“What about this STAAR person you have there, Major?” General Carthart, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, asked.
“She’s still in the hangar with the bouncer,” Quinn answered.
“Any idea what she’s up to?” Carthart asked.
“No, sir.”
“The hell with that,” Hunt, the director of the CIA, snarled. “If none of us in this room know, then something is seriously wrong.”
“I don’t think so,” the President said. “There is a presidential directive authorizing STAAR. It was signed forty years ago by Eisenhower but it is still legal and binding today. I have to believe my predecessor had a good reason for signing it and deliberately keeping us in the dark.” The President turned to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “General?”
Carthart leaned forward. “We’ve got twenty-four hours until the Airlia land. I agree we ought to proceed a bit more cautiously. Our actions might be precipitating the aggressive actions of the foo fighters. I suggest we hold off on taking direct action until we know for sure what is going on.”
“What about China?” Kelly asked.
“I recommend we cut our losses there,” Carthart said.
“And the foo fighters?” the President asked.
“The two that downed our aircraft in China are heading southeast,” Quinn said, “and are currently over the Indian Ocean.”
“Their estimated destination?”
“We believe they are going to a site in the Rift Valley where UNAOC has uncovered other Airlia artifacts.”
“What about this Antarctica business?” the President asked.
Quinn had the answer for that. “I think that STAAR took over a place called Scorpion Base. It’s the only logical place for these messages from the STAAR operatives to be terminating.”
“Anyone know anything about this Scorpion Base?” the President asked those in the War Room with him. When he got no reply, the President jabbed a finger at his camera, pointing at Quinn and Reynolds. “I want you to forward all information about the location of Scorpion Base to the War Room. We’ll proceed cautiously,” the President finally said, the strain of the last week showing on his face. “General Carthart, move the forces you need to cover the Airlia and STAAR sites.”
“I have a suggestion.” Kelly Reynolds was frustrated with these people and their defensive reactions.
“Go ahead,” the President said.
“Why don’t we just ask the STAAR representative here at Area 51 who they are?”
“That’s a good idea, Ms. Reynolds. Major Quinn, you do that. We’ll do what we have to on our end.”
The screen went dead and Kelly turned to Quinn. “He made the right decision about taking things slowly.”
Quinn didn’t look very agreeable. “What if he made the wrong decision?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “He made that decision, Kelly, because there is no other decision to make. Every time humans have confronted the Airlia’s equipment we’ve lost. Our best weapons don’t do us any good, so it’s easy to make a decision to keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best.”
“It’s all been a tragic mistake.” Kelly’s voice brooked no dissent. “Aspasia will clear this up when he lands.”
“What about Turcotte and Nabinger?” Quinn asked.
“I told them not to go,” Kelly said. “They should have listened.”
“But—” Quinn began, but she cut him off, whirling on him and getting close to his chest, poking him with her finger.
“No one is listening! No one! Not the President. Not you. No one. Don’t you understand? If we would only listen, it would all be all right, but we’re screwing everything up!”
Reynolds stormed off toward the elevator, leaving Quinn staring at her rapidly departing back.
Turcotte took stock of the situation in the growing daylight. They were only thirty meters from where the helicopter had crashed. The explosion had scattered wreckage in a hundred-meter circle and scorched the forest.
Harker, Howes, and DeCamp were battered but ready for action. O’Callaghan, the pilot, was nursing a broken hand but other than that seemed all right. Turcotte knew it was only a matter of time before the Chinese had aircraft flying overhead, searching for them. The terrain in the immediate area was extremely hilly and unpopulated.
“We need to get a message out,” Turcotte said.
Harker gave a bitter laugh. “How? We don’t have any radios. We’re screwed. No one knows we’re down here, and I don’t think anyone really gives a damn.”
Turcotte was looking about the clearing the chopper had torn through the trees. “Someone gives a damn. Dr. Duncan will be looking for us.”
“So?” Harker snapped. “How she gonna know we’re here and alive? And then how’s she’s gonna get us out?”
“I don’t know how she’s going to get us out, but I trust her to come up with something. But I do know how to let her know we’re here and alive.”
“Goddamn!” Major Quinn was fuming as he reentered the Cube. He quickly dialed the War Room in the Pentagon.
“The bouncer and Oleisa are gone,” he reported to the duty officer who answered.
“Gone?”
“They just took off. I guess we can’t ask Oleisa who the hell she works for now.” Covering the phone, he looked at one of his men. “Put Space Command’s link on screen. I want to know where our bouncer is going.”
CHAPTER 34
“No survivors,” Zandra said, throwing down the faxed computer imagery in front of Duncan. “Nothing but wreckage at all the crash sites. The Chinese are already all over the area where one of the Stealth fighters went down.”
Duncan picked up the photos taken by the KH-14 spy satellite and looked through them.
She paused at one of the photos and looked more closely. Her hand began to shake as she realized what she was seeing. “Somebody’s still alive. Either Turcotte or Nabinger.”
Zandra’s head snapped up from her computer. “How do you know that?” Duncan tossed the imagery onto the keyboard. “Look.”
“What exactly am I looking for?”
Duncan pointed. “Someone’s traced out the same Airlia high rune symbol for HELP that’s written into the Great Wall, using pieces of the wreckage. We have to get them out of there. And we have to do it without the Chinese or the foo fighters stopping us.”
Zandra nodded. “It is time to confront our enemies.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Duncan demanded.
“It means we no longer stand and watch.”
“We being STAAR?” Duncan asked.
“Correct. Things have progressed past the point of no return.”
“And?” Duncan was out of her patience with her enigmatic comrade. “Do you have a way of getting those people out of China?”
“Actually, I have just the thing,” Zandra said.
Larry Kincaid was all alone in the control center. JPL was a ghost town, everyone anticipating the arrival of the Airlia in New York the following morning. It was as if decades of work at JPL had faded away in just a couple of days.
He heard the door behind him open and slowly swing shut. Kincaid was not surprised when Coridan, still wearing sunglasses and black clothes, took the seat next to him.
“Surveyor in a stable orbit?” Coridan asked.
“Yes.” Kincaid didn’t ask how the man had come up with calculations that would have taken his own scientists and computers days to figure out.
“Is it still powered down?” Coridan asked.
Kincaid nodded.
“There’s something you need to do,” Coridan said.
Kincaid waited.
“Bring up the data link for Surveyor, please.” Kincaid finally broke his silence. “Why?” “Because we’re going to take care of some unfinished business.”