Fallout

13

“Morning,” Luke said to Glenda as she stood behind the counter.

“Well, the big boss. I’m surprised to see you here. I don’t think you’ve had breakfast here before,” Glenda replied, smiling. She was a kind-faced woman in her mid-fifties who exuded humility.

Luke looked around, surprised, at the crowd. There were ten students eating breakfast and five instructors. Other staff members were spread throughout the café, and Stamp sat at a table by the door. He had arrived early in his MiG-17 and walked straight to the Area 51 Café.

“Did you agree to call this the Area 51 Café?” Luke asked Glenda.

“You know how he is. If I didn’t let him, then we’d have to explain him wearing that hat all the time, wouldn’t we? Now those who don’t know just figure he’s wearing a hat after the name of the café.”

Luke laughed out loud. Just then Raymond walked in from the back of the café. Luke and Glenda exchanged a glance without saying anything. “Three eggs scrambled with some bacon, and an English muffin.”

Glenda nodded.

Luke stood by the counter and watched Glenda put the eggs on the grill. He watched her husband fill the refrigerator with gallons of milk from the back. Luke addressed Glenda again: “Have you decided whether to let Vlad use your voice?”

Glenda shook her head. “I just don’t know about that, Mr. Henry. I don’t think I even understand.”

“Simple. A lot of the warnings in the MiG-29 are voice recorded. They say things like ‘Raise your landing gear,’ “ he said in a quiet voice, like HAL, the computer in 2001. “Or ‘Your left engine is on fire.’ That sort of stuff. The MiGs came with Russian warnings, which of course are not a lot of help to those of us who don’t speak Russian. Vlad—probably his company, actually—had some German woman record the warnings for us, but in English. They sound hilarious. Nobody can understand her—‘You haff ze left enchine on fi-ah!’ He must have paid her about five bucks. She is as far from fluent as you can get. We’re all running around saying, ‘Achtung! Race ze lahnding gee-ah?’ We’re starting to talk in German accents. Vlad’s tired of taking shit all the time, so he decided to ask you. I think you’d be perfect. It’d be like our mothers warning us that we were about to fall out of the car or something. I guarantee you your voice would get our attention.” He spoke quietly and gently, “ ‘Low fuel!’ ”

“I don’t know, I’m afraid I would do something wrong,” she said, smiling warmly.

Luke grabbed a porcelain cup off the stack next to the Bunn coffeemaker and poured himself a cup. “There’s nothing to go wrong. If it gets screwed up, we’ll just redo it. We can record it here. Why don’t you? It’ll make you famous.”

“Oh, all right.”

Luke spied Raymond again. “Hey, Raymond. How are you doing?”

He replied in his humorless way, “Fine, Mr. Henry. How do you like the café?”

“Great. Don’t know about the name, though.” Luke didn’t realize that Vlad had come into the café and was standing right behind him. “You seen Sluf? His airplane is already here.”

Glenda answered. “Not yet, but he always comes here first thing. He’s so nice.”

“Don’t be too charmed,” Luke warned. “He’s a ladies’ man. They all like him, and he just uses them.”

“Good morning, Vladimir,” Glenda said over Luke’s shoulder. “I’ve got your bread ready.”

“What bread?” Luke asked.

“Black Russian bread. Good for butter and jam. Filling,” Vlad said enthusiastically.

Luke turned and looked at Vlad, whose hair was a wreck. “Hard night?”

Vlad frowned. “What you mean?”

“You look like something the cat dragged in.”

“What does this mean, cat dragging?”

“I finally got my cell phone working, Mr. Henry,” Raymond said, proudly taking his phone off his belt clip.

Luke glanced at him. “That’s great.”

“I need your home phone number.”

Luke was surprised. “What for?”

“I always keep the home phone number of my boss in the cell phone, in case of emergency. I mean, around here anything can happen. Right?”

Luke looked at Raymond’s hat again. “Right.” He gave him his home phone number. “Don’t be giving that out to any intergalactic salesmen.”

Raymond frowned. “Like who?”

“Any of them. And make sure you get Vlad’s number at the BOQ, too. Wake him up first if there’s an emergency. He’s much more likely to actually be able to do something about it.”

He nodded. “Your number’s safe with me.”

Glenda handed Luke his plate. “Several of the others are outside, if you want to join them.”

Luke nodded and went outside. Thud, Crumb, and Stamp were chuckling at one of the tables under an umbrella. They had finished their breakfasts and were leaning back in their chairs.

“Morning,” Luke said. He sat down at the table.

“Hey, boss,” Crumb said. The others greeted him quietly.

“What did you think of that mission-planning session with Khan and his boys yesterday?” Luke asked as he sat down.

Thud shook his head. “Bizarre. It was like we were planning an actual mission for him. I mean, hardened concrete targets, laser-guided bombs, no SAMS, some possible fighter defense? It sounded like an actual event to me. It was spooky.”

“I saw you give Stick that ‘dial it down’ signal, Thud,” Stamp commented.

“Absolutely. I’m giving this guy only C-plus or B-minus information. He’ll never learn all I know about fighters—”

Crumb laughed. “Shit, Thud. You don’t know anything about fighters! I could kick your ass with my visor taped over!”

“Except for Crumb,” Thud continued, “who is unbeatable and therefore would gain nothing from whatever I know, others, like Khan, I wouldn’t tell left from right. We just need to get him through the class and get him out of here.”

Luke nodded. “You know what I noticed?”

“What?” Crumb asked.

“One of his guys was writing down every word and copying our rough drawings of flight paths we did on the board.”

“I just don’t get it,” Thud said. “Hayes may be right. He get anything from his brother yet?”

“Nope.”

“You know, maybe we should take it up a notch. Maybe we should formally ask the CIA to look into them for us.”

Luke frowned. “And what would we tell the Undersecretary?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me neither.”

“More coffee?” Raymond asked as he brought the carafe to the table. He left the coffee and was about to turn and walk back inside when Crumb stopped him. “Hey, Raymond,” he said. Raymond looked at him. “I hear you been watching for aliens.”

Raymond frowned at Crumb. He was growing tired of constantly being belittled for his interest in UFOs. “Who told you that?”

“Word is you go out in the middle of the night and sit on the hills.” Crumb watched his face. “Is that true?”

“What if I do? Something wrong with that?”

“Depends.”

“Leave the poor man alone,” Thud said, taking a bite of his omelet. He felt responsible for Raymond and Glenda’s being there. Anything Raymond did that was odd reflected on him, he thought.

Crumb pressed right on. “And you use these huge binoculars.”

“Something illegal about that?”

“No,” Crumb said, controlling his mirth. “I’m just wondering if you’ve seen anything. Had any close encounters?”

Raymond assumed a tone of authority. “I’ve seen some curious things, but nothing I’m prepared to report on to you.”

“Well, shit, Raymond, how are we going to know all this good stuff if you won’t tell us?”

“Because you don’t believe anything I say about it. You think it’s a big joke.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I can tell,” Raymond said, putting his hands on his hips. “Everybody thinks it’s all real funny.”

“Just tell me something that will convince me there are UFOs out there. Just one thing,” Crumb said.

Raymond thought about it. There were so many things he could tell. Finally he said, “All right. This here Area 51 that’s nearby. What goes on there?”

“Groom Lake? Beats the hell out of me. It’s run by the Air Force.” Crumb glanced at Luke. “You know?”

“No idea.”

“Well, Mr. Crummey,” Raymond said, “it’s where they keep all the evidence of aliens. They claim it’s related to the Air Force and keep it in ‘black programs’ and don’t tell anybody about it. And how about this, what about John Denver?”

“What about him?” Crumb asked, looking at Luke, who was equally perplexed about how John Denver might be related to black programs.

“You’ve heard of Roswell, New Mexico? The Roswell incident?”

“Sure. I saw Independence Day. Everybody knows about Roswell.”

“Yeah, well, John Denver wasn’t his real name. You know that?”

“What was his real name?”

“Schickelgruber.”

“No it wasn’t.” Crumb guffawed. “That was Hitler’s name!”

“Well, it was something like that. It wasn’t Denver.”

“It was Deutschendorf. So what?”

“So he was living his life in disguise. Then he suddenly has an airplane accident in the middle of the ocean and disappears.”

“And?” Stamp asked.

“Know where he was born?”

“No idea.”

“Roswell, New Mexico.” He beamed. “And, his father was in the Air Force.”

Luke fought back a laugh. “Well, there it is.”

Crumb just stared at Raymond. “Raymond, I had no damned idea.”

Raymond gained a look of vindication as he stood a little taller and adjusted his hat. “So I’m always on the lookout. And if I see anything, I will let you know.”

“Thanks a lot,” Crumb said, his sarcasm ringing in Raymond’s ears.

Raymond started to leave, then turned back after Crumb’s tone began to sink in. “You think you know so much.” He put the tray down on the table next to their plates and sat quickly in an empty chair, uninvited. He pulled a thick stack of folded papers out of his back pocket. “You have any idea how much money is spent on black programs?”

“What do black programs have to do with UFOs?” Luke asked.

“They’re called Special Access Programs. SAPS. Government won’t even tell you that they exist. There are over a hundred fifty of ’em. That includes the CIA, the Department of Energy, and the Department of Defense. Most people think they have to report to Congress at least. Not true.” Raymond grew more intense, speaking slowly. “The Secretary of Defense can waive the reporting requirement completely.” Raymond unfolded a piece of paper. “Listen to this. I want you to listen to this.” He read from the paper. “ ‘Some classified programs are carried out at Edwards North base, but the most secure and sensitive programs are the responsibility of an Air Force Flight Test Center detachment based at the secret flight test base on the edge of the Dry Groom Lake, Nevada, and known as Area 51.’ Listen to this here: ‘The USAF still refuses to identify the Area 51 base, referring to it only as an operating location near Groom Lake. It is protected from any further disclosure by an annually renewed presidential order.’ “ He looked up and whispered, “This goes as high as the President of the United States.”

“Shit, Raymond, you’re jumping to conclusions. Just ’cause the government won’t tell you what’s going on at Area 51, it must be UFOs? How do you figure that? Why not assume they’re building some superhypersonic fighter that hovers one foot off the ground, weighs fifty pounds, and carries the fastest missiles ever designed? Why assume it’s a bunch of green aliens?”

“We can’t believe a thing they say. Listen.” Raymond read on: “ ‘Area 51’s linkage to Edwards Air Force Base is a form of cover, and statements which are intended to conceal the existence of a black program by creating a false impression in public are routine.’ You hear that? The U.S. government is deceiving the public intentionally! We’re talking billions and billions of dollars that are unaccounted for!”

Luke stared at Raymond. He couldn’t decide whether to ask him to shut up or to laugh it off. “Maybe it’s just where the United States government does secret airplane testing, and they don’t want you to know about it. Why can’t you let the government have some secrets?”

“It’s not secret airplane tests I’m worried about. It’s UFOs, and they’re there. I promise you.”

Luke looked at Stamp and rolled his eyes as he sat back in his chair.

Raymond could read their body language. He’d had enough. He folded up his papers, tattered from months of being carried around in the pocket of his jeans. He jammed the papers in his pocket and headed back into the café. “You’ll see,” he said over his shoulder, more in the nature of a mutter than a farewell, “you’ll see.”

“There goes one of our crack employees,” Stamp said. “Completely off his rocker.”

“He’s harmless. They’re doing a good job running the café,” Thud said.

“He’s gonna scare off the students if he starts telling them those stories about how John Denver got called home by the big UFO.” Crumb laughed.

“I don’t think too many people ask him about it, and I don’t think he feels free to share that kind of… insight with just anyone. I think he’s pretty touchy about it.”

“I sure as hell hope so.”

Kevin waited as the phone rang. It was late on the East Coast, and almost late in Nevada.

Brian picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Kevin said.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“I talked to my friend in Pakistan.”

“What’d you find?”

Kevin could hear the anticipation in Brian’s voice. He hated to disappoint him. “Really interesting. Nothing very specific, but one thing surprised me. They ran it by the Air Force attaché in Islamabad. He had actually heard of your guy.”

“Why would an attaché know about a Major?”

“A lot of people know his name. It’s one of those names that gets everybody to clam up and look over their shoulder. He’s spooked a bunch of people, but no one seems to know exactly why. Or how. The thing everybody says about him is he came out of nowhere. He wasn’t known in the Air Force at all, until recently. The attaché knows about all the movers, all the hot officers. He’d never heard of this guy before six months ago. Now everybody knows about him.”

“So do we need to worry about him?”

“There’s nothing anybody could put their finger on. Best we can tell right now is that he’s a regular Air Force Major who seems to be well connected.”

“That isn’t much. Keep looking,” Brian said hopefully.

“I can’t, really.”

“Why not?”

“I got busted. My division head jumped on my ass for calling Pakistan.”

Brian asked, “How did she even know about it?”

“No idea. It’s kind of spooky.”

“You think she had your phone monitored?”

“I’m sure she does. They’re all monitored. But what would make her listen to it? What would make her think that she even had to worry about listening in on my phone? That’s what I can’t figure out.”

“That’s just weird.”

“I agree, but, dude, I ought to lay off for a while.”

“I don’t know,” Brian wondered. “Is she really worried about you wasting time, or is she trying to protect somebody?”

“Don’t go paranoid on me. Who would she be trying to protect?”

“How the hell would I know? You’re the intelligence puke.”

“So are you. Do you sniff anything? Anything else about the government? Any side shows going on I ought to know about?”

“Just the Pakistani guys. I’m probably chasing smoke. The other day, though, when the Major found out we’re going to be test-firing some live missiles, he about came unglued. It was like news he hadn’t anticipated, that really mattered a lot, for reasons we can’t figure out. It’s probably some sort of bias on my part. I don’t know. Maybe you should just forget about it.”

“I trust your judgment, Brian. I trust your instincts. If you want me to keep pushing, I will. I’ll be hanging my ass out, but if it’s really important to you…”

“What could you do?”

“I’ll get my person in Islamabad to do some active questioning. She has some sources. She wouldn’t tell me about them, but I know she has some.”

“It’ll get you fired.”

“I’m sick of this shit anyway. Sitting in a cubicle all day trying to patch little pieces of information together about a continent so screwed up I don’t even know where to start.”

“I can’t be responsible for you getting canned.”

“You probably need an assistant intelligence guy at the Fighter Weapons School anyway. Don’t you?”

“I’ll split my salary with you.”

“There it is. I’ll live on scorpions and rattlesnake meat.”

“It tastes like chicken.”

Kevin laughed. “Everything tastes like chicken.”

Brian laughed, too. “Rattlesnake really does taste like chicken.”

“You’re so full of it. How would you know?”

“SERE school, bro. Navy survival and POW training.”

Kevin laughed at the image of his little brother chasing snakes in the desert and eating them. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it for action.” Kevin hung up and looked over his shoulder. No time like the present. The Wicked Witch had gone home for the night, but not until she’d checked on Kevin and all the others who worked for her, to make sure they weren’t playing solitaire on their computers. He went into the conference room and closed the door silently behind him. He was breathing more heavily than he would like. He turned on the lights and went to the secure encrypted phone. He opened up his PalmPilot and looked up the number of the embassy in Islamabad. He dialed the number quickly, glancing at the closed door. The phone began its odd ringing sound, and he waited patiently for someone to pick up the receiver. Finally a voice answered in English, “United States embassy.”

“Administration, please.”

“I’ll connect you.”

Another odd ring commenced, and again Kevin waited. Finally a woman answered. “Renee Williams.”

“Renee, Kevin Hayes.”

“Kevin, how are you?”

“Not so well. Since I called, I’ve been read out by my boss for ‘interfering’ in Asian affairs.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. Who did you tell that I’d called?”

“Just the attaché. I… can’t think of anyone else.”

“Must be somebody. It took all of about three milliseconds for her to hear about it.”

“Maybe she was listening to your phone.”

“Possible. But I don’t think so. That would have meant she thought I was doing something else that might have been interesting. And I’m not. My Africa stuff is boring as shit. Nobody would spend five minutes listening to my telephone calls.”

“So what’s up?”

“I know I’m asking a lot. I asked you to look into that guy’s background, but I didn’t tell you much. The more I think about it, the more I think we have to be very careful with this. I also didn’t say why I was asking.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“Go secure,” he said.

“Got it,” she replied.

They both turned their phones to the encrypted mode that made it impossible for anyone to listen in. All someone who had tapped the line would hear was static.

“It’s my brother. He’s the acting intelligence officer for a fighter weapons school a friend of his started in Nevada.”

“I read about that in the newspaper.”

“Yeah. But did you know that four Pakistani pilots are students there?”

“So that’s it. I knew four pilots had gone to the United States for training, but I didn’t put the two together. I thought it was that other school at Mojave. The test pilot school. It came on our screen once a few years ago. The State Department got bent because they didn’t have the right visas to be there. This is a different school?”

“Yeah. Like TOPGUN. They fly MiGs and teach fighter tactics.”

“Wow. Nice job. So Khan is a student there?”

“Yes. He’s the leader. My brother has hair standing up all over the back of his neck. This guy is really bugging him. Brian can’t put his finger on it, but he thinks something is up. I learned a long time ago to listen to his instincts.”

Renee grew cool. “I learned a long time ago that instincts don’t mean anything.”

“So let’s split the difference and check this guy out a little bit more.”

“Kevin, look, I’d love to help you, but I really don’t have time to run this guy down. We don’t have any evidence of anything suspicious. We can’t be spending intelligence assets chasing down every Pakistani Air Force pilot.”

“I’m not asking you to chase down every pilot,” he said, pushing back against her resistance. She had to do it for him. If Khan was actually up to something, there was no way the ingrown CIA was ever going to get onto it before it happened—whatever “it” was. Kevin’s opinion of his employer was that they were much better at explaining why they didn’t anticipate something than at actually predicting anything effectively. Typical performance for a bureaucracy. But then he realized maybe that was more a reflection of his own lazy attitude toward the work he considered boring and stupid than of the CIA as a whole. He wasn’t privy to much of the work done by the Agency. He also knew if he was to have any hope of staying at the Agency, he needed to distinguish himself—and fast. “I’m just asking you to track down one pilot. Trace him all the way back to where he was born. If he has an ax to grind, if he’s up to something, we need to know it now. We’re not being told by somebody to do this, we’re doing it the old-fashioned way—by getting information before something happens, not afterward.”

“Come on, Kevin. What do you think is going to happen? You don’t have anything.”

“One minute the Undersecretary of Defense is against the school opening. Thinks it’s stupid. The next minute he’s authorizing the school with one stroke of the pen, giving them their license to teach foreign students, then greasing the skids with State for the foreign student visas and making sure the school gets opened with lease terms in place that will make it profitable—all conditional on their taking foreign students in the first class, and in particular students from Pakistan.”

“Now you suspect the Undersecretary of Defense of something? Are you out of your mind?”

He did. But he wasn’t ready to make an accusation. Yet. “Somebody’s benefiting. I don’t know what’s going on. But let’s find out. And no, I don’t know what this guy Khan is up to. But if he has something against the U.S. and is being allowed to fly supersonic jets inside the country, he could do a lot of things. The fact we can’t figure it out beforehand doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to stop it.”

Renee paused. She didn’t owe him any big favors, and if she was discovered chasing some crazy theory of his, it could ruin her career. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’m not going to let you skate on this. I want a commitment from you.”

“You’re not in any position to demand anything from me. This is a wild-goose chase. I don’t have the time or the assets. Who do you think you’re talking to?” she asked harshly.

“I’m sorry. I just need your help.”

“So now you’re begging, all friendly and helpless. Don’t try to manipulate me,” she said. She thought for a moment. “There are a couple of people I can ask. But I’m not going to do much else.”

“That’s a start. Thanks. Please let me know what they say.”

“If I do tell you something, it’s not for your brother.”

“He has a secret clearance with the new school.”

“Not good enough.”

“Okay. Don’t worry about that.”

“I’ll call you,” she said reluctantly, and hung up.