•••
Once the entire habitat had been cleared, the rest of the team along with the pilot, co-pilot and loadmaster met in the central module. It was by far the largest with three floors containing a comfortable galley, dining area, rec room and library. They assembled in the dining area, since it had plenty of seating. As of now, there were twelve of them, including Tamura, who had been relocated to a bed in the medical wing.
Apart from a soldier in the sleeping module who had died in Dag’s arms, she was the only survivor. The normally jovial paleontologist sat by himself, slouched over one of the tables, his bearded chin perched over his crossed arms.
The Swede wasn’t the only one feeling dispirited by what they’d arrived to find. Every one of them was experiencing a range of emotions from sadness to rage at what had been done here. In all they had discovered the bodies of nineteen military and ten civilians. Located between the science and central modules was an outdoor observation deck. That was where they took the bodies, mainly to ensure they would be kept frozen without attracting polar bears or other scavengers.
Captain Mullins stood before those gathered in the dining area and offered a few words. “At this point, I think our best course of action is to take off in the C-17 and hunker down at a local airstrip until reinforcements arrive to secure the facility.”
“No can do,” Steve, the pilot, informed him. “That plane’s not going anywhere without a refill.”
Mullins motioned out one of the large third-story windows to the giant fuel drums outside. “Can’t you taxi over and fill it up over there?”
The loadmaster cleared his throat. “Whoever hit this place also drove a forklift into each of the drums, draining them bone-dry.”
“What about a distress signal?” Mullins asked Steve. “Any luck reaching CENTCOM?”
The pilot shook his head. “Still nothing but static. We tried the sat phone and even that’s not working.”
Jack studied Mullins’ expression. The captain wasn’t exactly showing the sort of concern Jack would have expected.
Anna raised her arm. “I believe the signals are being jammed,” she told them. “I might be able to locate the source and disable it.”
The flesh on Eugene’s face bore a greenish hue. “So how long again before they send a rescue party?”
“Once we get through, it could take anywhere from twelve to twenty-four hours,” Mullins informed them.
“That’s way too long,” Jack shot back. About thirty yards east of Northern Star was the lift system the military engineers had built. The main elevator car was no longer on the surface, which meant the chances were good the people who’d done this were already down below.
“I’m afraid given the circumstances we don’t have much choice but to wait,” Mullins replied, sternly.
Jack turned to Anna. “Have you had a chance to go over any of the seismic data the advanced team collected before the attack?”
“I was able to access the facility’s servers, yes. The ice sheet at our present location has a depth of one point eight five miles. I have attempted to clean up the data by running it through a number of filters, although regrettably I was not able to improve the quality very much.”
“Was there anything you were able to make out?”
Anna paused, her digital features looking pensive. “I hesitate to say, Dr. Greer, but if you are asking me to guess, I did observe a large object in the shape of a pyramid.”
“It must be another ship,” Grant said, jumping to a perfectly logical conclusion.
“I am not certain about that, Dr. Holland,” Anna said. “The images contained several additional anomalous features I was unable to identify.”
“The people who did this are down there,” Jack said, his index finger pressing against the table. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but hanging around here waiting for the cavalry to show up isn’t exactly gonna cut it.”
Mullins planted his hands on his hips. “Protocol stipulates we are to sit tight until reinforcements arrive.”
“Hell, for all we know another group of assassins is on their way to finish us off,” Eugene stammered.
“Jack and Eugene do have a point,” Gabby offered, playing the voice of reason. “I don’t want to even consider what might happen if the cold-blooded killers who murdered nearly everyone here get their hands on whatever’s hidden under this ice sheet.”
Jack rose to his feet. “This is more than Sentinel pilfering exotic technology. I’m going down there. If any of you care to join me, you’re more than welcome. Besides, I for one am yearning for a little payback.”
Beads of sweat formed on Captain Mullins’ brow. He scanned the room, taking the temperature of who was with Jack and who wasn’t. He addressed Chris Perkins, the loadmaster, a burly guy built like a linebacker and with the dexterity of a UFC fighter. “Think you can get our equipment off the C-17?”
“With a little help, I should be fine,” Chris said. “So long as someone can operate the forklift those assholes used to puncture the fuel drums.”
Natalie Thomson, the co-pilot, snapped her fingers. “Today’s your lucky day. In another life, I used to drive a forklift at Sam’s Club.”
“Things are starting to look up then, aren’t they?” Grant said, his elbows resting on the table, his long fingers steepled beneath his chin.
Mullins looked at Dag. “In that case, you and I will collect weapons and ammo.”
“In the meantime,” Anna announced, “I will work on locating the signal jammers.” She looked at Jack. “Dr. Greer, if you would like to see hard copies of the seismic data, I have sent two to be printed in the computer lab.”
“Thank you, Anna.” Jack turned to Gabby. “Any chance you could check on Tamura? When we head down, we likely need to take everyone with us.”
“Everyone?” Mullins repeated, clearly concerned with dragging along a wounded team member.
Gabby shrugged. “It’s fair to say anyone left behind won’t stand a chance if the facility gets attacked again.”
Mullins sighed, his hands scrunched into tight fists. It was clear to Jack the captain despised whenever things didn’t go exactly as he’d anticipated. But even within the military there was an old saying: no plan survives the first shot. Within the next hour, they would be descending beneath more than a mile of ice. By then Jack would know if he had made the right call in heading down or doomed them all to certain death.
Chapter 18
For the third time in ten minutes, a frantic Kay dialed Ron Lewis, the newsroom editor, only to get his voicemail. She checked her phone. It was eleven pm. She knew from talk around the office Ron wasn’t exactly a night owl. While his beat reporters were cranking out words late into the night, Ron was rumored to be catching up on his beauty sleep. That left her with two options. Wait until tomorrow morning or drive over to Ron’s place and wake him up.
She knew where he lived, a beautiful row house in Georgetown. He and his wife had thrown a party for the newsroom last Christmas and her friend Terry Bridges, who covered Washington politics, had brought her along as a guest.
Kay stared down at the couch, where Goggles was licking his paw and using it to flick his ear. He paused briefly and glared up at her, as if to say, What’s up?
“What should I do?” she asked him. Getting fired wasn’t her main concern, nor did she really care at this point about winning a Pulitzer. Clearly none of that mattered if the world was about to end. Every news station had been running the story in a giant loop since it broke. But letting the president’s cabinet conspire to assassinate him so they could greenlight a nuke strike against the alien ship heading for earth was not something she could just sit on. For all anyone knew, the E.T.s were intending to land on the White House lawn and offer humanity the secrets of the universe. Either way, taking down a sitting president was flat wrong and Kay intended to do whatever she could to stop it.
Goggles meowed, glaring at her before returning to his grooming.
“I knew you’d agree,” she said and cupped his tiny white head and kissed him. Goggles pulled free and licked his displaced fur back into place. With that, Kay scooped up the laptop and headed for the door.
Ten minutes later she pulled up before Ron’s house and killed the engine. Her immediate boss, Lifestyle editor Trish Han, was going to have a major coronary about what Kay was about to do, but she’d never spent much time worrying what Trish would or wouldn’t like. Which explained why going to Trish’s office for a thorough dressing-down had become something of a regular affair.
Kay exited the car and jogged up a short flight of steps to the front door of his brownstone and began knocking. By the fourth knock, she detected movement in the house. Then she heard a voice call out from behind the door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Kay Mahoro,” she told him, breathless. “I’ve been trying to reach you all night.”
“Kay, surely it can wait until the morning.”
“I’m sorry, but there isn’t a chance in hell this can wait.”
Ron undid three locks and opened the door no more than a crack. “I like enthusiasm just as much as the next editor, but showing up at my house in the middle of the night is totally inappropriate.” Balding with tufts of grey hair and a saggy chin, Ron looked about ten years older than he was. The man’s crankiness hung over him like a prickly blanket.
She swung the laptop bag around and tapped it with the palm of her hand. “You may change your mind once you see this.”
Ducking his head away for a moment, Ron lit a pipe and pulled open the door. “You’ve got five minutes to impress me before I call Trish and have her fire you.”
“If you’re not impressed, I’ll be happy to quit.”
He laughed at that, a raspy and painful-looking endeavor. He paused briefly in the hallway and angled his torso to complete a rather fierce-sounding hacking session. The ferocity of the act forced him to flex his toes against the black and white tiles beneath his feet. Eager to avert her eyes, Kay studied the exquisite wood trimmings around the entryway. The outside was gorgeous, the inside was on another level.
He brought her to his study. A large desk overflowed with papers, books and magazines. Plush leather chairs stood one on either side of the desk. Hugging the walls were a series of bookshelves, filled to the brim. More books were stacked on the floor. He motioned for her to sit, removing a pile of papers from the seat.
“Out with it,” he said, drawing on his pipe and releasing a pleasant puff of smoke.
Kay removed the laptop, turned it on and spun it around. “Double-click the video icon.”
He did and sat watching it, his eyes narrowed. On several occasions he grunted.
Then finally he asked her: “Where’d you get this?”
“A White House contact,” she replied coyly.
“That sounds vague. What does this source of yours do?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure.”
Ron’s considerable brow knit together. “You have a contact and you don’t know who it is?”
She shook her head. “He only just started reaching out.”
Ron shook his head with displeasure. He hated anything that could come back and bite the paper in the ass. “Of course, if true, this video is one of the biggest political conspiracies since Watergate. The rules in Lifestyle may be a little different, but in the news division, if the paper hangs its hat on something this big, and the guy turns out to be some nutjob, then the Washington Post pretty much bought the farm. You get me?”
Kay crossed her arms. “And how much will any of that matter in thirteen days from now? You heard them. Once the president is out of the way and the VP takes over, they plan to declare war on an alien race infinitely more powerful than we are.”
Ron removed his pipe and rubbed at the side of his face. “Obviously you saw the news tonight.”
“Who didn’t? It’s everywhere. And here’s the crazy part. I knew about it beforehand.”
“You what?”
“My source sent me on a treasure hunt for the very same pictures that are all over the news right now. Told me there was more to come if I kept it to myself and he knew he could trust me.”
“Yes, and meanwhile every other news outlet in the country is running with it, all except us, and you could have changed that.”
Kay shook her head in frustration. “I took a chance. He promised me a bigger fish and I think it was worth it. But now you’re saying you don’t wanna run the story in case it isn’t true. But consider this. What if it is true?”
He stared at her, his eyes burning brightly. “If you’re so sure about this guy, then bring it to the cops. Now get out.”
“Ron,” Kay pleaded, her hands out before her.
“Go!” he shouted.
Dejected, Kay took the laptop and made her way out of Ron’s house and back to the car. She sat for a moment, her finger hovering over the ignition switch. If Ron Lewis was too much of a pussy to run the story, maybe an editor from another paper might be willing to give it a shot. But with time ticking away, her mind kept returning to the last thing he had told her, about bringing it to the cops. She trusted her source, and he had proven himself worthy of that trust. Still, Ron might have had a point. Maybe it was worth hitting this from both ends. She would inform the authorities and publish the story with a different paper.
Kay scrolled through her phone contacts until she landed on Vincente Ramirez. He had dated her old roommate back in the day while training for the FBI. She clicked on his name and listened as a strange ring began to sound. The kind of ring that signaled he wasn’t in the country.
“Ramirez,” he answered.
“Hey, it’s Kay Mahoro.”
“Kay?”
“Heather’s roommate.”
“Oh, yes, I remember. Listen, Kay, I’m out of the country on assignment. Things are pretty crazy here right now. Let me call you when I’m back in the States.”
She frowned. He probably thought she was angling to ask him out or something. “Don’t hang up. I’ve been working on a story for the Post and a source close to the president just sent me video evidence of a conspiracy to have him assassinated.”
Ramirez grew quiet. “Assassination? If you’re sure about your source you should call the FBI’s head office.”
“That’s the thing. The people involved are some of the most powerful figures in the country. I’m worried it might be suppressed. Can I send it to you and have you forward it to someone at the bureau that you trust?”
Another pause. “Yeah, sure, of course. You just caught me off guard.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Kolkata,” he told her. “On security detail for one of the scientists who went inside that spaceship they found. We got rioters outside and she doesn’t want to leave just yet.”
“Dr. Mia Ward?” Kay asked, feeling the air escape from her lungs all at once.
“Yeah, and I’ll tell you, I can’t wait until I’m back in the US.”
“I’m compressing the files and sending them to you now.” Just then Kay’s phone flashed Ron Lewis’ number. “Listen, I gotta go, but stay in touch and stay safe.” She released Ramirez and switched over to Ron. “Kay here.”
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me and I’ve decided we should run with the story.”
A surge of elation ran through her body. “You have?”
“It’s far too late to make tomorrow’s paper, but we can put it online, make it front-page news. But only if you think you can bang it out before sunrise. Otherwise I can hand it off to Bev Schneider, she’s a…”
“Forget Bev, I can do it,” Kay practically screamed. “And don’t worry, you’ll have your story. I’ll stay up all night if I have to.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Ron said and hung up.
Kay sat in her silver Corolla, her chest heaving, her armpits drenched. This was the chance she’d been waiting for. A chance to se
t wheels in motion that might save more than a single life. It could save an entire planet. So why couldn’t she shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of her belly?
Chapter 19
Kolkata
“This is incredible,” Jansson said, leaning over the desk in the cramped confines of the projection room. She leafed through the documents Mia had printed, outlining the connection between GMOs and Salzburg. Mia considered their next steps, fully aware that only meters away all hell was breaking loose in the streets.
Chalk had come by moments before to inform both women that the situation outside was growing more violent and that the barricades holding back the crowd weren’t going to last much longer. Already, several storefronts along Diamond Harbour Road had been vandalized. It was starting to look as though the authority’s use of tear gas and water hoses was only aggravating the situation.
Mia had been prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, although she had no clear idea what kind of escape route her two FBI handlers had in mind. She still held out hope that the masses below would eventually grow tired and disperse all on their own. She understood the very legitimate fear they were feeling. The news that Armageddon might be fast approaching from the dark depths of space was difficult to wrap one’s head around. And to think that it wasn’t an icy rock flung off from the asteroid belt, but rather a death machine sent by an alien species. A week ago, the notion of life existing outside our planet was enough to earn snickers and tinfoil hats. Today, it was propelling people onto the streets, demanding some sort of response from governments impotent to counter the threat.
In the hours after news of the incoming ship had been announced, India’s stock market, the National Stock Exchange, had suffered a complete meltdown with trading suspended indefinitely. Moments later, banks had banned all withdrawals over six hundred rupees (one hundred U.S. dollars). And Mia was certain it wouldn’t be long before the same thing began to happen back home.
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