"Oh boy!" Gilligan said almost reverently.
"Boshemoi!" Kuznetsov added.
Jerry looked up from the map. "Now what’s wrong?"
"That’s part of Nellis Air Force Base," Gilligan said. "Restricted area."
"Worse than restricted," Kuznetsov said. That is Area 51, Groom Lake. Top-secret testing area for F-119, SR-25 and other aircraft your government swears do not exist. That is most tightly guarded piece of land in whole country. Almost as tight as places in Soviet Union-when there was a Soviet Union."
The Russian looked over at Gilligan. "He cannot tell you this because of agreement he signed when he left Air Force. Me, I signed no such agreement."
"Well, we don’t have to come in through the front gate. It looks pretty deserted out there and we’ll be gone within a couple of minutes of reaching the power vortex."
Gilligan kept a poker face. Kuznetsov just grinned. "As soon as you set foot on land they will be after you.
Whole place is loaded with sensors. They get lots of experience chasing tourists who come to watch secret aircraft flights."
"Not to mention Soviet spies," Gilligan added.
Kuznetsov’s grin grew wider. "No need for Soviet spies to sneak in that way. Anyway, it is too far to go- before they grab you." He quit smiling. "The guards are also authorized to use deadly force."
"But we’ve got to get in there! It’s the only way we’re going to get back." Kuznetsov considered. "Okay. Only one thing to do. We fly in."
"That’s nuts!" Mick Gilligan protested.
"Maybe nuts, but here," he stabbed his finger down on the map, "is close enough we can maybe get in and land before we are stopped." He considered. That is if they do not shoot planes down without warning for trespassing."
"That was your trick," Mick said sourly. Kuznetsov was beginning to wear and the whole conversation was making him profoundly uncomfortable.
"So we have to get three people and a dragon into this super-secret base in an airplane."
"Four," Gilligan said. "I’m going with you. All the way back." He looked at them. ’That’s my price for helping you."
"You know you may never be able to return," Bal-Simba told him.
"I thought of that."
The wizard looked at him closely and then nodded. "Very well. You are welcome."
"We," Kuznetsov said with a gesture at Vasily and himself, "will go with you." Gilligan scowled. "Why?"
"Technical expertise. You need someone who knows the area-" he glanced at Gilligan significantly "-and will tell what he knows." Then he shrugged.
"Besides, thumbing your nose at authority is a Russian thing. You would not understand."
Mick shook his head. ’This particular nose-thumbing is gonna get you thrown out of the country-or worse."
Kuznetsov grinned broadly. "That is why it is Russian thing. It is no fun thumbing nose at authority unless you can get in big trouble for gesture." Then," Mick predicted, "you’re gonna have more fun than you’ve ever had in your life. You may even the laughing."
The Russians only grinned.
"Okay, so we’ve got to get six people and a twenty-foot dragon in there and land on a dry lake bed. That’s going to take a pretty special plane."
Vasily, who had been leaning up against the wall spoke for the first time. "I think I know where."
"So far the buzz is positive." Mark Toland gestured toward the Hilton suite’s window and the Convention Center beyond with a wave of his champagne glass.
"Everyone’s impressed and no one’s quite sure what we’ve got." He smiled broadly. "FUDware at it’s finest."
Toland had coined the term FUDware in a speech to an industry conference several years ago and he used it whenever he could. In this case he was justified. Gigantopithecus Softwares pre-pre-beta technology direction disclosure of its new API had sown Fear, Uncertainty and Doubt-FUD to connoisseurs-among potential customers, technology partners, retailers and VARS. FUDware was the equivalent of a rolling artillery barrage on the computer battlefield. Its purpose wasn’t so much to cause casualties as to pin everyone down while the attackers moved in for the kill. The software being shown in another suite here at the Las Vegas Hilton was packed with nifty features. Better, it was far enough along that it might be the prelude to a real product. Then again, it might not, and that was better yet.
As a result Sasquatch was performing its intended job of paralyzing the market, exciting the trade press, and making buyers hold off committing to a competitor and stretching everyone’s acquisition cycle.
Keith Malinowski slumped down on the couch and grunted. He was wearing his "Save The Sasquatch" sweatshirt over his hand-tailored sport shirt. His champagne was going flat.
"The beauty is we caught Microsoft and IBM/Lotus in mid-FUD cycle," Angela Page, his marketing VP put in. "It will be at least eight weeks before they can counter with FUDware of their own."
"But when are we going to release it?" asked Joe Kroeber from the suite’s bar. He was head of software development, and pouring the drinks for everyone was part of his job at these things.
"Second quarter of next year," Page told him. "It’s in the briefing sheet we use to leak to reporters."
"No, I mean when are we really going to have it ready?"
Page and Toland looked at Kroeber like he’d farted. Malinowski ignored them. I should have stayed behind and gone sailing, he thought. Three years ago he would have been bouncing up and down like a miniature poodle at an industry coup like this. Now it was flat as his champagne. Even the knowledge that he’d put the screws to Microsoft, his former employer, just didn’t thrill him. The millions more this would add to his net worth were even less important. These days Malinowski thought of himself as a cryptozoologist more than a software entrepreneur. Ever since he was a teenager he had been convinced the planet was teeming with undiscovered animals, from Sasquatch in the Pacific Northwest and as far south as Arizona to dinosaurs in central Africa to serpents in the seas.
The zoologists of his acquaintance thought he was a nut, but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. Like a tot of people in the computer industry, Keith Malinowski had spent his whole life being the smartest person in the room, and like most of his fellows the experience left him with a rather high opinion of his opinions.
With his newfound wealth Malinowski also had the ability to back his beliefs with more than on-line arguments. In the last two years he had sponsored expeditions to places all around the world, provided computer and technical support for the people who claimed to have seen something or thought they might have gotten something on film or tape.
The ringing phone at his elbow jarred him out of his ruminations and nearly made him spill his flat champagne. Before he could focus, Toland grabbed it like the well-trained subordinate he was. He listened for a second, then put his hand over the mouthpiece and turned to his boss.