Adams tried some quick mental arithmetic, but failed. ‘How many on the base in total?’
‘Close to three hundred.’
Adams and Lynn exchanged looks, then Adams turned back to Steinberg. ‘When are these two,’ he gestured to the unconscious guards, ‘expected back?’
‘They were to be attached for the duration of the interrogation, to be relieved at the end of their normal shifts, replaced by two more men.’
Adams examined Steinberg’s face for any sign of dishonesty, but found none. ‘How long to the end of their shift?’
‘They’ve just started, so about eight hours, give or take.’
Lynn leant down to the man who had been about to oversee their torture and death. ‘Is there a way out of here?’ she asked. ‘Can you get us out?’
‘And just why would I do that?’ Steinberg scoffed.
Adams looked at Lynn, and then back to Steinberg. ‘What exactly do you know about Jacobs’ plans?’
It took no more than a few minutes to outline what Jacobs had told them, and the effect on Steinberg was electric.
‘The bastard!’ he muttered. ‘How can he hope to get away with it?’
‘He already is getting away with it,’ Adams reminded him. ‘He’ll be halfway to Geneva by now.’ In a way, Adams was surprised by Steinberg’s reaction. After all, the man had made a living out of torturing innocent people. But global genocide was a different thing altogether, especially if you just found out that you were going to be one of the unfortunate victims.
Steinberg just sat there, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I knew about the alien research of course but I had no idea we had opened up any sort of contact with them. I just can’t believe it, I—’
‘Doctor,’ Adams interjected forcefully, trying to get Steinberg’s attention back on track. ‘We need to get out of here, and to CERN. Can you help us?’
Eventually, Steinberg looked up and met Adams’ gaze. ‘There might be a way,’ he said earnestly.
Ten minutes later, Steinberg was out of the wheelchair, and they were walking with the doctor down another concrete corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the concrete space.
‘Why is it so deserted down here?’ Lynn asked.
‘This floor is classified A1 Ultra,’ Steinberg told her. ‘Not that many people are authorized to be here, and a lot of those who are have recently been shipped off somewhere — I guess to CERN, from what you’ve just told me. There’s only a skeleton staff remaining here now.’
‘What goes on down here?’ Adams asked next.
‘What you would probably classify as “alien” research,’ Steinberg admitted. ‘It is here that we develop related projects directly connected with the technology discovered at the Roswell crash site. This entire floor is unknown to the majority of the people working here at Area 51. I don’t know many details myself, I just run the interrogations. We have our base here because this is the most secure level. The elevators normally stop on the floor above unless you have a special access key.’
Lynn nodded, and they walked on in silence for a few more moments, following Steinberg’s directions. He had a final destination in mind but was withholding it for fear of being executed if he revealed it too early, as his captors would then have no further need of him.
‘Careful here,’ Steinberg told them as they turned into another long, concrete corridor. ‘There’s a laboratory down here. Should be empty now but you never know.’
They were silent until they reached the laboratory door, but Lynn’s curiosity was piqued. ‘What do they do in there?’
Steinberg smiled at her. ‘That is where they keep the bodies,’ he whispered.
‘The bodies?’ Lynn asked for both of them. ‘Which bodies?’
‘The original pilot of the craft that crashed in nineteen forty-seven,’ he told them proudly. ‘Perfectly preserved, despite full autopsies having taken place several times over the years.’
‘And who else?’ Adams asked.
‘Oh, various other bodies of questionable origin that have been found over the years.’
‘Like the one my team found in Antarctica?’ Lynn asked, and Steinberg nodded his head. ‘You mean there have been others?’
Steinberg smiled. ‘Of course there have,’ he said as if to a small child. ‘Would you like to see?’
Adams knew it was not a wise move. Things were happening too quickly in Geneva, the machine at CERN too near becoming operational to waste time on what amounted to no more than scientific curiosity. And yet he knew that to Lynn it was more than that — the body her team had discovered in the ice had led to their execution, and she felt it was her duty to them to follow the discovery to the end of the line. She owed them that much.
And Adams himself had to admit that he was more than a little interested to take a look in the room himself. And anything that they learnt there could be useful when it came time to confront Jacobs and his men in Geneva.
But it was a risk. Who knew if it even contained what Steinberg said it did? Maybe the doctor had tricked them and led them straight to the main guard post. Adams couldn’t be sure if Steinberg had really believed the story about Jacobs, or if he had just pretended in order to lead them into a trap.
But Adams had examined Steinberg’s physical signs as he spoke — his pallor, his heart rate, his respiration, his perspiration — and, save for the expected display of nervousness that would naturally come from being escorted at gunpoint, it seemed that he was telling the truth, as far as Adams could tell. He had confidence in his ability to read such things, and so finally agreed for the small party to enter the room.
‘Now I don’t know if there will be anybody inside,’ Steinberg told them honestly. ‘So we need to be careful.’
Adams nodded, withdrawing his pistol as he moved into position to the side of the door. Steinberg leant forward, pressing his palm against a security panel, which then flashed on to his retina. The door unlocked, and swung open.
Adams nodded to Lynn, who entered the room one step behind Steinberg.
‘Andrew!’ Adams heard Steinberg say in a friendly tone. ‘I thought you’d have gone with the rest of them.’
‘Willie!’ Adams heard an older man exclaim. ‘What are you doing over here?’
In a flash, Adams rounded the door frame and entered the room, gun levelled at the scientist before him, no more than twenty paces away.
The look on the man’s face indicated that he wasn’t going to shout or move, as he was more or less rooted to the spot in shock.
Adams ran towards him, forced him to the floor and cuffed him with plasticuffs he had taken from the guards back in the interrogation area. At the same time, he scanned the rest of the room for more people but found none. What he did see was more than interesting, though, and as he hauled Andrew back to his feet, he continued his inspection of the laboratory.
But it was more of a morgue than a laboratory, he soon saw. The room was a large metallic cylinder, with dozens of mortuary drawers cut into the walls. At the head of the room, in pride of place, was a tank filled with fluid, a body suspended within.
Adams and Lynn both saw it at the same time and their jaws dropped.
Steinberg saw their expressions and smiled. ‘Mr Adams, Dr Edwards,’ he said formally, ‘please let me introduce you to Exhibit 1A, the pilot of the Roswell spacecraft.’
Lynn walked with Steinberg towards the tank, while Adams pushed the other man — whose name tag read ‘Professor A. Travers’ — alongside them.
They stopped at the perspex unit, eyes wide. Lynn was surprised to see that the body bore no resemblance at all to the one they had found in the ice, save for having the normal complement of arms and legs.