Waiting for him outside the door was a woman, in her early forties, dressed in a white coat. Her hair was cut into a bob, and she wore pebble glasses. She smiled at him as he came out of the doorway.
“Hi, I’m Major Jones, the Medical Officer here. I’m sure this is all very confusing for you.” It was the same voice that had spoken to him earlier. “Don’t worry, all will be explained to you in due course. But it’s important that you undergo a medical examination as soon as possible. You may have been exposed to some hazardous material and the quicker we assess you the better. Do you understand?”
Ben nodded.
“Then you need to follow me to my surgery.”
She looked at the soldiers, “I won’t need you anymore; you’re dismissed.” The two soldiers left them. She led him into a portable building that was set out like a doctor’s surgery and sat down behind a desk. She motioned him towards a chair facing her. Ben sat down.
She smiled at him again as if to reassure him in the way doctors do.
“The reason you were brought here is that you may have been exposed to a potential radiological-biohazard on the beach. Obviously, we don’t want to take any chances with your health. Are you happy for me to examine you? If you would prefer a male doctor it can be arranged, but it might take a little longer for him to get here.”
“No, it’s fine. The sooner I get away from here, the better.”
“I don’t want to alarm you, but we need to establish that there has been no damage to your lungs and internal organs. We will need to take blood, saliva and urine samples and run a series of tests. You will be staying here at least 24 hours.”
“What… This is serious isn’t it?”
“Yes — so let’s make a start. When you were in the bio-unit did you notice any lesions or other unusual skin conditions on your body?”
“I don’t think so.”
“We had better check. You can undress behind the curtain.”
Ben went behind the curtain and started to climb out of his boiler suit. The night seemed like a mad dream; only a couple of hours ago he had been jogging on the beach. Now he was here, wherever here was meant to be, for at least another twenty-four hours.
CHAPTER THREE
Jean Daniels lay on her bed in a hotel room in Berlin. She was watching the monitor and listening to the sound track of the surveillance bugs she had previously hidden in the room three rooms up from hers. She was collecting evidence to blackmail a certain German minister. Recently, the minister had spoken out against the future of NATO, and her assignment was to persuade him to be more sympathetic to the NATO cause.
Daniels was a CIA operative; one of the best. She was as strong and single minded as any of her male CIA colleagues, but also had many cold talents they lacked. She was an emotionless and driven predator, prepared to do anything to achieve her goals. Her colleagues had nicknamed her ‘the Bitch’, and she was proud of it. At 5 feet 10 inches and with a lean muscular frame she was not the most feminine of women. But she exuded a raw sexual energy that most men found irresistible and she enjoyed using it to get what she wanted. She was the rising star in the Agency, and she knew it.
However, this particular assignment was hardly a challenge for her. Judging by the games the Minister was playing, with two highly paid call girls, she would have no difficulty in using his indiscretions against him. She was laughing at the video and enjoying the show when the phone rang.
She pushed back her short platinum-blonde hair and put the phone to her ear.
“Daniels?”
“Yes sir,” she said, recognising the voice of the Director of the CIA.
“You’re to drop everything and to go to Ramstein Air Base immediately. A plane will be waiting for you there to take you to the Eisenhower, where you will be briefed on your new mission. This is a matter of highest national security. General Walters has asked for you by name, and you’ll be working under his direct chain of command.”
“Yes sir, I have worked for him before.”
He cut her short, “You’ll also have your team from London to support you if you need them: Jim, Allen, Doug and Allie will support on communications and research. This comes directly from the President’s Office, Jean. Don’t let the Agency down.”
“Yes sir, I won’t.”
Daniels looked back at the video. The German Minister was choking and holding his chest in agony, while the call girls were screaming. Heart attack, she thought. She continued to gaze at the picture as he went through his final death throes. She smiled. Mission accomplished. But it wasn’t exactly the way she had planned it. She laughed; at least the poor guy died happily. She now had to get away from the hotel before the police arrived.
As she left the hotel entrance, an ambulance arrived with its siren blaring. She climbed into a taxi and watched the paramedics running into the Hotel. In faultless German, she instructed the taxi driver to go to the US Military base at Ramstein. Then she closed her eyes and wondered what the night would bring.
The F18 touched down on the Eisenhower just after midnight. Daniels had never been in such a high-performance aircraft before. The flight had been exhilarating as the pilot wasted no time in getting to the aircraft carrier located in the North Sea. As she climbed out of the cockpit, the adrenalin was still pumping through her heart and her brain was racing. This is what she loved most about the CIA — being at the centre of the action. The pilot smiled at her as he helped her down on to the flight deck, where a young Midshipman met her.
“This way Ma’am,” he said with a New York accent. She followed him across the flight deck. The Eisenhower looked enormous. She marvelled at the size of the dark monster of the night: a floating military city. Behind her, she saw the F18 being lowered to the lower deck and the maintenance crews working around the clock on the aircraft on the deck below. The Midshipman led her through a door, and down a maze of corridors, until they reached the briefing room.
The room had only the bare essentials: a laptop computer on a table and a large plasma screen on the wall. The Midshipman turned on the laptop and plasma screen and left the room. Daniels typed in her security code into the laptop computer, and the face of General Walters came on the plasma screen.
“You made it in good time,” he commented.
“Yes sir. F18 — it was amazing.”
“What you will see next on this screen is classified. These events occurred just over three hours ago. We were testing the Aurora — a top-secret aircraft — and at about 150,000 feet the following happened.”
Daniels saw the view from the cockpit as it collided with the UFO and went into a tailspin. The General’s face re-appeared on the screen. “It all happened so quickly, but we have taken the following snapshots of the incident.” Again, the screen cleared to show a number of stills as the UFO approached and then collided with the Aurora. Daniels took in a deep breath. She could hardly believe what she had seen.
“General, is this for real?”
The General scowled at her. “I don’t joke, Daniels. Yes, it’s for real. I want you to find the UFO. We’ve tracked its behaviour since the collision, and it either crashed or landed on a beach in England.”
“Then it shouldn’t be too difficult to find, sir.”
“Unfortunately, the craft has vanished. We can’t find any trace of it on the satellite imaging. It’s as though it just vanished into thin air.”
“Oh.”
“We’ve spoken to the UK authorities and with some considerable arm twisting they agreed to allow us to participate in the investigation. I want you there first thing tomorrow. There’s a guy from MI6 who’s in charge: a John Taylor.”
“I know him well. He’s an ex SAS major — one of their best.”
“That’s good. We have to work with the Brits as the craft fell on their patch. I don’t know how much they know. Just find out what’s going on; determine whether we can recover the craft, with or without the Brits help; and if not, ensure no one else has access to that te
chnology.”
“Including the Brits, sir?”
“Absolutely. A meeting with Taylor is fixed for 08:00 hours tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, General. I won’t let you down.”
She closed down the laptop, went to the door, and opened it. The Midshipman was standing outside the door.
“I’ll take you to your quarters. There’s a helicopter scheduled for you at 07:00 hours.”
She nodded and followed him to the officers’ quarters. Her room contained only the basic essentials: a bed, a small wardrobe and a desk and chair. She closed the door and undressed before crashing out on the bed. She was exhausted. Around her neck, she still wore a medal she always wore under her clothes. She held the medal in her hand staring at the thirteen stars on its ribbon. It had been her fathers, and it was a constant reminder of his bravery. She was immensely proud of him. She loved him like any daughter who loves her father. But why did he have to play the hero and get himself killed? She wouldn’t make the same mistake. Winning was all that mattered to her; it didn’t matter how.
She wondered what he would think of her now, serving the President and her country on a critical mission. She closed her eyes and could see his face again. Of course, he would be proud of her. Her pulse was racing, and her body was on an adrenalin high. Somehow, she had to calm herself down and get some sleep in the next five hours.
CHAPTER FOUR
Something woke Elle; dawn was breaking and she found herself in an all-night service station with an aching neck. She rubbed her neck to soothe the pain. Her memory of the night before flooded back to her. She remembered escaping from the craft and running along the coast road only to be nearly hit by a truck driver. He had been so terrified he had hurt her that he gave her a lift to the service station and bought her coffee and a burger. The remains of the burger were still on the plate in front of her. She must have fallen asleep after he left her.
Her mind tried to take in all the events that had brought her there. It only seemed like hours ago, she had been talking to her best friend, Jenny, about why she couldn’t go to the Ball with her. Why hadn’t she listened to her? If she had, gone to the Ball, she wouldn’t be in this predicament now. Instead, she was the in the middle of a living nightmare. Elle closed her eyes and ran through the events again. She could hear Jenny’s words when they talked on the phone the night before; to think it was really thirty-five years from now.
Time: Year 2046
“Where the hell are you?” The words roared out of the speaker.
The noise made Elle jump. She had been lost in her own personal world of equations and mathematical symbols, staring at a whiteboard covered with her scribbling. She must have answered the phone automatically without thinking, while the phone was set on the external speaker.
“Hi Jenny,” said Elle, trying to muster up her cheerful voice
“You’re still there! I don’t believe it. The Ball started an hour ago.”
“I’m sorry,” said Elle wincing, “I can’t get away. I’m so close to a solution.”
Jenny let out an exasperated sigh on the end of the phone. “You promised! You promised you would go to the Ball with me. We were going to have fun — remember? Find some nice guys and have a good time is what we agreed, yes?”
“I know. But I’m so close to the answer; I have to finish.”
“And I suppose you’ll be working again all weekend too?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t go to the Ball.” It had been only three weeks since she got her appointment at IFT. At the time, she could not believe her luck at being selected from over a thousand job applicants, but now she had to live up to the expectations placed upon her. Her job depended on her finding a solution, and she was nowhere near finding it.
Jenny let out another long sigh on the phone. “How are we going to get you hooked up, if you won’t make the effort?”
“I haven’t got time for a relationship.” Elle didn’t seem to have any time for anything except work. There would be plenty of time to do what she wanted when she succeeds.
“Who said anything about a relationship; what you need is some stress relief between the sheets.”
Elle laughed. “You’ve got the morals of an alley cat.”
“And you’re a party pooper. We’re supposed to enjoy life at our age.”
“I know.”
“You’re sure you can’t get away? It’s only one night.”
“I can’t get away. Honest.” Elle felt guilty for letting her best friend and flatmate down, but work had to come first. It always did.
“All right,” said Jenny, with a long sigh.
“I’ll see you later back at the flat tonight.”
“Not if I get lucky,” said Jenny. “Wish me luck.”
Elle finished the call and turned back to the whiteboards. Looking at them again made her realise she was still miles away from a solution. She wanted to scream. That morning she seemed to be so close to a solution. Then she realised her whole analysis was based on an assumption that Tachyons behaved like other subatomic particles. But why should a particle that can travel faster than light behave at all normally? She felt nauseous at the thought of continuing, but she had no choice. Not finding a solution just wasn’t an option.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” said a male voice behind her.
She turned and saw an old man standing there that she recognised as Jason Brannan, life president of the JB Foundation. She had never met the man, but everyone at IFT knew who Sir Jason Brannan was. He was the multi billionaire who had created the largest privately funded scientific research foundation in the world. The Foundation owned a network of research companies across the globe, including IFT.
“Oh my god,” she said. “You’re Sir Jason.”
“Jason will do. I hate formality,” he said smiling at her. “And you’re… don’t tell me…. Elle Masters. Am I right?”
“Yes Sir,” she said, feeling confused. ”I mean Jason… But we’ve never met before, have we?”
“I read your file and I have a photographic memory; not bad for an eighty-five-year-old. You’re working on project Chronos, aren’t you?”
“That’s right, Sir… Jason,” she said.
He smiled at her again.
“Now tell me why you aren’t at the Foundation’s annual Ball?”
Elle didn’t know how to reply. Do you tell your boss you can’t do your job? It might mean a very short career. “I’ve been working on this temporal calibration issue, and… I’ve made some progress… but I’m still not quite there.”
“You mean you’ve hit a mental block, yes?”
“You could say that,” she said, trying not to look him in the eye.
“Look I started this project over thirty-five years’ ago. It’s taken that long to get to where we are today and build the prototypes. One weekend is not going to make a difference. You need to take a break.”
“But what about the Project Director? He’s already complained I’m behind schedule.”
“Don’t worry about him. I’ll sort him out. Look, I have to make a speech at this Foundation Ball this evening; so I have to make an appearance. Have you a fancy dress costume for tonight?”
“Yes, but it’s not really right for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“My flatmate chose it. It’s a little bit too revealing,” she said.
Jason Brannan laughed. “Then taking you to the Ball will do my reputation the world of good. Go on and change.”
“But, but…”
“Meet me back here in half an hour and I’ll take you there.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“Is half an hour long enough for you to get ready?”
She was trapped. He was the boss; she had to give in. And he made sense.
“Half an hour will be fine,” she said.
“Okay, I look forward to it,” he said, giving her a friendly wink.
&nb
sp; She left Jason and headed off to the test laboratory.
The research centre was a huge complex, but fortunately, the test laboratory was only down the corridor from her laboratory. The lighting in the corridor had already gone onto standby mode for the night; the motion sensors only lit that part of the corridor that she was walking through. She opened the door to the test laboratory and went in to close down the computers. The laboratory was huge and had inside it two large saucer-shaped vehicles. Each stood on four legs and had a platform running down from under the belly of the saucer that provided access to each vehicle. Whenever she saw them, they filled her with awe; craft that could travel faster than the speed of light and could travel through time itself.
She checked each craft in turn; updating their mathematical data banks for the progress she had made in the day, and then closed down their operating systems.
No one was around; most of the technicians left hours ago to get ready for the Foundation’s annual Ball. She pulled her costume out of its box and held it up. The costume was a skin-tight catsuit in black with a black mask and lifelike animatronic tail. Jenny, who worked in the film industry, thought it would be a hoot for her to go as a cat woman. She felt the material; it was so light, so thin. The underwear would have to go. She looked around her for confirmation that no one could see her. She could change in the laboratory, but what if someone was still around; what if Sir Jason turned up just as she was undressing?
She picked up the catsuit and her pink rucksack and decided to change in the rear vehicle. Inside the vehicle, she slipped out of her tunic and underwear and climbed into the catsuit. She pulled up the fastener that ran up her spine. The suit felt like a second skin melding to her body. She looked at her reflection in the monitors and gasped. Oh my god, I can’t wear this. A nervous tingle of excitement ran down her spine. For the amount of cover it gave her, she could have been wearing black body paint. This was definitely not the costume she would have chosen. But now she had no choice but to wear it for Sir Jason.
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