Area 51 a5-1

by Robert Doherty

“Gullick ordered this?” Turcotte asked.

  Cruise almost shook his head, but thought better of it given the steel needle in his throat. “Yes.”

  Turcotte slid the needle out, but before Cruise could even draw a deep breath, he slammed his elbow up against the doctor’s temple. Cruise crumpled to the ground unconscious.

  “Thank you, my friend,” Von Seeckt said. He pulled his jacket on and picked up his cane. “And now?”

  “And now we get the hell out of here,” Turcotte said.

  “Follow me.”

  He opened the door and stepped out into the waiting room, pistol first. There was only one guard there, reading a magazine. He looked up and kept very still. “Keys to the van,” Turcotte ordered. “With your left hand.”

  The guard slowly took the keys out of his pocket.

  “Put them on the table, then get on your knees, face to the wall.” The man complied.

  “Get them, Professor,” Turcotte said. He edged toward the door, keeping his weapon on the guard. “Where’s your partner?”

  The man kept silent, which is what Turcotte would have done in his position. Turcotte slammed the barrel of his pistol down on the back of the man’s head and he dropped to the floor.

  “Let’s go.” Turcotte carefully opened the outside door and looked out. Because of the tinted windows he couldn’t tell if the other guard was inside the van, which was parked. Turcotte stuck the hand with the gun inside his parka pocket. He walked out with Von Seeckt, straight up to the van, and slid the side door open. Empty. “Get in.”

  * * *

  On the other side of the street Kelly watched the two men get into the van, the younger of the two holding a gun in his hand. She shifted her eyes and watched the other man, the guard who had come outside to smoke a few minutes ago, turn around and start walking toward the front of the building.

  * * *

  Turcotte turned the key and nothing happened. He tried again. “Fuck,” he muttered.

  Von Seeckt leaned over and pointed at a small device under the steering column. “Electronic theft protection,” he explained. “There’s a small conductor that is placed there. Without it, no electrical power. They have begun installing—” “All right, all right,” Turcotte cut in. He hadn’t seen the driver take it out and it wasn’t on the key ring. He looked back at the front door of the clinic. A shadow crossed his peripheral vision — the other guard coming around the corner of the building.

  Then it all fell apart. The front door opened and the other guard staggered out, pistol waving about, firing, blinking blood out of his eyes.

  Turcotte kicked open the driver side door. “Get out!” he yelled to Von Seeckt. He fired three rounds quickly, deliberately high, causing both guards to drop to the ground.

  * * *

  “Jesus!” Kelly flicked her cigarette out the window and started the car’s engine. The man who had just fired swung around and looked at her, his eyes piercing right through the windshield from twenty feet away, then he spun about and fired again at the black-jacketed men. Too high, Kelly thought, and that decided her.

  With a squeal of rubber she peeled out of the parking lot. She drove to the near side of the van, slamming on the brakes and skidding to a halt. “Get in!” she yelled, leaning over and throwing open the passenger door.

  The man with the gun shoved the old man in, following right behind. “Go! Go! Go!” he exhorted her.

  Kelly didn’t need the advice. She fishtailed out of the parking lot. The two men ran out into the road behind, firing. A group of airmen waiting outside the dental clinic ran for cover.

  There were a few plinks as bullets hit the trunk. Kelly took the next corner with her foot still pushing down on the accelerator. They were out of sight of the two gunmen. The main gate to the base was four blocks directly ahead.

  “Steady through the gate,” the man with the pistol said. “We don’t want to attract attention.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” Kelly replied.

  CHAPTER 13

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  T — 110 Hours, 20 Minutes

  “So, Mr. Mike Turcotte and Professor Werner Von Seeckt, are you the bad guys or the good guys?” Kelly asked. Her hand shook as she lit a cigarette. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, indicating the cigarette.

  “If I was younger, I’d have one myself,” Von Seeckt said.

  They were seated in her hotel room, belated introductions having just been made. “Why were you following us?” Turcotte demanded. “You didn’t just happen to be in that parking lot.”

  “I’m not telling you a thing, until you tell me who you are and why those guys were shooting at you,” Kelly said.

  Von Seeckt was looking at a piece of paper he’d pulled out of his coat. “To answer your first question, as you Americans say, we are the men in the white hats.”

  “And the guys back at Nellis,” Kelly asked, “—the men in the black hats? Who are they?”

  “The government,” Turcotte said. “Or part of the government.”

  “Let’s try this one more time,” Kelly said. “Why were they shooting at you?” Turcotte gave a concise explanation of the events of the previous twenty-four hours, from Area 51 to Devil’s Nest, back to the Cube, to the hospital annex and Doctor Cruise’s attempt to kill Von Seeckt.

  “Whoa!” Kelly said when he came to a halt. “You expect me to believe that?” “I don’t give a shit what you believe,” Turcotte said.

  “Hey, don’t get smart with me,” Kelly said. “I saved your ass back there.” “You only saved our ass if what I just told you was the truth,” Turcotte replied. To his surprise Kelly laughed.

  “Good point.”

  “So, I’ve told you our story,” Turcotte said. “Why were you there?”

  “I’m looking for a friend of mine who has disappeared trying to infiltrate Area 51, and you got off the shuttle plane from that place. I didn’t plan on getting caught in a gun battle. Have you heard about a reporter named Johnny Simmons getting picked up trying to get into Area 51 two nights ago?”

  “There was a lot going on that night,” Turcotte said. He glanced at Von Seeckt.

  “If he disappeared trying to get into Area 51,” Von Seeckt said, “he is either dead or he has been taken to a government facility at Dulce, New Mexico.” Turcotte remembered Prague mentioning that place.

  “I don’t think he’s dead,” Kelly said. “The man who was with him — a guy named Franklin — he was reported killed in a car crash that night. If they were going to kill Johnny, it would have been just as easy for them to put him in the car with Franklin. I think he’s still alive and that means we have to go to New Mexico.”

  “Wait a second…” Turcotte began, but Von Seeckt was nodding his head. “Yes, we must go to New Mexico. There is something there at Dulce we will need. Can you take us there in your car?”

  “Yes. And I’ve got a place in Phoenix that we can stop at on the way,” Kelly said.

  Turcotte sat down on the couch and rubbed his forehead.

  He had a massive headache and it was getting worse. His side ached and he was tired. “No. We don’t go anywhere,” he said.

  “You can stay here,” Kelly said. “I’m going after Johnny.”

  “We need to stay together,” Von Seeckt said in German.

  “Why?” Turcotte asked.

  “Hey!” Kelly yelled. “None of this talking around me.”

  “I was just telling my friend that we need to stick together,” Von Seeckt said. “No,” Turcotte said. “I’m done with this. I’ve done my duty and now it’s time for someone else to deal with this.”

  He grabbed the phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “None of your business,” Turcotte said. He began to dial the number that Duncan had given him. On the eighth digit the phone went dead. He looked up to see Kelly holding the cord, which she had unplugged from the wall.

  “It’s my phone,” she said.

  “This isn’t a
game!” Turcotte slammed the phone down.

  “I know it isn’t a game,” Kelly replied just as loudly. “I just got shot at. My best friend has disappeared. He”—she pointed at Von Seeckt—“almost was murdered. I don’t think anyone in this room thinks it’s a game!”

  “Plug the phone back in.” Turcotte spaced the words out.

  “No.”

  As Turcotte began to stand, Kelly held up a hand. “Listen to me. Before any of us does anything, let’s get on the same sheet of music.”

  “I agree,” Von Seeckt said.

  “Who said we were voting?” Turcotte asked. He walked over to the room door and opened it. Screw these people, he thought. He was tired and hurting and wanted nothing more than to forget all about Area 51 and this entire mess.

  He’d done his job and it had almost cost him his life. They couldn’t ask any more of him.

  He went down to the lobby and over to the first phone booth. Using his own phone credit card he dialed Duncan’s number. It rang three times, then it was picked up, but the answer wasn’t at all what he’d expected.

  A mechanical voice came on. “You have dialed a number that has been disconnected. Please check the number and dial again.”

  Turcotte punched in the ten numbers again. He was certain he had them right. And received the same response.

  “Fuck!” he hissed as he slammed the phone down, earning himself a dirty look from a woman two phones over.

  He went to the elevator. Had the number been bogus to start with? Or had he been cut off after going in? What the hell was going on?

  He opened the door. Kelly barely looked up. She was grilling Von Seeckt. “But how did the government get the bouncers? And why are they hiding them and pulling all this deception shit? And what was the small sphere that made Turcotte’s helicopter crash? And why were they trying to kill you if you were one of them — one of Majic-12?”

  “Because they have gone too far,” Von Seeckt said. “Are going to go too far,” he amended. “In four days they will cross the line.”

  “What line?” Kelly asked.

  “Welcome back, my young friend,” Von Seeckt said.

  “Have you decided to stay with us?”

  “I haven’t decided anything,” Turcotte muttered. He slumped down in one of the chairs by the window.

  “This is the biggest story in years,” Kelly said.

  “And if you run it, your friend is dead,” Turcotte couldn’t help throwing in.

  “Your phone call doesn’t appear to have cheered you up,” Kelly said. Turcotte didn’t reply.

  “We must do this ourselves,” Von Seeckt said.

  “Do what?” Turcotte snapped.

  Von Seeckt looked at the piece of paper in his hand and read. “‘Power, sun. Forbidden. Home place, chariot, never again. Death to all living things.’” “What?” Turcotte was totally confused.

  “May I please use your phone?” Von Seeckt asked Kelly.

  “Certainly,” Kelly said.

  “How come you’re letting him call?” Turcotte asked.

  “He said please,” Kelly replied.

  “Wait one,” Turcotte said to Von Seeckt, holding up his hand. “I’m pretty much in the dark here, like she is. But we’re all in the same shit pile. I know what happened in Nebraska. And I saw what they tried to do to you at the medical annex. And I saw what they have in those hangars back there at Area 51, but I don’t know what the hell is going on. Before you make any phone calls, tell us what is going on.”

  “They are going to try to engage the propulsion unit of the mothership on the fifteenth of this month. I fear that when the engine is engaged there will be disaster.”

  “I know that—” Turcotte began.

  “Mothership?” Kelly cut in, which necessitated a brief description by Von Seeckt.

  “How will engaging the engine be a disaster?” Kelly asked.

  “I do not know exactly,” Von Seeckt said. “But there is someone who might. Which is why I need to use the phone.” He looked at Kelly. “Let me have the address of this place we will be stopping at in Phoenix.” Kelly gave it to him and Von Seeckt dragged the phone into the bedroom suite and closed the door behind him.

  Turcotte frowned but bowed to the situation. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Better late than never,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Forget it.” She pointed at the closed bedroom door. “Is he on the level?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Turcotte said.

  “Great.”

  The Cube, Area 51

  General Gullick steepled his fingers and looked around the conference table. Dr. Cruise was holding an ice pack to his temple. The other members of the inner circle were also there. Dr. Duncan, naturally, had not been informed of the meeting.

  “Priorities,” Gullick said. “One. Mothership run-up and propulsion engagement. Ferrel?”

  “On schedule,” Doctor Ferrel said. “We’re analyzing the data from the run-up.” “What about the physical effect that Dr. Duncan complained about?”

  Ferrel shook his head. “I don’t know. She was the only one affected. The only change in variables was that she is female.”

  “What?” Gullick said.

  “Maybe the wave effect of the engine affects females differently.” “Is it significant?” Gullick asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Any foreseeable problems?”

  “No, sir.”

  Gullick moved on. “Two. This ‘foo fighter.’ Admiral Coakley?”

  “I have three ships en route to the location where it went down. One is the USS Pigeon, a submarine rescue ship. It has the capability to send a minisub down to the bottom at that location.”

  “ETA and time to recover?” Gullick asked.

  “ETA in six hours. Recovery — if they find it and it is intact — inside of twenty-four,” Coakley responded.

  “What do you mean if they find it?”

  “It’s a small object, General,” Coakley explained. “It disappeared in deep water and we’re not even sure it’s still there.”

  “You will find it,” Gullick said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sir…” Quinn paused.

  “What?” Gullick snapped.

  “What if this foo fighter wasn’t the only one? The reports we have from World War II indicate multiple sightings. There were three flying with the Enola Gay.” “What if it isn’t the only one?” Gullick repeated.

  “The pattern we observed with this one that went down in the Pacific indicated that it was waiting somewhere in the vicinity here and picked up Bouncer Three departing the Area.”

  “So?” Gullick said.

  “Well, sir, then there might be another one of these foo fighters in the vicinity here and it might interfere when we run the mothership test flight. Obviously, the foo fighters are clued in to our operation here in some manner.” General Gullick considered this. He had spent a lot of time worrying about the test flight. This was a new wrinkle, and he struggled to deal with it. “Do you have any suggestions, Major?”

  “I think we ought to check and see if there is another one around. The last one reacted to a bouncer flight. If there is another one about, maybe it would react to another bouncer flight, except this time we would be more prepared.”

  Gullick nodded. “All right. We can’t afford to have anything go wrong on the fifteenth. Let’s prepare a mission for tonight. Except have two bouncers ready. One as bait, the other to follow and intercept. We’ll also prepare some kill zones if there’s one of those things about and it takes the bait.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Three,” Gullick said. He looked at Dr. Cruise, then General Brown, who was responsible for overall security.

  The right side of Gullick’s face twitched. “The fuck-up this morning.”

  “Von Seeckt is gone,” Brown said. “We have his apartment in Las Vegas covered in case he shows up there. We—”

  “V
on Seeckt is old and a pain in the ass, but one thing the man is not, is stupid,” Gullick said. “If I’d have known you were going to fuck up a simple termination I’d have let nature take its course and listened to his shit for five more months, then let him die. Now we have him on the loose with his big mouth and his knowledge.”

  “He can’t have gotten too far,” General Brown said.

  “The term that comes to mind,” Gullick said, glaring at Cruise, “is anal retentive. You had to have the death certificate typed up before you actually killed him?”

  “Sir, I—”

  Gullick silenced the doctor with a wave of his hand.

  “What about this”—Gullick looked down at his computer screen—“this Captain Turcotte?”

  “He was new, sir.” Brown had a file open. “He just arrived in time for the Nightscape mission last night.” Brown paused. “Since the events this morning, I had the other surviving members of the Nightscape mission debriefed at the MSS via SATCOM. It appears that there was a civilian contact just as Bouncer Three arrived at the objective in Nebraska and the foo fighter interfered. Captain Turcotte was on board Major Prague’s helicopter. Prague’s bird stayed behind to deal with the civilians.”

  “There was no report of civilians. No report at all,” Gullick said. “I debriefed Turcotte personally about the mission and he didn’t say anything about that.” He was shocked. “Turcotte lied to me.”

  “We don’t know who the civilians were, but there has been no report filed with local authorities about the night’s activities,” Brown said.

  “Of course not,” Gullick said. “Turcotte would have told them to keep their mouths shut.” He looked down again at the computer screen. “What’s his background?”

  “Infantry. Then Special Forces. We recruited him out of DET-A in Berlin.” Gullick slapped the conference tabletop. “I remember him now. He was involved in that incident in Dusseldorf with the IRA. I never saw him. We did the after-action inquiry by secure conference call, but I recognize the name now. He was there. So why is he lying to us and helping Von Seeckt flee? Is he a plant?” General Brown shook his head. “I don’t know, sir.”

  “He might be,” Kennedy said. The others at the table all turned to look at the CIA man.