‘Okay,’ he said, ‘let’s change the subject. What do you know about Admiral Byrd?’
‘Oh, Jesus, saints preserve me,’ Fuller said.
‘Just tell me.’
‘I’m going crazy. My ears are playing tricks. We’re in the land of the loonies.’
‘Tell me,’ Stanford insisted.
‘Just ask me,’ Fuller said. ‘My imagination doesn’t stretch as far as yours. I can just about answer you.’
Stanford didn’t smile. He kept the pistol aimed at Fuller. Just occasionally he glanced out of the car, scanned the dark, silent forest.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Accepting that there’s no enormous hole at the South Pole, the next major UFOlogist theory is that the land around the Pole dips down considerably, forming a sort of giant doughnut, and that this land mass is therefore greater than we commonly think it is and could actually be a lot warmer than the surrounding Antarctic.’
‘Right,’ Fuller said sarcastically. ‘And being so immense, hidden from us and pretty warm, that land could be fertile and inhabited: the home of your saucer people.’
‘It’s possible,’ Stanford said.
‘It’s not possible,’ Fuller said. ‘You’re going to quote Admiral Byrd’s remarks about a continent in the sky.’
‘Right,’ Stanford said. ‘It’s been widely reported that Admiral Byrd penetrated a land extent of two thousand and three hundred miles beyond the Pole and saw a land mass reflected in the sky. Okay, since we now know about Antarctic conditions, we can assume that it was a reflection.’
‘Or a mirage,’ Fuller said.
‘Or a mirage. That still begs the question of how, given where Byrd turned back, he could have reported two thousand and three hundred miles beyond the Pole.’
‘He didn’t,’ Fuller said. ‘The origin of that figure is a mystery; it didn’t come from Byrd. Go to your newspaper morgues and you’ll that the actual stated figure was a journey covering approximately ten thousand square miles, with only one hundred of those miles beyond the Pole. As for the “Great Unknown beyond the Pole”, that statement – which the UFOlogists have picked up as solid proof for their “hidden continent” theory – is merely the understandable remark of a man who was, in 1947, looking for the first time at a land mass that hadn’t yet been explored. The “Great Unknown” was simply the Great Uncharted
– but it has been crossed and photographed since and is no longer “unknown”.’
Stanford started to speak, but Fuller waved his large hand, now involved in what he was saying and determined to finish it.
‘Let me continue while I’m eager,’ he said. ‘I can’t bear your sweet ignorance… It should be noted, regarding Byrd’s other much abused remark about that “enchanted continent in the sky,” that Byrd also stated that during the flight both he and his crew had no oxygen equipment, that they were suffering from anoxia, and that they were therefore not quite themselves – a point conveniently ignored by your UFOlogists. As for the “enchanted continent in the sky” being a reflection of a land mass not covered in ice, this isn’t as extraordinary as the UFOlogists pretend it is. There are, in fact, and contrary to the assertions of many UFOlogists, many well known ice-free areas in Antarctica – and any one of those could have been the reflection, or mirage, viewed by Byrd. Another popular so-called “fact” is that there are no volcanoes in the Antarctic and that the dust sometimes found there must therefore come from the “hidden” continent. That’s a neat theory except for one thing: there are volcanoes in Antarctica.’
Fuller grinned and chew his gum. Stanford inched closer to him. The pistol was still steady in his hand and he felt pretty high.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘That gets us right to my point. I just want to clear up a little matter and then we’ll call it a day. There are lakes in the Antarctic. There are also ice-free areas. There are mountains and volcanoes, the ice can be a mile deep, and it’s believed that the ice below the surface is actually joined to the sea. That suggests certain things. It suggests hidden valleys. It suggests canyons and caves and other ice-free hidden areas in which a colony of people could exist in comparative safety. I never believed Earth was hollow. I know we’ve charted the Antarctic. But I also know that we’ve only charted it from the air and that there are vast, unknown areas. You know that the people who created and use the saucers are there. You probably know where they are. I want to know what they’re planning, I want to know just where they are, and I want all the facts right now, with no pissing around.’
Fuller stared hard at Stanford. His large body was quivering. Stanford knew he wasn’t quivering with fear, but with cold, suppressed rage. Stanford kept the gun on him. Fuller glanced down at it. He looked at it for a long, thoughtful time and then he raised his eyes again.
‘I’m getting out of here,’ he said.
‘Don’t try it,’ Stanford said.
‘You wouldn’t know how to fire that fucking thing. Adios, pal, I’ll see you.’
He started turning towards his door, but Stanford raised the pistol higher. He tapped the barrel against Fuller’s head, then slipped it into his ear. Fuller froze. The barrel filled his ear. Fuller sat there and stared at the dashboard and took a deep breath.
‘You wouldn’t do it,’ he said, releasing his breath. ‘Who the fuck do you think you’re kidding? You’re a scientist. You don’t play with those things. Now get it out of my ear.’
‘I used to be in the marines,’ Stanford reminded him, ‘so I certainly know how to use a weapon.’
‘Fuck you,’ Fuller said.
‘It’s cocked,’ Stanford said. ‘Talk or I’ll blow your brains out.’
‘No way. You won’t do it.’
Fuller jerked his head away. He started opening his door. Stanford turned the pistol around, used the grip as a handle, struck Fuller across the side of the head and on the back of his wrist. Fuller’s head snapped forward, hit the dashboard and bounced back, and he grunted, his wounded hand flapping, trying to wipe off the blood. The hand dropped down to his side. His good hand swung at Stanford. The latter slapped the hand away with his pistol, then he struck Fuller’s wounded hand again. Fuller gasped and flopped forward. He remained there with his head on the dashboard, dripping blood, breathing harshly.
‘Talk,’ Stanford said.
‘Get fucked,’ Fuller gasped. ‘If you didn’t have a gun for a fist, I’d have your balls in my teeth. I’m not talking, you prick. You’ve gone too far too quickly. If you want me to talk, you’ll have to suck me off and you’re still not the type.’
‘You never know,’ Stanford said.
‘You fucking marine,’ Fuller said. ‘I forgot you were one of the tough guys before you turned soft. Now you’re just a soft scientist, Stanford. You couldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘I’ll hurt you,’ Stanford said.
Fuller tried to raise his head. Stanford hammered it with the pistol. Fuller’s head cracked against the dashboard and bled even more. Stanford saw himself in action. He was standing outside himself. He hardly recognized himself anymore, now driven only by anger. His hidden self had stepped forward. He knew what the hunted felt. He was desperate and it lent him a rage that overrode his better, softer nature. He remembered the girl in Galveston, remembered beating up Scaduto, remembered his journey through Paraguay, the Ache Indians, the cold, brutal German. Yes, he had changed. He knew it now as he looked at Fuller. His old friend, now bleeding and breathing harshly, could no longer be trusted.
‘Talk,’ Stanford said.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Fuller gasped. He pressed the dashboard with his thick, hard-ridged fingers, as if trying to bend it. ‘You’ve sure learned a few tricks,’ he said.
Stanford smashed Fuller’s hand. Fuller yelped and jerked upright. Stanford forced his head back down with the pistol and saw more blood flowing.
‘I’ve changed,’ Stanford said. ‘I’m not a scientist anymore. I was never a good scientist anyway, but now you bastards have done me in. I won’t
sit back and take it. I want to get Epstein back. I don’t know why it’s so important; I just know that it is. I have to find Epstein. I have to know what happened to him. That old man means a lot to me now, and I don’t understand it. He said I refused to make decisions, but I did so when he was abducted by that saucer. I decided to track this business to the very end and let no one stop me. Now I want you to talk. I think you’ll just have to talk. If you don’t talk, we’ll sit here all night and I’ll hurt you some more.’
Fuller cursed and jerked upright. Stanford hammered him in the stomach. He grunted and flopped forward again, his good hand on the dashboard. Stanford smashed that hand. Fuller screamed and then whimpered. He was propped up with his forehead on the dashboard, dripping blood to the floor.
‘Jesus!’ he hissed. ‘Oh, my God, fuck, it hurts! Okay, Jesus Christ, I’m fucking dying, you win, Christ, it hurts…’ He shook his head from side to side, but kept it down, staring at his own feet. The blood was dripping from his head and lips, splashing onto his shoes. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘you’re right. It was the Second World War. The fucking Krauts built a saucer. We found components and various drawings. The British, the Canadians and us – we all found bits and pieces. It was enough to get us going. We all put our heads together. You already know most of the details, so I’ll save my breath there. The main work was done in Canada. Other work was done at White Sands. A lot of the UFOs sighted over those areas were our very own saucers.’
‘Fine,’ Stanford said. ‘I know all that. What about the Antarctic?’
Fuller groaned and shook his head. ‘It’s all on Epstein’s tapes.’
‘That was Germany,’ Stanford said. ‘You’re confused. What about the Antarctic?’
‘You went to Parguay,’ Fuller said. ‘You went to see that Nazi. We know what the old fucker told you… He told us the same thing.’
‘When?’ Stanford asked.
‘A long time ago,’ Fuller said. ‘That old vulture, he should be dead by now, but we just can’t get near him.’
‘The Antarctic,’ Stanford said.
‘He told you the background, Stanford. That was the start of it all. Those Nazis went to the Antarctic and that’s where it began.’ He shook his head from side to side and wiped his lips. He could hardly use his hands. He groaned and let his hands fall again, his head still on the dashboard. ‘We knew they were there. Captain Schaeffer told us that much. He said they’d gone to Neuschwabenland to build flying saucers. We were inclined to believe him. We had plenty of evidence to back up what he said. We had drawings and components, and we found a few other people who talked. That’s why we launched Operation Highjump. That was in January ’47. It was a military operation disguised as an exploratory expedition, and its true purpose was to find out where the Germans were.’
‘They docked at Neuschwabenland,’ Stanford said.
‘No,’ Fuller said. ‘You can discount that myth. We had to bluff the entire fucking world and we did it with style. We circled the whole continent. We really covered that mother. We split up into three separate groups and flew all over the place. The Central Group, based at Little America on the Ross Sea, covered the area between Marie Byrd Land and Victoria Land, moving inland, in crisscrossing patterns, as far as the South Pole. Meanwhile, the East and West Groups girdled the whole continent, moving out in opposite directions and actually coming in sight of one another’s aircraft. The East Group reached the Weddell Sea. The West Group went as far as Princess Astrid Land. Some airplanes from both groups then flew over Queen Maud Land, including the area that the Nazis had called Neuschwabenland. They saw ice-caps like mountains. Their compasses went crazy. They got lost and then they saw some flying saucers that appeared out of nowhere. The flying saucers buzzed them. The planes’ ignition systems malfunctioned. Four of the planes went down and the others flew away, making their escape, and the crews then told Admiral Byrd about it. The expedition was cut short. The official explanation was hurricane winds. Byrd returned to America and made some indiscreet statements. We told him to shut up, we killed all talk of the flying saucers, and we decided to treat the Antarctic with considerable care. About three months later, in June 1947, we tested our own saucers over Mount Rainier in the Cascades – and then the saucers we had seen in the Antarctic paid their visits.’
‘How did you find out where they were?’ Stanford asked.
‘We didn’t. They found us. They started to play tag with our jets and airliners, just to show us what they could do. They hammered the point home by harassing our top-secret test centers and driving our interceptor pilots nuts. After three years of this there was no doubt in our minds about who those flying saucers belonged to. Naturally, we kept quiet about it; we were shit-scared of panic. We killed off Project Grudge, tried to ridicule all sighting reports, and generally confused the whole issue to turn it into a myth. For the most part this worked. It also worked for our own saucers. The Lubbock sightings, for instance, were sightings of our own saucers – and a lot of other sightings were the same.’
Fuller kept his head down. He was bleeding less now. He talked like a man in a trance, his breathing not so harsh.
‘They approached us in 1952,’ he said, ‘and they did it just like regular politicians, through all the right channels. The approach was made by a man called Wilson. He got in touch with the CIA. We met him and he told us his story and we couldn’t believe it. Wilson soon proved it, though. He was talking to one of our top men. He already knew our man’s address and he told him that the next night he would send a flying saucer over his home. The CIA chief lived in Alexandria, Virginia, he was having a garden party on the night in question, and during that garden party both he and his guests saw a UFO directly over the house.’
‘That was when the Director of Intelligence, General Samford, called Captain Ruppelt to a secret meeting in Washington, DC.’
‘Right. But Ruppelt didn’t know about that Antarctic colony – and we never told him.’
‘So, why the meeting?’
‘After the UFO sighting over the CIA chief’s home, he had another meeting with Wilson. Wilson told him more about the colony, told him what they were capable of, and then said that he didn’t want any interference and would trade with the US. Apparently, even with his awesome genius and his hundreds of slave workers, he was in constant need of various mass-produced components and equipment. His idea, then, was to form a clandestine partnership with the US, trading certain innovations of his technology in return for what he required to advance the same. A seesaw arrangement, right? A trick maneuver. But that’s what he wanted.’
‘And?’
‘He was asked what would happen if we decided to say no, and he pointed to various disasters, on land and sea, that we had not, at least up until he told us, been able to explain. Wilson explained them. He told us that he had caused them. We still didn’t believe him, so he told us that his saucers would invade Washington, DC. When they did, we believed him.’
‘That, also, was in 1952.’
‘Yes.’
‘And the meeting between Captain Ruppelt and General Samford?’
‘That took place after Wilson had told us about his planned invasion. Samford never told Ruppelt anything about Wilson, but he wanted to know about the extent of the UFO sightings. Not knowing about our conversations with Wilson, Ruppelt confirmed that there’d been a massive build-up of UFOs around DC throughout that whole month. He also made it perfectly clear that he was expecting a UFO invasion over the capital. That invasion came, we decided to sit tight, and one week later the saucers came back and we had to tell President Truman.’
‘And then you came to an agreement with Wilson.’
‘Right. But first we formed the Robertson Panel. The purpose of that panel was twofold. The first task was to convince the public that a proper scientific body had investigated the UFO phenomenon and found it to be fucking nonsense. Also, regarding this, it was our intention right from the start to use the panel’s recommendatio
ns as an excuse for suppressing all UFO reports. I think you know how we went about it…’
‘Yes,’ Stanford said.
‘Okay. The second and equally important function of the panel was to examine what Wilson had told us and shown us, and to assess his viability as a threat to the nation. Our assessment was that his technology was so far advanced, it constituted an unprecedented threat to the nation – and probably the world. It was therefore decided to come to an agreement with him.’
‘I see,’ Stanford said. ‘So that would explain why the Robertson Panel was made up of men specializing in atomic research and advanced weaponry, why it was chaired by a CIA-classified employee, and why it included Lloyd Berkner, who’d accompanied Admiral Byrd to the Antarctic in 1937.’
‘Yes. It also explains why, when Ruppelt found out that the UFOs were intelligently controlled, we had to get rid of him.’
‘And anyone else who was like him.’
‘Right.’
‘Then you made your agreement with Wilson.’
‘We did. The agreement, simply put, was that we’d have a step-bystep trade, negotiating as and when required for what we both wanted. What Wilson wanted was access to our mass-production industries – and what we wanted was everything he knew. Naturally he didn’t buy this. Instead, he fed us a spoonful at a time. And with neither side trusting the other, we built up a relationship. That relationship gradually grew more complex. Like all relationships, it had its faults. And the biggest was that Wilson was also trading with our good friends, the Russians.’
‘He played one against the other,’ Stanford said.
‘Yes,’ Fuller said. ‘He’s still at it right now. We all trade, we all lose. We keep trying to catch up with his technology, but he always manages to keep just ahead of us. So now the pattern’s changed. We’re all creeping across the Antarctic. The Antarctic is a vast, untapped treasure-house of oil, coal, gold, copper, uranium and, most important, water. The whole world now needs water. Ninety percent of all the world’s water is in the Antarctic. In short, the Antarctic is where the future of the world will be decided, so we just can’t keep out of it any longer. We all pretend it’s not political, that we’re just there for research, but the logic, or lack of logic, in politics is leading straight to a clash.’
GENESIS (Projekt Saucer) Page 57