“Now what?” Matt asked, sleepy-eyed.
“We wait,” Weng answered. “He has to leave the hangar at some point, and then— we follow him.”
“What if there’s more than one Phantom?” Charlie asked.
“It’s possible,” Weng said. “Probable, most likely.” Charlie headed downstairs. His turn for coffee duty.
Jennifer had been waiting alert for fifteen minutes, binoculars zoomed on the side of the hangar where Hal previously entered. He sprang out the side door in a near-sprint. Picking up his run where he left off several hours ago. Hal started up the road, jogging straight toward her. She fumbled the binoculars and crouched down the seat as he whisked by. His running shoes hitting the pavement in a rhythmic trod. She let him get to the end of the block, started her car and followed.
Charlie and Weng were enjoying the fresh coffee he brewed when they spotted a man leave the hangar and dart past a car.
“He runs like he’s in formation,” Matt said, watching from the bed, leaning against the wall.
Weng nodded. It was an odd running motion. They each focused on the night vision monitor. Weng glanced to the IR monitor and saw the warm glow from the car engine nearby. The car pulled out of the driveway, turning in the direction of the runner. “He’s being followed,” Weng said. “Zoom in and keep both in frame.” Charlie typed in the remote commands for the YG satellite. “And open another window on the hangar. I want to see who else leaves tonight.”
Charlie rattled away, typing more complex commands. The image from the YG was both wide angle and high resolution, meaning any area could be enlarged for a close-up view while still maintaining high resolution. The program also allowed for multiple “cameras” or perspectives to be enlarged at once. Each opening as its own window in the software program. There could be dozens of active windows at any given time — and there indeed were, as other agencies in China utilized the same feed — unbeknownst to Charlie. Their only limitation was the field the satellite was looking at, which Weng and Charlie commanded for this mission.
Jennifer followed Hal the same way back. They arrived on his street and she parked a few doors down from his house, watching him enter the front door. He didn’t turn on any lights until she saw a back window illuminate. His bedroom, she assumed. Within a minute it was out. The whole house was dark and quiet. Just like the neighborhood. She started her car and took off. Wondering how fruitful the whole experience was. She hoped Hal would glean something useful from her observations.
Weng ordered a map overlay to identify the address of the home. He knew obtaining the man’s identity would soon follow, once they had his address. MSS hackers in Fuzhou had reverse directories and other cyber tools that could identify nearly any non-clandestine military personnel in the U.S.
It was a late night for the MSS agents in the bunkhouse. One that turned to day as they were treated to a glorious golden-orange New Mexico sunrise. Charlie had opened separate windows from the spy satellite to track the vehicle following the runner — along with the three individuals who left the hangar minutes after Hal. By the time they completed their research over the next week, they would have the names and home addresses of Hal, Jennifer, McCreary, Douglas and Baldo. Weng’s final communiqué to MSS headquarters that night read, “Phantom transport, location and identity verified. Location — Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico, United States.” He added an assessment in the notes, “I am confident with high certainty that the United States and this phantom project are responsible for the Railway Bureau bombing in Fuzhou.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TS//TK-SAR
Henry Banks drank alone late at The Terminal bar. He wasn’t really alone as he enjoyed the company of Maggie the barkeep. She had stepped in the back and Henry looked around the bar. He thought he was the only patron until he saw an airman in the corner leaning over a table, drinking away the ills of the day. Henry had a feeling he’d be the one to drive the airman home. He didn’t mind the notion and would gladly do it if a cab wasn’t available. Maggie sprang through the double saloon doors behind the bar. Bursting out of the back room. “Hank, you mind givin’ me a hand. I ain’t supposed to be bending over and I gotta’ bring a keg out of the cooler.”
“Be happy to!” Henry said, on his feet in a snap and rounding the bar. “Lead the way, m’lady.” She opened the heavy refrigerator door to the walk-in cooler full of stacked kegs, refrigerated bacon and hamburger patties. “Step inside.”
Henry stepped in and Maggie closed the door, remaining outside. He heard her cackle like a witch through the thick insulated door.
“What the—?” Henry thought he was being pranked when Hal emerged from the shadows.
“Uncle Hank!” He gave Henry a hug. Henry looked Hal over. At least Hal dressed for the occasion, wearing a heavy jacket. Henry spotted Jennifer behind him. “This is Dr. Jennifer Morgan—”
She interrupted, extending a hand. “—Call me Jenny.” Hal shot her an odd look.
“Yeah, call her Jenny,” Hal said. “I’ve been calling her Jennifer the whole time!”
“What can I say?” Henry replied. “The ladies love me! And why the hell are you two here in a freezing cooler? Let’s go get a drink!” Hal stopped him.
“We’re in here, because we’ve confirmed it— everything I told you before. They are following me. They must know I go to this bar so they’ve probably bugged it too and have it under video surveillance. Jennifer — Jenny is the one I told you about, misled about her involvement in Cloudcroft. We need your help.
“What is it you do?” Henry asked Jenny.
“I’m part of a government research program studying the effects of sleepwalking on the subconscious mind — or so I thought. The program is an offshoot of the CIA mind control program Project MKUltra from the sixties.”
Henry’s expression turned to serious concern as Hal and Jenny filled him in on the events of the last couple nights… Jenny watching him during the night and Hal flying out on a drone attached to the Aurora.
“The flashes, visions and dreams are real,” Hal said. “I have been killing people. Carrying out assassinations and black ops under their mind control. “
“So, what can I do?” Henry asked. “How can I help?”
“I don’t have clearance to the footage from the Aurora or this drone,” Hal said. “I’ve never even seen the drone — consciously. The way Jennifer described it, it sounds like a new stealth drone. I showed her cleared images of unmanned vehicles we use in combat like the Sentinel, the RQ-170, and the Navy’s X-47, you know, both flying wing design. She said it looked more like the MQ-9, but with black paint and flat angled panels like the 117. Can you get access to this footage? Then we’ll know for sure what they have me doing.”
Henry exhaled deep. Pondering. Thinking who might have the footage or where he can find it. “I’ll look around… Check experimental aircraft files and whatever else I can.”
“Thank you,” Hal said.
“This is your department, though. Maybe they’ve allocated the footage to someone higher up the chain. Higher clearance than yours.” The thought never occurred to Hal. “Whoever is analyzing it may not know it’s you. The footage could be redacted of anything identifying you.”