Event (event group thrillers)

by David L. Golemon

  "In short, Major, the president didn't really believe they would find anything of value. To his way of thinking, just the effort of two warring factions to come together would help in reuniting the North and the South after the war. There was one thing Mr. Lincoln overlooked, and that was the tenacity of the men involved. They brought back to this country, at the loss of three-quarters of the men and four warships, a relic that had sat atop a mountain in eastern Turkey for over ten thousand years. A lot of good American boys were left on that summit and in the slopes and valleys of that harsh and desolate place. And what they brought back, to what turned out to be for a murdered president and a country still divided, where hatred reigned unchecked, was the artifact you see before you. Some think it the Ark of the great flood, the ship that was supposedly built by Noah himself."

  Collins saw it as soon as it was said out loud by the senator. All the pictures he had seen in Sunday school, the stories he was told as a child, the ridiculous tales and movies of his adulthood, they all rushed in as if a dam had burst inside his mind.

  "You mean to say this... this thing is Noah's Ark?" he finally asked, his eyes glued to one spot on the viewing screen.

  "As near as we can determine, the vessel is of pre-Sumerian origin, basically the cradle of civilization found between the Tigris and Euphrates river basins. The size, shape, and material of which it is made are a precise match to all biblical detail. Carbon-14 dating places it at some eleven thousand six hundred years in age, give or take a century," the senator said in a more technical tone. "We haven't any firm belief from science who built it; we have the legends of Gilgamesh and the Noah accounts, but that's not the approach we take here. Science says it's an ancient wooden vessel that's so old it petrified after it somehow landed on top of a mountain."

  Collins turned and walked back to his chair in front of the senator and sat heavily.

  The senator smiled over at Jack. Every time he had shown this for the first time, he had seen it in their faces: amazement, awe, and fear wrapped up into one thought.

  The senator stood and limped to a cabinet next to the credenza with the coffee on it. He reached down, took out a glass, and poured the major a glass of water. He limped back and placed it in Collins's hand. Jack quickly drained it and was glad for the break in conversation. It had been a long time since he could remember being caught totally unaware. This was more than just a little unnerving, yet extraordinary at the same time. The senator started talking again while adjusting himself into his chair.

  "Now, do we here at Group live in awe of this one artifact, or do we learn from it? We have gathered so much data it's coming out of every file cabinet we have. The reason this is so important to this country, Jack, is the mere fact that we have learned that the dangers are there and are very real that we could be hit by similar floods in the future. This report has gone up the chain and plans have been made on how to deal with a similar Event if it happens. Before I let you catch your breath, Jack, I must tell you that the finding of the Ark, or vessel, was the first file in the Event Group's long and wondrous history. Altogether there are more than 106,200 files, from everything religion-oriented to possible werewolf attacks in France during the time of the black death, from possible sightings of electrically powered submarines during the American Civil War to a major conflict between Viking clans in Minnesota involving Sioux Indians seven hundred years before Columbus."

  Collins held Lee's gaze without comment.

  "But that's just history; we study, we learn, we file it. But sometimes there is that golden nugget that can alter our government's way of thinking; for instance, the report detailing the history of the empire of Japan delivered from us to Roosevelt in 1933 by my predecessor warning of the historical tendencies of the Japanese. It was all there to see for anyone willing to dig a little deeper, dig like only the Event Group can. Our Group informed the president six full years before December of '41 that the United States was on a collision course with Japan, and we also gave him options on how to avoid a conflict. You see, we report, but in the end what the president does with the information is learn from it." Lee smiled at Collins. "Maybe he decided that what he learned from our report was that Japan would indeed attack us, and that would be enough to get us involved in a far more dangerous game in Europe with the Nazis. What do you think?"

  "I believe I understand the need for secrecy; this information would unnerve a lot of people, and I believe I know why you need me."

  "No, Jack, you don't know just yet. We've lost a lot of people, good people, and we are sick and tired of it. The president has ordered Director Compton to take the gloves off. My killing days are far passed; I daresay I was almost as good as you at taking life for the right cause. But I'm an old man and my next big adventure is death. Niles here needs a man that is capable of defending the people he sends into the field, and so I started digging on his behalf and you are what I unearthed. I hope I have stated our case clearly."

  "I believe you have," Collins answered.

  "By that, I guess you see some of what we are about here and that you accept the task before you, that you are here to train and equip our security teams and make them a viable protective force. Niles and I are concerned over the recent escalation of deadly force against our people."

  "We are being pushed around by outside elements, and to put it bluntly and more succinctly, Major, you're here to push back, and push back hard," Compton said, with the emphasis on the last four words.

  "I believe I grasp the concept of the Group, but the times dictate how you react to certain situations. For reasons I've tried to explain, and have been banished from the troops I respect and care about for doing so, countries and people smell a weakness in the United States. To protect the people under you, Mr. Director, are you prepared to be offensive in nature?"

  "Prepared? I'm ordering it, Major Collins."

  "Then you're halfway to really giving your people a fighting chance. Our current world is one based on speed. Everything is moving faster, and to protect your own you have to move even faster than your enemies, and sometimes sadly to say, preemptively."

  Niles nodded. "But there is something you must know, Major Collins. There are those here in our own country that believe as you, only they are taking matters to the extreme. It seems there may be a group of superpatriots with highly placed sources that are attacking others and us with impunity. You are right, it's a world of speed and we are lagging behind. Whoever they are, they are killing my people and taking our finds, and I must stress, Major Collins"-- Compton clenched his fist--"that will be our undoing. Our knowledge is being stolen, by either outside sources for political gain, or factors from inside our borders for monetary or political reasons, and I want it stopped. The president says to start offensive operations to root these factions out. Get a light on them and bring them out into the open. And that is what you are here to do." Niles paced and continued, "When the senator brought you to my attention, I thought you might be just a thug, but reading your file and making a few calls of my own, I have found out you are quite intelligent and are constantly thinking outside of the box. MIT, UCLA, and numerous other institutions say you are worthy of being far more than you are. But I believe you were right where you wanted to be, protecting your men. That's why all the higher education--you learned so you could care for your people. I care about mine also, Major, but I can't do what you do." Niles turned and faced Collins. "Protect my people and I don't care how you do it."

  Collins looked from Dr. Compton to the senator. He sensed their sincerity about how important they considered the job they had offered him. He felt their sorrow and anger at the loss of their people, but he knew that regardless of the intent, he was out of his element.

  "I am a soldier," he started, looking from one man to the other, "one who is still a career officer, even if the army has no more use for me. I will still have to get used to that fact. It's a new position for me you see, being an embarrassment, being one they have to brush under t
he rug, it makes it hard to look in the mirror. So if you wouldn't mind, I would like to reserve my answer for any permanent assignment until I can evaluate my options. But it would be my duty to start training your Group as best I can while I do that, is that acceptable?"

  Lee looked at the floor a moment. He knew this was where Jack Collins would remain. The Joint Chiefs would never allow him to return to active duty. But how do you get rid of a Medal of Honor recipient without CNN crucifying you in the press? You hide him in the darkest closet in the American house, the Event Group. In the end Lee decided to let Jack have the illusion his fate was still controlled by himself, because without the Event Group the major's military career was done.

  "Then tentatively speaking, Jack, welcome to the Event Group," the senator said slowly, standing and limping around the desk with his hand extended. "Your second-in-command, Lieutenant Commander Everett, will shed some more light on your duties here. He's good, Jack, real good. He's Navy, a SEAL, and he's been there, and it was he who knew the entire system needed revamping."

  The senator opened the twin doors and shook Jack's hand again.

  "That wicked old woman will have someone show you to your quarters, and then you'll be taken on a small tour of our vault area. Niles and I have a meeting with Her Majesty's archivist in England and the British prime minister in ten minutes, and the president will be listening in. So I'll leave you in the Wicked Witch of the West's hands because, as I say, we have an argument ahead of us. It seems the Brits want a body returned to the soil of the Empire."

  Collins released the senator's hand as he turned away to go back into his office. As the doors were closing behind him, he heard the old man say, "This body belongs to the world, not just the British, damn it!"

  Collins was joined by Alice Hamilton, who placed her aged arm through his own and started walking him toward the elevator. Collins figured Alice was one of those people who actually ran things at the Group, the one you went to when you wanted to cut through the crap and get something done. He decided that he would want her ear in the coming weeks and months.

  As he entered the elevator, Alice whispered as she kept the doors from closing, "Garrison is really up in arms because he and Niles don't want to give up one of our finds, but the burial site was found on an American naval base in Scotland, so they wanted to keep it a while longer. But as always, they will return it when it's been examined. The senator wants to keep it for good, but Dr. Compton is younger and calmer and knows the British deserve it, so the senator will defer to Niles." She smiled and looked at Jack. "It was one of the senator's pet projects here at Group, proving the existence of a fourth-century warlord named Artorius, in the Latin language, or better known as Arthur, in the English."

  As Alice let the elevator doors slowly close, she had to smile, because the last thing she saw was Major Collins's face as he tried to stop the doors from closing. "You mean they found the body of King Arth--" But the doors closed, cutting off his amazed expression and question.

  PART TWO

  STORMS

  They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

  --EDGAR ALLAN POE

  "ELEONORA,"I84I

  FOUR

  The Event Group, Nellis AFB, Nevada

  July 7, 13.30 Hours

  Specialist Fifth Class Sarah McIntire closed her book and notepad at the end of class. Today's lecture had been on ancient burial pitfalls, traps made to prevent looting of various burial sites throughout the world that Event Group archaeologists had come across during the many excavations in places like the Valley of the Kings near Luxor, Egypt, and in the Peruvian Inca ruins excavated in 2004. Sarah taught geology and used the opportunity given her by the ancients to spice up an otherwise boring day of geological subject matter. She had been joined by a professor visiting her class thanks to a virtual video link from the University of Tennessee. He'd delivered a nice lecture on the use of hot springs and other natural elements as traps by ancient architects in their planning of tombs.

  "Boy, was that dead or what?"

  Sarah looked around to see her roommate, Signalman First Class Lisa Willing, USN, smiling and holding her books against her ample chest. The blue Group jumpsuit fit her a little too well, which helped in giving her part of her nickname, behind her back of course, of Willing Lisa. Sarah knew Lisa had to have heard it before, but her friend always said it was just better to ignore people. Sarah knew Lisa to be smart as a whip, and she was the best in her field of electronics and communications as well. And, as her roommate, Sarah knew her not to be willing to do much of anything other than study at night and, on rare occasions, catch a movie on the complex's cable television station. Though there was a certain someone in her life, it was secret, and sadly, nicknames like that lingered.

  "Oh, thanks, so I'm boring?"

  "Nah, just kidding, kiddo," Lisa said, smiling and nudging her friend with her shoulder.

  "Well, just another week and I'll finish my graduate work and I'll have my master's from the Colorado School of Mines. That still won't guarantee a field assignment." Sarah looked at Lisa. "You've been there, haven't you?"

  "Egypt? Yeah, last year we had that busted field operation when that French asshole blew the whistle on Dr. Fryman from NYU. We were this close"--Lisa held up her index finger and thumb about an inch apart--"to getting a good lead on some relics that may have escaped the destruction of the great library of Alexandria."

  Sarah looked at her friend with envy. She longed for the day to participate in something other than simulations and attending classes. She would walk out of here with a master's degree in geology and an officer's commission, a second lieutenant's gold bar, but she wanted what everyone here at the Group wanted, and that was fieldwork. But the opportunity hadn't arisen in the two years she had been here. She was not like a lot of the scientists here at the Group. She was a soldier first and that was what was so damn frustrating for her. She had the training she needed to survive, she should be eligible for more than just geology and tunnel teams, and she should be placed on any roster where a soldier was required. She knew it had been just a fluke that her geology team hadn't had any fieldwork, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

  "I would have loved to have been there," Sarah said as they passed others on their way to class and the mess hall.

  "You'll get your shot," the blond woman said. "Hey, you wanna grab a late lunch? I'm starving." Lisa had become quite adept at steering her roommate away from a very sore subject.

  Sarah hunched her shoulders in a "whatever" gesture and started for the mess hall.

  As they stepped into the main cafeteria, Sarah, concentrating on her thoughts, didn't see the large man with gold oak leaf bars on his collar. Luckily, he saw the collision coming before it happened. Moving quickly, he raised his tray full of roast beef and mashed potatoes at the last second above her small frame. Sarah raised her arms over her head, hoping if food fell, most of it would fall on her textbook and not her. As she was doing this, she inadvertently backed into another, only slightly smaller man. As she hit his tray, the man deftly backed up two paces and righted the plates before he lost his sandwich and green-tinted lime Jell-O.

  "Boy, you're just a little pinball, aren't you?" asked the first, taller officer.

  Sarah turned to the second man, who held his tray in one hand and was readjusting its contents.

  "I'm so sorry," she said, embarrassed.

  "You'll have to excuse my roommate, sir, she's daydreaming of caves and tunnels and all other kinds of nasty stuff," Lisa chimed in, letting her eyes linger a little too long at the taller of the two officers.

  "Think nothing of it, ladies, just a minor traffic pileup, no harm done," said the man with the dark brown hair and wearing an army major's rank on his new coveralls.

  Sarah backed away with her book held to her chest. Her eyes locked on the man's blue ones. His stare didn't waver; his smile was dazzling and his gaze almost hypnotic.
She finally broke what was to her an awkward moment by turning and walking away quickly enough that Lisa had to run to catch up.

  "Hey, slow down," Lisa called at Sarah's retreating form, looking back at the taller of the two men, the one with a navy lieutenant commander rank on his collar. He was returning her look, smiling as his companion commented on something, and then he had to finally turn away.

  "Damn, that's the new head of security," Sarah said as she took a tray from the stack and placed it on the serving line.

  "With you becoming an officer yourself soon, there could be something there," Lisa chided, nodding her head in the direction of the almost accident, but all they saw were people staring at them, waiting for the line to start moving again.

  Sarah turned and looked at her friend. "Is it the entire navy that has dirty minds and reads nonexistent things into something as mundane as me almost getting a bunch of food knocked onto my head, or is it just you?"

  Lisa smiled and batted her eyes. "Just me, I guess."

  Lieutenant Commander Carl Everett stood six foot three inches, which was how he had maneuvered his tray over Sarah so easily. His blond hair was trimmed short. His arms were tanned and muscular in his short-sleeved jumpsuit. He set the tray with his lunch on it down and pulled out a chair. But he waited for his new boss to sit first and watched Lisa and her roommate, Sarah, the one he had almost run into, walk through the serving line. He waited for Lisa to look back again, but she was too busy talking with those around her, already joking with the cooks serving her. Giving up, he finally sat. He tried never to communicate with Lisa during duty hours because the secret they kept was a serious breach of military etiquette and a court-martial offense.

  "Is the mess hall food always this good?" Jack asked.

  "Yes, sir, they usually have three or four entrees, and since this is a government-and not a military-run outfit, it's officially called a cafeteria, whatever that is," Everett joked, then paused with a forkful of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth. "But field RATS are still the same, MREs in quantity if not quality."