Area 51

CHAPTER 31

“What do you have?” Major Quinn had been alerted by the duty officer and he’d quickly shut down Gullick’s computer and gone out to the main control center in the Cube.

“Multiple vehicles in sector three,” the operator announced, pointing at his computer screen. “Moving west along the road.”

“Give me IR and thermal from the mountain,” Quinn ordered.

The operator hit the proper command. A line of vehicles showed up rolling down the road.

“What does the mailbox look like?” Quinn asked.

Another scene came on screen: a lone mailbox, nothing around it, which confirmed to Quinn where the vehicles had come from.

“What the hell are they doing?” Quinn muttered to himself as the camera shifted back to the line of vehicles.

“Alert the air police and have them stop these people.”

“I’ve got Jarvis on the phone,” another man called out.

Quinn picked up the phone and listened for a minute.

He grimaced as he put the phone down. He turned and quickly walked over to a wooden door and knocked. He opened it without waiting for an answer. A figure lay on a cot inside and Quinn reached out and touched the man on the shoulder. “Sir, we’ve got multiple penetrations on the mailbox road. Looks like our UFO watchers are coming in for a closer look. Jarvis just called and said that Von Seeckt and that female reporter are with them, so this may be more than it appears.”

Gullick swung his legs onto the floor. He was already dressed for action in camouflage fatigues. “Alert Nightscape and get the choppers ready,” he ordered. As soon as Quinn was gone, he reached into his pocket and popped another pill. His heart rate immediately accelerated and he was ready for action. Then he followed Quinn into the control room.

“They’re turning off the road!” the operator announced.

“Or at least a couple of them are,” he amended as he tried to keep up with the vehicles. “They’re spreading out over the desert and still coming this way.” He pressed a finger over an earpiece in his right ear. “The air police don’t have enough vehicles in that area to get them all in time. Some of them are going to breach the outer perimeter.”

Gullick looked over the man’s shoulder at the tactical display. “I want Nightscape airborne in one mike. Also get the standby bouncer crew ready.” “Yes, sir.”

Twenty miles to the south Lieutenant Haverstraw keyed the intercom. “We’re going down to the carpet now. Hold on.”

The Blackhawk swooped down toward the desert floor and Lisa Duncan looked out the right side window and up at a rocky ridgeline less than forty feet away. Her fingers dug into the webbing strapped across her chest and she did exactly as Haverstraw had suggested — she hung on.

“We’ve got a hot IR source coming in sector six,” Quinn announced. “Low and fast.”

“What is it?” Gullick demanded.

“Helicopter. It’s below radar but we’re picking it up from above.”

“Check FFI,” Gullick ordered, referring to the friend or foe transponder every military aircraft carried.

“It’s one of ours,” Quinn said. He hit the keys rapidly. “A Blackhawk assigned to the 325th Pararescue unit at Nellis.”

“Tell them to get the fuck out of my airspace,” Gullick snapped. He turned back to the ground tactical display, watching as the air police stopped seven of the thirteen vehicles coming in. The remaining six were inside the outer perimeter now. Past the air police cordon and spread out across two security sectors.

“They’re calling us,” Haverstraw announced. “We’re being ordered to turn back.”

“Ignore them,” Duncan ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No response from the Blackhawk, sir,” Quinn reported.

General Gullick rubbed his forehead.

“Should I authorize Landscape to engage when in range?” Quinn asked.

“Tell them to track but hold on firing until I give the order,” Gullick said. “Nightscape is airborne,” Quinn said.

Kelly spun the wheel of the van violently and a plume of sand spun out from beneath the rear wheels. She could see the lights of the Groom Lake complex less than two miles ahead.

“We’re going to make it,” Nabinger said from the seat next to her.

Flashing lights were separating from the steady lights marking the buildings. The lights were going up.

“You spoke too soon. We’re going to have company.”

“I’ll see what I can do to help,” Von Seeckt called out from the back. He was working on the computer keyboard attached to the communications console, his fingers flashing over the keys.

Turcotte’s boots touched hardtop and he began sprinting across the runway. He felt naked, and he instinctively tucked his chin into his chest and bent forward, half expecting a shot to come out of the dark. On the far side of the runway, about a half mile away, at the base of the mountainside, he could make out a dark mass against the rocks — camouflage netting covering something. He felt a bit of hope seeing that. At least it appeared Von Seeckt’s guess wasn’t wrong.

“We’ve got someone on the runway,” Quinn announced.

“Put it on the main screen,” General Gullick said.

The IR scope mounted on top of the nearby mountain had a resolution of 300 power and it clearly showed a man running.

“How come we didn’t catch his thermal signature earlier?” Gullick asked.

Quinn hit a few keys and the picture changed. The man’s figure disappeared and there was only a small blob of red moving on the screen. “That’s thermal imaging of the target. He’s wearing some sort of thermal protection.” Quinn hanged the view and a map overlay of Area 51 came up.

“He’s heading for the engineer site outside Hangar Two,” Quinn added.

“Divert one of the Nightscape aircraft,” Gullick ordered. “Stop that man, number one priority.”

“Yes, sir.” Quinn began speaking into his microphone, then suddenly turned back to the general. “We’ve got interference, sir! I can’t talk to Nightscape. Someone’s cutting in and out on the radio.”

In the back of the van Von Seeckt smiled as he heard the excited voices of the Nightscape pilots trying to communicate back to the Cube and with each other to coordinate their actions. He pressed down on the transmit button for the van’s HF radio again, then let it up after a few seconds. Then again.

Gullick looked at the overlay of Area 51 and tried to make sense of the various symbols. He had three threats: the man nearing the engineer site, the inbound helicopter, and the vehicles coming in over the desert. This had to be a highly coordinated infiltration, and he could take no further chances. Even without radio he could still control things. He called out his orders.

“Alert the Landscape antiair sites by land line that they are in weapons-free status.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Warn the engineer site of the man infiltrating their position. He is to be stopped with extreme sanction.”

“We have no land line to the engineer site,” Quinn reported. “Their guard net is the Nightscape frequency. We can’t get through to them.”

“Goddammit!” Gullick yelled in frustration.

A tone screeched in Duncan’s headset. Up front in the cockpit a red light flashed on the control panel.

“Missile lock!” Lieutenant Haverstaw called out. “Evasive maneuvers. Hancock and Murphy, watch our rear and get ready if it’s a heat seeker!”

The Blackhawk turned on its left side and then jerked back right. Duncan watched as the two crewmen in the rear slid open the cargo doors and cold air swirled in. They were wearing harnesses around their bodies and leaned out the aircraft, looking down.

“I see a launch!” Murphy yelled. “Four o’clock. Climbing fast!” He was holding a flare and he fired it out and up, hoping the heat of the flare would divert the missile. At the same time Haverstraw slammed the cyclic forward and they rapidly began losing what little altitude they had left.

The missile roared by the right side of the helicopter, missing the outer edge of their rotor blades by less than ten feet. “That was close,” Haverstraw said over the intercom, understating the obvious, as she reeled in collective and cyclic and stopped their descent barely above the desert floor.

“That was close,” Duncan said, looking out at the ground less than twenty feet below.

“I don’t think they want us here,” Haverstraw said dryly.

“Put me on the radio to their headquarters,” Duncan said.

“No can do,” Haverstraw replied. “The frequency listed for Groom Lake is filled with interference.”

“Halt!” a voice called out in the dark to Turcotte’s right.

He could make out a figure wearing night vision goggles and carrying a submachine gun moving toward him.

In reply Turcotte fired twice, both rounds low, hitting the man in the legs and dropping him. There was no need for another death. He regretted what had happened in the lab. Circumstances and anger had forced his hand there. He dashed forward and kicked the Calico submachine gun out the man’s hands and ripped the goggles off his head.

“Fuck!” the man cursed, reaching for his sidearm, Turcotte rapped him upside the head with the barrel of the Calico and the man was out. Turcotte checked the wounds — no arteries hit. He quickly wrapped a bandage from the man’s own combat vest around each thigh to stop the bleeding, then continued on his way.

An AH-6 Little Bird gunship flashed by just overhead.

Kelly pressed down on the accelerator. The lights of the complex were less than a half mile away.

“The doors to the hangar are closed,” Nabinger said.

“What are you going to do?”

“I just want to get there in one piece. Then I’ll figure something out,” Kelly replied.

“The helicopter is still inbound,” Quinn reported. “Whoever is flying it is damn good. They’re below tracking by ground radar. We can’t relay from satellite tracking to the AA sites because of the jamming.”

“Launch the alert bouncer,” Gullick ordered. “Have it bring down the helicopter.”

Haverstraw looked out her windshield. There was a lot going on. She could see vehicles down below in a circus of headlights running about. There were several helicopters flitting about also. One of those turned toward her.

“We’ve got company,” Lieutenant Jefferson said.

Haverstraw didn’t reply. She watched the AH-6 come straight toward them from a half mile away.

“Uh, we’re on a collision course,” Jefferson said.

There was a quarter mile between the two aircraft, pilot of the AH-6 was flashing his spotlight at them.

“I think he wants us to land,” Jefferson said.

Haverstraw remained silent, her hands tight on the controls.

Lisa Duncan twisted in her seat and looked forward as Jefferson spoke again. “Uh, Deb, he’s — oh, Christ!” the copilot screamed out as the AH-6 filled up the entire forward view. At the last moment the other chopper suddenly veered, averting the midair collision.

“Chicken,” Haverstraw muttered. She raised her voice. “We’ll be there in thirty seconds.”

“The hangar doors are opening!” Nabinger called out as a sliver of red light appeared ahead.

“I’m heading for it,” Kelly said.

“Hey!” the sergeant seated inside the humvee called out as the muzzle of a submachine gun appeared in the door. “Watch that thing!”

“No, you watch it,” Turcotte said, edging into the vehicle. He looked at the computer system and the wires leading out of the black box hooked up to it. “This is to blow the charges to open up Hangar Two?”

The sergeant was most definitely watching the end of the muzzle, the black hole seeming to grow larger every second it was fixed between his eyes. “Yes.”

“Turn it on and bring up the firing sequence program.”

“Geez, look at that,” Haverstraw said as she set the Blackhawk down two hundred meters away from the large door that was sliding open in the side of the mountain. Red light spilled out onto the concrete and a disk was hovering there. It moved forward when the door was wide enough.

“What the hell is that thing?”

“Thanks for the ride,” Duncan said. “You’d better shut down and wait here until things get cleared up.”

“Roger that,” Haverstraw said. “And you’re welcome.”

Duncan took off her headset and got out of the helicopter. She turned her head as a van came to a screeching halt between her and the disk.

Turcotte looked at the screen. The charges were listed along with order and timing of initiation. He quickly began typing.

Armed guards ran out of the hangar as the bouncer hovered overhead, shining a light down on the scene being played out.

“Get out of the vehicle with your hands up!” one of the men ordered, pointing his weapon at the windshield of the van.

“Let’s go,” Kelly said. “We did all we can do. Let’s hope we gave Turcotte enough time to do his end.”

She opened the driver’s door and stepped out along with Nabinger, the latter still holding the rongorongo tablet and wearing his backpack. Von Seeckt got out of the rear.

“Face down on the ground!” the man ordered.

“Wait a second!” a woman’s voice called out. All eyes turned to the figure walking over from the Blackhawk helicopter. “I’m Dr. Duncan.” She held out an ID card. “Presidential adviser to Majic-12.”

The senior Nightscape man paused, confused at this sudden apparition and wrinkle in the chain of command. The three groups were all gathered in a thirty-foot circle just in front of the doors to Hangar One.

“I want General Gullick and I want him here now!” Duncan demanded.

“We have to secure these prisoners first,” the guard said.

“I’m Kelly Reynolds,” Kelly said, stepping forward, making sure her hands were away from her sides. “You know Dr. Von Seeckt, and the other man is Professor Nabinger of the Brooklyn Museum. We called you earlier.”

Duncan nodded. “I know you called me earlier. That’s why I’m here. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

She turned back to the guard. “Your prisoners are not going anywhere. None of us are. Get General Gullick up here now.”

“Sir,” Quinn said tentatively, putting down the phone.

General Gullick’s eyes were transfixed on the main screen, which showed the overlay of Area 51. All the vehicles had finally been corralled and the UFO watchers placed under arrest.

“Yes?”

“Dr. Duncan was on board that Blackhawk. She’s up at Hangar One right now demanding to see you. Von Seeckt, Nabinger, and the reporter are there too.” A nerve began twitching on the side of Gullick’s face.

“Do we have commo yet?” Gullick demanded.

Quinn checked. “Yes, sir. The interference has stopped.”

“Do you have contact with the engineer site?”

“No response, sir.”

“Order Bouncer Four to check it out, ASAP!”

Gullick spun away from the screen and walked to the elevator. Quinn relaxed slightly as the doors shut behind the general and he relayed the orders.

The bouncer suddenly darted away to the west, leaving the tableau outside the hangar frozen in a standoff between the weapons of the Nightscape men and the tentative shield of Duncan’s position.

A large figure walked out of the hangar, casting a long shadow from the backdrop of red light. General Gullick walked up and looked about. “Very nice. Very nice.” He stared at Duncan. “I’m sure you have an explanation for this circus you’ve orchestrated?”

“I’m sure you have an answer for attempting to shoot down my helicopter,” she returned.

“I am authorized by law to use deadly force to safeguard this facility,” Gullick said. “You are the one who violated law by coming into restricted airspace and failing to respond when challenged.”

“What about Dulce, General?” Duncan retorted. “What about General Hemstadt— formerly of the Werhmacht? What about Paperclip? Where is Captain Turcotte?”

Kelly saw the change come over Gullick and she reached out to stop Duncan’s harangue.

As he finished typing, Turcotte saw a bright light coming out of the east through the camouflage netting. The same bright light he had seen his first night out here. The bouncer came to a halt forty feet away and landed. A man came out of the hatch on top, weapon in hand.

Duncan and Gullick both stopped their arguing and turned as a new voice called out. “You both don’t understand!” Nabinger yelled. He looked about wildly, holding up the rongorongo tablet. “None of you do.” He pointed at the hangar. “You don’t understand what you have in there and where it came from. You don’t understand any of it.”

Gullick snatched a submachine gun from one of the Nightscape guards. “No, I don’t understand, but you never will either.” He pointed the muzzle at Duncan.

“You’ve gone too far,” Duncan said.

“You signed your own death warrant, lady. You said too much and you know too much.” His finger had already closed over the trigger when he was blinded by the searing glow of a bright searchlight. Without a noise Bouncer Four settled down behind Duncan’s group.

“Get over here!” Turcotte yelled from the hatch on top of the saucer.

“Let’s go,” Kelly said, grabbing Duncan by the shoulders and pushing her toward the bouncer. The others followed. Turcotte saw Gullick raise the muzzle of the submachine gun in his direction. “Do it and I fire the charges!” Turcotte called out, holding up the remote detonator for Hangar Two. Gullick froze. “What did you do?”

“I did a little resequencing. I don’t think it will quite work the way you’d like,” Turcotte said, keeping an eye on his people as they moved in his direction and climbed the slope of the disk.

“You can’t do that!” Gullick cried out.

“I won’t if you let us get out of here,” Turcotte promised.

“Back off,” General Gullick ordered, waving to his security men.

Turcotte stepped aside, allowing the others to climb in the hatch. When all were on board, he slipped down inside, shutting the hatch behind him. “Take off!” he yelled at the pilot.

On the ground Gullick whirled. “I want Aurora ready for flight now!” He didn’t trust this alien technology anymore.

“Yes, sir!”

“Where do you want to go?” Captain Scheuler asked from the depression in the center of the disk. He’d put up no argument at the engineer site when Turcotte had dropped through the hatch, weapon in hand, and ordered him to fly back to Hangar One. The others were sitting gingerly on the floor of the bouncer, gathered around the center. Von Seeckt had his eyes closed, trying to keep from being disoriented by the view out.

Turcotte still held a submachine gun pointed in the general direction of the pilot. “Turn right,” he ordered the pilot.

“What are you doing?” Kelly asked.

Turcotte was looking out the clear skin of the bouncer as they went around the mountain that hid the hangar complexes. He flipped open the cover on the firing button on the remote, then pressed the trigger.

“You told Gullick you wouldn’t do that!” Lisa Duncan said.

“I lied.”

Hangar Two was deserted, which was fortunate. The outer wall caved in, not in the orderly manner that had been planned, but in a cascade of rock and rubble crashing down onto the mothership, burying it under tons of debris.

In the Cube, Major Quinn felt the rumble of the explosions and watched the first rocks begin falling in Hangar Two on the remote video screens before the cameras were consumed by the man-made earthquake. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered.

Gullick knew what had happened even as the last of the aftershocks of the explosions settled away. He staggered, then sank to his knees. He pressed his hands to the side of his head as pain reverberated back and forth from one side to the other, searing through his brain. A moan escaped his lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Sir, Aurora is ready for flight,” a young officer said with much trepidation.

Maybe it could be salvaged, Gullick thought, seizing upon that single idea. He slowly got to his feet. The manta ray of the high-speed plane was silhouetted against the runway lights. Yes, there was still a way to salvage things