Groom Lake

by Bryan O

  “We’ve crossed paths before. I suppose you forgot. A few too many drinks maybe?”

  “Just a couple while we reminisced about old times,” Skyles managed.

  Owens sneered at Janice as she blotted her shirt with a napkin. “Apparently you have a leak,” he said with a devilish grin. “I hope they’re saline and not silicone.”

  Janice ignored his insinuation. “The ice cubes were stuck at the bottom of the glass and fell forward while I was taking a sip,” she said with English that barely hinted at a native tongue. She attempted to look embarrassed, appeasing.

  “No they didn’t,” Owens replied. Losing his smile, he shot Skyles a sinister look. “Did you see the full moon last night, Ben?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Good answer.” Owens offered Janice a parting wink before retreating to his table. His comment about the moon was bait for her more than anything else, and she had responded with a subtle double-blink that spoke volumes to a seasoned professional like Owens.

  “I always knew the Chinese would come after us,” Owens said for Kayla to hear. “They have the greatest need for the technologies.”

  “What do we do next?” Kayla asked.

  “Wait until they leave, then take the woman. I don’t want to do it in here. Be ready to confront her.” Owens reclaimed his seat, turning in time to see Skyles drop cash on the table and hurry for the door. “Skyles is on his way out.”

  “It’s okay to let him go?”

  “We can deal with him later.”

  Janice got up and walked to the restroom, passing Owens along the way. Their eyes met. Neither one broke the stare until she disappeared through the bathroom door.

  “Get the hunting knife from the equipment trunk and puncture two of her tires,” Owens instructed Kayla. He waived the waitress to his table and flashed a billfold with Department of Justice credentials that could be validated, but were not a true marker of his identity, “A woman just went into the bathroom,” he said to the waitress. “Is there any other way for her to exit?”

  The waitress paused, trying to process the credentials and questions in her mind about what might be happening, and then thought about the bathroom, “No—there’s a window, but it’s too small for someone to fit through.”

  Minutes passed as Owens waited in his booth with a malevolent calm, wondering what Janice was doing in the bathroom—maybe calling for help. “Let me know if anyone enters the parking lot,” he told Kayla.

  Moments later the waitress exited the kitchen and returned to Owens’ table, breathing heavy with excitement. “That woman just dropped through a ceiling panel in the kitchen and ran out the back door.”

  “She’s outside,” Owens advised Kayla. He ran, bursting through a swinging kitchen door and spotted the exit. He dashed outside into a rear parking area that bordered a low-rent apartment complex and offered half a dozen flight paths that would not return Janice to the front of the restaurant. “You still at her car?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “She didn’t even try getting back to her car, did she?”

  “No—I ducked down to surprise her if she did.”

  “Don’t worry about it. She’s a crafty lamia, had her escape planned.”

  “Lamia?”

  “A female monster.” He returned to the restaurant to gather his articles and settle the tab. He wasn’t a cop, nor was he calling them to chase the woman and cause a scene that would only raise questions and outside interests. Instead, he reviewed the situation. Normally, he wouldn’t have confronted the woman without more backup. But her conversation with Skyles had entered what he called the majic zone—sensitive information he spared no expense in protecting. Although Janice had escaped, the information Skyles possessed had not. Owens knew with time and patience, his power and resources could not be beat. He would catch China’s lamia.

  CHAPTER 2

  SECRECY OR DECPTION IN THE NEVADA DESERT?

  The federal government contends its secrets are for national security reasons. At what point does secrecy threaten the nation’s security?

  By William Moreau

  Part I of III: GOVERNMENT ACCOUNTABILITY

  No money shall be drawn from the treasury, but in consequence of appropriations made by law; and a regular statement and account of the receipts and expenditures of all public money shall be published from time to time. (United States Constitution, Article 1, Section 9.)

  NEVADA, June 1994 - Government accountability, a constitutional requirement that informs and empowers the common citizen through public oversight, has steadily diminished since the beginning of the Cold War. Powers-that-be contend the secrecy is in the country’s best interest. However, a growing number of citizens believe secrecy has evolved into a subculture within the government, hiding an economic structure providing power, profits and technological superiority to those involved. Groom Lake, in the Southern Nevada desert, is a blatant example of the government’s expanding covert activities.

  US Geological Survey maps show a dry lake in Groom Valley. Twenty miles east of the remote location lies the nearest paved road, an infrequently traveled two-lane highway traversing one of America’s loneliest regions.

  Department of Energy maps of the adjacent Nevada Test Site once designated Groom Lake as part of a land quadrant called Area 51. Newer maps no longer identify the area.

  Officials at Nellis Air Force Base acknowledge that Groom Lake is part of the Nellis Range Complex, but insist the land is a bombing range. Airspace above the valley is restricted—an extraordinary security measure for a bombing range.

  No public accounting exists of appropriations for government activity at Groom Lake, although a secret airbase—a cooperative effort between the CIA and military agencies—has been in operation there since 1955. For over thirty years a select few knew about the base, often referring to the facility by one of many codenames: Dreamland, The Box, Watertown Strip. An official name never christened the site.

  The base tested and developed advanced reconnaissance aircraft, from the U2 Spyplane in the fifties to the F-117 Stealth Fighter in the eighties. The current generation of test craft blew the lid off the base’s secrecy when eyewitnesses in Lincoln County Nevada reported seeing UFOs: illuminated orange colored orbs darting soundlessly across the sky. Government officials ignored the UFO reports and refused to acknowledge the existence of an airbase on the bombing range. Their denial of knowledge furthered speculation as curiosity seekers flocked to the area. UFO enthusiasts and aviation buffs invaded nearby public lands, but instead of seeing UFOs, most experienced a close encounter of the intimidating kind: guards wielding automatic weapons and thundering Black Hawk helicopters. A few brazen individuals challenged the forces and demanded to know what their government was doing at Groom Lake, and their search efforts produced a vantage point on public land that offered a view of the government’s airbase-that-did-not-exist. Some travelers to the remote location ignored signs posting federal law 18 USC 795, prohibiting photography of military installations without permission. The photos served as undeniable proof that Groom Lake was more than a bombing range, and that government factions can covertly operate outside the oversight process.

  CHAPTER 3

  From atop a cluster of boulders on a hillside in the high desert region of Southern Nevada, a diamondback rattlesnake woke from an afternoon of sun basking. With its blood warmed, the predator ventured off its perch, zigzagging from one rock to another like they were steps until it reached solid ground and slithered into a small crevice, passing undetected past a napping Janice Yang. Curled inside a tight hollow formed by leaning boulders and desert chaparral, Janice would await nightfall, hoping the intelligence agents from the Las Vegas bar would not think to look for her at Area 51.

  Years of patient planning during the Cold War had positioned China to become a dominant superpower in the new millennium. In Cold War times, the United States intelligence community focused its efforts on the Wars
aw Pact nations, leaving countries like China, with no immediate military threat against the US, room to conduct offensive espionage practices. In time China realized their efforts to acquire information from the nuclear and traditional defense industries were not enough to keep pace with the United States. The Chinese needed to expand by acquiring technology from America’s black programs: stealth engineering, the Aurora, and truths behind prevailing stories circulating in the UFO community that Area 51 was home to secret underground facilities where the Americans studied extraterrestrial technology.

  Janice originally planned to extract information from Ben Skyles and other base employees, but she underestimated the control America had over its black programs. Her best hope now was to take detailed photos of the base, and if she got lucky, the technology being tested in the skies. Anything less and her mission might be deemed a failure. She had the wherewithal to assimilate into the American culture and leave China behind, but the Chen Di Yu might punish, or kill, members of her family if she disappeared. So she ventured through the desert, not for herself, but her loved ones.

  After the sun dipped below the mountains and its orange hues disappeared from the western horizon, Janice woke and crept out of her hiding place. She looked down at Groom Lake and its seven-mile long runway where red landing lights defined the perimeter. At the far end of the dry lake, a small city of lights comprised the air base. Rumors about the happenings at Area 51 ranged from suggesting it was a simple facility used for fighter jet training, to tall tales that the base served as a command post for a secret relationship between the American government and a race of alien creatures. Although seemingly illogical, she couldn’t help but mull over the extraterrestrial rumors, especially the ones associated with a secret underground facility in Papoose Valley.

  She turned one-eighty on her perch and studied the Papoose Mountains, which waited in silent darkness to be climbed. In a few hours she would be in Papoose Valley where she hoped to find some answers to salvage her mission.

  CHAPTER 4

  SECRECY OR DECPTION IN THE NEVADA DESERT?

  By William Moreau

  Part II of III

  SECRECY AND THE BLACK BUDGET

  NEVADA, June 1994 - Secrecy in the military and intelligence communities exists primarily through the black budget: appropriations not revealed to taxpayers. The method originated in 1941 when the White House, fearing opposition against the costly development of the atomic bomb, secretly paid some costs with outside funds, deceiving taxpayers by making the project appear less expensive. While political strategists might claim the ends justified the means, they cannot deny the constitutional violation that cracked the foundation supporting America’s political ideology.

  Formation of the Central Intelligence Agency in 1947 furthered the rift by asserting a new standard in government affairs: SECRECY. Certain secrets are necessary to protect America’s sovereignty, but there exists a threshold and once crossed the secrets can pose a threat by creating a tyranny of power within certain government circles.

  The black budget soared above $35 billion annually during the eighties. Current estimates place the annual outlay near $28 billion, translating into a 1.5 percent skimming of the federal budget for projects outside the constitutional chain of command.

  WHO CONTROLS THE BLACK BUDGET?

  Congress stamps its seal of approval on federal budgets. Congressional representatives serve on various committees where most considerations for funding are made. Two congressional committees sanction the funds for most of the black projects: the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence and the National Security Subcommittee of the House Appropriations Committee. Yet even the demigods on Capitol Hill often know little about how the money is used. Most had never heard of the Groom Lake airbase until it made its way to the mainstream press, further proof that the black programs lack proper oversight.

  The lack of congressional understanding also raises questions about why the funds are approved. One motivating factor is Political Action Committee (PAC) contributions that congressional members receive from lobbyists. Campaign finance reform laws set by Congress after the Watergate scandal created a loophole, allowing government contractors to make campaign contributions directly to politicians via PACs.

  Ten-term Congressman Walter “Storm” Langston (Republican-Texas) has served four terms on the House Permanent Select Intelligence Committee. During his last two-year term from 1990 to 1992, he collected $537,500 from various defense contractor PACs. Contributions of $143,000 came from a PAC controlled by Global Resources and Technologies Corporation (GRATCOR—previously known as Ground Rail Air Transportation Corporation until a 1988 modernization of the name.) GRATCOR is also the government defense contractor most associated with the Groom Lake airbase. Congressman Langston denies that the contributions are intended to persuade his views or have an impact on decisions he makes involving GRATCOR.

  Langston’s conflict of interest is not unique. Some worry that PACs create a three-way handshake, transferring control from the government to its contractors. Congress gives the military and intelligence agencies money and anonymity to build their toys, they in turn pay huge sums to the contractors, and the contractors fund the politicians’ campaigns so they remain in office and keep the relationships stable.

  As political practices redesign the country’s foundation, ask yourself this: Will America still be beautiful with spacious, high-tech filled skies and black budget waves of greed?

  CHAPTER 5

  Janice hiked deliberately up the mountainside. After several slip and falls the previous night she had adapted to the footing of scattered rocks and dead cacti. In her peripheral vision, she glimpsed something tall and dark looming on her right. She halted while her pupils strained to focus through the nighttime shadows on the hillside. She flicked a power switch on her night vision binoculars and raised them to her face, realizing that she had been tricked again by a cactus; Joshua tree cacti, with their erect trunks and bifurcated limbs sometimes resembled menacing soldiers.

  The dry night air lingered above eighty degrees. As Janice continued to hike, a soft wind caressed her cheeks and gave her cottonmouth, making her yearn for an ice cold drink, but because the journey was long she rationed water stowed in her backpack and several canteens. The weight made it harder to hike, but without the water the journey would be impossible. As it was, she decided dehydration and heat stroke were easier combatants than the intelligence agents.

  Traveling at night and hiding during the day, Janice plotted the journey over a four-night period: two nights in, two nights out. She hoped that after four days the Americans would figure she had already left the state, and maybe the country, making her escape easier.

  She routinely checked a handheld scanner clipped to a utility hook on her vest, making sure the batteries hadn’t died. The scanner monitored close-range radio transmissions. If she triggered a motion sensor, base security would be alerted via radio waves and the scanner would sense the transmission, warning her a few minutes before security forces arrived.

  Janice’s biggest fear was the invisible infrared surveillance equipment used in the region. Besides contacting Ben Skyles, she had met many people in the past few months that offered her insight about the base. She had sucked a wealth of information about base security from a UFO aficionado in Los Angeles who gave her detailed insight about her present journey and the surveillance.

  After two hours of hiking, Janice saw that she was nearing the mountain’s crest. Pausing for a moment, she stretched and massaged her thighs, hoping to ease the burning in her muscles. Her hands rubbing against her thick hiking pants made the only discernable noise in a quiet desert … until the sound of tumbling rocks somewhere in the darkness below disturbed her. She squatted low to the ground and again turned her night vision on, peering at the incline she had just conquered. Nothing caught her attention. The Nevada desert was populated with a myriad of creatures—bats, coyotes, scorpions, sidewinders, tarantula
s, even cattle and wild horses in some areas—that could have caused the noise. She continued up the crest, still disturbed by the tumbling rocks.

  From a patch of desert scrub behind Janice, a dark figure draped in a camouflage poncho emerged. The six-foot-tall man wore a black helmet with a shield that covered his face. The poncho blanketed his body and equipment, and was adapted from a Ghillie suit—frayed straps of burlap tied to clothing and typically worn by snipers seeking to match the terrain. The worn burlap bounced with his movement like Rastafarian dreadlocks as he gamboled up the hill, taking care not to make any more noise.

  Standing in awe at the crest of the Papoose Mountain Range, Janice gazed wide-eyed at a lonesome valley only a handful of Americans had ever seen. Papoose Valley stretched eight miles north to south; its floor spread four miles across at the widest point. Papoose Dry Lake was a third that size, occupying the northern portion of the valley floor. She had reached Papoose Valley near the center, at a narrow mesa that extended a quarter mile into the valley like an ocean jetty.

  There was no evidence of a base, no lights like there were at Groom Lake, no evidence of anything other than barren desert; but then, she didn’t expect there to be. She was looking for signs of an underground base: portals, vents, or cave-like entrances. With her night vision binoculars, she spied across the valley at the hillsides, studying two dark patches that were possibly tunnel entrances, large enough for vehicles to enter. She was too far away to discern any great detail and opted for a closer look.

  After a two-hour descent into the valley, she reached the edge of the dry lake and had a better view at the far hillsides. To her disappointment, she hadn’t found the entrance to a base. The dark shadows were not even caves but natural indentations in the mountainside. She did discover something manmade, however; nearby, a portable motion sensor sat atop a tripod.