“Some truths are better left unknown.”
“No, no. The search for truth will always bring people closer to comprehending what they don’t understand, and accepting it when they find it. The search broadens our horizons. It invigorates our souls. We have lost sight of that, and we must ensure its revival if we are ever going to survive as a people. We have become so petty, so cynical, so afraid of each other and of what we don’t understand. We are losing our souls.”
“Please, your philosophical dribble is unbecoming.”
“Don’t you understand? The knowledge we have belongs to the world, and not just to Saint Mary. What we could learn if we opened up our files to the whole scientific community instead of relying on a few individuals!”
“People couldn’t accept the truth if it were brought forth.”
“You are not dealing with children, Stone. For decades we have lied and twiddled our thumbs, hoping that by some miracle we could offer up some sort of defense against them. How long must we continue before that miracle happens? Decades? Centuries? Meanwhile, people will continue to see them, continue to be abducted and be told that they are a bunch of loons, and all the while, the United States government will shrug its shoulders and say ‘What UFOs?’ A government that is supposed to be of, by, and for the people—”
Stone slapped Taylor across the face and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. “Listen, you traitorous son of a bitch, I follow orders! You remember those, don’t you? National security oaths. But these have all lost their meaning on you, haven’t they?”
Taylor looked Stone straight in the eye. “What about your oath to uphold and defend the Constitution? The meaning of that oath has obviously been lost on you.”
Stone released his grip and looked above Taylor, at one of the cell’s gray walls. “You’re as guilty of that as I am.”
“It’s never too late to redeem yourself, to seek salvation,” Taylor said, closing his eyes. “The images of a shattered career have—” He broke off, opened his eyes, and said, “I know a full accounting of Saint Mary’s secrets and crimes would dwarf the recollections of a single participant. A single conspirator. I firmly believe the future demands a complete rejection of the arrogant and insidious nature of the project. Justice must be served. Our government must redeem itself or our nation will pay a terrible price.”
“There will be a price paid. It will be paid by you. You will pay dearly for what you’ve done,” Stone said, turning to leave. Feeling disgusted and nauseated, he sought separation and distance from Taylor. At the door, he checked his watch and looked back at his predecessor, who gazed up at him, tears streaming down the sides of his face.
Silence hung over them for several long seconds.
Stone shook his head and departed.
Still feeling nauseated, Stone made an abrupt stop near Holcomb’s cell. An interrogator, his black jumpsuit moist with perspiration, hurried up next to the General.
“The FBI agent broke, and he keeps repeating over and over that Taylor is trying to reach Russia,” the interrogator said.
Stone’s steaming, gurgling intestines prompted a terse reply before he exited the area. “Not anymore.”
<> <>
Harrison lost his balance when they shoved him into the detention cell. He crawled across the concrete floor to a dark green canvas cot that sat askew along one of the gray walls of the square room. Metal screens wrapped around the overhead fluorescent lights, dispersing the cold light irregularly through the room. After he closed his eyes and leaned forward, Harrison clasped his handcuffed hands in front of his face and rested his elbows on his knees.
What happens now?
He shook his head, and for a moment, wished that Taylor had never contacted him. But so much had happened, and lives were at stake, so there was no going back. He discarded any last minute doubts about his actions, but recognized others now had to demonstrate their trustworthiness and their willingness to do the right thing.
Still, he wished he could talk to someone and immediately thought of Janice. He had grown very fond of her, very quickly. Harrison managed a small smile as he thought about the bond he felt with her. His smile grew as he pictured her face, framed with smooth silky blond hair, and her penetrating, mesmerizing blue eyes. Perhaps because of her youth and intelligence, Janice had made Harrison see the world with new eyes, and to look into his heart, a place long hidden by the shadows of tragedy and disappointment. He treasured this about her, and silently begged God to keep her safe until he could protect her too.
When the cell’s metal door opened, Harrison lowered his hands and sat up straight. At first, no one entered. He held still while confusion reshaped his expression. He furrowed his brow, frowned, and then noticed how sore his whole body felt. Two of the Saint Mary operatives had beaten him on the plane several times. They did not appreciate his repeated, “Go fuck yourself,” response to their questions.
An air policeman stepped into Harrison’s view. He watched as the officer waved to someone in the hallway. Harrison glimpsed the clipboard first, then the person holding it as she entered the room. She looked beautiful despite obvious exhaustion and the very plain, black and gray gym suit she wore.
As quickly as Janice entered, the air policeman closed and locked the door. She silently made notes on her clipboard while Harrison feigned a cough to mask any sign of his joy at seeing her.
Janice raised her eyes and looked squarely at Harrison. Then, she glanced up to a darkened corner of the room.
Harrison looked too. He had not noticed it earlier, but it was clear to him now. The faint, dark shape of a video camera pointed its lens downward at the center of the cell, no doubt offering observers a clear view of whatever transpired in the room. His gaze returned to Janice.
She scowled, and said, “You killed my brother and I am here to find out what lies you told him. I will pry the truth out of you.”
Harrison’s eyelids fluttered and closed.
“I’m sorry about James. Are you safe?”
“He chose his path and paid the price. I am okay.”
“Janice, I… You look beautiful.”
“We both look horrible, but thank you.”
Like someone in horrible pain, Harrison twisted his face and yelped.
“I am sorry, but I have to hurt you. They will only believe it if it is real. I am so sorry.”
“I understand. I… I trust you, Janice.”
Harrison jerked away, hitting the back of his head on the wall behind the cot. He could feel Janice’s mental and physical control over him, and sensed her guilt and sadness. But there was something else too. Images came to mind, not those depicting memories, but of imagined comfort and safety. He felt her touch. She held his head against her warm body. Her touch soothed and calmed. They spoke silently and made more apologies among promises of hope and understanding. They hugged each other.
“Bill, I must tell them about the power cell. Not the truth, but a lie.”
Harrison rolled onto his side and let out a deep moan.
“You must believe the lie. They will try to get the truth, so you must believe the lie.”
“I will never give up the truth,” Harrison said, yelling. He curled into a ball and began to sob.
“James was wrong about the globe. He was confused. You never found the power cell. It may not even exist.”
“But it does! I’ve seen it. And it has been there are along. It is in its rightful place now.”
“I know. And only you could have done this. You kept it safe. You remembered and you believed.”
“Yes. We should never forget. We should never lose faith in our infinite horizons!”
“This is why we needed you. So many aren’t like you, Bill. Trust me, I know this. This is why you are special. This is why I….why I…”
Harrison’s body rolled onto the floor. He twitched his legs and writhed in pain. His memory zigzagged between truths, half-truths, and plain old lies. He no longer felt capabl
e of distinguishing them from each other. He forced himself to concentrate, to remember her words and feel the warmth of her touch.
“Please understand. James was wrong about the globe. He was confused. You never found the power cell. It may not even exist.”
“I understand. For those who don’t have faith, it really doesn’t exist for them. They are wrong not to believe, not to reach out, to stand up, and to work together despite fear and differences. They are lost because they refuse to see. Yes. Yes, I understand.”
“I know you do. Bill, I…”
Harrison awoke on the floor. Sweat drenched his clothes. His eyes and face felt swollen. He eased onto his side and peered upward at Janice. A tear trickled down her cheek and dripped onto the clipboard. She had released him from the mind scan but Harrison remained connected. He felt her sadness again, but there were more feelings. A deep longing hit him like the heat from a blast furnace. He felt her vulnerability and loneliness envelop him, as well as her aching desire.
“I know, Janice. And I… I love you too.”
Chapter 53
Operation Rainbow
For most of the day, the movement of trucks, ground crews, and aircraft stirred the surface of the remote Nevada base. Dinner, and the completion by nonessential personnel of preparations for the operation, lulled the facility into a subdued and almost dormant phase. If not at the chow hall, then most nonessentials found themselves tucked into subterranean barracks. Others, such as radar and communications operators, sentries, and some medical staff, remained above ground, focused solely on carrying out their mission-specific assignments.
The approach of one final aircraft interrupted the stillness.
A Gulfstream G650 business jet lowered its landing gear with a mild thud. Inside, the four visitors and their attendants prepared themselves for the landing by buckling seat belts and fastening other special safety equipment. One of the attendants noticed her charge hacked and wheezed again. She worried his advancing illness might spread to the other passengers. But since the aircraft descended on its final approach to the runway, she decided to wait until after they landed before administering any preventative medication.
<> <>
In the southeast corner of the airfield, near one of the taxiways, General Stone and the chairman stood near a Humvee and a large white van with tinted windows. As they waited for the Circle’s arrival, the Humvee’s driver approached the general and saluted.
“At ease, Airman,” Stone said, returning the salute. As the airman relaxed, or, at least, appeared to relax, Stone and the chairman strolled behind the van. Walking by its passenger door, the General noticed the wheelchair-assisted platform and hydraulic lift attached to the vehicle’s side.
“I’ll need you to leave the area now,” the chairman said, a sudden chilly breeze lashing his words against Stone’s face.
The Gulfstream’s tires squealed, announcing the plane’s touchdown. Pulsating howls of reverse thrust followed. Once the aircraft had rolled well down the runway and the noise had sufficiently dissipated, Stone stepped closer to the chairman and said, “The command bunker is prepared. I’ll be in the tower.”
“Very good. Once I get our visitors inside, you can contact me there.” The chairman reached out and put his hand on Stone’s shoulder. “You’ve helped make this an auspicious day, Randolph.”
The compliment pleased Stone, and following a quick nod, he headed for the Humvee. Approaching the vehicle, he instructed its driver to take him to his destination. The airman jumped in, followed by Stone, who eased himself comfortably into the passenger seat. Pulling away, the General gazed overhead at the rising starlight.
Couldn’t be more beautiful.
Moving steadily, the Humvee traveled the taxiway for most of its journey to the tower except for when the Gulfstream approached. The airman slowed and drove the vehicle off to the side, allowing the sleek jet to pass. As it rolled by, the driver maintained his concentration on the path ahead. Stone, on the other hand, peered at the aircraft, still wondering about the identities of those inside. For many years, these visitors had influenced his life. He believed he had served them well, and hoped recognition of this fact would gain him closer, possibly direct, access to the Circle’s members and their identities.
The Humvee scooted forward, and Stone’s gaze drifted to the control tower just ahead. When they reached the structure, the driver parked next to its entrance and the General climbed out. Stone ordered the airman to report to the motor pool underneath the command building and to remain there until further notice. As the Humvee left the area, a blue sedan rounded the corner on the north side of the tower complex and approached Stone, stopping next to him.
Saint Mary civilian operative and Officer Ridley’s “vacationing” boss, Walter Maxwell, exited the car, saying, “Sir, I need to—”
Stone cut him off. “You did a very good job for us in Los Angeles. Your work is duly noted.”
“That’s what I’d like to speak to you about, sir.”
“Yes, I know.”
Looking agitated and unsettled, Maxwell said, “Sir…Well, sir, Colonel Bennet said James Evans had some kind of blood disease.”
“That’s correct.”
Maxwell sighed, widening his eyes. “I touched some of it during the cleanup.”
“You will need to report to the infirmary so a blood sample can be taken.”
This statement brought more concern to Maxwell’s expression.
“I wouldn’t worry,” Stone said, continuing. “This kind of disease isn’t contracted very easily. But we don’t want to take any chances. Report for the blood sample and stand by. I will contact you at the infirmary regarding resolution of the Holcomb matter. I’d like to have it handled before you return to your cover duties in Las Vegas.” He reached out and put a hand on Maxwell’s shoulder. “Relax, you’ll be fine. Trust me.”
With some hesitation, Maxwell returned to the sedan and drove away.
Stone entered the tower and rode its elevator to the top floor, feeling relieved the remaining complications from the male hybrid’s death were nearly out of the way. He knew other personnel from Los Angeles received the same information about Evan’s unusual blood coloration, and he believed the story worked quite well. Initially, he knew some might doubt the explanation, but as time passed, he expected their skepticism would wane. Just enough doubt made it so.
People’s willingness to accept an alternative explanation to the truth facilitated this strategy. The mundane over the extraordinary, the prosaic over the profound, represented safer realities, easier for them to accept and understand.
The elevator doors opened, and Stone marched onto the platform overlooking the air traffic controllers. Two sets of windows revealed the airfield below. The lower set ran along the front, allowing controllers to observe ground traffic and routine arrivals and departures. Positioned well above the consoles and tower personnel, the upper windows wrapped around the entire circumference of the structure. Through these, observers surveyed virtually the entire North Range facility and several miles beyond.
Below the platform, communications equipment hummed between sporadic broadcasts, and an array of radar screens cast a soft, green haze throughout the room. The personnel monitoring the equipment remained as necessary, but views from their positions precluded observation beyond the stretch of runway in front of them. Because radar and communication equipment invariably suffered errors and malfunctions, their technicians’ knowledge of the operation remained easily controlled. These facts, along with a subtle dose of disinformation, enabled the project to manipulate any undesirable perceptions of reality.
Stone admired the panoramic view offered by the upper windows. A few transport planes, medevac choppers, and a squadron of F-15s sat on the eastern tarmac. Most of the transports had already departed, their crews personally debriefed by Colonel Bennet earlier in the day. Those transports still there retained permanent assignment to ARDCom and were officially listed as u
ndergoing maintenance at Wright-Patterson. Below Stone, some of the working group’s officers stood behind a long row of radar operators. The General descended a metal staircase and approached them.
“We were just about to switch from local equipment and uplink with NORAD,” General Lanham said.
“Proceed,” Stone said.
Lanham leaned toward a tense lieutenant at the console and instructed him to initiate the procedure. Through his communications headset, the radar operator said, “NORAD control, this is Operation Rainbow, we are clear for uplink and local monitoring.”
In an instant, the symbols and geometric patterns displayed on all of the radar screens dissolved, replaced by new images and data. The tower’s computers raced to assign designations to hundreds of targets within a thousand-mile radius of North Range, and apportioned the airspace between the various screens. The computers identified civilian and military aircraft along with their respective airspeeds and headings.
A concentrated group of six military targets, flying west over southern Alberta province, Canada, appeared on the screen that displayed the northernmost quadrant.
“Probably Eighty-Second Airborne headed to Taiwan,” Lanham said.
Stone nodded his agreement and said, “What’s ELF’s effective range?” After some awkward silence followed by Lanham stammering, Stone said, “You do know its effective range, don’t you?”
“Its effective range can fluctuate, but fifty miles would be my best estimated average.”
Stone sighed while considering that piece of information along with the diameter of North Range’s restricted airspace, which currently ranged thirty-five miles. He made his decision, ordering a reduction in radar monitoring distance to within a hundred-mile radius. “That should provide enough coverage for our requirements, and eliminate 99 percent of the clutter.”
The senior officers nodded, and Stone observed with satisfaction the reduced number of radar targets that appeared on the screens as the monitoring range realigned.
“Sir,” the lieutenant seated in front of Lanham said, “the last mobile unit just confirmed they are in position and operational. All stations are green.”
Truth Insurrected: The Saint Mary Project Page 39