’s, as well as the people we’ve arrested — Bryce Connor, Deputy Mahon, and Sergeant Marlo, not to mention Sally — we should be able to unravel the whole militia group. Not only did we save the day, Paige, we also hit the jackpot.”
Paige ran a finger around the top of her own beer glass, touching the foam of the thick black stout… at which Trish would have turned up her nose. “So what’s next for you?”
Craig shrugged. “Oh, I go wherever they send me. I’ll head back to the Bay Area, but who knows where the Bureau will want me next? Depends on where a suitable case turns up. I specialize in the high-tech investigations… but they could just as well have me investigating parking-meter fraud. What about you?”
Paige remained silent for a moment. Her fingernails ran up and down the smooth side of the glass, and she held his gaze with her striking blue eyes. The longer she looked at him, the stranger Craig felt — out of breath, his cheeks warm.