Sedona Conspiracy

CHAPTER SEVEN ^UNDERGROUND

A black SUV with heavily tinted windows rolled up to his gate at exactly five in the morning, and Eric buzzed it in. The SUV pulled up to his garage and sat there, engine running, windows up. Eric tried the front passenger door, but it was locked. The rear door wasn’t. He opened it, and got in.

“Good morning, sir.” A driver in military fatigues looked at him in his rear view mirror as Eric closed the door. There was a thick, polymer barrier between them.

“A bit early for that,” quipped Eric.

The driver smiled. “You’re working with the military, sir. Up and on.”

Eric thumbed the gate shut as they went through it. They turned left, and headed away from town, accelerating rapidly.

“Seat belts, sir. You have an oh-six-hundred with Colonel Davis, and I’ll have to hammer it.”

“That far?” asked Eric, and snapped in lap and chest belts.

“A ways, sir. There’s a thermos of coffee on the seat left of you. Hope you drink it black.”

Eric uncapped the thermos, poured, and sipped. The liquid burned a path down into his empty stomach, the caffeine giving him a welcome jolt. The sky was beginning to glow outside, but was dim through the tinted windows, and they were suddenly veering left, bouncing once as they hit a graded, red-rock road. A mile in they came to a ranch, went around the main house and accelerated again as the road reappeared past an empty cattle pen. Eric’s mind was on autopilot, judging speeds and directions, calculating distances.

Four miles later they came to a water tank fenced in next to what looked like a garage. The fence gate and garage door were opening for them as they reached it, and closing as they entered the area. Lights came on as the garage door clanged shut. They stopped by a pedestal with what looked like a phone pad. The driver reached out and punched in some numbers, then closed his window again.

Two seconds, a loud thump, and the coffee in Eric’s stomach seemed to float for an instant. The entire vehicle was descending, and for several moments the only light came from the dashboard panel.

They came to a stop facing a bright light floating somewhere above them. The car pulled forward as Eric calculated, estimating they were now around ninety feet beneath the surface of the ground. They came out into a tunnel, two lines of ceiling lights coming together in the far distance left and right, a two-lane road of steel grating on red dirt. A military jeep buzzed by them, heading right. They turned, and followed it. The car was traveling around forty, and they drove for fifteen minutes, the jeep remaining ahead in view. No traffic passed them going the other way.

They stopped at a cutout in the tunnel, a parking area large enough for twenty cars, quick count. The tunnel itself went on straight ahead, and out of view. The jeep had parked there, and two soldiers with military police armbands were waiting for them.

“These men will take you to Colonel Davis,” said Eric’s driver. “Have a good day.”

One of the military policemen opened the door for Eric, and he got out. “Colonel Davis is expecting you, sir. Please come with us.”

The men walked on either side of him. The air was dry, smelled of oil and salt, and fine, red dust particles floated in the air. Behind two large vents in the ceiling, something hummed loudly.

An elevator door opened for them. The interior was polished brass. They descended for only a few seconds, perhaps another sixty feet, and suddenly stopped. The door opened, and they could have been in any office building in a large city. There were rows of offices along a green-carpeted hallway, both men and women in military fatigues hurrying to assignments. They stopped at a door like any of the others, this one marked ‘Commander’. Three knocks on the door brought an answer from inside.

“Come!”

“Mister Price is here, sir.”

“Send him in!”

A policeman opened the door, and Eric stepped inside.

A heavyset man, balding, sat behind a polished, mahogany desk. He was in army fatigues, and his sausage-like fingers moved over a computer keyboard briefly before entering something with a single keystroke. He gestured at a chair in front of his desk, pulled a thick file out of a drawer and pushed it across the desk as Eric sat down.

There were no preliminaries. “I’m Alex Davis. That’s Colonel Davis. You’ll report to me directly. What we have so far is in the file. You should read it in order. You’ll need historical perspective to see if the information we’re getting is consistent. I hear you’re very good at that.”

“You think the data you’re obtaining might be false, then? Is that why the delays have become long enough for the Pentagon to be concerned?” Eric opened the file, and riffled a few pages. The file was the thickness of a ream of paper. Graphs, equations, diagrams of a delta-shaped aircraft flashed past his eyes.

“Could be. We’ve had problems at every stage of testing, even in conventional flight.”

“Conventional?”

“Sub-sonic. It’s all summarized in the file. I couldn’t brief you if I had the time for it. A list of people you’re allowed to talk to is on page one. Don’t deviate from that list without consulting me first.”

“My clearance is orange card.”

“I don’t care about your color. Need to know, and I’ll decide that. Everyone at this base has top clearance, but only a handful of us have an overview of the entire project. Everyone else works on a small part of it. They know it’s an aircraft we’re working with, but nothing beyond that.”

“And how much will I be allowed to know?” Eric’s eyes narrowed. “You have my file, and my orders. I consult with you. It’s protocol, but the people I report to are at the top of the command chain. I do what they want done, and if I don’t get what I need they’ll ask why and I’ll tell them why.”

There was a faint smile from Davis. “You’ll have what you need as long as you don’t leak information to someone who shouldn’t know it while you make inquiries. Consulting with me isn’t advised, it’s required.”

“I understand that.”

“Good, then here’s the drill. You read that file and develop a plan for both technological and program analysis. You have four days, and then we talk again. Most of the tech staff lives in town; that’s why you’re based there. Communications will be primarily by closed cable to your home machine. You’ll spend little time here, primarily for face-to-face briefings with me. And no staff member will be interviewed until I’ve approved it.”

“My understanding was that I’d be spending a great deal of my time here, and have access to all parts of the base. I can’t just look at sketches, I have to see hardware.”

“Maybe later. You’re aware I have some security problems here. I don’t want anyone new sniffing around and alerting the person or persons we’re trying to ferret out. My own security people are on it.”

“I’m here to analyze data and evaluate foreign technology, Colonel. I can’t do it without laying hands on that technology.”

“Later, I said.” Colonel Davis’ face flushed red. “I’ll decide when.”

Eric snapped the folder shut in his lap. “My first report goes out tonight. I’ll tell them what my situation is, and leave it to you to explain it to them. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“I’ll explain it after they tell me why you’re really here. Our analysts are good enough, we don’t need another one, and I didn’t ask for new personnel. Impressive file, Mister Price, or should I call you doctor? Physics, computer science, all the right prep, and a long record as an analyst, if it’s real. I’ve got twenty-four years in the military, and a lot of it in covert ops. I know a field spook when I see one, and until I’m told why you’re really here you’ll be working on that file in town.”

Give it up for now. “Okay, I’ll file my report, and the pentagon will decide what happens to both our careers. I’ll work through the file tonight, but that’s as far as I go until this situation is resolved. I can’t develop any procedural plans without the access I want.”

Davis smiled slightly. “Probably true, if you’re what I think you are, so we’re both taking a chance here. Nothing personal, Price.”

Eric gave him the dark, predatory look of a young, hungry boxer. The look would have made a normal man shudder, but Colonel Davis didn’t even flinch.

“If it turns out you’re hiding something you shouldn’t be hiding, Colonel, then it will be worse than personal, and it’ll be a matter of national security.”

Davis leaned over his desk and glared back at him. “And if you knew the situations I’ve been dealing with, you’d know why I’m not even afraid of that. File your report, Mister Price, and let’s see what happens. For now, you’ll report back to me four days from now about the contents of that file, Four days, at oh-five-hundred. Be ready.”

Davis sat up straight. “Sergeant, Mister Price is ready to leave.”

The door opened, and an MP stood there. “This way, sir,” he said sharply.

Eric nodded, stood, and followed the guard out the door without looking back, and another guard closed the door behind him.

They marched him straight to the elevator without a word, ascended with him to tunnel level, and the black SUV was waiting with the same driver who’d picked him up earlier. Half an hour later he was ascending again to the garage and the water tower and the high, chain link fence, then racing back to his house on red dirt and pavement, the driver totally silent and Eric making no effort at conversation. He was already writing his report in his mind, and had no time to waste in absorbing the file in his possession.

Eric went into his house and sniffed the air. Slips of paper he’d put near the base of front and back doors were undisturbed, and there were no unusual odors. He sat right down at the computer and wrote a terse report to Gil about the suspicious way he’d been received by Colonel Davis. The man was either uncertain or insecure about his position, or he was trying to hide something. Eric would have total access to the base, or request reassignment. The entire report, single spaced, was less than a page long, and Eric sent it on its way with a keystroke.

The telephone rang. Eric picked it up on the second ring.

“Oh, you’re back already,” said Leon.

“Surprised? You didn’t tell me Colonel Davis is a complete asshole.”

“Let’s talk. Your place. I’ll let myself in from the tunnel, so don’t shoot me.”

The phone went dead.

So, he can get in here from the basement. Yes, we need to talk.

Leon must have run the entire way, in minutes the tunnel door opened as Eric watched from the top of the stairs. Leon locked the door behind him. “I don’t see a gun, so I guess I’m welcome.”

“I don’t have a gun,” said Eric.

“That’s right, Analysts have no use for them. So, what happened with you and Davis?”

Eric went down the stairs. He and Leon stood by the furnace in orange light to talk. Eric told him what had happened, in detail. Leon shook his head.

“He’s never acted like that with me. We’ve even had some drinks together. You must have said something to spook him.”

“I know I did. I want total access to the base, and he doesn’t want me there.”

“Do you need that for tech evaluation?”

“I have to see and handle the hardware, Leon. You sound like Davis.”

“Didn’t he brief you on ‘Shooting Star’?”

“I have the file here.”

“So study it. Maybe everything you need is in there. Slow down a bit; you just got here.”

“Fine, but I can’t speed up progress on the project if I can’t get what I need. I have to see the aircraft, get my hands on the metal, and Davis knows it. What’s he so suspicious about?”

“I don’t know,” said Leon.

“I just sent in my initial report, and it’s not complimentary to Davis. Either I get what I want, or I’m out of here.”

“I wish you’d talked to me first.”

“I don’t report to you, Leon. Christ, first Davis, now you. Everyone wants to be a boss. Well at least I have the file. Now why don’t you get out of here so I can read it.”

“Okay, but you don’t have to play prima-donnas with me. Read the file. Maybe it’ll show you how important this project really is. We can talk in the morning. I’ll be in the office by ten.”

“Goodbye,” said Eric. He thought about stomping a foot for emphasis, but decided that would be pushing things too far.

Leon turned away, opened the door to the tunnel and closed it loudly behind him. Eric immediately locked it, making a show of temper. He went up the stairs, taking deep breaths, letting them out slowly.

Well, I think I’ve stirred up things enough for one day.

He made coffee in the kitchen, made a ham and cheese sandwich and took it all to his desk, where the file awaited him. For the rest of the morning, all afternoon and early that evening he read it, studied it, making notes, talking to himself on paper with each discovery he made.

It was not just an aircraft, but also something more. It was delta-shaped, flat like a lifting body and huge, with extreme dimensions of a seven-twenty-seven. A crew of five in a spacious controls area at the sharp nose of a smooth fuselage not designed for stealth. No missile pods to be seen, nor was there a bomb bay, yet the overall shape of the craft suggested military. The drawings showed four jet engines, but no specs or manufacturer were given. Could be a lifting body for something smaller, he thought, then, no, the aft cross-section is much too thick, the taper forward too extreme for a lifting body. The whole thing looks aerodynamically unstable, must be fly-by-wire.

There was nothing in the file to tell him where the thing had come from: no markings, no manuals in a foreign language, no history about how it had been obtained. There was not even a photograph of the aircraft, only drawings. One detail drawing showed a strange, internally cantilevered section to the rear of the craft that, when lowered, made it look even more unstable, and there was nothing to show what was in that section or what purpose it served.

The great bulk of the file was table after table of test data, all taken in a laboratory setting: wind tunnel data to Mach one, vibration and stress tables on wings and fuselage, thermal and electrical conductivity data over selected sections of the aircraft. There were no records of any performance testing, not even a record of a flight.

What am I supposed to do? Come up with a plan to put all this crap together so it says something? Why would anybody want to sabotage such a messed up project?

Eric closed the file in disgust, and took himself to town for dinner at The Planet. He had a Saturn burger with fries, and someone who had been at Nataly’s party tried to interest him in buying a timeshare. When Eric politely declined, the man told him about a program at the Creative Life Center just outside of town. Some expert on UFOs was speaking there. It would be an opportunity to meet some of the new age crowd, many of whom were devoted patrons of the arts. Perhaps Eric could salvage a bad day by developing his cover as a man of art.

He drove to the center after dark. A sharp turn off Schnabley Hill Road took him to an interesting structure built in a sort of vertical helix with modern art appointments in bronze and glass. He walked up a spiral walkway from the parking lot, bought his twenty-dollar ticket at the door, and got one of the last seats in a large lecture hall filled with people talking loudly. A man was introduced, claiming to be a physicist. He talked for an hour about UFOs from other planets and other universes, the many groups of aliens now living among humans, their various agendas, some good, some bad. Eric fought to listen; it was all so absurd. The man showed UFO photographs, most of which could be staged with little imagination. When photos were shown of flying saucers sitting in the front yard of a man’s house during a Swiss visitation, Eric had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing out loud.

Midway through the talk, he had a strange feeling he was being watched. Eric turned around to look over his shoulder and saw Nataly Hegel standing at the back of the room, arms folded. She’d been frowning, but when she saw him looking at her she smiled, and he quickly faced forward again. His heart thumped forcefully, and he heard little of the rest of the talk. After it ended, perhaps she’d have coffee with him.

When the talk ended he looked for Nataly, but she had left.

Eric went home that night feeling strangely depressed.

Leon fumed all the way back to his house. If that was a phony snit, then he did a good job of it, but I’m not so easily fooled, Mister Price.

He went straight to his desk, sat down at his computer and dialed in a series of numbers on his telephone. The machine buzzed three times, a pause, then three more times.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Leon. Can we talk?”

“Yes,” said Colonel Alexander Davis.

“I just talked to Price. What in the hell do you think you’re doing? Price just filed a complaint because you won’t give him base access, and we could have a whole platoon of deep ops people here in a day. Are you crazy?”

“I’m trying to find a saboteur, Leon. I don’t need a new face here to probe around and warn the bastard.”

Leon’s voice rose in pitch. “There could be a dozen new faces at your base in days because of your hair trigger ego. If you’d think for just one minute you’d see your suspicions are telling you that Price has been sent to do exactly what you want done. My bet is he’s better at it than any ten men you can put together.”

“I don’t think—”

“That’s right, you don’t think! Shut up and listen for once! An NSA team will sniff out our arrangement in a week. With only one man we have some control. I’ll call my boss; reinforce your claim that analysts don’t need total base access, but that if Eric is also here for the security problem his orders need to be clarified so that access can be granted. If they deny he’s here for that purpose, we’re in trouble. We’ll know quick, and I’ll call you back.”

“You spooks need to be educated about military protocol,” said Davis. “That’s what caused this problem.”

“Fuck your military protocol. You caused this problem,” said Leon, “and it had better not happen again. You like to talk about accidents. Be careful one doesn’t happen to you.”

Leon stabbed the keyboard and broke the connection before Davis could answer the threat with one of his own.

He sat there for half an hour, composing thoughts, rehearsing arguments, then dialed Gil on his cell phone. He was prepared for tough arguing, maybe even a chewing out for not properly preparing Davis.

What he got was a cheerful Gil who quickly agreed to clarify Eric’s orders and be totally open about the man’s assignments. He even gave Leon a small pat on the back for moving so rapidly to remove a logjam in the operation.

Leon hung up, relieved but confused. There’d been no real discussion. It had all been too easy.

Thinking about it kept him awake that night.

“Our man is in, Mister President. There was a problem with the details of his orders, but it’s all taken care of. I’ll bring you summaries of his briefings as they come in.”

“That’s good news, Gil. Let’s get this show on the road for sure. I want to see that plane flying by the end of the year.”

“You’ll have it, Mister President,” said Gil.