Area 51

CHAPTER 23

“I think I’ll just stay here,” Nabinger said. They were stopped at a small rest area off Highway 60 on the Natanes Plateau. There was a brisk wind blowing out of the northwest and Turcotte was making instant cups of coffee for all of them, using the microwave inside the van and supplies he’d found in a cabinet there. They were seated in the captain’s chairs inside with the side door open.

“We can’t let you do that,” Turcotte said.

“This is a free country!” Nabinger said. “I can do whatever I want. I didn’t plan on being in the middle of a fight.”

“We didn’t plan it either,” Kelly said. “But we’re stuck. There’s more going on here than any of us know.”

“I just wanted some answers,” Nabinger said.

“You’ll get them,” Kelly said. “But if you want them, you have to stick with us.” Nabinger had not reacted too badly to being basically kidnapped and taken away in the van. But Kelly knew his type, as she’d interviewed scientists just like him. Many times the quest for knowledge became more important than everything else around them, including their own personal safety.

“This is all so incredible,” Nabinger said. He looked at Von Seeckt. “So you believe this message refers to the mothership?”

Von Seeckt nodded. “I believe it is a warning that we must not fly the mothership. I believe the chariot obviously refers to the mothership and I would take very seriously the never again and death to all living things writings.”

“If this is true,” Nabinger said, “it means that the ancient humans were influenced by the aliens that left these craft behind. It would help explain so many of the commonalities in mythology and archeology.”

“Let’s hold on here a second,” Kelly said. “If these writings in the Great Pyramid in Egypt refer to the mothership — which was abandoned on this continent — then it had to have been flying once upon a time.”

“Of course it flew at one time,” Von Seeckt said. “The real question is: Why did they stop flying it? What is the threat?”

“I’ve got a better question for right now.” Turcotte handed a mug of steaming coffee to Von Seeckt. “You told me on the plane out of Area 51 that you were recruited by the U.S. military during the Second World War. Yet Professor Nabinger tells us that you were with the Nazis in the pyramid. I’d like an explanation. Now.”

“I second that,” Kelly said.

“I do not think—” Von Seeckt paused as Nabinger reached into his backpack and pulled out a dagger.

“I was given this by the Arab who guided you into the pyramid back then.”

Von Seeckt took the dagger and grimaced, then placed it down on the table. He cradled his wrinkled hands around the mug and looked out over the bleak terrain of the Indian reservation. “I was born in Freiburg in 1918. It is a town in southwest Germany, not far from the border with France. The times I grew up in were not good years in Germany. In the twenties everyone was poor and angry over the way the war to end all wars had ended. Do you know that at the end of the First World War no foreign troops had yet set foot on German soil? That we were still occupying French soil when the government surrendered?”

“Spare us the history lesson,” Turcotte said. He had picked up the dagger and was looking at the symbols carved into the handle. He knew about the SS. “We’ve heard it all before.”

“But you asked,” Von Seeckt said. “As I said, in the twenties we were poor and angry. In the thirties everyone was crazy from having been poor and angry for so long. As Captain Turcotte says, you all know what happened. I was in the university in Munich studying physics when Czechoslovakia fell. I was young then and I had that — ah, what are the words — myopic, self-centered vision that the young have. It was more important to me that I pass my comprehensive exams and be awarded my degree than that the world was unraveling around me.

“While I was at the university, I did not know that I was being watched. The SS had established early on a special section to oversee scientific matters. Their commander reported directly to Himmler. They put together a list of scientists and technicians that could be of use to the party, and my name was on the list. “They approached me in the summer of 1941. There was special work being done, they told me, and I must help.”

For the first time Von Seeckt brought his gaze out of the desert. He looked at each person in turn. “One of the advantages of being an old man who is dying is that I can tell the truth. I will not pretend and whine as so many of my colleagues did at the end of the war that I worked against my will. Germany was my country and we were at war. I did what I considered my duty to my country and I worked willingly.

“The question that is always asked is ‘What about the camps?’” Von Seeckt shrugged. “The first truth is that I did not really know about them. The higher truth is that I did not care to know. There were rumors, but I did not care to pursue rumors. Again my focus was with myself and my work. That does not excuse what happened or my role in the war effort. It is simply what happened.

“I was working near Peenemunde. The top men — they were working on the rockets. I was with another group, doing theoretical work that we hoped would have future application. Some of it touched on the potential of an atomic weapon. You can find out what you need to know about that from other sources.

“The problem was that our work was mainly theoretical, laying the groundwork, and those in command did not have much patience. Germany was fighting a war on two fronts and the feeling was that the war had better be over sooner rather than later, and we needed weapons now, not theory.”

“You say you worked at Peenemunde?” Kelly cut in. Her voice was harsh. “Yes.”

“But you also say you didn’t try to find out about the camps?”

Von Seeckt remained quiet.

“Don’t bullshit us,” Kelly said. “What about the Dora concentration camp?” The wind blew in the door from the desert floor, chilling the group.

“What was Dora?” Turcotte asked.

“A camp that supplied workers to Peenemunde,” Kelly said. “The inmates were treated as terribly as the people at the other, better-known camps. When the American liberated it — the day before Roosevelt died, as a matter fact — they found over six thousand dead. The survivors weren’t far from dead. And they worked for people like him,” she added, thrusting her chin toward Von Seeckt’s back. “My father was with the OSS, and he was there at Dora. He was sent in to find information on what had happened to some OSS and SOE people who had tried to infiltrate Peenemunde during the war to stop the production of the V-2’s.

“He told me what it was like at the camp and the way the Allies acted when they arrived — the intelligence people and the war-crimes people showing up and fighting over the German prisoners and how some of the worst were scooped up by the intelligence people and never came to trial. The intelligence people treated the German scientists better than they did the survivors of the camps, because of the knowledge those men possessed. They just stepped over the bodies, I guess.”

As Kelly paused to catch her breath, Von Seeckt spoke.

“I know now what happened at Dora. But I did not know then. I left Peenemunde in spring of 1942. That was before”—his voice broke—“before it got bad.”

He held up a hand, forestalling Kelly, who had begun to speak. “But over the years I have asked myself the question: What if I had not been ordered away? What would I have done?”

He turned back to the other three. “I would like to believe I would have acted differently than the majority of my colleagues. But I spoke earlier of the honesty an old man should have. The honesty to come to peace with oneself and one’s God — if one believes in a God. And the honest answer I came up with after many years was no, I would not have acted differently. I would not have stood up and spoken out against the evil.

“I know that for certain because I did not do so here, in this country, when I saw things happen out at Area 51. When I heard rumors of what was going on at Dulce.”

Von Seeckt slapped his palm on the tabletop. “But now I am trying to make my peace and be honest. That is why I am here.”

“We’re all trying to make our own peace,” Turcotte said.

“Go on with your story. You say you left Peenemunde in the spring of 1942?”

Von Seeckt nodded. “Spring 1942 I remember it well. It was the last spring I spent in Germany. My section chief came to me with orders, reassigning me. I was a very junior member of the research staff and would not be missed. That is why I was selected. When I asked my chief what I would be doing and where I would be going, he laughed and said I was going wherever the Black Jesuit’s vision said.”

Seeing the uncomprehending looks, Von Seeckt explained. “That is what those on the inside called Himmler: the Black Jesuit.” He paused and closed his eyes. “The SS was very much a religious order. They had their own ceremonies and secret rites and sayings. If I was asked by an SS officer why I obeyed, my verbatim answer must be: ‘From inner conviction, from my belief in Germany, the Fuhrer, the Movement, and in the SS.’ That was our catechism.

“There was much whispered talk of Himmler and the others at the top. Of how they believed in things most did not believe in. Did you know that in the winter of 1941 our troops were sent into Russia without an adequate supply of cold weather equipment? But not because we didn’t have cold weather gear sitting in supply depots in Germany, but rather because a seer told Hitler that the winter would be very mild and he believed that. It turned out to be one of the most brutal on record, so tens of thousands of soldiers froze and died because of a vision.

“So my colleagues in the scientific community saw a ridiculous task and they sent the junior man. Ah, but the men I linked up with to carry out this mission, they did not think it a ridiculous task. They had information that they did not share with me. There was no mistaking the seriousness with which they set out to pursue the mission.”

Von Seeckt smiled. “I myself got very serious when I found out where our mission was taking us: Cairo, behind enemy lines. All I was told was to be prepared to find and secure something that might be radioactive.

“We traveled by train south to Italy. Then we were taken by submarine across the Mediterranean to Tobruk, where we were put on trucks and given local guides. The British Eighth Army was in disarray and in retreat so it was not as difficult as I had feared for us to infiltrate their lines and make it to Cairo, although there were a few adventures along the way.”

Turcotte took a sip of his now cold coffee. The story was interesting but he didn’t see how it helped them much with their present situation. And he could tell Kelly was very disturbed by Von Seeckt’s revelations about his past. Turcotte himself wasn’t happy about the SS connection.

Von Seeckt could admit whatever he wanted, but that didn’t make it clean as far as Turcotte was concerned. Confession didn’t make the crime go away.

“A Major Klein was in charge,” Von Seeckt continued.

“He did not share his information with us. We went to the west bank of the Nile and then I saw our destination: the Great Pyramid. I was very much confused as I carried my radioactivity detector into the tunnel in the side of the pyramid in the dead of night. Why were we here?

“We went down, and Klein kept turning to a man who had a piece of paper he consulted. The man pointed and Klein ordered his men, a squad of SS storm troopers, to break through a wall. We went through the opening into another tunnel that sloped down. We went through two more walls before we entered a room.”

“The bottom chamber,” Nabinger said. “Where I found the words.”

“Where you found the words,” Von Seeckt repeated as a tractor trailer loaded with cattle roared past.

“What did you find in the chamber?” Nabinger asked.

“We went down and broke through the final walls into the chamber. There was a sarcophagus there — intact. Klein indicated for me to use my machine. I did and was surprised to see a high level of radiation in the chamber. Not dangerous to humans, but still, it should not have been there. It was much higher than what would be normal background radiation. Klein didn’t hesitate. He took a pick and levered off the lid.

“I was stunned when I looked over his shoulder. There was a black metal box in there. I could tell the metal had been carefully tooled and was not the work of ancient Egyptians. How, then, could this have gotten in here? I asked myself.

“I had no time to think on it. Klein ordered me to take up the box and I did, putting it in a backpack. It was bulky but not overly heavy. Perhaps forty pounds. I was much stronger in those days.

“We left the pyramid the same way we had come in. We linked up with our two trucks and headed west while we still had darkness to cover our movement. At daylight we hid in the dunes. We had the two Arab guides that had stayed with the trucks to show us the way and they took us west.

“On the third night they led us right into an ambush.” Von Seeckt shrugged. “I do not know if it was deliberate. The Arabs — they always worked for whoever would pay them the most. It was not uncommon for the same guides to be working for both sides. It does not really matter.

“The lead truck took a direct hit from a British tank. There were bullets tearing through the canvas sides of the truckbed I was in. I dived down next to the box. That was my job — protect the box. Klein was next to me. He pulled out a grenade, but he must have been shot before he could throw it because he dropped it and it fell next to me. I pushed it away — out of the back onto the sand, where it exploded. Then there were British Tommies everywhere. Klein was still alive. He tried to fight, but they shot him many times. They took me and they took the box.”

Turcotte interrupted. “Klein didn’t drop that grenade.”

“Excuse me?” Von Seeckt was out of his story momentarily.

Turcotte was looking out the door down the road, where the cattle truck was a disappearing spot on the horizon.

“Klein was under orders to kill you and destroy the box.”

“How do you know that?” Von Seeckt asked.

“It might have been fifty years ago, but many things don’t change. If they couldn’t get the box home safely, then they most certainly didn’t want the other side to get it or the knowledge you possessed. That’s the way any mission like yours would have worked. The British did the same thing when they sent specialists over to look at German radar sites along the French Coast during the war. Their security men had orders to kill the specialists rather than allow them to be captured because of their knowledge of British radar systems.”

Von Seeckt nodded. “After all these years, do you know, that never occurred to me? It should have, after all I have seen since.”

“All that is fine and well,” Nabinger said impatiently, “but not important right now. What is important is — what was in the box?”

‘The box was sealed when we found it and Klein refused to allow me to open it. As my friend Captain Turcotte so aptly has noted, Klein was a stickler for following orders. The British took me, and the box, and I was hustled away. First back to Cairo. Then on a plane…” Von Seeckt paused. “Suffice it to say I eventually ended up in England in the hands of the SOE.”

“SOE?” Nabinger asked.

“Special Operations Executive,” Kelly said.

Von Seeckt nodded. “Quite correct, as the English would say. They interrogated me, and I told them what I knew. Which wasn’t much. They also checked the box for radioactivity. And got a positive reading.” He looked at Kelly, sensing her change in mood. “You know something of the SOE?”

“As I said earlier, my father was in the OSS. The American counterpart to the SOE.”

Von Seeckt stroked his beard. “That is most intriguing. The SOE turned me over to the OSS. Apparently radioactivity was the Americans’ province.”

“The British didn’t open the box either?” Nabinger was trying very hard to control his patience.

“They couldn’t open the box,” Von Seeckt corrected. “So they shipped me off to the United States. The box was on the same plane. After all, the British did have a war to fight and apparently more important things to attend to. Also, as I was to find out, radioactivity was the province of the Americans.”

“Did the box ever get opened?” Nabinger almost groaned the question.

“Yes, yes, it did,” Von Seeckt said. “The Americans did that. They kept me in a place outside of Washington, somewhere out in the country. To this day I could not tell you where it was. The box went somewhere else and I was interrogated. Then they seemed to forget about me for several weeks. One day two men showed up at my jail cell. One was a lieutenant colonel and the other a civilian. They took me to a new place.” Von Seeckt pointed to the northeast, along the road. “To Dulce.

“The box?” Nabinger’s patience was exhausted.

“There was a small nuclear weapon in the box,” Von Seeckt said.

“Oh fuck,” Turcotte said. “What have we gotten into here?”

Nabinger slowly sat back in his seat. “Buried under the Great Pyramid for ten thousand years?”

“Buried under the pyramid for approximately ten thousand years,” Von Seeckt confirmed. “Of course, we only guessed in the beginning that that was what it was. The Americans were just at the start of the Manhattan Project at the time, so our knowledge was rather primitive by today’s standards. Ten years earlier and we probably would not have had a clue what was in the box.

“We took the bomb apart. Very carefully.” Von Seeckt chuckled. “The Americans always thought I knew more than I knew. After all, I had been found with the damn thing. But the longer I was there, the more I did know as we worked. Even with today’s technology, though, I do not believe they are able to make a bomb as small and lightweight and efficient as that one we worked on. It was amazing. There were parts that I still don’t understand. But we were able to learn enough from it — along with the work being done in other places — to put together the bombs we did use to end that war.”

“So this bomb from the pyramid — it was from the same people who built these disks and the mothership?” Nabinger’s question was rhetorical. “That raises so many questions and issues about the pyramid and why it was built. Perhaps—”

“Professor.” Turcotte’s voice cut through like the cold wind that was blowing in the door. “Those questions can wait. Right now we need to get a little farther up the road. It’s not that far to Dulce, and we have to wait until dark to try anything, but I’d like to take a look around during daylight. You can discuss this on the way.”

As Von Seeckt and Nabinger climbed into the back of the van, Kelly tapped Turcotte on the arm and leaned close. “Did you ever see this mothership that Von Seeckt is so worried about?”

“No. I only saw the smaller bouncers.” Turcotte looked at her. “Why?” “Because we only have Von Seeckt’s word that it exists. And his story about what he admits to doing during World War II doesn’t thrill me. What if there’s more that he’s not telling us? He was SS, for Christ’s sake.”

“Is there anything specific that makes you doubt his story about what is going on now?” Turcotte asked.

“I’ve learned to question things, and my question is, if the mothership doesn’t exist, then maybe this whole thing is a setup. And even if it does exist, maybe this whole thing is a setup.”

“A setup for what?” Turcotte asked.

“If I knew that, I’d know if it was a setup,” Kelly said.

A small smile crept along Turcotte’s lips. “I like that. Paranoid thinking. Makes me feel almost sane.”

“Next chance we get, I’ll tell you my story, and you’ll understand why I’m paranoid.”

“General.” Dr. Slayden inclined his head toward Gullick, then took in the other people in the room. “Gentlemen and lady.”

Slayden was an old man, formerly the second oldest on the committee after Von Seeckt, now the oldest with the one empty chair on the right side of the table. Slayden was bald and his forehead was wrinkled. His major distinguishing feature was his bushy white eyebrows, quite startling given his naked skull.

General Gullick had always thought Slayden a worthless member of Majic-12, but Duncan’s visit had forced him to search for ways to gain time. The psychologist had been the answer.

Slayden began. “There have been numerous movies and books published in the field of science fiction about the reaction of people on Earth to alien contact — either here on Earth if the aliens come to us or in the future when we expand to the stars. There have, in fact, been several government work groups over the last several decades dedicated to projecting possible reactions to contact with extraterrestrial life forms.

“While Project Blue Book was the Air Force’s official watchdog for unidentified flying objects, there were classified study groups composed of social psychologists and military representatives, whose purpose was to prepare contingency plans for alien contact. These projects fell under the province of DARPA — the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. I was one of the original members of DARPA’s contact committee.

“The problem we were given was initially a theoretical one.” Slayden smiled. “Of course, at the time, we on the committee did not know of the existence of this facility. We were also severely restricted by ethical and security considerations. We were working with the subject of large-group dynamics: how the people of Earth would respond to an outside entity. The ability to conduct realistic experimentation was almost nil. In fact our most valid research data base was the public reaction to the broadcast of The War of the Worlds by Orson Welles in 1938.

“The major result of that broadcast was mass hysteria and fear. As this chart shows…”

As Slayden went through his repertoire, General Gullick shifted his attention to the computer screen built into the desktop in front of him. Everyone around the table already knew that what Slayden was saying was unimportant. Everyone, that is, except Dr. Duncan — that was the whole purpose of this briefing.

There was nothing new from the Lincoln task force on the foo fighters and nothing on Von Seeckt and the other three targets. Gullick reluctantly returned his attention to the briefing.

“However, no one had ever really considered the possibility of our exposure to alien life coming in the form of the discovery of the bouncers and mothership — a sort of archaeological discovery of extraterrestrial life. There have been people, most labeled crackpots, who have pointed to various artifacts and symbols on the planet as signs that we have been visited in the past by alien life forms. The bouncers and mothership are incontrovertible proof that this has happened. This presents us with several challenges but also a great opportunity.”

Slayden had forgotten that this was mainly a propaganda briefing for Duncan, and he was totally immersed in his material. “You see, one of the greatest uncontrolled variables in contact theory was that the contact would occur at the discretion of the extraterrestrials. That they would come to us. Or that the discovery of evidence that the planet had been visited in the past by aliens would hit the news in an uncontrolled manner. Here at Area 51, though, we control that variable. We have the evidence and it is at our discretion that the information be revealed. Because we control that variable, we can also prepare both ourselves and the public for the moment of disclosure.”

Slayden looked at Duncan. “You may have noticed over the course of the last several years an increasing number of reports in the news media about Area 51. These reports did not start in a vacuum. We have done many things to deliberately lay the groundwork for the public to accept the revelation of what we have here.

“Contrary to what the press has reported, our security here has been designed not to keep observers out, but to actually allow observers to see what we want them to see. We could have easily blocked access to all vantage points into the Groom Lake area. Instead we put holes in our security net at certain times and places and allowed designated visual and auditory stimuli to be observed and recorded.

“We also used agents of misinformation. One noted example is a man called Steve Jarvis, who has claimed for years to have worked out here at Area 51. In reality, Jarvis is an agent of ours who reveals information to media people. Some of the information he gives is actually true, some is false. All of it is specifically designed to prepare people to accept without fear what we have here.

“We actually even ran a small test of disclosure several years ago when the Air Force rolled out the F-117 Stealth fighter and displayed it publicly. There was no valid military or security reason to reveal the existence of the Stealth fighter. In fact, the Air Force vigorously fought the disclosure. However, the operation was done to test media and popular reaction to a government revelation of something the government had previously kept secret from the populace.

“As you can see from my data on that…”

Gullick remembered that event well. The Air Force had screamed bloody murder about publicizing the F-117. But the interesting thing to Gullick was that Slayden and his spin doctors had turned the tables on the Air Force General Staff, pointing out to them the beneficial possibilities disclosure would bring in the arena of budgeting with Congress. In the end the Air Force had been enthusiastic about the event. Gullick wasn’t foolish enough to believe, though, that the F-117 disclosure was anything like announcing the existence of the mothership. It sure sounded good, though.

Of course, Slayden was only giving Duncan the tip of the iceberg. Slayden and his people had early on presented one of the truths of psychological preparation: overstimulation.

And making people believe the truth to be much worse than it really was, was one of the major purposes of the Nightscape missions.

Nightscape had conducted numerous animal mutilations, rural overflights by the disks, and even human abductions. There was no way they would let Duncan know about that.

And even Slayden didn’t know the extent of Nightscape; he didn’t know of the need at Dulce for the people who were abducted or the animal parts that were brought back. Gullick rubbed the right side of his skull, irritated at the timbre of Slayden’s voice. Goddamn academic assholes. Gullick checked his screen one more time, looking for an update on the search for both the foo fighters and Von Seeckt’s group.

Gullick looked across the conference table at Duncan.

He was disgusted with outsiders whining and complaining about government secrecy and security. He thought it the most amazing paradox and could not understand why others didn’t see it the way he did: If the public could handle knowing everything, then there wouldn’t be any need for the secrecy because the world would be living in harmony.

It was the same people who decried the government that made the government necessary. If they all had the self-discipline that he and other military people had, the world would be a hell of a better place, Gullick thought as he waited impatiently for the briefing to be over so he could get back to real work.