Area 51 (38 page)

"I'm Kelly Reynolds."

The man simply looked at them.

"I'm a friend of Johnny Simmons," she continued.

"So he got the tape," the man growled.

"Yes," Kelly said.

"Took you long enough. Where's Simmons?"

"He's dead." She pointed to the west. "He tried to infiltrate Area 51 and got caught. They took him to Dulce, New Mexico. We broke him out but he killed himself."

The old man didn't seem too surprised. "I heard they do strange things to people down at Dulce."

Kelly stepped closer. "I'll tell you the full story real quick. Then we need your help."

NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

The officer in the flight suit stuck out a hand. "Lieutenant Haverstaw at your service, ma'am."

"Call me Lisa," Duncan said.

The officer smiled. "I'm Debbie." She pointed at the other people in flight suits. "That's my copilot, Lieutenant Pete Jefferson; our PRs are Sergeant Hancock and Sergeant Murphy." The two men were stowing gear on the back of the UH-60 Blackhawk.

"What are they loading?" Duncan asked.

"Our standard rescue gear," Haverstraw said.

"I just need you to fly me out to Groom Lake," Duncan said.

"SOP--standing operating procedures," Haverstraw said. "We always carry our rescue gear when we fly. Our primary mission, other than flying presidential scientific advisers around, is to rescue downed aircrews. You never know if we might get diverted to a mission." She smiled.

"Besides, from what the duty officer briefed me, we're flying an unfiled mission into Area 51 airspace. Who knows what we'll run into? I've heard some strange stories about that place."

"Do you have a problem with running this mission?"

Duncan asked, slipping her professional mask back on.

"No problem. I've been ordered by the post duty officer, who represents the post commander, to fly you wherever you want." Haverstaw put her flight helmet on. "My ass is overed." She opened the door on the pilot's side. "Besides, I hate seeing those big no-fly areas on the flight maps. Kind of view them as a challenge. Hell, I'm looking forward to this." She extended her hand toward the rear.

"Climb on board."

VICINITY AREA 51

Taking a deep breath, Kelly called out. "Excuse me, everyone! I have something to say that you all might be interested in."

The UFO watchers all turned and looked at her, but no one moved until the Captain's voice boomed out behind her. "Get over here!"

They gathered round, a loose circle of figures in the dark.

"These people need our help," the Captain said. "You all know I been here a long time watching. Twenty-two years, to be exact. Tonight we're going to be doing more than just watch."

As the Captain spoke, outlining what Kelly had asked, a figure at the back separated from the group and slipped away into the darkness. When the car drove away, lights out, no one noticed, so caught up were they in what the Captain was saying.

AREA 51

The glow from the aboveground Groom Lake complex was off to Turcotte's right as he finished descending the mountain he had just crossed. The runway cut across his front, and beyond that, the mountainside under which the mothership rested, according to Von Seeckt's directions.

So far, so good, Turcotte thought to himself. But for the rest of the way he was going to need help. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes. Gritting his teeth, Turcotte set to work on his knee, keeping the tendons from tightening up by jabbing his fingers into the swollen flesh and massaging it.

NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE

Sergeant Hancock showed Lisa Duncan how to put on the helmet and talk on the built-in radio.

"We're clear to lift," Lieutenant Haverstraw announced from the front.

"You all set back there?"

"All set," Duncan said.

"We're going to fly at one thousand feet until we get close to the boundary. Then I'm going down low. It'll get a little rough then, but I want to stay off their screens as long as possible. Give us a better chance of getting you to Groom Lake."

With a shudder the Blackhawk lifted and then banked to the north.

VICINITY AREA 51

"I've got something here," Nabinger said, holding up the wooden tablet he'd taken out of the Dulce archives.

Through all the phone calls and driving he'd never stopped working on the translation.

"We don't have time for that right now," Kelly replied.

She tapped her wristwatch. "Show time."

She pulled onto the dirt road and turned west, the Captain's van next, then the rest of the UFO watchers' vehicles. They rolled down the road, past the warning signs and past the first set of laser detectors.

31

THE CUBE, AREA 51

ADJUSTED T-22 HOURS, 9 MINUTES"

What do you have?" Major Quinn had been alerted by the duty officer and he'd quickly shut down Gullick's computer and gone out to the main control center in the Cube.

"Multiple vehicles in sector three," the operator announced, pointing at his computer screen. "Moving west along the road."

"Give me IR and thermal from the mountain," Quinn ordered.

The operator hit the proper command. A line of vehicles showed up rolling down the road.

"What does the mailbox look like?" Quinn asked.

Another scene came on screen: a lone mailbox, nothing around it, which confirmed to Quinn where the vehicles had come from.

"What the hell are they doing?" Quinn muttered to himself as the camera shifted back to the line of vehicles.

"Alert the air police and have them stop these people."

"I've got Jarvis on the phone," another man called out.

Quinn picked up the phone and listened for a minute.

He grimaced as he put the phone down. He turned and quickly walked over to a wooden door and knocked. He opened it without waiting for an answer. A figure lay on a ot inside and Quinn reached out and touched the man on the shoulder.

"Sir, we've got multiple penetrations on the mailbox road. Looks like our UFO

watchers are coming in for a closer look. Jarvis just called and said that Von Seeckt and that female reporter are with them, so this may be more than it appears."

Gullick swung his legs onto the floor. He was already dressed for action in camouflage fatigues. "Alert Nightscape and get the choppers ready," he ordered.

As soon as Quinn was gone, he reached into his pocket and popped another pill.

His heart rate immediately accelerated and he was ready for action. Then he followed Quinn into the control room.

"They're turning off the road!" the operator announced.

"Or at least a couple of them are," he amended as he tried to keep up with the vehicles. "They're spreading out over the desert and still coming this way." He pressed a finger over an earpiece in his right ear. "The air police don't have enough vehicles in that area to get them all in time. Some of them are going to breach the outer perimeter."

Gullick looked over the man's shoulder at the tactical display. "I want Nightscape airborne in one mike. Also get the standby bouncer crew ready."

"Yes, sir."

Twenty miles to the south Lieutenant Haverstraw keyed the intercom. "We're going down to the carpet now. Hold on."

The Blackhawk swooped down toward the desert floor and Lisa Duncan looked out the right side window and up at a rocky ridgeline less than forty feet away. Her fingers dug into the webbing strapped across her chest and she did exactly as Haverstraw had suggested--she hung on.

"We've got a hot IR source coming in sector six," Quinn announced. "Low and fast."

"What is it?" Gullick demanded.

"Helicopter. It's below radar but we're picking it up

from above."

"Check FFI," Gullick ordered, referring to the friend or foe transponder every military aircraft carried.

"It's one of ours," Quinn said. He hit the keys rapidly.

"A Blackhawk assigned to the 325th Pararescue unit at Nellis."

"Tell them to get the fuck out of my airspace," Gullick snapped. He turned back to the ground tactical display, watching as the air police stopped seven of the thirteen vehicles coming in. The remaining six were inside the outer perimeter now. Past the air police cordon and spread out across two security sectors.

"They're calling us," Haverstraw announced. "We're being ordered to turn back."

"Ignore them," Duncan ordered.

"Yes, ma'am."

"No response from the Blackhawk, sir," Quinn reported.

General Gullick rubbed his forehead.

"Should I authorize Landscape to engage when in range?" Quinn asked.

"Tell them to track but hold on firing until I give the order," Gullick said.

"Nightscape is airborne," Quinn said.

Kelly spun the wheel of the van violently and a plume of sand spun out from beneath the rear wheels. She could see the lights of the Groom Lake complex less than two miles ahead.

"We're going to make it," Nabinger said from the seat next to her.

Flashing lights were separating from the steady lights marking the buildings.

The lights were going up.

"You spoke too soon. We're going to have company."

"I'll see what I can do to help," Von Seeckt called out from the back. He was working on the computer keyboard attached to the communications console, his fingers flashing over the keys.

Turcotte's boots touched hardtop and he began sprinting across the runway. He felt naked, and he instinctively tucked his chin into his chest and bent forward, half expecting a shot to come out of the dark. On the far side of the runway, about a half mile away, at the base of the mountainside, he could make out a dark mass against the rocks--camouflage netting covering something.

He felt a bit of hope seeing that. At least it appeared Von Seeckt's guess wasn't wrong.

"We've got someone on the runway," Quinn announced.

"Put it on the main screen," General Gullick said.

The IR scope mounted on top of the nearby mountain had a resolution of 300 power and it clearly showed a man running.

"How come we didn't catch his thermal signature earlier?" Gullick asked.

Quinn hit a few keys and the picture changed. The man's figure disappeared and there was only a small blob of red moving on the screen. "That's thermal imaging of the target.

He's wearing some sort of thermal protection." Quinn hanged the view and a map overlay of Area 51 came up.

He's heading for the engineer site outside Hangar Two," Quinn added.

"Divert one of the Nightscape aircraft," Gullick ordered.

"Stop that man, number one priority."

"Yes, sir." Quinn began speaking into his microphone, then suddenly turned back to the general. "We've got interference, sir! I can't talk to Nightscape.

Someone's cutting in and out on the radio."

In the back of the van Von Seeckt smiled as he heard the excited voices of the Nightscape pilots trying to communicate back to the Cube and with each other to coordinate their actions. He pressed down on the transmit button for the van's HF radio again, then let it up after a few seconds. Then again.

Gullick looked at the overlay of Area 51 and tried to make sense of the various symbols. He had three threats: the man nearing the engineer site, the inbound helicopter, and the vehicles coming in over the desert. This had to be a highly coordinated infiltration, and he could take no further chances. Even without radio he could still control things. He called out his orders.

"Alert the Landscape antiair sites by land line that they are in weapons-free status."

"Yes, sir."

"Warn the engineer site of the man infiltrating their position. He is to be stopped with extreme sanction."

"We have no land line to the engineer site," Quinn reported. "Their guard net is the Nightscape frequency. We can't get through to them."

"Goddammit!" Gullick yelled in frustration.

A tone screeched in Duncan's headset. Up front in the cockpit a red light flashed on the control panel.

"Missile lock!" Lieutenant Haverstaw called out. "Evasive maneuvers. Hancock and Murphy, watch our rear and get ready if it's a heat seeker!"

The Blackhawk turned on its left side and then jerked back right. Duncan watched as the two crewmen in the rear slid open the cargo doors and cold air swirled in. They were wearing harnesses around their bodies and leaned out the aircraft, looking down.

"I see a launch!" Murphy yelled. "Four o'clock. Climbing fast!" He was holding a flare and he fired it out and up, hoping the heat of the flare would divert the missile. At the same time Haverstraw slammed the cyclic forward and they rapidly began losing what little altitude they had left.

The missile roared by the right side of the helicopter, missing the outer edge of their rotor blades by less than ten feet. "That was close," Haverstraw said over the intercom, understating the obvious, as she reeled in collective and cyclic and stopped their descent barely above the desert floor.

"That was close," Duncan said, looking out at the ground less than twenty feet below.

"I don't think they want us here," Haverstraw said dryly.

"Put me on the radio to their headquarters," Duncan said.

"No can do," Haverstraw replied. "The frequency listed for Groom Lake is filled with interference."

"Halt!" a voice called out in the dark to Turcotte's right.

He could make out a figure wearing night vision goggles and carrying a submachine gun moving toward him.

In reply Turcotte fired twice, both rounds low, hitting the man in the legs and dropping him. There was no need for another death. He regretted what had happened in the lab.

Circumstances and anger had forced his hand there. He dashed forward and kicked the Calico submachine gun out the man's hands and ripped the goggles off his head.

"Fuck!" the man cursed, reaching for his sidearm, Turcotte rapped him upside the head with the barrel of the Calico and the man was out. Turcotte checked the wounds--no arteries hit. He quickly wrapped a bandage from the man's own combat vest around each thigh to stop the bleeding, then continued on his way.

An AH-6 Little Bird gunship flashed by just overhead.