by A. D. Winch
The meeting room suddenly seemed much smaller, and Agent Bernard's glasses slid down his nose. They balanced precariously on the tip.
"Please hold on a moment," he stuttered and scrolled through pages and pages of notes on his tablet until he reached his conclusions.
The people in front of him did not move from their chairs, but he sensed an air of disapproval. After the longest minute of his life, he found what he was looking for.
"In conclusion, the flash drive contains materials that are damaging to the OSS." There was nothing else left to say, so he finished with, "Thank you," and dived back towards his chair.
"Get back up there," ordered Agent Angel, "and tell us what he's got but without using numbers."
The eyes of the people in the room bore into Agent Bernard. His throat was now bone dry, and he pushed his glasses up his slippery nose. It seemed that all his fluids were leaving his body as fast they could. He picked up a glass of water with a shaking hand and then answered Agent Angel's question.
"The files contain in-depth plans of this base and others. These include layouts above and below the ground. There are details of missions. The ones that can be justified as protecting national security are open access, but the more," he searched for the right word, "ambiguous ones are encrypted.
"He saved equipment lists that detail weaponry, armaments, communication devices and those technologies that have been developed here. Notes from our research facilities, the experiments on White King, and everything we have on Identical Hybrid Beings. Vehicle specifics – how many, what types, capabilities and usage. And flight manifests for each aircraft and the drones.
"In the past there have been occasions when we have had to disseminate false information about the base to throw conspiracists off the scent. All these cover-up stories are listed here. Professor Schwarzkopf was thorough and knew how to find what he wanted. I guess he knew so much because he has been here so long."
"What else?" Agent Angel asked.
"That is pretty much it. I looked at the logs of his usage. He accessed the personnel records of everyone on the base. Curiously, he did not transfer any of this information onto the flash drive apart from a select few. He just copied the numbers of personnel currently serving but …"
"What do you mean a 'select few?'" interrupted Agent Angel.
Agent Bernard pushed his glasses back up his nose before answering.
"It seems that he deliberately avoided saving any information that could compromise the personnel on this base. He saved positions and duties but no personal information except for, well, er, perhaps I was exaggerating when I said 'select few.' He only saved data on one person. You… you… Sir."
"Me!" Agent Angel boomed.
"Yes, Sir. Anything that he could find relating to you he has saved on here. There is a whole folder named 'Buddy Angel.' Within this folder are files relating to…," Agent Bernard saw a look like thunder on Agent Angel's face and decided that more information was not necessary. "We can look on the bright side though. We have the flash drive not them."
Agent Angel coughed dismissively and shook his head like a caged bear.
"You understand machines, Bernard but you don't understand people. Sit down." Agent Angel turned to the scientists, monitors and agents sitting around the room. "Say 'yes,' if you would have copied the contents of this flash drive for yourself, before returning it."
Everyone in the room said, "yes," apart from Agent Bernard.
"This isn't Schwarzkopf's payment for the return of the Benjamins. This is Schwarzkopf's warning to us. Tell me, ladies and gentlemen what would you do with this information? Kurtz?"
Jean Kurtz was drifting off. Unusually, she had slept badly the night before and still did not feel herself. The sudden question threw her. She answered immediately, without thinking, "I'd use it for myself. For my own personal gain."
Agent Angel proceeded to point at different people around the table, and each person answered.
"I'd sell it to technology firms."
"I'd use it for blackmail."
"I'd read it, show some friends and then decide."
"I'd write a book."
He finished by pointing at Agent Lip.
"I believe Professor Schwarzkopf wants revenge, Sir," she replied.
"Continue."
"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"
"Permission granted."
"If I were Professor Schwarzkopf, I would have collected this data to bring down the OSS and to attack you personally, Sir. The presence of a folder with your name on it indicates that he specifically wants to hurt you, Sir."
Agent Angel was shaking his head again and softly laughing to himself. A sinister smile had crept across his face.
"Go on, Agent Lip. If you were Schwarzkopf," he spat the name, "how would you do this?"
"Without meaning to sound disrespectful, I don't agree with the other people around this table. Professor Schwarzkopf is an old man with no children. He wouldn't sell the information or use it for blackmail or read it or write about it. I don't believe that he has any need for money, nor does he want to relive past events."
"These are good points Agent Lip, but you have not answered my question. If you were Schwarzkopf, how would you bring down the OSS and attack me?"
All eyes in the room had turned to look at Agent Lip. Even the faces on the monitors appeared to move. Everyone was either trying to answer this question themselves or had already done so.
Agent Lip rubbed her smooth chin and answered, "I would leak it, Sir. I would send it to newsrooms, newspapers, TV stations, radio stations and websites."
There was a collective intake of breath in the meeting room, and people began to think of the consequences if this happened. Agent Angel put his elbows on the table, linked his fingers tightly together and rested his head on his hands. For a split second, he looked vulnerable and then the moment passed. He eyeballed everyone in the room, but his eyes came to rest on Agent Lip.
"As you seem to be the only person here that is thinking along the same lines as me, why don't you now tell everyone what you would do if you received the contents of this flash drive?"
"If I were a reputable media company, I would verify its contents. If only you are named on the folder, that means I would first try to contact you, Sir. I would want to interview you. If you agreed, I would want you to verify the flash drive's content. If you refused, I would run the story and clearly state that you refused to comment. In itself, many people would regard this as an admission of guilt."
Before she could continue, Agent Angel stopped her and said, "Luckily, this is not possible. Officially I died some years ago in Europe." He turned towards Agent Bernard. "Bernard, after this meeting get one of the more creative people you work with to write a remembrance piece on me and get it placed in all major American newspapers. Make sure it says when I died and that it was after a long illness that lasted a number of years. Something debilitating, let's say 'Parkinson's Disease.' Mention all the noble things I did with my life and how I was an all-American hero. Continue, Agent Lip."
"In that case, I would send reporters here to Roswell to investigate."
Agent Angel thought about what had been said. The room was deathly silent, and no one dared to make a sound.
"If reporters came here, could we contain this?"
"I doubt reporters will walk into the desert but they may. We can have soldiers ready to intercept them and tell them it is a restricted area. We can spin some yarn about nuclear testing in the nineteen sixties, and for their own safety we can't permit them to continue. They'll run away with a story about nuclear testing on American soil. It will become a huge news story whether it is true or not, but will keep people away and be a convincing distraction."
"I like your thinking Lip," congratulated Agent Angel.
"But some may bring helicopters, Sir, and try to fly out into the desert to investigate. This airspace is restricted due to the Roswell International Air Centre. The mo
ment that they encroach, we can send a chopper up to intercept. If they don't comply then we'll send a warning shot, but if they still don't comply we'll shoot it down."
"It looks to me that you've already got most bases covered, Lip. You're in charge of Operation Shutdown. Assemble Team Col, get the analysts involved and work fast. If reporters do come, I want everyone and everything underground in a heartbeat. I will have the major networks contacted and feed them a side story of a terrorist trying to destabilize the USA through false information. I don't need to impress on you the magnitude of this situation. Until I say different, we are on a war footing and preparing for an attack," he turned towards Agent Bernard. "Bernard, get your team working through all those documents that Schwarzkopf has copies of. If a name is given change it, if a location is given change it, if a date is given change it. At the end of each day, release these to every conspiracy theory website you can find. Let's confuse the idiots."
"When do you want this completed, Sir?"
"Yesterday, but I'll be generous and give you ten days," and he dismissed Agent Bernard, who scampered out of the room.
The smile on Agent Angel's face became victorious, he sat up straight and lit a cigar. He took a long drag and let the smoke swirl around his palette before blowing out. For a while, he had been genuinely worried but that had now changed. He was back in control.
"Onto the next part of this meeting. What intel have we got on our targets: White King, Schwarzkopf, the man who calls himself Alexander, the Elf, Black Queen and the Benjamins?"
Agent Cairn replied assertively, "They have vanished, Sir. They knew what they were doing when they outmanoeuvred us in Morocco, and they implemented a successful escape plan."
This news did not come as a surprise to Agent Angel, and he received it calmly with a long drag from his cigar.
"Agent Hoover is searching, Sir, but we have no leads, so he is effectively scouring the whole planet. At some point, they will show themselves, and our face recognition software will identify them and pinpoint their location. It is frustrating but until this happens, or we get a lead, we must wait. It will be impossible for them to hide forever."
"But do we need them anymore?" Agent Angel asked and pointed to the scientists in the room. "Let's begin with the pods. Are they open yet, Kurtz?"
"Yes," replied Jean Kurtz, much to Agent Angel's surprise. "I personally saw to it."
Doctor Khan put her hand meekly in the air but was ignored. She had come up with the idea that had finally opened the pods. She had told the team, and then they had all watched as she had used her mind to open each one. The idea had come from observing Professor Schwarzkopf. Even though she had never seen him open the pods, all the evidence had suggested that there was no other way.
"If I may…" she said quietly.
"No," Kurtz and Agent Angel chorused.
"I gave you a month, Kurtz, and you came up with the goods. I'm surprised but…"
Doctor Khan, put her hand up and waved it in the air.
"Don't interrupt me, Khan. You're a guest in my country, but I'll happily send you back to your third world birthplace in a wooden box if you like."
Doctor Khan mouthed, "Sorry," and sank back into her chair.
"You and your team had put me in a difficult position, Kurtz. However, you appear to be making progress. Now that you can open the pods get one to fly for me. Then Miss Kurtz, you will have made me a happy man."
The look of fear on the scientists' faces pleased Agent Angel no end. He didn't want them to get complacent. He turned from them and addressed the scientists on the monitors.
"Status report. Alaska."
A brown-bearded scientist on the Alaskan monitor spoke slowly, "We inserted the embryo into the womb of a surrogate mother, but it was rejected. We have repeated this procedure a number of times but have had the same result. I have checked with my colleagues around the world but so far we are not aware of any that have taken. The samples are running out, and we have decided that this is not the most beneficial way to continue.
"Last time we spoke, I said we were on the first stages of growing a human embryo completely into a child on culture media. The first stages were successful, and we are onto the second stages. We have already shared these findings with the other research labs, and we are all travelling the same path. As our stock of samples from White King is diminishing, this is clearly the right way to proceed."
"I'm pleased to hear it," Agent Angel said and checked his watch. "We will end the meeting on that positive news. Dismissed."
Agents Lip and Cairn left the room talking to each other. Operation Shutdown needed to begin immediately and, before they had even walked out of the door, they had a basic plan in place. They were followed by the scientists. Once out of the room, all but one swarmed around Kurtz and complained that they had only just opened the pod and that getting one to fly would be even harder. She wasn't listening. A feeling of nausea had swept over her, and she was struggling not to vomit.
Doctor Khan walked a few metres behind them. Since Professor Schwarzkopf had escaped, a growing feeling of unease had slowly turned into fear. The meeting they had just had, and the way she had been dismissed and threatened, made that fear suddenly very real.
Agent Angel had been wrong. She was not a guest in this country; she was a prisoner. Before beginning this job, she had signed an official secrets' document. This piece of paper meant that she had not told her family where she was working or what she did. All they knew was that she worked for the American government. If Agent Angel chose to send her back home in a coffin, nobody could stop him. It was certain that her team leader would not help. Kurtz had taken the credit for her discovery without blinking an eye, and nobody else on the team had dared to speak out.
She walked into the hangar without noticing her surroundings. A large number of personnel were working on aircraft, but she didn't see them. A guard stopped her at the temporary lab door, and she waved her ID distractedly. In the changing room, she automatically put on her protective suit and entered the area with the pods and the dart. There was a soft hum from the pump that kept the lab inflated, but she had stopped hearing it months before. She sat down at a desk and realized that she was sitting at the computer Professor Schwarzkopf usually used. All of his personal items had been removed, and she knew the computer's hard drive had been investigated. As she stared at her reflection in the blank screen, her face morphed into his.
If he were here, he would help her, she thought.
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***
Chapter 4 – The Meyer Files
Johan's coughing woke Eric. The hot sun was already streaming through the open windows, and Eric glanced up at the wind-up clock on his bedroom wall. It was after ten. He had not gone to bed until long after midnight. Jerome had organized a chess championship, and the games had not started until the sun went down. He had played Ursula and predictably their titanic match had ended in a draw. Neither of them minded and, thanks to Mémé, they were friends again.
Mémé had helped him to understand Ursula's fears for the future and, without going into details, he had explained why returning to Roswell was going to be very hard for him. Nothing more was said on the matter.
There was more coughing from the room below, and Eric got out of bed. The red memory foam slipped from below his head like a pillow. Eric had become quite literally attached to the strange material since Johan had given it to him. He hid it under the sheets; put on a pair of Bermuda shorts that were lying on the floor, threw the Mexican cap onto his head and left his room.
Johan was still coughing as Eric knocked on his door. When it had subsided, he heard, "Come in."
The room was identical to Eric's – whitewashed walls, a large photo of a Greek island hanging above the bed and a chair in the corner. Johan was sat on the lilac sheets with a laptop resting on his knees. He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and put it quickly in the pocket of his linen trousers.
"Are you oka
y?" Eric asked. "You were coughing for a long time."
"I'm fine," Johan lied.
"No, you're not."
Eric could sense that Johan was not telling the truth, and he sat down beside him.
Johan smiled. "I'm an old man, Eric. No one lives forever, and I am mortal. The older I get, the more health problems I have. I have learnt to live with these. For me, I am fine, but to you I am a sick, old man, which I am also."
Eric was not sure how to respond, so he changed the subject. "What are you doing?"
"I was reading the last few files on you, my friend. I was hoping that I would discover something that I had previously overlooked. Something that would help both you and Ursula, but there is nothing more. You will not want to hear this, but there truly is no other way…"
"...we need samples from the alien," Eric finished the sentence for him. "I know, everyone keeps saying it."
"I am sorry. This is the only possibility that we have to save you. It is not easy to stare mortality in the face, but I am an old man and at least I can say that I have had a long life. You have not even started to live and with your abilities, you must live on until you are at least my age. Who knows what you will accomplish?"
Eric lay back on the bed and put his hands behind his head. "I just wish everyone would stop going on about it. I understand that the only way is to return to Roswell, but there are reasons why I don't want to go back."
"And they are very good reasons. If anyone disagrees with you on this point, I will stand by your side, but I am sure that they will accept what you say."
Eric sat up again, "What do the files say about me?"
"That you are brilliant."
"Tell me something that I don't know," Eric half-joked.
"There are files on you and your parents."
As soon as the words had left Johan's mouth, he regretted saying them.
"Show me," Eric said, looking expectantly at the screen.
"Eric, I will not stop you reading what is here, but I recommend that you don't. It may be better to forget and move on."