“JFK knew about the ETs and these black budget projects and wanted to pull back the reins, beginning with the CIA. I realize that sounds like more conspiracy theory, but if you believe in the free press, then you probably believe in magic bullets and Lee Harvey Oswald too.”
“I think we can do without the sarcasm, Mr. Wade. We’re still waiting for you to answer Senator Townsend’s question… are these extraterrestrials a threat?”
“Madam Chair, if these Interstellars wanted to destroy us, they could have done so at anytime. God knows we’ve certainly provoked them, taking out several dozen of their craft since 1947. In my opinion, the bigger threat to humanity are these USAPs. Trillions of dollars have been siphoned out of the U.S. Treasury to pay for these vast subterranean complexes located miles beneath our air force bases — the Under Secretary has a pretty accurate list. The people working down there are well paid, but everything is kept extremely compartmentalized. The most advanced projects are run by our biggest defense contractors: E-Systems, Lockheed, Northrop-Grumman, Johnson Systems, Sandia, Livermore, Los Alamos, Techtronics… GE. Motorola had a huge facility where they were trying to figure out how the ETs’ communications worked.”
“These reverse-engineering projects, Mr. Wade — what have they accomplished?”
“Well, you know about the F-117 Stealth Bomber and fiber-optic cable. What you don’t know is that we solved anti-gravitics along with the energy problem more than fifty years ago. As Ben Rich, the late CEO of Lockheed-Skunkworks once said, ‘we now have the ability to take ET home.’ ”
Once more the chamber erupted in conversation.
“Mr. Wade, are you saying we may one day see flying cars?”
“No. I’m saying we’ve had the technology for decades. Unfortunately, it’s been black-shelved.”
“Black-shelved? What does that mean exactly?”
“It means the powers that be have purposely kept it from the masses by denying patents, confiscating inventions, and then murdering the scientists who made the breakthroughs. That’s the real crime you should be investigating.”
Applause broke out, overwhelming the proceedings.
Senator Sampson waited for the chamber to quiet down. “Who’s in charge of these programs, Mr. Wade?”
“Essentially, it’s a secret faction operating independently and without the knowledge of the government. Some choose to label it a New World Order… call them what you will — they run it all, just like the Under Secretary spoke about… it’s all true.”
Adam was about to pose a question of his own when he noticed Steven Greer waving at him from two rows back.
“Madam Chair, could we have a ten minute recess… it’s important.”
“Very well. We’ll reconvene at eleven o’clock.”
A buzz filled the chamber as conversations broke out among the charged-up crowd. Adam patted Jonathan Wade on the back before joining Dr. Greer at the rail separating the witness area from the spectators.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything. C-SPAN’s off the air; the bastards are jamming the signal just like they did sixteen years ago during the first hour of The Disclosure Project. Cell phones are out as well.”
“Damn it! Okay, let me speak to Senator Sampson—”
“Forget her, she’s useless.”
“Then my brother—”
“He’s long gone. Nothing said in these chambers will ever be covered by the media. Face it, Shariak, you’ve been set up and shut down, and don’t expect to find any allies on that committee. You can bet the farm they’re being issued specific instructions on what to say and how to proceed; just like the 9/11 commission was given back in 2002. I hate to say I told you so, but I’ve been down this road before. Washington is toxic with money and everyone is in on the take… hey, where are you going?”
Adam homed in on the court stenographer, her badge identifying her as Adeline Russell.
“Excuse me, Adeline, there’s been an emergency. I need you to email the transcript of this morning’s testimonials to my iPhone right away.”
“I can’t. The Internet’s down and no one can get a phone signal.”
“Then print me out a hard copy.”
“I still have to transcribe it. It’s all in shorthand.”
“How long will that take?”
“I don’t know… twenty minutes.”
“But you can read what you wrote, correct?”
“You mean the shorthand? Of course.”
“Then get your machine, you’re coming with me.”
“But the hearing—”
“Your assistant can take over; I need you with me… now please.” He waited impatiently while she unplugged her machine and rolled up the cord.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m holding an impromptu press conference on the steps of the Capitol Building. When I say, I’ll need you to read the Jonathan Wade testimony aloud to the media.”
Pushing his way through the throng, he led her up the center aisle past security and out the rear doors of the chamber, his awkward gait helping to clear a path.
He found himself in the mezzanine where a crowd was assembling around a circle of reporters and their camera crews. “This is perfect. Come on.” Grabbing hold of the crook of the stenographer’s right arm, he worked his way closer until he could see the person the reporters were interviewing.
It was a Middle Eastern woman, dressed in a black one-piece Abaya — the coat-like garment topped with a matching scarf which concealed all but the bangs of her raven-colored hair. Though she was only in her early thirties, the dark eyes that scanned the crowd had witnessed several lifetimes of suffering.
Adam froze. He knew those eyes… he had seen them in a thousand dreams.
He was about to call out when Eugene Evans intercepted him. “Captain, we need to get you out of—”
“There he is!”
Suddenly all eyes and camera lenses were focusing in on him, his bodyguard, and the stenographer, who was backing away as the crowd parted before them, bringing him face-to-face with his past.
“Nadia?”
The Iraqi woman’s face contorted in horror. “Infidel warrior! Are you surprised to see me still alive after you murdered my father and left me for dead?”
Sweat beads broke out across Adam’s face. “Nadia… what are you talking about?”
“My father and I saved your cursed life after your death chopper crashed. We pulled you from the wreckage and carried you up three flights of stairs to our apartment in order to hide you from the Fedayeen. We risked our lives by helping you… and how did you repay us? By scorching me with a pot of boiling oil before stabbing my father to death, murdering him as he slept… leaving me screaming in agony as you made your escape… the American hero!”
Adam could hear the cameras click, the lights and flashes blinding his peripheral vision. “Nadia, nothing you just said is true. Why are telling these lies?”
“We shall see which one of us is lying.” Tearing off her scarf, she exposed the back of her hairless skull and the lump of flesh from a butchered skin graft, the burn scars and welts continuing down her neck and back.
“Now the world will see who you really are, Captain Adam Shariak. Now the world will know the truth!”
31
A cool mountain breeze rustled the sheer curtains framing the bedroom balcony’s open French doors, the “Nature Alarm Clock” rousing Jessica Marulli from a heavy sleep. She had set the hologram to a “Colorado lake scene,” hoping a change in her routine might curb the recent bout of depression brought on by her extended stay in the infirmary. But even the tapestry of gold splaying over a Rocky Mountain horizon had little effect on her wounded psyche.