“The toughest material known to Man would have a hole a few inches deep in it by now, sir,” she commented to her superior.
“Turn it off,” Baynes snapped.
“Yes sir!” Judy cut the power and pushed her goggles up into her short hair as she approached the strange structure. She ran a wafer-thin temperature strip over the surface, then a screwdriver. Finally, she carefully ran her fingers over the targeted area. “It’s still perfectly smooth, sir. And it isn’t even warm.” She walked back to the infrared monitoring equipment that was focused on the point of contact, and confirmed her readings. “It is totally impervious to our attacks, sir.”
Ed threw his goggles over the cradle on which the laser was mounted and shouted down the hill: “Turn it off!”
The engineers hastily shut down the generator, and quiet descended once more on the tranquil little street. Baynes’ mind was not at peace, however; he still felt intensely uncomfortable with the idea that he had erred, earlier, thereby allowing the two suspects (for there was no doubt in his mind that the figures that had walked boldly past him the previous night as he slept were the previously-named young adults Richard Fletcher and Karen Amer) to escape into the comparatively limitless expanse of North America.
He had kept his team busy throughout the remainder of the night, organizing the security for the town and the immediate area around Citadel, rewriting the official press statement to include the descriptions and photographs of the escapees, and preparing a detailed report for submission to the highest authorities. They had moved the truck right up to the fence below Citadel to make life easier now that subterfuge was no longer required, and they had arranged for the Navy to send a salvage ship to bring up the downed fighter jet. Unfortunately, the earliest that vessel could get to Redcliff was Sunday. Finally, they had removed the entire fence to allow easy access for the mobile equipment and associated personnel.
Fraser was still holed up inside, having spent hours on his radio. His main focus was keeping lines of communication open and coordinating the inter-relationships of the various federal and state organizations involved in the evacuation of Redcliff’s three thousand inhabitants, and the securing of a boundary stretching in a semi-circle almost twenty miles long on land, and covering the same sort of area on the seaward side of Citadel, as well as the space above it as high as aircraft could fly and instruments could detect. The satellite had completed its adjustment burns, and now passed almost directly over the site, its course aligned just wide of the microwave footprint, regularly beaming back pictures of the area for analysis.
Kirouac was off with Major Glenn, completing the arrangements relating to the military forces now deployed throughout Redcliff and around the perimeter of the restricted area. Ed wondered if there was some other approach he should have considered, which might enable them to break into the structure. He had even considered standing in front of the known location of the ‘door’ and saying ‘open up’ or even ‘open sesame’; the ridiculous seemed no more impossible than the traditional methods available to him. He turned to Brisson, who had performed what had seemed like an autopsy on the interior of the truck in a fruitless attempt to determine what had knocked Eric and him out, to be left only with speculation and theory, most of it bizarre, to say the least.
“Any other ideas?”
“Yes, sir!” Judy leaned back against the side of the flatbed, with her hands resting on its surface. She looked very tired, but did come up with an interesting suggestion. “Tactical nuclear weapons. That’s the only way we could get more energy concentrated against the surface.”
Ed shuddered. “If we were in Alaska, or maybe in the Nevada desert, I might get permission to try that, eventually, but here…” He shook his head. “We’d have to be able to show why such drastic methods are justified. And I don’t think we can. Not yet, anyway.”
“Yes, sir.” She nodded her understanding. “I guess we haven’t achieved much then,” she admitted reluctantly.
Ed did not respond.
Unknown to Judy, Ed, or the rest of the National Unusual Incident Team, however, their tests had achieved a great deal, but not for their own benefit. Unintentionally they had proved very useful to the ancient spacecraft. With Tutor’s coaxing, Citadel’s temporary power accumulators had absorbed not only the power from the laser during the several minutes it was in operation, but also most of the energy normally dissipated in the process of generating electricity. This included that normally lost as heat within the windings and associated metalwork, and even the inevitable stray electromagnetic fields surrounding an intrinsically inefficient device such as a diesel-powered electricity generator, right until the moment Ed had ordered it shut down. This meant that the auxiliary power system was fully stocked with energy, with significant reserves. A minute amount of excess power was allowed to wash out through the solid material that was Citadel, reaching all its exterior surfaces within milliseconds, but it was distributed over such a large area that it did not raise Citadel’s temperature enough to register, even on Brisson’s state-of-the-art equipment.
Baynes looked up in frustration at the scaffolding that was rapidly being erected around Citadel. There must be something I can do to solve this puzzle. Especially as I know now that this thing is empty.
Someone in army fatigues walked briskly up to Judy and Ed as they stood near the laser, and saluted smartly to Baynes. Shoulder flashes indicated he was an army engineer. “We’ll have a canvas shelter over the entire area within an hour, sir.”
Ed looked at the soldier and nodded. “Understood,” he replied briefly. At least we can soon hide this thing from the spy satellites.
“Sir.” Judy fidgeted next to him as the engineer walked away, “I’d like to get the radar sensors up on the scaffolding; I think the power levels should prove interesting, and the next pulse is due about the same time as they’re planning to be finished.”
“Sure, do it,” Ed agreed. “The support group should be able to help you with the logistics.” Then he added an afterthought. “Why don’t you go and get half an hour of shut-eye in first?”
Brisson looked as if she would balk at the suggestion that she was less able to handle a lack of sleep than he, but, after giving it a little thought, she nodded and walked off towards the truck.
Baynes activated his com-link as she walked out of earshot. “Com-Center, this is Ace.”
“I hear you, Ace.”
“Fraser, how’s the search progressing?”
“I have confirmation that all police departments, law enforcement agencies and undercover operatives in both the U.S.A. and Canada have been alerted to the situation, precisely as Judy’s press release requested.”
“Why don’t you move yourself out of that black hole and join me in the fresh air? Bring me all the latest information. You can handle your calls from here, if you reroute to the portable.”
“Understood, Com-Center signing off.” Leroy picked up his mobile unit and several binders and clipboards full of faxes and other communications documents. He stepped out of the truck and bumped into Judy as she prepared to climb in.
“Sorry.” He watched helplessly as she staggered and fell on the hard street, unable to do anything else, as his hands were full.
Judy picked herself up and glanced at him through half open eyes. “Forget it.”
Fraser observed her climb wearily through the side door, with a wave of her hand to him. And I thought I was tired. He walked over the flattened and split remains of one of the fence posts, contemplating the possibility that the real Judy showed through when she was so tired she no longer had the strength to maintain her front. He walked up to Ed, gauged his mood by the expression on his face, and wisely decided not to mention the incident.
“Morning, Leroy,” Baynes began. “Show me what you’ve got there.” He slapped a vacant patch on the flatbed and leaned back, staring out to sea.
“Morning, sir.” Leroy paused, then opened up his clipboard on the ribbed surface a
nd read from the document inside, as he deduced that Ed wanted the exact details of the press release recited. “‘Two operatives from an undetermined country or terrorist group have been spotted leaving the area of Redcliff, Maine. These operatives are considered extremely dangerous. After the operatives’ departure, it was discovered that biological weapons had been hidden in the town of Redcliff some forty years ago. As these weapons were found to be in an extremely unstable condition, it has been deemed necessary for the safety of the citizens of Maine to evacuate this town and the surrounding area in a nine mile radius. Our professionals tell us that the exact nature and extent of the hazard cannot be overstated, but that all possible safeguards are being implemented.
“All police and other security recipients of this press release are requested to make all possible efforts to locate and capture these operatives. As the solution to the biological weapon problem may be known only to these two, it is imperative that they be captured alive. Recent photographs of the two operatives are enclosed with this release, together with the following descriptions: one eighteen-to-twenty-four year-old Caucasian male, six foot one inch, dark brown hair cut short and off the ears, grey eyes, a wide, pale face, and; one Caucasian female, in appearance about sixteen years old, five foot five inches, long platinum blond hair, usually with a pony tail, blue eyes, also very pale skinned. Both were last seen dressed in dark grey jumpsuits and boots.’
“The area mentioned is actually a little larger than that presently sealed off,” Leroy explained. “So that we can expand without difficulty, if the circumstances warrant. Also, the descriptions are compromises; Richard we know is eighteen, and Karen told the school she was seventeen. Nobody who has seen her thinks she looks older than fourteen, but we figured that an enemy operative that young would be hard to swallow. We transmitted the pictures enhanced from the record of their escape.” Leroy flipped the page and showed Ed the prints. Both were almost as good as portraits, showing head and shoulders, against an essentially black background.
“Yeah, good.”
Leroy stifled a grin; the brief positive comment from Baynes was typical of the man, but Leroy knew that he was pleased. “We are still receiving data on the microwave energy at various altitudes above Citadel, and it still amounts to the equivalent of a huge nuclear power plant inside, or possibly below the structure, emitting microwave energy at unheard of power levels. Air traffic has been diverted from the area, and even the observation aircraft are not allowed to fly below ten thousand feet, as a precaution to protect the crew, and various sensitive electronic components.”
“Oh, yes. How’s the pilot of that first plane doing? Doesn’t he have the same name as this place, or something like it?”
“Yep, Redwood. Mark Redwood. He’s still undergoing tests, but the doctors think he was in the scattered component of the high intensity beam for such a short period that there will be no measurable short-term effects.”
“Lucky.”
Neither of them mentioned the possibility of long-term effects; such a discussion was beyond the immediacy of the present situation.
Ed and Leroy watched in silence as the army engineers rapidly constructed the temporary concealment structure. Sure enough, within sixty minutes the framework was completed, and all that remained of the canvas cladding that had not been fitted was the section that needed to be stretched directly over Citadel.
Fraser’s expression became distant, as he listened to a transmission coming in on his portable radio. He turned to Baynes after about a minute. “That was High Trick, sir, relaying a message from another Big Eye. Microwaves are being detected once more; they appear to be the same strength as previously recorded.”
Ed contemplated whether he should send Leroy to get Judy, or whether he should go himself. The question became academic when she appeared from behind their field of view and walked to the hive of activity around Citadel. She started to climb to the top of the scaffolding, holding a broom with a microwave meter mounted on the top with masking tape. She paused every few feet to check the readings on the small display clipped to her belt. As she reached the top of the scaffolding, she extended the stick as high above her head as her five foot nine inches would allow. A puzzled expression formed on her usually controlled face.
She called down to the engineers, and a couple hurried up to join her, equipped with several lengths of aluminum scaffolding. In a couple of minutes they had extended the platform sideways, so that it was almost touching the worn stone parapet that helped define the edge between Citadel’s walls and the top of the mysterious structure. Another soldier passed up some planks that the engineer next to Judy laid out, and she stepped out onto the new walkway, holding the microwave detector in front of her and moving it slowly from side to side, and up and down. Finally she turned and called down to Ed, who was standing with the engineers below.
“I haven’t detected any microwave emissions at all yet, sir – not even scatter.”
Baynes nodded to show his understanding, and watched as Judy stepped hesitantly onto the rough stone and down onto the smooth black surface inside. Leroy moved back a little, until he could see Judy moving about inside the wall of stones; Baynes followed him a moment later.
“I don’t understand it, sir.” Brisson leaned over the edge to call down to her superior when she had completed her initial survey. “There’s no trace of the microwave energy, yet our airborne surveillance is still reporting emissions which commenced almost fifteen minutes ago.”
“It’s fortunate for you... I wouldn’t want to stand in that beam!” Leroy called back. “You’d be looking a lot darker than me by now.”
Ed smiled. “We know the energy was detected at about one hundred feet above ground level,” he recapped. “Why don’t you get an extension rod and check it out a little higher overhead?”
Judy nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Baynes walked over and sat down on the flat surface at the back of the generator truck, where he could see more of the action on top of Citadel. He watched Judy as she used duct tape to attach the broom to a spare length of tubing that the engineers had given her, one left over from the scaffolding, and lifted the meter slowly over her head. As the detector on the end of the stick reached about eight feet above her bright green hard hat, there was a bright flash.
Judy dropped the tube, involuntarily emitting a shriek.
Ed jumped to his feet and found himself running to the scene, where several engineers, equipped with microwave detectors, were already swarming up the framework and over the crumbling battlements.
“Leroy.” Judy appeared pale, and her voice sounded a little shaky when she finally leaned over the wall with the broom in her hand, still attached to the metal tubing. “Catch.”
Fraser had to take a couple of quick steps forward, to stop the tube from hitting, and inevitably sinking several inches into the ground. He looked at the device on the end of the broom for a moment, then turned and walked to Baynes, who was still standing at the base of the scaffolding, to show him the detector.
“Wow!” Ed whispered. The end of the unit looked like it had been sheared off somehow, leaving the electronic components exposed, as in a cut-away drawing.
“It’s been vaporized,” Fraser concluded. “The microwave energy must be so strong, maybe thirteen feet above the top of Citadel, that it can boil metals instantly.”
Ed nodded. “Get down from there, Judy, and let those engineers survey the whole area, to determine if the effect is the same throughout.” Baynes was so concerned that forgot the formalities that usually seemed so important to Ms. Judy Brisson; in this instance, however, she just nodded, and complied meekly. The shock, on top of her extreme fatigue, was enough to strip the thin, protective veneer of her self-sufficiency from her, leaving her more compliant than Ed had ever known her to be. At least temporarily.
Fraser led Judy down the slope a little way and sat down with her on the trampled grass. Ed contemplated joining them, but Leroy turned around almo
st immediately and called to him. “Secure transmission for you, sir. Do you want me to manage it?”
“No, don’t bother; I know how it works.” Baynes left the scene and walked past them and down to the truck. Once inside, he flicked a couple of switches, transferring the signal to his ‘hot’ phone. The red telephone on his desk rang once - a long, shrill tone. Ed hurried over and picked it up as he sat down.
Outside, Brisson shook her head, as if trying to clear it, and looked at Fraser. “Do you know who it is?”
“Someone with a very high clearance.” Leroy looked around casually, then adjusted the controls on his ‘portable’ as he continued. “I can pick up his responses, but I can’t tune in the in-coming stuff.” He smiled at Judy a bit mischievously, and was pleased when the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkled slightly. He perceived that, at that moment, Judy was more human than she had ever seemed before.
They huddled over the radio and listened for their leader’s words expectantly, as he, in turn, listened intently to the undetermined but highly important person, one of a handful who had access to the secure communications network. Strangely, Ed said very little, and most of it was ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir.”
At the end of the call, Baynes put down the handset very gently, and moved to the door. He stepped down and walked until he could see his subordinates. “Fraser... Brisson...”
The two approached obediently.
“Come inside.”
They followed him into the comparatively dark interior. Leroy shut the door.
“It seems the President considers this operation to be matter of the highest possible importance.” He paused, seeming to have difficulty in finding the right words for the explanation. “So important, that Nathan Blackwell is coming down here, today.”
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