by Haydn Jones
Everyone on the team was aware of the attempt to destroy the project but no one wished to stop working, not even Rob McPherson who was targeted with a car bomb.
Hunter picked up the phone again and dialed. “Officer Wayne, it's Hunter here. I need to see you in my office." There was a pause. "Eleven o'clock." Another short pause. "Sure thing. See you then."
A few moments later Hunter walked into the control room. "Good morning team," he said, in an upbeat manner.
“Good morning,” came the communal response.
"How are things going, Rob?" enquired Hunter.
Rob McPherson turned around on his swivel chair to face Hunter. “Well, the communications have certainly stopped and we're frantically searching to find the source of the original signals. All our co-ordinates point to a spot that is apparently just space, it doesn't make any sense at all." McPherson turned back to study the information on his monitor. Stuck to the top of his monitor was a photo of Vicki and his new born son, Daniel.
Right at this moment Hunter felt utter frustration with the whole thing but managed not to show his feelings to the team. They were still amazingly upbeat considering what had happened thanks to Rob's strong leadership and he sure as hell didn't want to change that. "Okay guys keep it up, you're doing a great job. Very soon we're going find them, I just know it."
"Any news on Domaradzki?" asked Walter Rottenburg in a monotone manner, as Hunter was about to leave the room.
He stopped and paused in the silence of the room for a moment then turned to face Walter. "Nothing to report as yet, Walter, but rest assured, we are chasing the rat down the hole and we will find him and bring him to justice. That I can promise you." Hunter gave a reassuring smile to Walter, turned and walked out of the control room towards his office.
"I believe him, Walter. Hunter is a man of his word. Please don't worry," responded McPherson reassuringly, knowing that the team couldn't relax while Domaradzki was still free. Walter turned back to study his monitor, but his face showed signs of stress.
McPherson had spent many hours analyzing the original alien communication but could not find a way of understanding it. It consisted of a sequence of digital ones and noughts, just like the signal transmitted from the Arecibo radio telescope on November 16 1974. That signal consisted of 1679 pulses. The alien signal consisted of 2,097,152 pulses, but what was the key to understanding it? McPherson was trying everything in his power to find the answer, but as yet to no avail. He recognized the number as the cube of 128, so the information was probably in some kind of three dimensional form, but what did it all mean?
At exactly eleven o'clock Linda Washington knocked on Hunter's office door.
"Come in," Hunter responded.
"Officer Wayne to see you sir."
"Punctual as usual, Officer Wayne," said Hunter, looking at his wrist watch. "Please take a seat....Thanks Linda, that will be all for now." Linda smiled and closed the door behind her as she left.
"Coffee?"
“Please." Wayne was nervous. Only the week before, he had been almost torn apart by Hunter at the enquiry, for failing to make the connection between Vicki and her brother. Luck had saved the project and that was unacceptable to Hunter and he was real mad that a New York cop had blown Domaradzki's cover and not the man trained to hunt and kill, sitting opposite him. Hunter had conceded though that Wayne was not tasked with the job of finding Adam Domaradzki, as he was at the time 'below the radar.'
Hunter poured some freshly brewed coffee into a cup and offered it to Wayne.
"Thank you."
"This job is not finished," Hunter said, in a stern voice, as he stared across the table at Wayne.
“Yes, sir, I realize that."
"But it has to be finished very quickly. Do you understand?" Hunter stated in no uncertain terms.
“Yes, sir — I fully understand."
"McPherson and his wife are still alive, thank God, but only by a stroke of luck. If they'd been on time they'd be dead now. Like the couple who took the car planned for them.”
“Yes, Mr. Williams."
“Good — So get your ass to Mexico, find the rat and kill him. Do you need any medicine?"
"I already have some thank you."
"Do you need any help?" enquired Hunter.
“No, sir, I don't need any help, I'm trained to work alone and I already have contacts in Mexico that I can use if necessary."
"Do not fuck up this time. You will not get another chance."
"I won't let you down, sir."
"I hope not. Just think of it as the most important assignment you've ever had."
Officer Wayne stood up and left the room. He sensed this was not the time to sit and drink coffee with Colin Williams. After closing the door behind him he looked up and exhaled. He knew exactly what Hunter had meant. He needed to do what he did best and there was no time to waste. Wayne walked briskly down the corridor to Linda Washington's office. Her door was, as usual, open. When he walked in Linda was holding up a white envelope.
"Your plane tickets to Mexico. Good luck." Wayne took them, smiled nervously and walked out without speaking.
Hunter was sitting in his leather chair staring out of the window, deep in thought. The phone rang and he knew the ring tone meant it was the President.
“Mr President, how are you?"
The next ten minutes was intense dialogue with the President about the missing aliens. Hunter had visited the Tank and spoken with Kevin Short. He had also watched the footage of the aliens walking through the inch thick glass, in utter disbelief. They were missing and nobody knew where they were or where to look. The pressure on Hunter was building and he was feeling it now, more than at any time in the past.
At exactly 19.00 hours the helicopter had landed on the roof of the Ellington Building and shortly after some of the team members had boarded for the short flight to Ellington Air Force Base and their secure compound. Hunter was not taking any chances with his team, knowing that their lives were still at risk, this was now the only way to get to work and the only way to leave, until Domaradzki was officially found and caught.
Vicki could hear the helicopter approaching and she looked out of the window to watch it land. Baby Daniel was fast asleep in his crib having just been breast fed until he fell asleep on the nipple. She looked at him and smiled, he was perfect in every way.
It was time to check the evening meal, as Rob would be home any moment and starving as usual. Vicki often thought about the quirk of fate that saved them from the car bomb that was meant to kill them all, even baby Daniel. And yet it was baby Daniel that saved them by delaying their exit from the hospital by just six minutes.
Soon Rob was home and sitting next to baby Daniel. His tiny fingers subconsciously clasped around Rob's little finger he'd placed between the rungs of the crib. Vicki watched and smiled at Rob as he watched his son sleeping peacefully.
“Well — Are you going to speak, or what?" Asked Vicki smiling.
"Sorry my love, yeah, how are you?"
"Fine, just fine." Vicki responded.
"And how has junior been today?"
"Oh, junior has been just fine too. He's eating, sleeping and filling his diapers, just as a baby should."
"He missed me today, I can tell."
"Oh really, how do you know that?" enquired Vicki, curiously.
"Father's instinct darling, I just know." Vicki laughed out loud.
"You silly fool. Sit at the table please, dinner will be ready soon."
"Oh good, I'm starving. It does smell damn good, what is it?"
"Diaper stew," Vicki answered with a broad smile on her face.
"Sounds good to me," laughed Rob, rubbing his hands in eager anticipation.
It was still difficult for both of them to find humor in their everyday lives but they were trying. The memory of Richard's suicide was still so raw in their memories, let alone the attempt on their lives but the baby was keeping them occupied, bringing them so much happines
s and that helped the healing process they both desperately needed.
Rob watched as the steaming hot chili con carne was carried into the room by Vicki and placed in the centre of the table. The smell was delightful and Rob was eager to start. As Vicki sat down to join him the phone rang.
"How often does that happen?" Vicki said annoyed. Rob got up to answer the phone but she pushed him back down onto his seat. "Eat it while it's hot darling, I'll get it.”
“Hello, Vicki speaking……Hi, Mom, how are you?"...Vicki put her hand to her mouth and her eyes began to fill with tears. Rob just knew it was her father. "When did he die Mom?" Tears streamed down her face as Rob embraced her. When will this nightmare ever end?
Twenty-Five
Cancun Mexico
Adam Domaradzki had hired a small fishing boat for the day from an old fisherman now more interested in liquor than fishing. The secondary reason for hiring the boat was to enjoy some sea fishing, a habit he'd picked up from Richard Stark in San Francisco. The sea was calm and blue, reflecting the cloudless sky and the fishing boat was reassuringly stable and steady, not like the day before when the swell was big, throwing the boat, the old fisherman and its contents of mainly empty beer bottles from port to starboard and back again for almost four hours.
Some three miles from shore in the direction of Cuba, he cut the engines. There was silence, no sounds, other than the gentle splashing of the sea against the side of the boat's old wooden hull. On the starboard side of the boat near the helm there were a number of black plastic bags tied with yellow string. Domaradzki picked up the one on the top of the pile and opened it. Inside some of Honey's leg muscle was already conveniently cut into chunks which he expertly threaded onto a large stainless steel paternoster consisting of six barbed hooks. Carefully standing up he cast out, putting the rod in its holder and reeling in some loose line until he was happy with the line tension.
The other bags contained her arms and her quartered torso, which one by one he tossed overboard into the sea. With no dog to feed anymore there was no point in removing her eyes or tongue as tasty morsels. From the last bag he pulled out her ashen, severed head and held it up in front of him by her short black hair. He looked into her clouded cold eyes and remembered how different she looked when he was fucking her. Gently he caressed her still frozen cheek with his index finger before tossing her last remaining body part into the sea.
All around the small boat the sound of excited sea gulls filled the salty air as they eagerly dived into the water to feast on the intestines floating on the surface. The tip of the fishing rod at the back of the boat lunged downwards in its holder. Something had taken the bait. He grabbed the rod and yanked hard in an upward motion, setting the hook and straining the fishing rod and line to its limit. He could feel this was a big fish. As it broke the surface he knew he had a fight on his hands, the marlin was not going to give up without a struggle.
The following evening the sun was setting at the Aquamarina in Puerto Juarez and the cool white coral beaches were emptying of people and their sunburned children, returning to their hotels and apartments weary and hungry from a day in the cruel Mexican sun and fresh sea air.
Adam Domaradzki was getting used to his new name of Diego Martinez and enjoying the seemingly lazy lifestyle of a playboy. All of the time though his mind was working overtime on how he would finally destroy the Houston Project. He sipped his cold beer and pressed the dial button on his cell phone.
"How yah doing, buddy?...Can you bring the boat over this weekend as planned? ...Excellent, I look forward to seeing you and the boat. Are you bringing any company with you?…Blonde, young and beautiful yeah, and what about yours?…Do I know them?...Black young and sex crazed you say. Sounds good to me my friend. I look forward to meeting them. Bon voyage.” He hit the 'end call' button and placed the cell phone on the table, flicked open his Zippo, lit a Marlboro and inhaled deeply. It was time to read the Bible. Opening the page at Romans Chapter 8 verse 1 he started reading:-
“There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit."
He continued, reading all 39 verses for his penance and promise to the priest and God.
Twenty-Six
The Pentagon, Washington DC
Kevin Short had never met the President of The United States, although he'd often thought about it, practicing his opening lines like a film star rehearsing. Short never dreamed that it would be a nightmare scenario like this that brought them together. Where, as the man in charge of Pentagon security, he would be on the rack for the second time in just over a month. The first interrogation was by video conference and that was bad enough. What the fuck am I going to say to the man that doesn't accept failure? Short was sitting on one of six chairs outside the Presidential Office and breathed deeply trying to keep control. Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead and his hands shook noticeably. His doctor continually told him he needed to loose forty plus pounds because his blood pressure was dangerously high and he was seriously at risk of a stroke or heart attack. He lied to his doctor about how many cigarettes he smoked a day and he lied about his alcohol intake as well. He'd lied to his wife who left him five years ago. He wasn't going to lie today though, he wasn't that stupid.
"Mr Short, the President will see you now."
Short stood up quickly and looked at the young female presidential aid in front of him he'd not heard approaching. "Sure, I'm ready," he said in a nervous voice. I think.
"Please follow me, sir.” The female aid escorted him along the carpeted corridor, some ten yards or so, to double doors. On arrival she knocked on the door and instructed Short to wait outside before she entered the room. A few seconds later she reappeared. "The President will see you now, please come in."
In the room Kevin Short was met by the President, Hunter, Rob McPherson and Raymond E. Strong, Head of Extra-Terrestrial Research.
"We meet at last Kevin," said the President with an outstretched hand.
“Mr. President,” was all that came out of Short's dry mouth.
"I believe you already know Colin Williams."
“Yes, I do. Good morning, Colin."
"Good morning, Kevin,” Hunter replied, shaking Short's hand.
"This is Dr Rob McPherson, Kevin. Rob works for Colin."
"Nice to meet you…Aren’t you the guy they tried to kill?"
"That’s right, nice to meet you too, Kevin."
"And this is Raymond Strong, Kevin."
"Good to meet you, Raymond."
After the introductions were over the President offered Short a seat at the large conference table in the middle of the room that was laid up with fresh coffee and a selection of fruit and snacks.
The President waited until everyone was seated and comfortable. "Gentlemen, we have a problem and I need to understand how and when we are going to resolve it." The President's voice was strong and assertive. "Can you please update us on the search for the missing aliens, Kevin?"
McPherson looked at Short and could see he was nervous. He noticed the telltale nicotine stains of a smoker on his trembling fingers.
Short felt his blood pressure rising and his heartbeat quickening. "I'm afraid that the search has drawn a negative to date. We have had no sightings of any form or any communications with them. They have effectively vanished gentlemen."
“Rob, have you made any progress with the signals they sent us from outer space?" The President enquired.
"We've been working tirelessly on the signals trying to decode them Mr. President and at the same time we have continued to listen to locate the source, sadly to no avail. I'm beginning to think most of the signals they sent weren't meant for us."
"I don't understand," retorted the President, frowning.
"At the same time that we received the signals the aliens came back to life and vanished. I don't think the signals were meant for us at all; I think they were meant for them. What's the point in
sending us a message that's so complex it's impossible for us to understand?"
"These 'freezer freaks' didn't have telephones did they, Rob? I thought they were naked and secured to their beds with metal clamps around their arms and legs?" The President's voice was agitated.
"Mr. President, these guys walked through inch thick bullet proof glass into thin air after lying dead for over fifty years. I don't think we can talk about this situation using conventional logic."
McPherson's point was well made and for a few seconds there was silence in the room. Kevin Short visibly relaxed and the President’s fingers tapped a frustrated beat onto the desk.
“So, what the hell are we going to do, gentlemen?" asked the President.
Hunter looked around the table but he knew the answer to that question was not going to be easy.
"I believe Mr. President that we will not find them, they will find us. If that's their intention. It could be that they came back for the two aliens and have simply gone away again."
"I have to say Robert, I'm inclined to agree with you." Strong interjected.
For the second time the room was silent as they wrestled with Hunter’s words.
Some two hours later Hunter and McPherson were sitting in Hunter’s Pentagon office, an office that hadn’t been used much over the last year as Hunter had spent most of his time in Houston, at the Ellington Building.
"How is Vicki, Rob?" asked Hunter from behind his large desk.
"Vicki is a strong person Colin, but the last month has been hard for all of us... And now with the death of her father as well."
“Yes, I can imagine, it must be hard for both of you. When's the funeral?"
"We don't have a date yet,” replied McPherson shaking his head.
"You know that if we haven't found Domaradzki by then you and Vicki are still at great risk don't you?"
"After all she's been through are you going to be the one who tells her she can't go to her father's and brother's funeral? She's already flown home with the baby to see her mother."