“I see,” Sanderson said. “Can you keep a secret?”
Jason nodded. “Sure,” he said. “What kind of secret?”
“One that could get you killed,” Sanderson said. His eyes met Jason’s and refused to look away. “Understand this; whatever you decide, if you breathe a word of it to anyone, it could get you killed. It will get you killed. This is not the time to decide that information wants to be free or some other dumb belief like that, kid. This is the real world. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Jason said. He swallowed, hard. “Do you want me to spy on the aliens?”
Sanderson’s eyes met his, again. “Among the other remarkable tricks built into this building,” he said, slowly, “is a security suite that is supposed to allow us to detect alien bugs. They’ve been stinging hundreds of people with tiny bugs, too tiny to see. You may be carrying one now, but if so… it’s not transmitting. They’ve been spying on us before they made First Contact. We don’t think they come in peace.
“You may see something that can help us,” he added. “You’re going to be spending more time with the Snakes than almost anyone else in the future. Part of the reason we pulled strings to help you get your position was that you were willing to cooperate with the CIA’s debriefing team. We need you to serve your country by monitoring the Snakes for us.”
Jason stared at him, thinking fast. It seemed impossible to believe, yet… all of the alien words, all of their evasions and their reluctance to discuss anything of a serious nature with humanity’s scientists, pointed to one conclusion. The Snakes didn’t come in peace. And that meant that humanity was staring down the barrels of an alien invasion.
“Why me?” He managed, finally. He’d dreamed of being someone important — until his dream had come true. He was the Discoverer; he’d done something that would never be repeated… and if it had been luck, it was his luck. But now the dream was becoming a nightmare and humanity — if it survived — might learn to start cursing his name. “Isn’t there anyone else involved?”
“You mean; someone else we can insert into a place in the Welcome Foundation?” Sanderson shook his head, slowly. “I’m afraid not, Jason. Most of SETI’s upper board are people who sincerely believe that the Galactics come in peace. They don’t feel any urge to cooperate with our debriefing teams — and if we asked if they could keep an eye on the Snakes for us, they’d probably go confess all to the Snakes at the earliest opportunity.”
“Or make it worse,” Jason said, thinking of Professor Cavendish. He’d been talking about the utopia that would blossom on Earth once nuclear weapons had been dismantled and the military-industrial complex had been swept into the wastebasket of history. How long would it be before it occurred to him to start claiming that the military was hiding nukes somewhere in the United States? Coming to think of it, it was quite possible that Russia, or China, or Pakistan was considering cheating and trying to stash some nukes away somewhere safe. “What do you want me to do when I find something interesting?”
Sanderson reached inside his suit and produced a single business card. It read T SAMSON, INTERNATIONAL IMPORT/EXPORT and gave a Washington telephone number and email address. Below it, there was a neat line of text promising to deliver anywhere, anytime, and a sly note that the company was pleased to observe discretion in all of its business dealings.
“The company in question isn’t important,” Sanderson said. “When you look at the numbers, switch each number with the number required to take it up to ten — and then dial that number and leave a time and place within the next two days where and when you can be contacted. If urgent, say so, but don’t say anything else. The chances are good that the Snakes are monitoring our communications. If anyone sees the card…”
“…Say that it’s one of the cards lobbyists are always giving me,” Jason guessed. “And what if I need to talk to you immediately?”
“Say so on the voicemail,” Sanderson said. “And don’t even think about saying something — anything — that might attract attention. We cannot afford to make even one mistake.”
Jason swallowed, again. “I understand, sir,” he said. “I won’t let you down.”
Toby watched expressionlessly as Jason Lucas — a thoroughly decent young man completely out of his depth — was escorted out of the building and back to the Welcome Foundation. The schedule had called for more tours of the building, where the Foundation would attempt to impress both the media and the Galactics with their plans for the future. Some of the plans were even quite impressive. Toby might have been tempted to believe them if he hadn’t known that the aliens were watching the human race, covertly monitoring the human compliance with their demands.
The thought made him curse under his breath. If the aliens were monitoring the human race closely, it might be impossible to stash more weapons — nukes in particular — somewhere where they could be used if necessary. The aliens seemed to be utterly paranoid about nukes, to the point where they insisted on counting every nuke in the arsenal and marking them off one by one. They seemed much less concerned about biological weapons, yet that made a certain kind of sense. It was highly unlikely that any virus known to humanity would be able to infect a Snake. So much for The War of the Worlds.
And there were other reports from Africa…
He scowled as he stood up. The human race hadn’t been able — or, rather, willing — to do anything about the genocides in Central Africa. It hadn’t been long before the Snakes became involved, running a refugee camp and actually providing some security for the thousands of displaced refugees. Hell, they’d won hundreds of admirers for actually helping people who needed help. And maybe they even deserved it.
Toby shook his head as he headed out the door. Gillian was waiting for him in another secure compound, only halfway across Washington. And then he had to meet with the President, and then exchange notes with the British and French representatives… his life was always busy. And interesting…
And if Jason Lucas was placed at risk, it was a risk Toby was willing to take. Before it was all over, God alone knew how many people would die.
Chapter Twenty
Washington DC
USA, Day 35
“He just isn’t himself anymore.”
Callie Buckley was the type of woman Jayne tended to dislike. She was overweight, with an attitude that suggested that she didn’t believe that she was overweight and that anyone who dared point out the elephant in the room would earn an enemy for life instantly. Her hair was dyed and she wore clothes that tended to disguise her figure. All in all, Jayne was privately surprised that the marriage had lasted, but it was clear that she loved her husband and he loved her in turn.
“I see,” Jayne said. She’d been careful to visit when Joe Buckley was at the Welcome Foundation, just to ensure that she didn’t run into him. A certain kind of woman resented the presence of another woman when with her husband and she had a feeling that Callie would not have been amused if she had visited Buckley. “How is he not himself any longer?”
Callie gathered herself, visibly. “The Joe I married was a tough son of a bitch,” she said. “He was strong, determined and loved the Navy. There were times when I thought he loved the Navy more than he loved me. And when he left and started writing those books, he was still madly in love with the Navy, despite all its warts. I loved having him back, even if there were times when I felt as if he was still courting the Navy — his other woman.”