The major hardly looked like a warrior. Slight of build, with thinning blond hair and large glasses perched on his nose, Quinn was what Turcotte called a screen watcher — someone who sat on their ass all day and looked at computer screens. But he had been helpful in the fight against the aliens and their followers and had been an ally in the transition from Majestic-12’s secret rule at Area 51 to the present regime.
“That is our security.” Quinn indicated the two Air Police.
Turcotte had first been assigned to Area 51 to be part of the elite security force that protected its secrets. The facility had been secured by top-of-the-line personnel and equipment. Even after Majestic-12 was deposed, security had remained tight, guarding against actions by either group of Airlia minions. The goal was to prevent Area 51 from suffering the same fate as the Russian Section IV base that had been destroyed at Novaya Zemlya.
“What’s going on?” Turcotte asked.
“I had all my air police, except those two, and all my special security personnel from Landscape and Nightscape who passed the review panel, pulled on orders from the Pentagon this morning. I’ve been trying to get through to somebody — anybody — to get the orders rescinded, but there’s a lot of confusion in Washington. I’m getting a major runaround. No one knows what’s going on. I’ve backended some requests and will have more people here soon, but in the meanwhile, we have to make do with what we have.”
“I see the long arm of The Guides acting here,” Yakov said. He shrugged his large shoulders. “Or The Ones Who Wait. Both groups undoubtedly have your higher echelons of government and military thoroughly infiltrated and compromised. They want Area 51 vulnerable. They destroyed my country’s Area 51; yours is next.” The Russian had the bag over his shoulder containing what they had managed to pilfer out of the Russian Archives on their raid, minus, of course, the Spear of Destiny, which they suspected acted as a key to the lowest level of Qian-Ling.
“What about Doctor Duncan?” Quinn asked.
“Mualama knows where she is,” Turcotte said. He wanted the bouncer inside the secure hangar before they off-loaded the team member’s body. “Let’s seal this place.”
Quinn gave the necessary orders and the bouncer floated in, the large doors sliding shut behind it. Then Quinn gestured for them to follow him toward the large freight elevator that led to the Cube — command and control central.
“We’ve been looking at Burton’s manuscript. It’s in a language no one can recognize.”
“Hakkadian,” Mualama said. The African archaeologist had spent most of his life following the path of Sir Richard Francis Burton around the world, finding clues here and there that led him further in pursuit of a “lost” manuscript of Burton’s. Mualama had told them that it detailed all that Burton had learned of the aliens and their minions on the planet.
“What exactly is Hakkadian?” Turcotte asked.
“A distant forerunner of Arabic,” Mualama answered. “Last spoken in ancient Babylon. Burton was an extremely amazing man. He spoke twenty-nine languages fluently.”
“The only things we could read were the foreword and a letter put on top of the manuscript by his wife,” Quinn said. “Pretty amazing stuff.”
“Where exactly in Giza is Duncan?” Turcotte pressed.
“Directly under the Great Sphinx.” Mualama quickly told them of the Black Sphinx and the chamber hidden inside.
The doors to the elevator opened and they walked toward the Cube. They paused as a red light suddenly began flashing.
“What’s that?” Turcotte asked.
“Security sensor,” Quinn said. “One of you is bugged.”
Turcotte’s first instinct was to look to Che Lu. She had been under the control of The Ones Who Wait at Qian-Ling, although he wasn’t certain why they would want to bug her. It wasn’t as if the location of Area 51 was a great secret anymore.
“Go through one at a time, please,” Quinn said.
Turcotte went through first and there was no alarm. Che Lu was second, and again, nothing. Mualama followed and still no red light. Turcotte stared hard at the Russian — after all they’d been through to have this happen — but again he had the same question as with Che Lu: why? And when could this have happened?
Yakov stepped through and the red light began flashing. Quinn picked up a small handheld detector and ran it over the Russian’s body. He paused when he was at the back of Yakov’s neck. “It’s there.”
“How?” Turcotte asked.
“Whatever it is,” Yakov said, “it was not there last time we came through here. So it must have been placed on me since then.”
“Katyenka,” Turcotte said. It was hard to forget someone who had tried to kill him. She had been a GRU operative, Yakov’s former lover, but actually working for The Ones Who Wait who had ambushed them in Moscow.
Yakov nodded. “Yes. She had opportunity and reason.” He took his heavy coat off.
Turcotte shook his head and tried to make light of it. “I can’t leave you alone for a moment, can I?”
“It makes sense. It is how those soldiers found us in the Archives,” Yakov said. He ran his fingers through the thick lining near the collar, then paused before pulling out a small black object about a quarter inch long. “Here it is. Nothing very exotic. Standard GRU issue. Range about three miles, but very intense so they could track us through the tunnels under Moscow.” He tossed it on the floor and smashed it with his boot. “Shall we continue?”
Turcotte paused, considering the Russian. It was indeed most likely the bug had been planted by Katyenka, but there had been much deception and betrayal since he’d arrived at Area 51 and he could not be certain. For a moment, Yakov’s arguments to leave Egypt and come back here took a slightly different angle.
“Are you coming?” Yakov and the others were waiting.
Turcotte shook himself out of his suspicions and followed as they headed to the Cube. The main room of the Cube measured eighty feet by a hundred. Banks of computer screens gave it a similar appearance to mission control at NASA, but Turcotte noticed that three quarters of the chairs in front of those screens were empty.
“More ordered cuts in personnel,” Quinn said, noting his look. “Someone’s really trying to hamstring us. Again, I’m trying to backdoor requests.”
Turcotte knew Quinn was an expert at manipulating government and military bureaucracy. With the proper passwords, the right communication channels, and experience, he could get just about anything eventually. It was something he had done while working for Majestic-12—a valuable asset that both Duncan and Turcotte had thought necessary to keep at Area 51.
Turcotte turned his attention to the front wall where a twenty-foot-wide-by-ten-high screen displayed a plethora of information. “What’s hot?” Turcotte asked, trying to make sense of the various displays. Quinn sat down in the chair that used to belong to the head of Majestic, or MJ-12 as some called it. It was on a raised dais in the back of the room and oversaw everything that went on. There was the quiet hum of machinery along with the constant slight hiss of filtered air being blown into the room. The entire complex rested on huge shocks and was hung from large springs, allowing it to sustain a nuclear surface blast. Turcotte had just prevented such an incident by bargaining with The Ones Who Wait, giving them the Spear of Destiny.
“The NSA is tracking that flying dragon thing that holds The Ones Who Wait who took the key from you in Mongolia,” Quinn said.
“That ‘dragon thing’ is called Chi Yu,” Che Lu said. “It is part of the lore of my land. When the yellow emperor Shi Huangdi ruled the northern part of China, Chi Yu ruled in the south. They fought and Shi Huangdi subdued the beast and took it prisoner.”