“You are having a go with me, Holmes. Now that the girl is on board, where is this ship headed?”
“I assume we are headed for the Soviet Union. We are aboard a stolen American experimental craft. No doubt it is a successor to the crashed ship we saw that night in Roswell.”
“Holmes, we will be lucky if we are not shot down.”
“Yes, we must find a way to force a landing. But first, we must make our presence known to Miss Sands.”
Quietly Holmes and I slipped from our hiding place and made our way to the cubicle where Piper Sands was being kept. The lock was a simple slide mechanism. When Holmes and I slipped inside, Miss Sands was seated with a safety harness locked across her chest.
“I do not believe this,” Piper Sands said.
“You are welcome,” I replied.
“Have you a plan, or will this be another of your improvisations?”
“The numbers are on our side,” I said. “There are three of us and two of them.”
“Not quite,” Holmes replied. “Who among the three of us can fly this craft?”
“Count me out,” Agent Sands said.
My flying experience was limited to small planes. This flying behemoth was far beyond my capabilities.
“Then we must overpower The Caretaker and force the pilot to land,” said Holmes.
“That means separating the two of them from each other,” Agent Sands said.
“Cry out,” I said. “Get him back here.”
“No, I am not going to do that!”
“We certainly can’t scream. As far as they know, you are the only passenger aboard.”
“I hate this!”
Piper Sands began crying out at the top of her lungs.
A few moments later, General Lukin slid open the door. Agent Sands was seated, free of her harness. Before Lukin had time to react, Holmes and I leapt upon the General and held him securely. Agent Sands quickly removed Lukin’s pistol from the holster inside his coat.
“To the bridge, General. Very carefully,” Holmes said.
Piper Sands pressed the pistol against Lukin’s back and pushed him forward.
“I take it you are not Jenny Winston,” Lukin said.
“My name is Piper Sands. I am a trained agent. Don’t think for one moment I will hesitate to pull the trigger.”
“I don’t doubt that whatsoever. I must congratulate you on the deception.”
“Hey, put a sock in it,” Agent Sands said.
The four of us moved slowly up the passageway to the bridge.
“What’s going on back there?” Lt. Reed called out.
Holmes put his hand on Reed’s shoulder. “Land the saucer.”
Reed turned in his seat.
“They have the gun,” Lukin said.
Reed made no attempt to comply. “There is nowhere to put down.”
“Land this ship,” Holmes repeated.
Lt. Reed chuckled. “What will you do if I don’t put down? Will you shoot the General? Be my guest. I don’t particularly like him anyway. Or will you shoot me? If you do that, you will be forced to land this ship on your own. It appears you are between a saucer and a hard place.”
Lukin dropped his hands. “Hand me the gun, Miss Sands.”
Piper Sands turned over the pistol to Lukin.
Lukin and Reed were in control. There was nothing to be done.
“Now, let’s see what this baby can really do.” Reed said. “Everyone better hold tight.”
Reed pulled back on the controls. The ship accelerated rapidly and then went into a steep, dizzying climb.
Reed laughed triumphantly. “I knew it! I knew it could do more!”
The ship’s engines whined, as if under an unaccustomed strain.
Holmes, Agent Sands, and I looked at each other anxiously.
“That doesn’t sound good,” I said.
“Lieutenant, are you sure about this?” Lukin asked.
The engine whine increased to a deafening shrill.
“What is going on?” Agent Sands yelled.
The ship began to vibrate wildly.
Reed fought the controls, attempting to steady the ship.
“Bring it down!” Holmes commanded.
“I am trying!” Reed said, his voice suddenly panicked.
Something deep inside the ship exploded.
“Hang on, we’re going down!”
Lukin buckled into the copilot’s seat, as Holmes, Agent Sands, and I strapped into the three seats behind the pilot and copilot. We braced ourselves for impact.
The ship descended rapidly through the clouds. Stall alarms sounded, and red lights lit up all over the control panel. Our descent was so dizzying it was impossible to determine where we were. Lt. Reed punched a button to deploy the landing struts. The altimeter indicated we were only a few hundred feet above ground. Suddenly four giant white illuminated faces appeared before us. “Good God,” I screamed. We were flying straight toward the great stone faces carved into the side of Mt. Rushmore. The ship made an impossibly sharp turn, flying so close to the monument I was sure the landing struts must have scraped across Washington’s forehead. The ship flew up and over the top of the monument, quickly losing altitude. Seconds later it plowed into the earth, skimmed across the ground as a pebble hopping across the surface of a pond, and finally came to a brutally hard stop. Had we not been strapped in, we would most certainly have perished.
For a moment, no one moved. Lt. Reed was the first one to unbuckle. Quickly he pulled a lever, resulting in a blast of compressed air followed by a brief explosion. Lt. Reed had blown open an emergency escape hatch. Grabbing the headpiece with the built-in night vision goggles, he hurled himself through the opening in the side of the saucer and disappeared into the night.
Before the three of us had time to unbuckle our restraints, General Lukin rose from the copilot’s seat and turned toward us. He aimed the pistol at Holmes.
“Do not worry, Mr. Holmes. As much as I would like to, I am afraid I do not have the luxury of wasting a single bullet. Once I exit this ship, I may well encounter creatures far more lethal than you.”
Lukin disappeared through the escape hatch.
Holmes immediately unbuckled his harness and leapt through the escape hatch to the ground.
“Not without me, you don’t,” Agent Sands said, flying out of the escape hatch right behind Holmes.
With clouds covering the moon, it was all but impossible to get one’s bearings. The intermittent blinking of the ship’s emergency lights provided some light. We had crashed in rough terrain.
Peering through the escape hatch, I saw that the ship had crashed on top of a rocky outcropping that couldn’t have been more than a mile from the Mt. Rushmore Monument. The lights illuminating the monument glowed in the distance.
“You will never be able to track Lukin in this dark,” Agent Sands said. “I am much better suited for this task.”
As Holmes peered into the darkness, the blinking landing lights revealed an image. Lukin was only a few yards away, pointing the pistol toward them.
“Watch out!” Agent Sands screamed. She threw herself into Holmes, knocking him to the ground at precisely the same instant a shot rang out, followed by a flash of blue flame. Agent Sands cried out in pain. She collapsed onto the ground next to Holmes. Before Holmes could get to his feet, General Lukin had disappeared into the rocky crags surrounding the crash site.
“Holmes, are you alright?” I called out, exiting through the escape hatch.
“Quick, Watson, Agent Sands has been hit.”
Breathlessly I reached Holmes and Agent Sands. The blinking lights revealed a nasty wound to Agent Sands’ left shoulder. Thankfully the injury was not life-threatening.
“Steady. It’s all right, you’ll live.”
“Easy for you to say.” Agent Sands grimaced in pain with every word she spoke. “Have you ever been shot?”
A painful memory presented itself with such visceral clarity, I felt as if I had been transported to another time. I rose to my feet and walked away.
“Hey! Hey!” Agent Sands called out, “I’m dying here.”
I needed air and to clear the flood of memories that had washed over me.
Holmes knelt beside the fallen agent. “He knows,” he said gently. “He has seen it; he has experienced it.”
A few minutes later, I returned to offer the care I had been trained to provide.
“I am sorry, Dr. Watson. That was thoughtless of me. I didn’t know.”
“It is already forgotten,” I said reassuringly. “We must move you inside. We need protection from the cold and whatever else might be out here at night.”
“I assume this craft is equipped with a locator beacon,” Holmes said. “I daresay we will be located within a matter of hours.”
“What about Lukin and the pilot?” Agent Sands asked. “We can’t just let them get away.”
“Without the proper equipment and protection, a pursuit in this terrain would be perilous. There is nothing to be done until morning. You need to rest until you can be evacuated.”
* * *
Shortly before daylight, three helicopters landed forming a triangle with the crashed saucer in the middle. A bullhorn demanded the occupants exit with hands in the air. Holmes and I exited the craft. Agent Sands remained inside until a medical team could extract her.
As ordered, Holmes and I held our hands above our heads. Several serious looking soldiers pointed rifles at us.
“Stand down,” a familiar voice said.
Colonel Patterson stepped to the fore.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Holmes,” the Colonel said with guarded enthusiasm.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Colonel Patterson had turned himself in. If he had, he did not allow. Most likely he had chosen to play the odds.
Holmes filled Patterson in on the details of the crash and the escapes of both Lt. Reed and General Lukin.
“It is doubtful either will get far,” Patterson offered. “The terrain here is difficult to navigate on foot.” “Could our escapees have made their way to the monument?” I asked
“Unlikely, Doctor. Were they to reach the monument, there would be nowhere to go. Most likely they both made their way to the highway. I have no doubts we will find them.” Colonel Patterson lowered his voice and pulled Holmes aside. “Mr. Holmes, that business about the beauty salon-”
Holmes raised his hand to forestall Colonel Patterson from speaking. “I have one interest and one interest only: that is to ensure the safety of Agent Sands.”
“Then I would like to say-”
“Thank you? Colonel, do not misunderstand me. I am most appalled by your conduct. It is impossible to calculate the damage you may have done or the number of lives you have put at risk. The path you choose going forward is your business. Only you can make that choice.”
The rebuffed Colonel ordered a pair of soldiers to escort Holmes, Agent Sands, and me to a waiting helicopter. Within minutes we were airborne and headed to Roswell, where the three of us overnighted. The following morning Holmes and I said our goodbyes to Agent Sands, as we were being returned to Washington, and she to a destination undisclosed to us.
Given our brief and turbulent acquaintance with Agent Sands, neither Holmes nor I expected a tearful farewell. We were not disappointed.
“I would like to say it’s been fun, but of course we know that’s not true. Anyway, thanks for the memories. See you around.”
With that less than sincere attempt at sarcasm, Agent Piper Sands exited our lives.
Later that morning Holmes and I returned to Washington, D.C.
Debriefing
Washington D.C.
After arriving in Washington, Holmes and I were joined by Mycroft. We were escorted to the senate office where we had previously met Colonel Hawker. He greeted us warmly, offered coffee, and invited us to sit.
“I am glad to see the senator from Wisconsin will not be joining us,” Holmes remarked.
“You rather put him off,” the Colonel said. “McCarthy isn’t used to being spoken to in such a direct manner.”
“Perhaps therein lies the fault. That may be exactly what he needs.”
“Regardless, I am glad to see none of you are any worse for wear.”
“Certainly not my brother,” Holmes quipped. “Ensconced in his office in London, I don’t believe Mycroft was ever in danger, were you, brother?”
Mycroft smiled politely, allowing Sherlock’s remark to pass without response.
“Now that this business is concluded, no doubt you have many questions.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say concluded. Aren’t General Lukin and Lt. Reed still at large?”
“It will only be a matter of time before they are apprehended.”
The expression on Holmes’s face suggested he had little faith in the Colonel’s pronouncement.
“As you may have guessed, Mr. Holmes, what you and Dr. Watson saw that night in Roswell was not a weather balloon.”
“Dr. Watson and I have known that fact from the start.”
“Well, Holmes knew,” I interjected. “I was somewhat slower to arrive at that conclusion.”
“What you saw burning to the ground was a prototype of the saucer you prevented the Soviets from stealing. It was an experimental craft under development by a highly classified branch of the Air Force known as Chimera. It began life as a program called Project 1794. Currently three similar projects are underway here in the U.S. and at least one we know of in The Soviet Union. I believe the British also have such a program, is that right, Mycroft?”
Mycroft smiled. “I really couldn’t say.”
“The craft you saw at Roswell was known as the FD2. It was powered by a since discarded propulsion system. An earlier model, the FD1, was never operational. As I noted during our previous visit, since the end of the war relations with the Soviets have become frosty. Once the Soviets witnessed the power America unleashed on Japan, they committed to a full-scale effort in the development of atomic weaponry and advanced aviation. We are in a virtual race. The FD program is our attempt to advance U.S. technology far beyond anything the Soviets are capable of. Thus far the effort has proven abysmal.”
“What about the Soviets?”
“In many respects, the Soviets are Neanderthals; they lack imagination. Originality is not their strong suit. As I noted previously, they are masters of reverse engineering. They are most adept at copying captured technologies, thus the need for self-destruct mechanisms in our aircraft in the event of capture. And they are unmatched when it comes to infiltration and stealing classified documents. Hence our mole problem.”
“Forgive me, Colonel, but none of this information is new to us. Dr. Watson and I are most anxious to return to London.”
“Very well. To make a long story short, their saucer was never going to get off the ground, at least not with the blueprints their mole was passing along. Once we became aware of our leak, we carefully made sure our mole was sending out plans that were useless. The technology they have been receiving is for a propulsion system that will never work. They have wasted years developing a worthless technology.”
“Which explains why the Soviets attempted to steal the ship.”
“Precisely, Doctor.”
Mycroft sighed. “Are we to get the real Roswell story, Colonel? Or will we be sent away once again without knowing the truth?”
“Colonel, if the Soviets’ primary goal were the saucer, there would have been no need to apprehend the girl, cert
ainly not after all these years. They, as we, believe there is still something else.”
“Quite right, Mr. Holmes. The night of July 7, 1947, the FD2 had taken off from a site near the Dugway Proving Ground in Utah. It flew in a southerly direction that would take it over Roswell, New Mexico. Approximately two hours into the flight, the saucer experienced a catastrophic systems failure. A reserve oxygen tank on board exploded, resulting in a crippling fire. The ship lost altitude and crashed seventy-miles west of Roswell. Both pilots barely escaped with their lives. As thousands had witnessed the fireball falling from the sky, we could hardly deny something had happened.
“Typically, we can dismiss such an occurrence as a meteorite crashing to earth. In this instance there were witnesses. The boy and girl were easy to deal with. They were provided with new identities and relocated. Mr. Carl, on the other hand, proved to be more than a handful. He had gotten on the phone right away with the press, so by the next day the headline read: RAAF Captures Flying Saucer on Ranch in Roswell Region. Baring nothing short of a public panic, we needed to come up with a plausible story.”
“You believed a flaming weather balloon story would do the job?”
“This is where things get tricky, Doctor. We had known for some time the Soviets were developing their own saucer program. Beyond that, we knew nothing. Perception is important. It was in our best interests to convince the Soviets we were far ahead of them in development. In truth, we had no idea how far along they were. And then Roswell happened. We sure as hell didn’t want the Soviets believing we had suffered a major setback, so the boys in propaganda got right to work and cooked up the weather balloon story. The Soviets would expect a cover. The weather balloon story was flimsy enough to satisfy their expectations and plausible enough to convince the public. From the Soviet point of view, the more we denied, the more we had to hide.”
“Workers on the inside didn’t know the truth?” I asked.
“That was the beauty. We managed to keep a lid on it. It wasn’t until some months later we discovered we had one or more moles in our operation. Once we caught on, that is when we began feeding them worthless documents. From a tactical advantage, you always want the enemy to believe they are a step behind.”
Sherlock Holmes and The Roswell Incident Page 16