Primeval

13

Lynn Simpson sat at the rear of the office. Her arm was in a sling from the twelve-hour surgery she underwent for the infection in her hand after the crude amputation by Sagli. She waited patiently staring at the back of her boss's head.

Nancy Grogan would turn around and smile every few minutes as she waited with Lynn and the director of CIA, Harlan Easterbrook, for a day of judgment that was long in coming. The director sat silently waiting for the visit they all were expecting.

A buzz sounded and the director hit his intercom. It was his male secretary.

"Mr. Rosen is here, sir."

"Send the boy right in and also give the order I gave to you earlier."

"It's already in the works, sir."

Easterbrook sat back in his chair and waited. Soon, a knock sounded and the door opened. Stan Rosen, the assistant director for operations stood smiling at the door.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Stanley, come in, please."

Rosen entered, closing the door without turning around. He nodded his head toward Nancy Grogan and then he noticed the seated figure in the back of the office. Recognition came to his eyes and he smiled once again.

"Ms. Simpson, I had heard you were making a return to your desk, but I thought you would take more time to heal up?"

Lynn returned the smile. "Usually I would have, but my brother convinced me to come back early. He said I would want to be in on the final disposition of my case."

"Your brother?" he asked finally sitting down, but keeping his eyes on Lynn. "Oh, yes, Colonel Collins, the big mystery man."

"Not as big a mystery as you were led to believe, Stan," Easterbrook said. "Actually, Colonel Collins turned up and did a little work for us; he would like a chance to explain to you what he found."

"Me? Why would he have to explain anything to me?" Rosen said becoming slightly concerned.

"Colonel Collins, are you there, sir?" Easterbrook said aloud so the speakerphone could be utilized.

"Indeed, Mr. Director. Mr. Rosen, how are you today?" Jack Collins asked from his own director's office in Nevada.

"Fine, Colonel, I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure."

"Indeed, you haven't, you lucky son of a bitch. I just wanted to hear your voice, memorize it, with that I will always know that your plans were thwarted by my baby sister. Now, I think she has something to say to you. Lynn, I'll see you at Thanksgiving."

"Thanks, Jack, and by the way, I expect you to bring Sarah with you when you come."

"You bet. Mr. Rosen, enjoy it."

The connection to the Event group was terminated.

"Enjoy what?" Stanley Rosen asked as he became most uncomfortable. "And I don't like the fact that an assistant director of CIA can be talked to like that by a colonel in the U.S. army."

"Oh, believe it, you traitorous bastard," Lynn said as she stood and paced to Rosen's chair. She deftly tossed a photo onto his lap. "Recognize those?" she asked.

Rosen looked the photos over and then up at Lynn. "Yes, they are the photos of Sagli and Deonovich when they came through the Seattle airport."

"Yes, the same pictures you passed on to Nancy Grogan. Is that correct, Nancy?"

"Yes. Actually they came from Sagli himself and sent through your private computer at home. A computer you thought was so secure that the CIA could never break in. Well, luckily, Lynn's brother is somewhat a genius at doing just that. Or maybe it's someone who works for him, I don't know. When the pictures were forwarded to me, it sounded like a gorgeous assistant, almost sounding like Marilyn Monroe who offered them to me. You bastard, Stan."

"I want my lawyer," he said standing.

"Sit down, Stanley. You'll get your lawyer," Easterbrook said as he looked the small man over.

"You worked directly with Punchy Alexander and notified him when I left for Montreal the morning of the ambush. And then you supplied him with access codes to the NSA archives that led indirectly to information about a project known as Solar Flare."

"You are nuts, and you better be prepared to prove it. I know nothing about anything titled Solar Flare."

"Ms. Grogan, Ms. Simpson, did you hear this man utter the words 'Solar Flare'?" Easterbrook asked.

"Yes, I did," both women said at the same time.

"What does that matter?"

"Mr. President, are you there?" the director asked.

"Yes, I am." His voice came through the intercom.

"Did you hear Mr. Rosen say the name of a top secret project called Solar Flare?"

"Yes, Mr. Director, I did indeed."

"Mr. Rosen, you are hereby under arrest for the act of treason against the United States."

"For what?" he said to Lynn in shock. "You can't prove a damn thing. A computer can lie as well as a human and would be beat in a court of law, especially with the business we're in."

"Oh, you're not under arrest for what you did to me in Montreal, Mr. Rosen. You're under arrest for the act of espionage. You see, only ten people this side of the White House knew the name Solar Flare, therefore you had to have been inside of classified presidential documents, since President Kennedy placed the top secret cover on Solar Flare, a name you magically just said aloud with the commander-in-chief as a witness; ergo, you're a traitor." Lynn smiled as she leaned over the shaken Rosen. "Our little white lie, sir, is compliments of the president of the United States and my big brother, Jack."

The report delivered by Professor Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III was one of those few times that the sixteen department heads of the Event Group were taken back. They had sat enraptured by the cryptozoology details that outlined the newly discovered and documented life-form known as Giganticus Pythicus — Bigfoot.

Jack, Sarah, and Carl had sat and listened and felt for Charlie as he finally received the respect of those doubters in the conference room who always had a snide remark waiting for when the wild-haired professor walked by. They would never talk behind his back again.

Director Niles Compton was the first to stand and applaud Ellenshaw's report, stating in closing that he was sure he would have received the Nobel Prize, if only the rest of the world could know about it.

"Charlie, thank you. Would everyone but Colonel Collins and Captain Everett please excuse us?"

As the department heads rose to leave, more than a few of Ellenshaw's previous doubters of him and his entire department came up to him and shook his hand, all of them playing the humbled colleague to the hilt. Sarah smiled as she left the conference room. She was about to go to her classroom when she saw Will Mendenhall sitting at the desk of Alice Hamilton doing paperwork and waiting for his bosses. She stood before him and smiled.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Mendenhall looked up angrily. "Filling out insurance claims — what else?"

"On what?" she asked sitting on the edge of Alice Hamilton's old desk.

"For Alice's damned crashed seaplane — boy, was she hot!"

"Why isn't Ryan doing that?"

Will put down the stack of papers in exasperation. "Because, Lieutenant McIntire, she has him over at her place working for the senator as he transcribes his memoirs."

"Oh, that's rich; if you can't do the time, don't do the crime."

"Yeah, whatever. Just what did I do to have to do all of this paperwork? I didn't crash the plane or burn down Alice's kitchen."

"What?" Sarah asked, trying hard not to laugh.

"That's what these second set of insurance papers are for: While Alice was flying us to L.A., the senator set fire to their kitchen; seems he forgot all about a casserole in the oven or something. God, is she pissed!"

Several of the department heads had to stop and look at Sarah McIntire as she broke into laughter, and then watch as Will Mendenhall glared at her.

Niles looked at Jack's report and placed it in his own personal file. Then he looked up at Everett and Jack.

"I'm glad you got your sister back, Jack. The president sends his — well, he's happy, too."

"What about declaring Punchy Alexander for what he was, a traitor? That may assist with the French-speaking problem Canada is facing."

Jack understood. The event never happened. Punchy Alexander would be listed as a missing agent by the Canadian government and that would be that. A Nest team had been dispatched clandestinely to the area north of the Wahachapee Fishing Camp where they discovered by accident a downed aircraft. The pilot and his payload were recovered and the pilot's family, Commander John Charles Phillips, was returned with honors after being missing for forty-eight years to his family who could finally stop grieving for a son, a father, and a husband that was lost in a war that never went hot — thanks to men and women like him. As for the animals, after Jack and the others had taken the Hyper Glide from the cave and hidden it along the Stikine, they were never seen again.

"Director," Everett said, after clearing his throat. "What about that area north of the Stikine River? What can we do to protect it from outsiders?"

Niles pursed his lips and looked from Everett to Jack.

"Nothing."

"But—"

"Captain Everett, if we push the Canadian government for protection of that area, I guarantee you that word of the creatures will get out, and then what? It will be their extinction. I left that question up to Charlie Ellenshaw and he said to leave it be. Giganticus Pythicus has survived for thousands of years without our assistance and he thinks they can survive even longer with no help from us."

Niles stood and placed his glasses on his face, walked around the table, and put his hand on Everett's shoulder. "Don't worry, Captain, I won't hold it against you for caring. Now, Jack, I must ask, whatever became of our old friend, Colonel Farbeaux?"

Collins shook his head. "That son of a bitch ran out on us after getting his hands on not only the second diamond, but also the first that he tore through the Russian camp to find. He stole one of the boats we needed, and then took one of the helicopters, so as I figure it, he not only got away again, he stole about a billion dollars' worth of stones and equipment."

"I guess we have to give him a pass this time around, especially since he's now wanted again by his own government for not turning over his final report on what was recovered and what wasn't."

"Why are they so hot about that?" Jack asked.

"Because he called them and said they can have his confidential report for fifty million francs, or he would go public with it."

Jack laughed as did Everett.

"Your sister, is she back at work?" Niles asked as he went over to his seat and activated the large-screen monitor at the front of the conference room.

"Yes, sir, she has a new desk at Langley, of her own choosing — she's handling the International Crimes Division, basically assisting Interpol in their manhunts."

"Don't tell me?"

"Uh-huh, she says that Colonel Henri Farbeaux intrigues her, so she's going after him."

"Well, she may save us some heartache down the road then," Niles said, adjusting the large monitor while Jack and Everett stood.

"She just might do that… If that's all, Niles, we have some work to catch up on."

"Just a second, Jack. I thought you may find this interesting."

Collins stopped and turned to face the large monitor. There was a test pattern on it and then a screen came up. Europa, the supercomputer, was shanghaiing a signal from the Central Pacific that was generated by the CBS Nightly News. Soon, the picture cleared and there was a woman reporter standing in front of a camera with pieces of construction equipment in the background. There were American and Japanese flags flying from that equipment.

"Late this afternoon, professor of historical studies, Eileen Santos of Colorado State University, in a joint announcement with the Imperial Japanese Historical Society has released data that confirms the identity of the famous aviatrix, Amelia Earhart, whose body was discovered in the early-morning hours of August first by the Colorado State forensic search team five days ago. The body, by all accounts was covered in an American flag along with the remains of her navigator, Fred Noonan, as they were pulled from long-forgotten sands on this small island, ending the mystery of her disappearance more than—"

Niles turned the monitor off and then sat down. He watched Jack for a moment and then cleared his throat.

"She's on her way home, Jack. After all of these years she's about to get her just due, and now you can look at yourself in the mirror and know for a fact all of this is meant to do something, even if it's as small as bringing a little girl, or a woman, home again."

Jack stood and was deep in thought. Then he slowly looked up and nodded his head.

"As in the case of the Romanov children, I guess you could say they're at home, also," Niles said as he walked around and opened the conference doors for Jack and Carl.

"Yes," Collins said as he turned to leave.

"And that's where our history will leave them." Niles smiled. "Some things need to be kept secret."

As Jack and Everett left, Niles closed the door and then walked to his chair and opened the file that was marked EVENT FILE 19908757. He looked at the picture stapled to the inside jacket. He couldn't help it — he smiled at the image of Marla Petrovich and then looked at the picture opposite of hers. It was of Anastasia Romanov. The two young women were almost twins of each other. Niles shook his head and then closed the file. The real beauty was not the Twins of Peter the Great, but another set of twins that were far more precious.

"Indeed, some history is good right where it's at."

Outside the conference room on level seven, the Event Group prepared for the return of full operational status as their condition was reported to the president of the United States.

Yes, life would go on, and some secrets would be kept forever deep beneath the Nevada desert.