“Tell me about it. David says if you continue on the path you’re on, you’ll make CEO of CNNA in no time.”
“I’ll gladly settle for chief anchor at this stage,” she said, the knot in her throat easing.
“Speaking of which, I saw you yesterday reporting from NASA. You didn’t exactly come across as being overly thrilled with that new project of theirs.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“Pretty much. Would it kill you to have a little more patience? It’ll happen when it’s meant to. You’ve come so far these past few years, you’re almost there. Don’t blow it. You know I love you to bits, but you can be such a bitch at times.”
Janine smiled. There was definitely some truth in what Kath said. There had been many a time when she had almost lost a contract or an interview over her sharp tongue and argumentative demeanor. As a child, she had developed these attributes as a defense mechanism to fend off a lecherous stepfather with wandering hands, while her neglectful mother drank herself into a stupor. Without it, she may have never had the strength to survive, or more importantly, the ability to shelter Kath from her dysfunctional family. Her biological father had been different, but he left when she was three, unable to deal with his wife’s alcoholism.
“So, sis, don’t worry about the story, a better one will no doubt be along soon,” said Kath, obviously trying to reassure her.
“Mm, Nunu, you might very well be right about that.” Janine couldn’t help but grin.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Don’t want to say too much yet, in case I’m wrong. Don’t think I am though.”
“Janine Fuller wrong? Never,” blurted out Kath.
“Okay, got to run, catch you soon, Nunu.”
* * * *
Kath smiled and hung up. Ever since she could remember, Janine had referred to her as Nunu. It was a term of endearment which had bonded the two of them through those trying early years. She wasn’t sure where the word had originated, but she had a sneaking suspicion that her father had called Janine that before he left and that Jay had then adopted the term as a pet name for Kathleen. Kath felt an uneasiness grow inside her as she thought about how much she owed her older sister, and she made a pledge to herself to protect Janine before she one day self-destructed. She was terrified that she was running out of time.
She shook her head as she packed a school lunch for her boys and called them to the kitchen. Janine was her own worst enemy, but given the hell she had been put through, no one could possibly blame her for it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“So that’s about it, the signal stands out clearly from the background noise of space,” said Sheri as she turned away from her computer console to face the general.
“So it’s an extra-terrestrial signal, then?” asked Denny.
“Yes—” answered Steve.
“Maybe,” Sheri interrupted.
“Okay, people, which is it, yes or maybe?” snapped Denny, obviously irritated by the indecisiveness.
“The thing is, we don’t want to jump the gun here,” Sheri said. “In 1978 in the early days of SETI, a scientist sitting at his computer noted a similar signal appearing out of the background noise of space. He was so surprised to suddenly see it appear, that he actually remarked ‘WOW’ on the record. That became known as the famous ‘Wow’ signal.” Sheri was pointing to the holographic numbers floating above her head. “Then after announcing this discovery, SETI scientists found they could no longer replicate the signal, and it was put down as a false alarm. The source of the signal was never located.”
Steve glared at her. One small thing that irritated him about his girlfriend was her constant pessimism when it came to believing in herself. She always seemed to see the glass half empty. Why couldn’t she just accept that she was an incredibly bright, talented scientist? He was about to interrupt, when she continued.
“There have also been instances in the past where pulsars have been mistaken for extra-terrestrial intelligence. So the bottom line is, we don’t want to make a mistake here, people.”
Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. “Yes, that may be true, but we’ve already done all the preliminary checks and we’ve excluded all those possibilities, including us being responsible for the signal. So, we are in fact left with only one possibility, that being …”
“Extra-terrestrial intelligence,” Denny finished, looking bored with the rhetoric.
They all fell silent. There seemed no reason to argue the point any further. After a pause Denny spoke again. “Well, where to now? I’m not a man of science, but if there is a message there, shouldn’t we be trying to interpret it?”
Steve stood up, wearily grabbed his lukewarm coffee and took a sip. His leg was playing up, and he could feel the faint throb in his calf begin to grow. “It’s not as simple as that,” he said. “At the moment all we know about the signal is that we know hardly anything about it. It’s very complex and it looks like there are layers of information; kind of like bricks on top of layers of concrete, sitting on a layer of wood, which is sitting on a layer of steel.” He was using his hands as a model to demonstrate what he meant. “Each layer might represent a picture or a movie or text or audio. It’s just far too complicated to unravel, at least it is for us.”
“What do you mean for us?” Denny loosened his necktie, pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his brow.
“This kind of deciphering is beyond what any of us here at the facility are trained to do,” Sheri answered. “We’re all experts in our fields, but we’re not trained in breaking codes. Essentially, that’s what’s needed.”
Denny cleared his throat. “Then we need to find someone who’s capable of doing just that.” He stood up, placed his hands in his trouser pockets and began to pace.
Sheri’s eyes widened. “Hang on just a minute, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. We still haven’t proven beyond doubt that this is in fact an alien signal. For all we know it could be Voyager II still transmitting information that has somehow made it back to the receiving dish at Stromlo. We don’t have all the facts yet.”
“Enough!” said Denny. “I’m sick and tired of all this indecision. As of this moment, I’m taking charge of the situation and I’ll make the decisions in the interests of national security. The most probable scenario is that this is in fact an intelligent signal and until proven otherwise, that is how we will regard it.” He took in a deep breath and brushed some dust off his tunic with his hand. “Now the next step is to find someone who’s able to decipher this signal. So, who do you so-called experts think is capable of such a task? And please, I don’t want another argument over this.”
Denny had barely finished speaking when Steve, Sheri and two of the marines all blurted out in unison, “Professor Alastair Hart.”
Denny shut his eyes and cringed. “Of course, who else.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Inverness, Scotland, September 13, 18:15
“Pawn to king’s bishop four. Check!”
“Mmm, never saw that one coming, Gramps. King takes bishop.”
Alastair ground his teeth as his concentration intensified. He had been a superb chess player as a child, winning many competitions and prizes. Even though the notation had changed since his youth, he still preferred the classical style of describing chess moves rather than the more modern algebraic form of notation.
Alastair grunted and adjusted his portly belly, which had been stealthily and steadily enlarging ever since his retirement. A former CIA operative, he had often been involved in clandestine military operations in the past, but to the casual eye it was obvious that Alastair Hart was a behind-the-scenes man, someone who had worked in an office, not one of those super-fit SAS operatives you might imagine a spy to be. The years of liberal drinking and the consumption of fast, greasy food when constantly on the move had eventually taken their toll on his body.
“Check mate! Fell for that yet again, my lad. I think you need to practice c
onsiderably more with your acquaintances before attempting to beat the master at his game.”
“Shit.” The boy swiped the pieces off the board, his large blue eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he stood up and ran off, bolting up the stairs.
Alastair struggled to keep a stern face. He knew the boy was playing up again. “Watch your language, young man, I told you … practice, practice,” he yelled after him, just as the child disappeared from view.
He stood up to follow him when his wife hobbled in clutching a cup of hot tea in her frail hand. She handed it to Alastair.
“Leave him be,” she said in her thick Scottish accent. “He knows very well it’s the anniversary of our dear Tom today.”
The phone rang and an image of a man wearing a military uniform appeared.
“Professor Hart?”
Alastair recognized the man instantly. It was Smith. His heart rate began to soar, his chest tightening as the painful memories flooded back. He felt his face reddening. “You’ve got a damn nerve contacting me.”
“Believe me I wouldn’t be unless I had no choice, but your services are desperately required.”
“How did you get this number? It’s unlisted.”
The general laughed. “Professor, this is the American military you’re talking to. You of all people should know the means we have available to us. What’s more, I’ve taken the liberty of encoding this conversation for the purpose of securing the line.”
Alastair shrugged his shoulders. “I’m done with all that stuff. I finished years ago. I left for a reason, a damn good one and now I’m also finished with this conversation.”
“Wait, Hart! Just hear me out. Please, just give me a minute to—”
“Why the hell should I after all you’ve put me and my family through?” Alastair’s voice was now stern and loud. His wife sat down in the couch next to him, her hand gently massaging his tense shoulders.
“Because, Professor, I think you might actually be interested this time. Don’t you even want to know what you’re needed for?”
Alastair felt another surge of anger begin to surface. “You don’t have to tell me, General. Who are we spying on this time? Algeria? Korea? The Vatican? I told you I don’t do that anymore. No, I won’t do that anymore.”
“What if I told you that your target was nothing here on Earth? No government, no terrorist organization.”
Despite himself, Alastair felt intrigued. Ignoring the cup of tea, he picked up his glass and poured himself a double shot of Johnny Walker Blue Label. After taking a long swig and swallowing hard, he said, “Mmm, you have my attention, General. Five minutes tops.”
“The truth is last night the EMB project located a signal from deep space. A signal that is ninety-nine percent likely to have come from a civilization other than our own.” The general paused briefly. “At the moment, all we have are numbers and noise and we need someone of your expert ability to make some sense of it. Apparently you come highly recommended for the job.”
Alastair sighed. The snide remark irritated him, yet what the general had said was true. He downed the last of his whiskey, slammed the glass down on the table and collapsed all the way back into his recliner chair, his mind spinning. He wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or the information he had just digested. His confidence in himself had plummeted.
“I don’t know, General, my brain’s not what it used to be. I haven’t done that kind of encryption deciphering in years. What’s more, I’m not sure I care to.”
“Professor, you don’t seem to understand. This isn’t really a request. If necessary I can quite easily talk to your superiors at Scotland Yard, have you detained and brought here forcibly under military escort. Under the new security regulations, I have that authority.”
Alastair seethed silently at the threat.
“Have you forgotten the clout I have with the Brits, Professor? I don’t want to have to do that, but please understand, this is a matter of national security. Besides which, anger aside, aren’t you even just the slightest bit curious about what you might discover?”
“I don’t take kindly to threats, General. You may have the authority to get me there, but you can’t force me to work against my will.”
“No, we can’t, but we can do other things that will make you change your mind, like suspending your government pension, and with the cost of living the way it is these days I doubt your wife and grandson—”
“Enough, General!” Alastair stood up and stared out the window. He couldn’t deny that he was actually curious.
The merciless rain lashed heavily against the glass. A flash of lightning appeared in the distance, briefly lighting up the Scottish hills. The cold, damp weather this fall seemed to be particularly bad on his arthritis, especially in his knees. He wondered what a few weeks in a more pleasant sunny climate might be like right now. God knows he could use a bit of sunshine.
“When and where is this so-called employment located?”
“Pasadena, California, effective immediately.”
“How long would I be gone?”
“Depends on how quickly you do your job, Professor. A few days, weeks, months.”
Alastair continued to stare out at the bleak, dark Scottish landscape. Another flash of lightning lit up the velvet sky, and for a brief second he thought he might have seen a dog illuminated.
“What if I were to agree to this?”
“Stay where you are and I’ll have a military escort at your door in the next hour.” The general had a triumphant note to his voice and this too irritated Alastair. “See you this evening, have a good flight.”
With no chance to say goodbye, the video link was terminated by the general..
“Was it him?” asked his wife, standing up. Vanessa was a skinny and rather weather-beaten lady, well into her seventies. She had been intensely loyal to Alastair over the years, and he adored her for it. She was wearing an oil-splashed apron over a pink floral dress, her thin gray hair covered by a black cotton net. She had on a dark gray jumper, in keeping with the frigid weather outside.
He nodded his head, but chose to say nothing more about the man. “It seems that I need to go away again for a little while. I’m sorry.”
“Should I keep your dinner warm? It’s pot-roast tonight,” she replied, seemingly in denial about the call.
“No, my love, I’ll be away for at least a few days, possibly a few weeks.”
“Oh my,” she said. “I’d better go pack your bag for you, then.”
She disappeared up the staircase, while the professor poured himself another stiff drink. He wondered what she must be thinking. Usually, he was not able to tell her where he was going. He thought about how he might react if the roles were reversed. Would he have her patience, her resolve, never knowing for certain? Never knowing if he’d return to her or not. Perhaps she had got used to it. He was certain that she missed him while he was away, and was just too proud to show it. Years of heavy smoking and a bout of lung cancer had left her body emaciated, and he hated himself that he had not been there for her when she’d needed him most.
On his way up to the master suite, he passed by Tom’s—now his grandson, Ed’s—bedroom and was once again reminded of the pain. It never seemed to go away, despite the passing of time. He saw Ed asleep on the bed, chips scattered over the bed linen. He smiled, turned off the light and shut the door.
* * * *
After terminating the call with the professor, Denny Smith sat in his office admiring the myriad of medals and awards he had received over the course of the past twenty-five years. Algeria, Afghanistan, Iraq and Turkey all came to mind, but what had they meant? There were only three months in his life that mattered … that really, really mattered. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror mounted on one of the walls. A tired, graying image of a tortured soul stared back at him. He shut his eyes and his mind drifted back to the two crises that had shaped his life: Johnny MacFarlane back in high school and the Afghani desert t
en years ago. He lowered his hand to his aching groin, remembering those three months of excruciating agony and humiliation during his final tour of the Middle East, as if it had happened yesterday.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
September 14, 15:00, JPL, NASA
The warm fall day began to turn gray. The wind shifted toward the north, stirring up the fallen leaves, creating a golden carpet across the windswept concrete. Janine parked her car outside NASA headquarters on Oak Grove Drive, then took her time surveying the area and surrounding buildings. She identified the circular glass building from two days earlier, and examined the pathway for any obstacles.
Unlike that day, armed marines stood guard in full combat gear, assault rifles at the ready. It was not a scene she had contemplated, and she immediately knew there was no possible way she was going inside the building using her usual direct approach. Fortunately, she had another weapon up her sleeve, a method she infrequently utilized and wasn’t particularly proud of, but sometimes extreme situations called for extreme measures.
She left the car and strode confidently toward the gate, the breezy conditions sending a chill through her light cotton blouse. A few drops of rain began to fall, the cool air gently brushing against her face. She approached the first marine who appeared to be guarding the entrance.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but this is a military installation, you cannot proceed any further.”
As she got closer, she flicked a few strands of hair off her face and puckered her lips. The guard cocked his head slightly to the side. “Oh sorry, ma’am, I didn’t recognize you, but I’m afraid I can’t let you in. I have strict orders not to allow anyone inside, not even the press.”
“I understand, soldier. I really am so sorry for hassling you, but I left something inside the facility from the other day that I really, really need. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t so important.”
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