Trace’s demeanor switched from familial love back to the rigid Chief Helms. “I don’t want attitude this weekend.”
Dr. Rebecca Vanover oversaw the technical aspects of their operation. Unfortunately, her pompous disposition sometimes clashed with everyone in the group except Trace. Rebecca was a newcomer in Trace’s life compared to others in his group. Yet they had developed a strong bond through common interests, each relying on what the other brought to the relationship.
After developing a theory about the psychological practices being used at the base, Trace needed someone, or something, to help him take it to the next level. The CIA gave him both. In early 1993, Trace attended a paranormal studies convention in Los Angeles, where he saw Dr. Rebecca Vanover speaking on a panel discussion about the government’s psychic research and remote psychic warfare programs. Although she couldn’t say it publicly, she would later confide in Trace that she was involved in a CIA research project codenamed Stargate that studied remote viewing and mind control. The CIA removed her from the program, claiming they were phasing the research out, which Rebecca knew was nonsense — they were making groundbreaking progress. She suspected that her team was too successful, so the CIA sacrificed her to the world of unemployment — the logic being that the CIA, or some other group, didn’t want Stargate discovering technologies that already existed in secrecy.
After months of piecing together a profile and learning about Rebecca’s background, Trace called her. He decided a straight-to-the-point approach was best: “Do you want to continue your research?” Indeed she did.
Rebecca had a prissy, I’m-the-boss attitude. She always wore her hair up and covered her face with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses: she wanted to command respect for her years of schooling rather than for her looks. Teneil clashed with her most, since she held herself above his street-savvy mentality. To make matters worse, after Rebecca’s last visit, Teneil discovered a Barry White album in the CD player, and suspected his brother had been seeing Dr. Highandmighty with her hair down. Nonetheless, they worked through their individual differences for the greater good.
Militants, rebels, terrorists: such labels were affixed to individuals who challenged unstable governments in smaller, less developed countries than the US. Only in rare and extreme circumstances were such terms found in headlines describing Americans. Should Trace and his team be uncovered, they might draw similar descriptions in the press. Like their foreign counterparts, however, Trace’s group considered their actions as positive, fighting for a benevolent cause. They didn’t view themselves as militants, but revolutionaries, freedom fighters who challenged a new era of deceptive government.
Once most of Trace’s guests had arrived, he led the small group down a staircase to a windowless basement. The long subterranean space was designed as a recreation room. However, the black, gray and white decor offered a stark change in atmosphere from stained wood floors, hunter-green furniture and colorful wall paintings throughout the upstairs level. None of the visitors questioned the design. They understood the purpose, especially Rebecca; the colorless decor was her idea. Color served as mental noise that could disrupt brain signals. The basement provided an enhanced environment for mental dexterity.
“Let’s see if we can get caught up before Liebowitz arrives,” Trace said from his seat at a poker table.
Jimmy spoke first, “I talked to Desmond yesterday. He’s insisting we move forward on this kid, Blake.”
“Man, I told you guys Desmond lost his mind,” Teneil said, speaking as much with body language — rolling eyes, flailing hands — as words. “He’s all caught up in his ufologist role-playing. What good is a kid going to be to us?”
Jimmy liked Teneil, as Trace’s brother, but didn’t think he and his short-tempered street attitude added much to the group. But instead of speaking his mind and causing friction, like Rebecca often did, he learned to deal with Teneil and tried explaining Desmond’s view. “It’s not the kid that can help us, but who he might know, and what they can do with the information we offer.”
“You think there’s anything to it?” Trace asked. “I don’t want another situation like we had with the Chinese woman. Desmond is a marked man now. That’s why he isn’t here tonight.”
Jimmy was upset with Desmond too, but couldn’t ignore their long friendship and formative adult years together at the Air Force Academy. He felt that he at least had to argue on Desmond’s behalf. “Was it luck that they didn’t link Desmond to you after the Chinese incident? Or credit on Desmond’s part for putting up his crazy ufologist façade? A façade we mandated at his expense to keep people from taking him seriously enough to link with a group such as ours. I don’t think we should be too hard on him. Give him credit for his devotion; he’s been continuing alone. He already brought the kid to the base.”
“Last week,” Trace said with a degree of concern, wondering if Desmond was pushing his luck.
“Well, Desmond wants to know the results. He understands you distancing yourself, but doesn’t think he should be alienated.”
Trace gave it some thought. Desmond was following a plan, Trace’s plan: investigate, uncover and disseminate. Empower the people with information. Grass roots work. Safe and undetectable if done strategically. By selectively sharing their findings they would generate interests, and hopefully, given time, high level interests. Using Desmond’s ufologist charade, they could sift through interested individuals, choosing who might best help their cause. That’s why Desmond brought people to the public land around the base. The sheriff’s incident report containing the visitor’s names allowed Trace to check them out using federal supercomputers at his disposal. He was performing a job duty, and serving his personal interests.
“I found nothing on the kid that should make us leery of him,” Trace told Jimmy. “His educational background was intriguing, but I didn’t see anything to make me drool over him like Desmond is doing.”
“The kid works with an interesting professor in Los Angeles,” Jimmy said. “Desmond has been inside both of their homes, and bugged them. He said the professor’s house was like a fortress; the man is protecting something.”
“Have the bugs revealed anything?”
“Yeah. This professor has some serious friends. The bugs were only in place for two days when someone swept the house. The recorder picked up jostling sounds like they discovered the bugs, but Desmond says they didn’t remove them.”
“They want to know who put them there,” Rebecca said.
“So they’re looking for us,” Teneil said. “Maybe we don’t want to risk messing with them.”
“If they were people who would do us harm,” Jimmy said, “they would already have the answers this professor and Blake are looking for.”
“So someone found the bugs at the professor’s house, but what about Blake?” Trace asked.
“He doesn’t seem to realize what he’s in the middle of. Books and materials were all over his room: UFOs, Area 51, black budget studies. A lot of science materials, antigravity and physics technical crap over our heads, but right up our alley.”
“It’s not over all of our heads,” Rebecca noted.
“I’m sorry,” Jimmy said, “I forgot you understand how the flying objects out here tick along faster than mach eleven.”
“Let’s keep it calm,” Trace interjected again. “We’re together on this.”
Jimmy continued pleading Desmond’s case, as he had promised he would. “That professor and this kid Blake have a purpose. If they’re at all aligned with us, we’re in business.”