“My gut says there’s no future in which we get into an elevator without being seen,” she told them.
Redford nodded grimly. “Amazing we got this far,” he said. “And we knew we’d have to bluff our way out at some point.” He forced a confident smile. “So let’s do this,” he added, pulling the sheet over his face and closing his eyes once again.
Anna took a deep breath, nodded at Kaitlyn, and proceeded to the lobby. The moment they entered, four men pointed guns at their heads. “Freeze!” shouted one of the four.
Anna and Kaitlyn raised their hands, while another of the four searched the medical bag hanging from the gurney, finding nothing but bandages and wound-healing spray inside. Two others frisked the two women, removing the handguns they had just taken from the commandos.
Easy come, easy go, thought Anna miserably.
“I’m Captain Ed Coleman,” said the man who had spoken previously. “We have orders not to let anyone leave here.”
Anna drew back a sheet to reveal Wilson Stinnett. “The secretary of defense has been shot in the stomach!” she said, doing her best to sound panicked—which wasn’t hard, since her heart was racing—but she wasn’t able to tear up as she had hoped. She pulled the sheet below Stinnett’s midriff to reveal his blood-drenched shirt. “We have to medevac him to a proper hospital immediately! There’s no time to waste!”
Coleman winced. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but Secretary Stinnett phoned ahead of his arrival with strict orders. He told us that after he and his party entered the main facility, no one was to leave until he cleared it himself. No one. ”
“And you don’t see a problem with that?” thundered Anna. “How’s he going to clear us to leave now? And since he’ll die in an hour or so if we don’t get him to a hospital, does that mean that no one can ever leave again? Unless he clears them from the fricking grave? Are you a complete moron, Captain?”
Coleman didn’t respond, but he wasn’t put off by Anna’s insults, as if he knew he deserved them. “Who’s on the other gurney?” he asked instead.
Anna pulled the sheet down to reveal Coleman’s boss, still playing dead.
The captain’s eyes widened.
“Colonel Redford’s been stabbed in the neck,” she said. “He’ll die also if we don’t medevac him out of here.”
Coleman sighed. “The colonel is a traitor and an enemy of the state,” he said.
“Yeah, don’t believe everything you hear,” said Anna. “But even if this is true, let him be court martialed. Don’t let him and the secretary of defense die because of your stupidity.”
“Who did this to them?” asked Coleman.
“Several of the secretary’s bodyguards turned on him. All five are now unconscious in Conference Room D. It’s a long story, and I won’t spend time telling it while the lives of these good men slip away.”
“Who are you, anyway?” asked the captain.
“We came in with Secretary Stinnett. Kaitlyn here is one of his personal assistants, and I’m his personal physician. Although he needs care well beyond my skill level.”
Coleman’s eyes narrowed. “Why would he bring his personal physician along?” he asked.
“I have no idea!” barked Anna. “I thought it was strange myself. How about we ask him after we save his life?”
“You think I’m happy about this?” said Coleman, his frustration finally bursting out. “Of course I’m not. Every fiber of my being says we need to let these men get to a hospital. But the secretary made the stakes very clear to us. He told us that no one was to leave. Period. Even if it cost him his own life. He specifically said that.”
Anna nodded. “I’m glad you told me that, Captain. I’m sure you’re a good man. And I get why you’re torn. So here’s what’s going to happen.” She gestured to one of the two massive elevators behind him and his three comrades. “My colleague and I are going to wheel these gurneys into that elevator and then medevac these men to a hospital. I’m sure you know that your helicopters are capable of flying themselves, and Secretary Stinnett gave the self-piloting system the authorization needed to let me control it.
“So you and your men have a choice. You can shoot two innocent women in cold blood, because of an order that has been rendered ridiculous. Or you can escort us to the hospital and watch us like hawks. You can let us save the lives of two good men while you satisfy yourself that the world’s not going to end because of it.”
Coleman blew out a long breath. “Okay,” he said, reaching a decision. He turned to his three colleagues. “Wade, you and Tristan stay here. Make sure that no one else leaves until you get word from me. Travis and I will fly with these women to the hospital.”
“Thank you, Captain!” said Anna in relief. “Can you have someone pull up a vehicle large enough to fit these gurneys into for the trip to the helipad?”
He nodded. “Wade, call Rodrigo at the gate and have him pull the Reaper around front. Tell him we need it yesterday.”
“Roger that,” replied the man named Wade.
Anna and Kaitlyn pulled the two gurneys into the elevator, and the captain and a man named Travis escorted them inside. “How did you know we even had such a vehicle here?” asked Coleman as the elevator began to rise.
“You’re set up to retrieve alien bodies if any are ever found. You’d need a vehicle spacious enough to transport them from the helipad to here, presumably in refrigerated caskets. Which I assume is why you call this vehicle of yours the Reaper.”
Coleman looked deeply into Anna’s blue eyes. “Whoever you are,” he said, “you’re very impressive.”
Anna laughed. “Thanks, Captain,” she replied. “That’s very nice of you to say. But I’m intent on staying humble, and talk like that really isn’t helping,” she added in amusement, giddy that they were actually now leaving Evie headquarters alive.
49
Anna watched the shrinking, unconscious forms of Captain Ed Coleman and the man named Travis as the helicopter rose in the sky. She had been as gentle as possible while knocking them out on the helipad, and tried to shake off her guilt. Yes, she had now rendered eight of the good guys unconscious, but she had managed to escape without doing permanent damage to any of them, a remarkable achievement by any measure.
“Great news,” said Redford excitedly beside her. “The transponder is still off-line.”
“So we still can’t be tracked?”
“Not while flying in full stealth mode,” he replied cheerfully.
Anna bent to the task of patching up Redford and Secretary Stinnett. After cleaning their wounds and using the wound-healing spray and bandages that the colonel had included in the medical bag, she was confident that they would suffer no lasting damage. The colonel then produced the zip-ties he had taken from the commandos and bound the unconscious secretary of defense to one of the seats so that his arms and legs couldn’t move more than a few inches.
“Brilliant job of escaping, by the way,” said Redford to the detective. “From now on I’ll know to expect miracles from you. Well done.”
“Are you kidding?” replied Anna with a grin. “Well done yourself. You were so convincing. If there were ever an Oscar for most convincing bleeding in a life-and-death situation, I have to believe you’d take home the statue.”
“That means a lot to me, Anna,” said the colonel in amusement. “I’ve always dreamed of winning an award for bleeding from the neck. It’s second only to my dream of sleeping with an admiral of an interstellar fleet.”
“You do dream big,” mused the detective.
Now that they were safely hidden in the clouds, Kaitlyn got Vega on her comm and put him on speaker. The group quickly brought the alien leader up to speed.
“At least you’re all okay,” said Vega somberly when they had finished. “It could have been worse. Much worse.”
“Glad to see you’re a glass half-full kind of . . . alien,” said Anna. “And I guess I really am moving up in the world.”
“How
so?” asked Vega.
“Two days ago,” replied the detective, “I was being hunted by every cop in America.” She shrugged. “Now, the entire US military is trying to hunt me down. Definitely an upgrade.”
Redford smiled. “You should be very proud,” he said wryly. “But to get serious for a moment,” he continued, “Tom, can you tell us more about this possession drug? Frey said they modified Stinnett’s comm to give them a private channel to control him. And also to kill him if we try to remove it.”
“We can determine if it’s been booby-trapped or not when Stinnett arrives here,” said Vega, “but I suspect it’s true. Historically, according to the log entries of my people thousands of years ago, the Tarts relied on face-to-face voice instructions to program their victims. But proper technology didn’t exist at the time for them to do otherwise. Now that it does, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were able to modify the secretary’s comm as Frey specified. As for the booby trap, they most likely altered his comm to release some kind of poison into Stinnett’s bloodstream if removed.”
“However they pulled it off,” said Redford grimly, “I don’t think it was a bluff. Frey had no reason to lie. He expected we’d be taking whatever he told us to the grave.”
“The good news is that we can nullify Frey’s control without removing the comm,” said Vega. “Your helicopter uses stealth technology, right Colonel?”
“Right,” said Redford.
“Which I’m guessing means that you can also choose to block Wi-Fi and other EM signals coming in. If I’m right, do this the moment we’re finished so the Tarts can’t use Stinnett’s comm to locate you.”
“Good call,” said Redford. “I will. Regardless, we have the secretary bound, and we’ll keep him unconscious.”
“We have a signal dampener at our compound as well,” said Vega. “So we can make sure that Frey can’t influence the secretary while he’s here. And in a day or two, when we get the chemical ingredient we need to complete our HCS cure, Stinnett will be free, comm or no comm.”
“The question is, what will he be like when he awakens?” asked Anna.
“The log entries I’ve read make that clear,” said Vega. “If he receives no further instructions, he’ll continue to try to carry out the previous ones. But other than that, he’ll be himself. From what you told me, it sounds as if he was given a fairly basic set of instructions. Continue acting like he’s your boss, and do whatever he can to get you to willingly give him a comprehensive briefing.”
Redford nodded thoughtfully. “In that case,” he said, “he’s going to be a very happy puppet. Because right after we land, I need to contact and brief our president, with the secretary in attendance. So he’ll get the briefing that Frey programmed him to want, after all. Only Frey won’t be able to hear it.” The colonel paused. “Do you have a room with a secure vid-conference system, by any chance?”
“I do,” said the alien leader. “I’ll have it ready to go when you land.”
“And by secure, I mean absolutely secure.”
“It’s more secure than any human technology can make it,” replied Vega. “Your conversation with the president will be private, I assure you.”
“Thank you,” said Redford. “We’ll expect to see you in a few hours.”
“Understood,” said Vega. “And just so you know, I plan to have thirty more of my people fly in today and tomorrow, including a number of our warrior class. We’ll all be protecting Anna with our lives. Not that she’ll need our protection,” he hastened to add.
“Of course not,” said Redford in amusement. “Why would she? She’s only up against the entire US military and almost seven hundred very pissed-off extraterrestrial demons.”
“You’re right,” said Vega, not catching the sarcasm. “Nothing she can’t handle herself. But I still like the idea of having extra bodies. After all, you can never be too careful.”
50
At forty-four, Quinn McNally was the third youngest US president ever to serve, but after only two years in office he felt as if he had aged decades. The job was even more demanding than he had thought it would be. He wondered how presidents in their sixties and seventies had managed to survive even a week in office, since there were weeks when he thought he couldn’t, and he was the picture of health and endurance, having run marathons into his thirties.
McNally was pale, as dictated by his Irish ancestry, but his jet-black hair served as a nice contrast to his skin tone. He was considered handsome, but this worked against him as much as it worked for him, with his political and media opponents suggesting that due to his looks and youth, he seemed more of an actor playing the role of president than someone with enough knowledge and experience to be effective in the job.
McNally tried to stay focused on Keisha Aaron, his secretary of agriculture, but his mind kept wandering. “And while Senator Fontenot is pushing hard for increases in corn subsidies,” she was saying, “my own view is that he doesn’t care about these at all. His popularity has slipped, and he’s worried about his reelection. My guess is that if you promised to campaign for him a few times, he’d drop these demands like a flaming bag of . . . leaves.”
The president nodded, but didn’t reply.
“So what do you think, sir? Should I tell him you’ll hold a few rallies for him in exchange for backing off this folly? His demands don’t make economic sense. The corn farmers in his state are doing very well right now.”
There was a rap on the door to the oval office. “Mr. President,” said Sophia Salazar, his chief of staff, letting herself in. “I need to interrupt.”
McNally blew out a relieved breath. He welcomed any excuse not to continue the discussion he was having with his agriculture secretary. Sophia Salazar approached his desk and asked Keisha Aaron to step outside for a moment.
“Secretary Stinnett just called,” reported the chief of staff the moment she and the president were alone.
McNally’s eyes widened. Thank God. He had feared that his secretary of defense was dead. Three hours earlier, reports had come in that Stinnett had sustained a nearly fatal gunshot wound to the gut, and was last seen flying away from Evie headquarters, unconscious, in the control of two women, one of whom apparently had the combat skills of a ninja.
“How did he sound?” asked the president.
“Great. Strong, aware, and articulate. He said the reported injuries were exaggerated, and that he just sustained a superficial wound. And he is very eager to brief you, sir.”
“Where is he?”
“He didn’t say,” replied his chief of staff. “And the call was untraceable. All he told me was that it was an emergency, and it was urgent that you receive a full briefing. He asked for you to clear your schedule for the next three hours. He’ll be calling again in fifteen minutes. He says the briefing is vital, but for your ears only. At least for the time being.”
McNally nodded. “Please close the door behind you,” he said. “I’ll take Stinnett’s call in here. And clear my schedule as he asked.” He paused. “Also, please tell Secretary Aaron on your way out that we’ll have to reschedule our meeting for the near future. And apologize for me.”
“Of course, Mr. President,” said Sophia Salazar. “Right away, sir.”
***
Anna sat on one side of an elongated oval table, along with Colonel Steve Redford, Secretary of Defense Wilson Stinnett, and two Vors calling themselves Tom Vega and Kaitlyn O’Connor. Although Anna tried not to, she realized she was staring at the man who had popped into existence on the other side of the table with her mouth open.
President Quinn McNally. In the flesh. Or at least a perfect holographic representation.
“Welcome, Mr. President,” said the secretary of defense.
McNally squinted in disbelief. “Are you bound to that chair, Wilson?”
“I’m afraid so,” replied Stinnett. “But for good reasons, which we’ll get to later. You’re familiar with Colonel Stephen Redford, head of Evie,”
he added, gesturing to the man in question. “He’ll introduce you to the three others in the room in a moment. The colonel plans to give you a lengthy briefing. But first, he has an urgent request.”
The president’s avatar turned to face Redford. “I’m listening, Colonel.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. As you know, we’ve found incontrovertible evidence of an alien species on Earth, which we called the Travelers. We’ve since learned that they call themselves the Tartarians, and we call them Tarts for short. It turns out that these Tarts are a hostile species who would like to wipe us out. We can bring you fully up to speed. But before we do, I can tell you that they have a drug that can turn a human being into their puppet. They used this drug on Secretary Stinnett.”
McNally nodded slowly. “Which is why he’s tied up.”
“Yes,” said Redford.
“But he doesn’t seem to be under anyone’s influence right now.”
“That is correct, sir,” replied the colonel. “He isn’t. But we wanted to incapacitate him anyway, as a precaution, and he agreed. He still has no choice but to follow previous instructions—programming, really—that the Tarts established. He was ordered primarily to get me to provide a full briefing, which I will soon be doing. Since setting up this meeting isn’t in conflict with his programming—in fact is in perfect alignment—he was free to do so as himself. And to participate. But what I’ll ask you to do now is in conflict with previous instructions he’s been given, which is why the request has to come from me.”
The president eyed Redford suspiciously. “You are aware that early this morning,” he said, “the secretary branded you a traitor. He told me he had absolute proof that you’re working with extraterrestrials against US interests. Against the interests of humanity itself.”
Redford nodded. “I’m aware,” he replied. “He did this because he was under Tart control at the time.”
The president paused in thought. “How do I know that you don’t have him under your control right now?” he asked. “How do I know that you aren’t a traitor?”
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