“Who is this?”
“I said, do you understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Your questions will be answered later. All you need to know is that there are two forces at work in this situation. You have only two certain allies, myself and the keeper. Beyond that, you can trust no one. If the people who oppose us win, the effects will almost certainly be catastrophic. For reasons which must remain unexplained for now, you are in the middle of the struggle. There is no time to spare. You must trust me and do what I tell you.”
I’d done what this guy had told me to do at Autotech and lived through it. Whoever he was, he obviously wanted to keep me alive, which was more than I could say for some of the other parties involved.
“Okay, what do you need me to do?”
“Go to the place where I first made contact with you. Go to there cigarette machine and pay for a pack of cigarettes, but press the blank button on the far right. You will get what you need. Is that clear?”
“Sure.”
The call was terminated. I lay back down and stared at the ceiling, now completely awake. Apparently, I was on my way to Roswell.
After getting dressed, I decided to make one more call. A not very subtle voice was telling me that I might be making a permanent stop in New Mexico. I figured I’d better call Regan before I left, in case I didn’t make it back. I woke her up, just like I’d done to Fitzpatrick the night before. Regan was much prettier. She also seemed to wake up friendly.
“I dreamed about you. One details?”
Seeing Regan’s face on the Vid-phone screen was making me feel highly irresponsible and less than enthusiastic about going to Roswell. “You’re a siren, you know that?”
“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to remember that the siren’s song was lethal. My intentions are a lot less dangerous and a lot more pleasurable.”
“Yeah… maybe.”
“You don’t believe me? C’mon Over, and I’ll prove it to you.”
“I’m sure that’s exactly what the sirens said.” with a great deal of effort, I pulled my eyes away from her pouting lips and swung the conversation around to the original subject.
“Listen, Regan, I could stare at you all day, but I actually had a reason for calling.”
She opened her eyes wide in exaggerated anticipation. “Do tell.”
“I’ve got to leave town for a day or two. I just wanted to let you know.”
“I’ll go with you. It’ll only take me a minute to get ready.”
I shook my head. “Sorry. After this is all over, we’ll go somewhere together, if you want to.”
“Promise?”
“I swear on my sacred PI oath.”
Regan threw me a sceptical look. “OK. You’d better, you soon as you get back.”
“I will.”
“Well, I’ll let you go then,” She said, pouting attractively.
“Listen, Regan, there’s one more thing.”
She smiled at me. “If, by some freak chance, anything should happen to me, an acquaintance of mine will contact you. His name is Fitzpatrick. You can trust him.”
Regan looked worried. “Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. I just want to cover all the possibilities.”
“If you get yourself killed, I’ll never, ever forgive you.”
“OK, that’s too big a threat. I won’t. Hey, I’ve got to get going. I’ll let you know when I’m back.” I punched the button, and Regan’s concerned face faded to black.
I quickly jotted down a list of things to take with me. A few tools would probably come in handy. Wire cutters, screwdrivers, a laser blade, bolt cutters, a flashlight, a lock pick set, maybe a rebreather. it would probably be a good idea to have a firearm. But ever since I’d lost my gun in a fit of seven-card stud optimism, I hadn’t enjoyed the same sense of security. I hope Rook could set me up with something at the pawnshop.
I went into the kitchen to see if I had any food to take with me. Ideally, I wouldn’t be gone more than a day or so, but I had to make allowance for delays. A search of the cupboards turned up a can of tuna fish, an essentially empty jar of peanut butter, and half a box of saltines. I grabbed the crackers.
All the tools I’d listed were stored away in a closet. I was even fortunate enough to find an unused package of batteries for the flashlight and the laser blade. I threw the tools and crackers into my backpack and left the office.
At the pawnshop, I talked Rook into loaning me a .38. he wanted collateral, but I managed to talk him out of it. I didn’t bother to tell him that there was a decent chance I wouldn’t be back, or he’d never have fronted me the gun.
Feeling moderately prepared, I got into my speeder and headed toward the Twilight Lounge. Ten minutes later, I set it down in the parking lot. The place was practically deserted. I sauntered casually over to the cigarette machine and inserted a ten dollar bill. After four attempts, the machine ate my bill and flashed Make a Selection. I pressed the blank button on the far right and heard a light thump as something dropped into the dispenser tray. Bending down, I picked up a hard pack of Dardos de Pulmones. Without making eye contact with anyone, I ducked back out of the bar.
I hurried to my speeder and slipped into the driver’s seat. The pack certainly looked real. I peeled off the plastic wrapper and opened the top. Inside were three access cards-one blue, one green, one red-each with a military insignia and bar code. There was also a black-and-white ID badge with my picture and a bar code. My designation was Colonel T Murphy, Special Agent, NSA. Damn.
The last item in the pack was a sheet of paper, folded. I spread it out and read a brief, typed message at the top of the page. It read: The access cards are colour-coded. Use them on the panels of the same colour. Security should be automated and can be shut down with the green card. If stopped, used NSA ID. If successful, do not carry object any longer than necessary. Below the message was a set of coordinates. I programmed the coordinates into the speeder’s guidance system and lifted off.
The trip took about four and a half hours. Without the actual coordinates of the base, I could have pulled a Moses and wandered in the desert for years. The complex was camouflaged from the air and built into the side of a rock outcropping. For miles around, there was nothing but red-yellow dirt and the occasional gnarled, bony plants clinging to life for no apparent reason. I couldn’t help but think of Rook.
Roswell had been built long before the advent of speeders and had no apparent doming security. I set the speeder down in the centre of the compound, between two massive buildings that looked like aircraft hangers. The open compound area was approximately one hundred yards square, bordered by a fifteen-foot-high chain-link fence. A garnish of barbed wire adorned the top of the fence, and large power cables ran along the ground on the perimeter. Touching the fence would probably pump enough juice through me to run every espresso machine in Los Angeles for a week.
A smaller building, probably a guardhouse, sat at one end of the compound, where a dirt road intersected the chain-link fence. Behind the two huge structures, I could see a good sized steel door built into the side of the rock ledge.
I opened the speeder and stepped out onto the floor of the compound. It was asphalt but had acquired a layer of sand over the years, allowing it to blend in seamlessly with the ground all around the complex. As far as I could see, no one had been anywhere near where I was standing for days, months, maybe years. In fact, there were no footprints at all.
There were, however, footsteps. I turned around to see two men. One, vaguely uniformed, was emerging from the guard house at a leisurely pace. The other, in full, shiny MP attire, was sprinting toward me and fumbling for the holster on his hip. I turned toward my pursuer and waited patiently for the ten seconds or so it took him to reach me.