Abductors Conspiracy

by Frakes, Jonathan

  "I'll be glad to give you a detailed account," McCallum said. "But first there's an idea I want to run past you folks."

  Neda indicated two chairs, but McCallum instead pointed at the world map that filled a large chunk of the center of the room. "Can we talk there?"

  Neda shrugged, and all four of them moved over to the map.

  "First off," McCallum said, "I need to get myself up to speed on some basics. The Klar abducted elderly men and then planted something that looked like them back in the same cities. How did you folks come to the correct assumption they'd do that when you came to Portland for that first search?"

  Neda frowned, glanced at Cornell, then faced McCallum. "Years of pattern research," Neda said. "The Klar are very, very conservative in their actions. We think that's due to a number of factors. First, they've been in hiding on this planet for a long, long time. Second, they have very few resources of their own. They brought very few ships."

  "And that helped you figure all that out?" Henry asked. "Amazing amount of detective work."

  "That," Neda said, "and a wild amount of luck. But from what we know of the Klar, they tend to stay within certain habits. Planting the same person back in the same town would only seem logical to them."

  "I remember you saying a maximum of twenty ships," McCallum said. "How did you come up with that number?"

  "Again, simply observation and research from data collected over a lot of years," Neda said. "And also the laws of physics and economics. We have four space shuttles in NASA. Imagine how small an expenditure that would be compared to building twenty interstellar ships the size of the Klar ships. So from that starting point we knew they had very few ships. From other data, we have come to the number twenty."

  "Give or take one," Dr. Cornell said.

  "Okay," McCallum said. "You folks were very, very right about the elderly in the cities, so I'll accept your theory on twenty ships." McCallum turned to the huge world map. "So, does each Klar ship have a certain area of the planet it covers?"

  "You mean like a salesman's territory?" Henry said.

  "It seems that way," Neda said. "Their ships do have distinctively different marks, and what few sightings there are always have the same ships in the same areas of the world."

  "So where are they based?" McCallum said. "Or do they go back into space every day?"

  Cornell really laughed at that comment. "It would take a huge amount of resources for ships that size to constantly break out of the gravity well of Earth. And in space there would be a much higher chance they would be detected. No, they stay near the surface and move at night. Where, exactly, is another matter."

  "Radius," McCallum said softly to himself.

  "What are you getting at?" Neda Foster asked.

  "When he gets like this," Henry said, "it means he has an idea. I've learned over the years to just stand back."

  McCallum stared at the map with all the pins stuck in it, then turned to Neda Foster. "Can you tell me what area you think the Klar ship for this part of the world covers?"

  Neda nodded. "We think the ship you shot at covers an area from Alaska down the coast to northern California above San Francisco. And inland to western Montana, all of Idaho, Washington, the western Canadian provinces, and northern Arizona."

  "Wow," Henry said. "That's some territory."

  "You got a pin and some string?" McCallum asked.

  Neda nodded, turned, and rummaged through a desk drawer until she came up with some twine. As she handed it to him she said, "I wish you'd fill us in on what you are doing."

  "I'm trying to figure out just where the Klar ships are," he said.

  "We've been trying to do that for five years," Cornell said.

  "Can I climb into the map there?" McCallum asked, pointing to the trap door in the ocean off the coast of the Pacific northwest.

  "Be my guest," Neda said.

  McCallum ducked down and went under the wood platform structure of the map the eight feet to the right spot, then slowly pushed up the trapdoor.

  "A monster rising out of the ocean," Henry said as McCallum stood up. "Godzilla needed a mate last time I checked."

  "Claudia would be jealous," McCallum said, as he quickly went to work. He stretched the string from the lower part of Alaska to just above San Francisco and cut it with his pocket knife.

  Then he folded it in half and marked the halfway spot. It ended up just south of Portland. He laid another piece of the string down on the map from that spot straight island from west to east.

  "Radius," Cornell said. "I follow where you're going. You think the Klar might have their bases near the center of each ship's territory?"

  "From what you've told me about how conservative with resources they are, wouldn't that make sense?"

  "It most certainly would," Neda Foster said, leaning over the map to see better.

  McCallum ran his finger on the string he had laid out west to east on the map. "The center of the two extreme north-south edges of their area runs from below Portland in the west, over the center part of Idaho and northern Yellowstone Park."

  "That's still a lot of rough country," Henry said.

  McCallum nodded. It was. And he was beginning to feel as if his idea might not work.

  "Okay," Dr. Cornell said. "Let's see if we can shorten that line by taking the radius east to west. Take your same measuring string and mark off from the coast inland."

  McCallum did as the doctor suggested, and the end of the string landed on the border of Montana and Idaho.

  "Too far," Neda said. "We're fairly convinced this ship doesn't go farther inland than the continental divide."

  "I'll measure from Butte, Montana to the coast and cut that in half."

  "Logical," Cornell said. "Crude, but logical."

  McCallum took another piece of string, measured the distance, folded the string in half and then laid it down from the coast inland. The end of the string landed right near Hells Canyon, on the border between Idaho and Oregon. Some of the most remote, least populated country in the lower forty-eight states.

  "Hells Canyon area," Cornell said to himself.

  "Nasty country," Henry said.

  McCallum ducked down and scrambled out from the middle of the map. As he came out, Cornell was already headed for a nearby computer.

  Neda indicated that they should follow him.

  "The Klar ships are a certain size," the doctor said. "And it would take a certain size natural formation to hide one. We also believe they hide in deep forest, jungle, and possibly even buildings made to look like factories. But there are very few deep, thick forests, jungles, or huge buildings in the Hells Canyon area."

  "So what are you looking for?" Henry asked.

  "Caves, Detective," Cornell said. "More precisely, a cave with a large enough entrance to hide a Klar ship. I've given the computer the parameters and told it to search the geologic records of the area on both sides of Hells Canyon in a hundred mile radius for any likely sites."

  After a moment the computer stopped its search. "Three places," Cornell said, reading the screen. "First are the Higby Caves, east of Boise. They're smack between the air-force base in Boise and the one in Mountain Home. The Klar would never use it."

  "One down," Henry said.

  "Another is right above Idaho State Highway 95, and is an open tourist attraction."

  "Two down," Henry said.

  "The third," the doctor said, "is in an isolated canyon in the high Oregon desert. An old Indian cave called the Sheepeater Caves."

  "Bingo," Henry said.

  Neda turned and stared at the big map for a moment, then looked over at McCallum with a very serious expression on her face. "You want another shot at that ship?"

  "If I have a bigger gun," he said. Actually he didn't want to get near a Klar ship again, but he had no choice at this point. It seemed he was in this fight whether he wanted to be or not.

  Neda laughed. "I can arrange that," she said.

  She moved over
and picked up.the phone on her desk, punched in a series of numbers, and after a moment said, "I'd like to talk to the vice president."

  "Now you've done it," Henry said to McCallum.

  "Seems that way," McCallum said, glancing up at the two Klar statues staring at him.

  "Okay," Cornell said, sounding more like a kid with a new toy than a scientist, "using that same crude method, let's see if we can find some more ships. Climb into the trapdoor in the Gulf of Mexico."

  "Yeah," Henry said, smiling at McCallum. "And this time try not to get wet."

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  It is a rare mind indeed that can render the hitherto nonexistent blindingly obvious.

  ——DOUGLAS ADAMS

  FROM DIRK GENTLY'S HOLISTIC DETECTIVE AGENCY

  5:32 p.m. JUNE 26.

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  The vice president knocked and entered the Oval Office. Inside, the president was sitting on the couch across from his personal secretary and his chief of staff, Dan Follet. Dan, who knew something was going on, but whom the president had excluded for the time being, gave Alan a dirty look.

  "Problem, Alan?" John asked immediately when he saw the vice president.

  "Something that needs to be discussed, sir," Alan said. He'd just gotten off the phone with Neda Foster and her request had stunned him. But if there was a chance she and her people, including McCallum, were correct, quick action might save some lives and shut down the Klar for the immediate future.

  John excused himself from the others and nodded that Alan should follow him into his private office. Alan could feel the chief of staff's gaze boring into his back and it made him smile. He'd never liked the guy anyway.

  After the door was closed behind them, Alan said, "I just spoke to Neda Foster. McCallum is there and has come up with a lead that might allow us to find where the Klar ships hide during the day."

  "McCallum again," John said, shaking his head in disbelief. "So did they find a ship?"

  "That's the problem, sir," Alan said. "Neda asked that the location be approached by at least three army attack helicopters, fully armed and ready to fight. She said that if there is a ship there, they might as well try to take it out. Her words, sir."

  "Damn," John said, sitting down behind his desk. He stared at the top of the desk for a moment, then looked up. "When?"

  "As soon as possible," Alan said. "They'd like to go in before dark. Try to stop more abductions and keep bombs from being planted in the cities."

  John nodded. "Did she say what part of the world this ship might be in?"

  "Eastern Oregon," Alan said.

  "Well, at least it's in this country." The president picked up his phone and said, "Get me General Hoffman. Emergency."

  While he was waiting, he glanced up at Alan. "Tell Miss Foster that General Hoffman will be in contact with her and that she should be ready to go within the hour. There'll be four ships. One will carry her and whoever she chooses to take along and will stay back out of the action."

  "I'll tell her, sir," Alan said, turning and heading for the door.

  Behind him he heard the president mutter, "That woman's going to get me impeached yet."

  Chapter Fourty

  Authentic detail can always be used to beef up unsubstantiated theory.

  ——ROSS THOMAS

  FROM IF YOU CAN'T BE GOOD

  3:47 p.m. JUNE 26.

  BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON

  From the moment Neda Foster first called the vice president until General Hoffman walked through the door, McCallum and Henry, with Dr. Cornell on his computer, located three possible other sights for Klar ships: one in Mexico, one in Eastern Canada, and one in South America. They'd been so engrossed in what they were doing they hadn't even heard the army helicopter land in a nearby parking lot.

  McCallum watched as General Hoffman came through the door of Neda Foster's lab, took two steps, and stopped to stare at the two Klar statues. Those two statues were very, very effective. And McCallum prayed he'd never have to meet a real Klar face to face.

  The general was a stocky man of fifty, with intense blue eyes, and white hair buzz-cut to army-private standards. He also had huge forearms, so obviously the guy still worked out regularly. Everything about him just screamed regular army. He even wore his "battle greens," with his hat tucked under a strap on his shoulder.

  Neda let him stare at the Klar for a moment, then extended her hand. "General Hoffman. I'm Neda Foster."

  The general seemed startled. He snapped slightly more upright and took Neda's hand. "Glad to meet you." His voice was deep and thick and fit his stocky form.

  Neda led the general over to the map of the world and did introductions. McCallum knew the general would have a firm handshake and he was right. He did.

  "All right," the general said. "The president has ordered me to mount up my four best crews, arm the birds, and get ready for a full top secret battle. And he told me you'd be riding along and giving me the target. Is that correct?"

  Neda managed a smile, but it was clearly a nervous smile. "That's correct, General."

  He shook his head. "The oddest thing I've ever been ordered to do," he said. "And if John and I didn't go way back, I'd have sworn he was going over the edge."

  "I'm glad the president managed to convince you," Neda said. "Because this might be one of the biggest fights you've ever been in."

  The general snorted. "Two tours of 'Nam and Desert Storm. You're going to have to go some."

  "Well then, General," Neda said. "Let's hope I'm wrong. But I don't think I will be, after this is all said and done. Now, how much did the president tell you?"

  "Just what I told you," the general said. He glanced at McCallum, then Henry and Dr. Cornell, as if wondering who all the nuts were. McCallum recognized the look. He'd given it a few times himself.

  "Yesterday," Neda said, "armed hydrogen bombs were discovered in both Portland and Tucson."

  "What!" the general almost shouted. "How can that be? I heard nothing about that. Who did it?"

  "Very few people heard about it, General," Neda said, holding up her hand for him to stop. "And even fewer know that more armed hydrogen bombs were found today in a massive search of every major American city. And almost a hundred foreign cities."

  The general laughed, a sharp barking kind of laugh that said he clearly didn't believe what she was saying.

  She turned, picked up the phone, and dialed a number. "General Hoffman would like to speak to the president," she said, and then handed the phone to the general. "He's expecting this," she said, smiling.

  The general slowly put the phone to his ear, never taking his eyes off Neda Foster's face.

  McCallum was enjoying the entire event. And gaining even more respect for the strong, blond woman who ran this operation. Neda knew how to get people on her side. And how to get things done when she needed them done. McCallum was very glad she was on his side, because he couldn't imagine trying to fight her on anything. He wasn't sure he'd win.

  The general said, "Yes, John, I'm at Miss Foster's lab. And she just told me a story about hydrogen bombs in the cities and—"

  The general listened intently, nodding once in a while, then finally said, "I understand, sir. Thank you for the trust, sir."

  Then the general hung up the phone and turned to face Neda. His face had gone white and he had small drops of sweat on his forehead.

  "So the president explained that very few people know what happened yesterday and today. And now you are one of those few."

  The general nodded and swallowed.

  "Okay, General," Neda said. "The things that planted those bombs look like those two statues over there."

  "Aliens?" the general said.

  "They are called Klar, General," Neda said, giving the guy no time to recover. "And around the world at this moment they have hidden about twenty ships. Mr. McCallum here actually hit one with two antitank missiles last night."

  The general turned and looked at McC
allum. "You saw one. Actually hit it?"

  "Afraid so," McCallum said. "General, I didn't believe this three days ago either. But it's all true. Hydrogen bombs and all. These Klar things have attacked this country. They were within days of destroying our cities. It's now become our job to stop them."

  McCallum knew that punching the general's protect-the-nation button would speed this process along. Behind the general, Neda smiled.

  "That's what the president said," the general muttered. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and looked at McCallum. "You hit it twice with antitank missiles. And you didn't bring it down?"

  "No, sir," McCallum said. "But I dented it, and caused it to hit some trees before it recovered."

  The general nodded. "Good. My birds carry a lot more punch than an antitank missile. We'll do more than dent the thing." He turned back to face Neda. "Where are we headed?"

  "Eastern Oregon desert," Neda said. She indicated a large topographical map spread out on a nearby desk. "We need to plan this attack. We'll only have one chance, if we can surprise them during the daylight."

  A moment later Henry, McCallum, Cornell, Neda, and the general were gathered around the map of Sheepeater Canyon, planning the attack.

  Chapter Forty-One

  As time passes we all get better at blazing a trail through the thicket of advice.

  ——MARGOT BENNETT

  FROM FAREWELL CROWN AND GOOD-BYE KING

  6:58 P.M. JUNE 26.

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  Alan Wallace knocked lightly on the president's private office door.

  "Come in," the president said.

  Alan moved inside, closing the door behind him. "It's time, sir."

  "Oh, joy," John said.

  "Are you sure we shouldn't tell them more?"

  John picked up a folder and tucked it under his arm as he stood. "No, I'm not. But would any of those men in there believe us?"

  Alan had wondered that same thing. And he'd come to the same conclusion the president had obviously come to. At the moment there just wasn't enough to tell the Joint Chiefs to overcome the huge mental jump from not believing in aliens to believing they are attacking the world.