The Roswell Protocols

by Allan Burd

  He tightened up the last bolt then pressed his foot on the jack’s release lever. He watched the jeep return to ground level with a hydraulic sigh and took another deep breath of country air—yet still he knew some detail was escaping his attention. He quickly reviewed the players in his head again, recalling the details of their personality, their posture, their gestures, their eyes, their demeanor, how they walked, how they spoke, searching for that one elusive tell. He found nothing.

  He tossed the tools back into the hatch, then rolled the flat over to the rear and attached it to the mount. Still, even with the current crisis solved, the wave of apprehension hadn’t lifted. There was still a piece of the puzzle locked away in his subconscious. The more he analyzed, the more it gnawed at him. He could feel it.

  But it would have to wait.

  He jogged to the driver’s door, pausing as the reflected moonlight showed a trail of grease on the door handle. His gloves were blackened with grime and soot. He pulled them off and discarded them on the passenger side floor. His hands shone white and clean by contrast. He reached into his pocket for the keys and as he placed the key into the ignition, once again, he noticed his clean hands standing out in the dark interior.

  His hands. Their hands.

  That was it. That was what was bothering him. He had recognized an instinctive reaction by someone involving their hands that betrayed their facade. He’d only seen it once before, yet it was unmistakable. He just didn’t recognize it until now because it didn’t fit neatly into the puzzle. Or did it?

  Perhaps the puzzle was just shaped differently than he thought. He replayed that person’s every moment in his head. He recalled another gesture that at the time meant nothing but now was of the greatest significance. It all made sense to him now. Suddenly his stomach churned and his heart grew heavy. The threat was immediate. He had to act quickly or all would be lost. He turned the key, praying for the choke and chortle that would spark the jeep to life, praying that the oil smell was nothing serious.

  The engine started without a glitch. Logan jammed the jeep into drive and raced toward the spaceship.

  65

  The truck was comfortable, Nikolai thought as he stretched. His broad muscles relaxed, his joints cracked comfortably under the strain, and he yawned. Too comfortable. He sat up straight and took another sip from the cup of tea that rested on the dashboard. He had only a few hours sleep on his flight to Alaska. Normally that would be enough but the boredom was getting to him. He needed an extra boost of caffeine to insure he didn’t doze off.

  He had reached the designated location on time and was waiting impatiently in the front seat. He was in perfect position to intercept the transport but something was wrong. It should have been here already and it wasn’t. Was his information incorrect? He reached up and flipped on the map light above the rear view mirror. A moment later he set up his satellite transcontinental linkup on the front seat and called Vaskev. It took two minutes to get him on the line.

  “Poppa, the train has yet to arrive. Are you sure the schedule reads correctly?” Nikolai asked.

  “Yes, son. There had been an unexpected delay. Fortunately, it appears to have been corrected. Just remain at your station and it will be there in about fifteen minutes,” Vaskev replied.

  “Thank you poppa, I was beginning to grow … concerned.”

  “Understood. See you soon. Godspeed.” Vaskev’s end of the line went silent.

  Nikolai hung up, disconnected the link, and folded the portable satellite dish back into the briefcase. Excellent, he thought. The operation was still proceeding as planned. Soon, the prize would belong to Russia.

  66

  Lt. Carlson leapt back and quickly covered his head with his hands. Major Gaines cringed slightly, instinctively bracing himself for an explosion that didn’t happen. A moment later they realized the “bomb” was nothing of the sort—just a mechanical decoy that Dr. Blaze held in the palm of his hand. A quizzical look overtook their faces.

  Colonel Chase cringed as well, but for the exact opposite reason. He couldn’t believe Dr. Blaze, in one swift absent-minded moment, jeopardized their recovery of the alien technology by removing his bluff. The “bomb” was Colonel Chase’s only remaining trump card, and just like that it was turned face-up on the table for everyone to see. He knew the reaction would be bad.

  So did Blaze. He immediately realized he did something incredibly stupid. He had thought Chase told them it was a bomb. Now his suspicions were confirmed and he realized just how badly he had screwed up. “Errr … um, it’s just …” He stammered, not knowing what to say.

  Gaines glared at him and Colonel Chase, his eyes spewing daggers. He had had enough. But he also knew they were undone. Now was not the time to deal with Chase’s bluff. He turned to Blaze. “Save it. It doesn’t matter. I need the power cut now so I can reach my squad.”

  Chase hollered, “NO!” He had lost control and he knew it. He saw that Gaines knew it as well. “I want your word that you’ll still honor our agreement, Major.”

  “Listen to me, you dumb arrogant sonuva bitch. I’ve been up front with you from the beginning and all I got in return were lies and stupid games. Well, your last lie was just revealed. Our game’s over. You lost. Everything gets played my way now and you’re going to listen to everything I tell you to. You know why? Because if you make one more mistake, you piss me off one more time, I guarantee you’ll never see this ship or any of its cargo again. But if you cooperate, like you should’ve from the start, I’ll mention that to my superiors when we get to base and then maybe—just maybe—if you’re real lucky, you’ll still get what you want. Blaze, power down this ship NOW!”

  Chase didn’t say a word. There was nothing left for him to say. He had failed. Now he had a choice. Hold his ground, which was as fragile as thin ice, or play it straight and trust Major Gaines to keep his word. His pride told him to fight. His experience told him never to trust another. He turned to Blaze about to issue a counter-order.

  Blaze shook him off. The look in his eye said give in.

  Chase sighed. Dr. Jeff Blaze was his friend—his rank didn’t afford many—and one of the few people who accepted him the way he was, without question or hesitation. “Do it,” he said humbly.

  Blaze went to work. “Just give me a few seconds, Major. I want to make sure I can do it without losing the ship’s features.” In a few moments the low hum ceased, yet the ship’s current programming remained. “Done.”

  “Carlson, get me in touch with headquarters.” Gaines then got on his radio. “Lynx, can you read me?”

  “Loud and clear, Major. Good to hear your voice again,”

  “Glad you made it. I’ll get back to you in a minute with new instructions.” Gaines changed the frequency. “Rebecca?”

  “I was wondering when you’d call,” she answered.

  It made him laugh. “Yeah. How are you doing?”

  “Good enough. It’s just me and Dupres left, but we’re back on track. I left the rest to watch the injured and called in an EM crew. Logan’s on his way back to you.”

  “We’ll wait for him. Keep going. I’ll meet you at home base.” Gaines holstered his radio.

  Colonel Chase took a seat in one of the alien chairs and just stared through the dome. His thoughts were interrupted by a hand placed on his shoulder.

  “Sorry, Colonel,” said Blaze apologetically. “I didn’t realize—”

  “Not your fault. Was mine. I should’ve told you about it,” Chase admitted, releasing Blaze of his burden of guilt.

  “How come you didn’t?” Blaze asked.

  Chase chuckled. “You’ve got a terrible poker face.” He got up out of the chair and walked. Blaze went with him as they circled to the other side of the bridge.

  Chase stared around for a moment at the pictures of the extraterrestrials, figuring the largest image was that of the commanding officer. He looked up through the dome and briefly wondered what it would be like to command a ship like t
his. Then he looked at the floor filled with violet and bluish concentric circles and all those thoughts vanished amid the odd hypnotic effect they created.

  Chase stared at the instrument panels on the walls, amazed at their complexity. His mind snapped back to the situation as he now fully understood how brilliant Blaze really was to be able to comprehend all this equipment. He sighed and turned back to his longtime friend with a hint of compassion. “I knew you’d keep the atomic clock a secret … cause that was your baby. But calling it a bomb—you’d never pull off a bluff like that.”

  “What makes you think that?” Blaze asked.

  “You’re forgetting who keeps taking all your money at the weekly poker games. You’re god damn brilliant though. You really got this tub up and running.”

  “Yeah, but only halfway.” Blaze lowered his voice a notch. “But get this. My grand plan … I had Gaines and Carlson making all the repairs that would’ve made it succeed. And they still haven’t got a clue.” His lips curled in a lopsided grin that made Chase chuckle.

  “Your plan was bold. I’ll grant you that,” said Chase.

  “I may be a shitty poker player, but I’m very good at chess.”

  “So what the hell are we still doing here?”

  “I had it,” Blaze said. “I know I did. I was this close.” He raised his fingers as if pinching the air.

  “But?”

  “The spaceship’s voice activated. It’s either a security lock out or just straight command functions. Either way, I don’t speak the language.” They looked back towards Carlson and Gaines. Both were busy on the radio doing what they had to do. “What now?” Blaze asked.

  “We play it their way,” Chase answered.

  Having established contact with Yukon Base Five, Carlson handed the microphone over to Gaines who explained the situation as quickly as he could. Then he waited patiently for their response.

  Finally Smythe’s voice came through the speaker. “Major, we checked with Britton. He confirmed your report. The Japanese have an aircraft carrier positioned in the North Pacific. Their government will be hearing from us shortly. You can count on that.”

  “Hold off on that, Commander. I have a better idea.” Gaines relayed his thoughts over the phone.

  Smythe agreed then continued to the next order of business. “We got something we think you’d be interested in, Major. We just got word that the Prince Rupert Police Department has a woman under watch. Seems to be a straight assault case, but get this—she claims her assailant was an alien. Matches the description perfectly.” He relayed all the specifics. “It happened only about fifty miles from the crash site, Major. It can’t be a coincidence. Should we alert the locals?”

  “No. I want to keep this one close to the vest. We’ll take care of it,” Gaines replied.

  “We’re sending what you need, Major. Good work so far. Don’t let us down.”

  “I won’t, sir. I’ll check in again at 0100.” Gaines disconnected the link-up. He turned to his left and watched with cautious eyes as Colonel Chase and Dr. Blaze made their way towards him from the other side of the circular bridge.

  “What now?” Colonel Chase asked.

  Gaines grinned. He hesitated a moment, sizing up Colonel Chase, who looked more resigned now. Still tough and determined, but perhaps he was finally starting to understand his untenable position. Gaines couldn’t trust him. He had to take control. “Now we start taking care of business,” he said firmly. He withdrew his radio like a pistol and adjusted the frequency again so he could communicate with his remaining fighter. “Lynx, how much fuel you have left?”

  “About half a tank, sir,” Lynx’s voice responded through the speaker.

  “Missiles?”

  “Five left. Two Sparrows. Three Sidewinders. My guns are fully loaded too.” He was referring to the M61 20mm six-barrel gun with 570 rounds mounted in the nose.

  “Good. I’m relieving you of your current detail. I got a better mission for you. You ready for a little payback?”

  “Yes sir,” Lynx said with enthusiasm.

  “Here’s your new target.” Gaines gave him the coordinates of the Japanese air craft carrier. “They won’t be expecting you—but our men will. First strike’s all yours.”

  “Yes sir,” Lynx’s voice rang with determination.

  “Enjoy yourself and be careful. Copy and out.” Gaines put the radio away. He turned to the threesome and relayed what he learned from Smythe. “Our alien was spotted in Prince Rupert. Carlson, see what transportation we still have outside that’s working.”

  “Yes sir.” Carlson snapped to attention, saluted, then left in haste.

  Chase knew what came next and spelled it out. “We’re going to have to find that alien before anyone else does.”

  “Yes,” Gaines agreed. “But this time things are going to run my way. No more killing. We have to find a better solution.”

  “The ship?” Chase asked, focusing on his main concern.

  “That’s our first priority. Reinforcements are on the way. We’ll just push our original timetable back one hour and everything’s still in place.”

  “Good,” remarked Blaze, glad to see that order was reforming from the chaos. “First the aliens, then the Japanese. I was wondering what’d come next?”

  Just then Logan charged into the room. He was puffing from the cold air and needed to catch his breath. He was disoriented from racing through corridors that were no longer familiar. When he saw them he stopped, not even taking a moment to adjust to the new surrounding before he shouted out an answer to Jeff’s question. “The Russians,” he paused another second to catch his breath. “But they’re not next. They’re already here. And they already have the cargo.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” asked Chase.

  Gaines and Blaze stared at him, wanting to know the same thing.

  Logan paused again. Then in a slow calm voice he revealed what he knew. “Rebecca. She’s not what you think she is. She’s a Russian spy.”

  67

  An eerie thick silence fell over the circular alien bridge. The words Logan just spoke were so unexpected, so dramatic in their implications, they hung in the air waiting for each person to slowly register them.

  “LIKE HELL SHE IS!” shouted Gaines.

  Colonel Chase rushed forward toward Gaines, his hot-headedness quickly returning. “God damn it, Gaines—she better not be. If the Russians get a hold of that technology the Cold War will look like a picnic.”

  Blaze stepped in front of him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder, stopping Chase before he got too riled up.

  “She’s not.” Gaines yelled.

  Logan knew he should have couched it in better terms, but he didn’t have the time. “If you’ll just listen to me for—”

  Gaines got right in his face. “No. You listen to me. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but you just crossed way over the line. My tolerance for—”

  “I don’t play games and I’m not lying to you,” Logan said. Then he changed his tone to sympathetic. “Look, I understand how close you two are but—”

  Gaines grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him up against the wall. “That’s absolutely the last place you want to go.”

  “Go ahead. Hit me. It won’t change anything,” said Logan. His resolve convinced Gaines to loosen his grip. “You have nothing to lose by hearing me out and everything to gain. Because if I’m right—and I know I am—then we still have time to get it back.”

  Gaines’ eyes bore hard into Logan’s. The stare forced him to remember that Logan was not like Colonel Chase at all. Sure, what he was saying was crazy, but maybe he did have a reasonable explanation for it. And he did save his life back at the beginning of this fiasco. The least he could do was hear him out. He released him. “Talk fast,” he ordered.

  “Yeah, this I gotta hear,” added Chase.

  “I was called up for this assignment because I’m an expert in kinesics—the science of body
language. The theory being that if we encountered extraterrestrial intelligence, then someone with my unique skill set would be the best suited to communicate with it. I was chosen over anyone else—and Colonel, please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong—because I’m the best.” Chase didn’t argue.

  “That’s the same reason you called upon Pierre Le Buc, and just like him, I don’t normally work for the government. My regular occupation is acting as a consultant for major corporations to help them conduct business overseas. They need me because I can get them up to speed on another country’s customs. They pay me the big bucks because I help them negotiate. Aside from being knowledgeable about foreign gestures and customs, I can tell better than anyone else what that man across the table is really thinking. I watch how they react to a proposal. I listen for the slightest inflection that’ll reveal their true feelings. I read their body language to get beyond the façade—to find out who they really are and what they truly want.

  “My success rate is nearly perfect. I only failed once to get everything I was asked to get and that was over five years ago. Since then, I’ve been perfect. That said, I’m telling you Rebecca reacts like a Russian,” Logan concluded.

  “Don’t you think we would’ve noticed that?” said Gaines.

  “No, I don’t. She was obviously very well trained. Her actions and mannerisms are perfectly Canadian. But I always look for reactions. No amount of preparation will conceal how a person will react in every single situation. When you live in a culture, wherever it is, you pick up on its habits and they become so ingrained on your psyche, they’re there forever. When the Japanese ambushed us on the road, Rebecca and I got pinned down together behind the truck. You know how capable she is, how quickly she can think on her feet. She went into the truck, took one of the alien’s weapons, and used it against the helicopter.”