Majestic Twelve.
Aaron reached the elevators and presented his pass code and identity key to the two armed guards manning their posts outside the elevator. A third form of identification was also required, but this involved no high-technology whatsoever. Despite intense research and huge investment in all manner of identity technology such as iris recognition, DNA scanning and complex facial recognition software, when it came down to high-level security requirements there was one thing above all others the ensured that nobody got inside the building who shouldn’t: human recognition.
A screen beside the elevators flickered into life, the screen itself split into four, and on each of those four screens was a member of the intelligence services who knew Aaron personally. Many were former military officers, some of whom had served alongside Aaron. Before each of those individuals was a button, and they were required to either admit or deny access to the elevators by simply ensuring that Aaron was who he said he was. Each of them cleared Aaron for access, each of them at their desks either in the DIA headquarters itself or elsewhere in the intelligence community. All of them had been pre-warned that Aaron would be present at the elevators at a set time, a further security process that prevented a lookalike from gaining access.
The doors opened and Aaron stepped inside before the guards outside selected the floor he had been granted access to. The doors closed and the elevator began to climb to the fifth floor. Aaron subconsciously straightened his tie despite having done it many times already that morning, and he ran through his head what had happened so far and what he was required to report. Aaron had visited this floor only twice in the last three months, and on both occasions it had been as the bearer of bad news.
The elevator slowed and the doors opened to reveal a single corridor before him. At the far end were two double doors, and outside those doors were two armed guards already aiming their weapons at him. If the doors had opened and anybody but Aaron Devlin had been standing inside, they were under orders to open fire. Aaron waited for them to identify him visually and lower their weapons before he stepped out of the elevator and walked towards them. The two guards stepped forward, one maintaining his rifle at port arms while the other produced a scanner. Aaron halted before them and allowed the guard to wipe the scanner over him, seeking any evidence of explosives, bugging devices or any other treasonable baggage that might give them reason to prevent him from entering the double doors.
The scanner came up clean and Aaron walked forward as the other guard lowered his weapon and turned to the door’s security panel. He accessed a code that neither Aaron or the other guard knew and the locks on the doors clicked. The guards stood back as the door opened automatically with a gentle hiss, and Aaron walked through.
The door hissed shut behind him and clicked as the locks sealed. Aaron walked across a narrow gap to where a second door, this one open, awaited him. He walked through the door and it too closed automatically behind him. His footfalls immediately sounded odd, muted and dull as though underwater, the hallmark of what was known as an anechoic chamber. Separated from the outside world by six inches of steel, followed by a six inch gap on all sides except for a supporting pillar beneath, and then six inches of steel outside that, the chamber insured that no electromagnetic energy could pass either in or out. Instead, all that led into the room was a fibre-optic cable that carried signals from precisely twelve separate locations on a secure band.
Aaron moved to the centre of the room, in which was a large rectangular transparent container that looked remarkably like a coffin. Within were the skeletal remains of a humanoid form, one that Aaron had studied many times in the past few years. Normally interred in a secret warehouse deep in the New Mexico desert, the remains had been transported to the DIAC during the current crisis.
Other than the container the chamber contained no furniture, but for an array of speakers around the walls. Thus was the secrecy of Majestic Twelve maintained, along with the anonymously of its members and those who worked for them. Its greatest power was that not even its members knew not who worked for them, nor those workers who they actually answered to. Voices were distorted, faces never seen, and the guards outside the room had no idea what they were actually guarding, only that nobody got in without the correct clearances.
‘Gentleman,’ Aaron announced his presence.
‘Proceed.’
The voice was heavily digitised, completely unidentifiable. Aaron figured that it was possible at some extreme level for the fibre-optic audio feed to be hacked by some lone wolf computer genius and for somebody on the outside to listen in. However, all they would have to show for their efforts were a series of heavily digitised voices that any critic would immediately suggest had been created by the hacker themselves, the recording a fake.
‘The operation is proceeding as planned,’ Aaron said, knowing that his voice too would be masked by many layers of digital distortion. ‘We have tracked our main target to an island in the South China Sea, and are attempting to obtain more information as we speak.’
‘Do you have any idea of the item’s location?’
‘No, at this time we do not.’
The item, as it was collectively referred to amongst the members of Majestic Twelve, represented the furthering of a project that have been in motion for at least half a century. Aaron didn’t know what the item was, and his gut told him that neither did the members of Majestic Twelve or indeed the target they were pursuing. The difficulty with maintaining such incredible security was ensuring each component of the team has enough information to conduct an effective investigation. At this time, Aaron knew only of events that had occurred in Israel some years before, and of the people involved in those events — the rest was withheld from him.
‘And yet the target is in Japan?’ said another distorted voice, its tone slightly different, enabling Aaron to differentiate between speakers.
‘They are clearly following a trail,’ Aaron replied. ‘At this time we do not know what clues they are using to do so, but we do know that they have obtained help. The target is travelling in the company of Ethan Warner, a former United States Marine who was also involved in the original investigation in Israel.’
‘We know of Warner,’ said a third voice. ‘His presence complicates matters. There are others who would like to obtain the item who are aware that Warner has been involved in government investigations in the past. Warner represents a clear target that they can follow.’
‘He also represents somebody who can do the work for us,’ Aaron pointed out. ‘I’ve read his file and he has extensive experience in this field. I maintain that our best course of action is to allow Warner to act on our behalf, allowing us to stay in the shadows, and then move in as soon as he obtains the item.’
‘And risk him hiding it?’ asked another voice. ‘Ethan Warner no longer works for the government and may be driven by motivations other than patriotism.’
‘His past work with the Defense Intelligence Agency would suggest otherwise,’ Aaron said carefully. ‘However, he has an understandable mistrust of government as a result of some unfortunate incidences toward the end of his career. It is claimed in a number of official reports that he and his former partner business partner, Nicola Lopez, were targeted by the CIA for six months.’