“No.”
“And yet, that’s exactly what you’d be doing if you disclosed the things you’ve seen and are about to see. That act would initiate a TWEP. Do you know what a TWEP order is?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Terminate With Extreme Prejudice. You’d be killed, but since your mum has Cosmic Clearance, she’ll know why you were killed and blame some of the members of Council. Which means they’d have to kill her too, as a preventive measure… yer dad as well. It’s not fair I know, but you can see Council’s logic. The oath your parents took long ago would take a back seat to seeking revenge for their daughter’s death, forcing—”
She had gone after the woman, exhaustion and rage pushing her over the edge — which she later realized had been the purpose of the exercise.
Before she could wrap her fingers around Elizabeth Hull’s slender throat, the electrical circuits woven into her jumpsuit engaged, unleashing a ten second, 40,000 volt burst.
When Jessica opened her eyes, she was stretched out on the floor.
Elizabeth Hull leaned over her. “Council needs your help, Dr. Marulli, but there remains a few members among those in the inner circle who are a bit paranoid about allowing you access. It’s not just the threat of dealing with your mother; there’s also your fiancé.”
“I’ve never said a word about my work to Adam.”
“True. But now you’re engaged to be married.”
“You don’t need to worry about me anymore… I quit.”
“That option no longer exists. Anyway, in a few days your new clearance will give you access to hidden knowledge reserved only for a privileged few, and I promise, you’ll be over the moon. Not to mention a salary that more than compensates for respecting our code of silence.”
“Money doesn’t compensate me for this torture.”
“Oh please, don’t be so dramatic. So we kept you awake for awhile and hit you with the equivalent of a taser. Navy SEAL candidates endure far more for far less. Consider this a valuable conditioning exercise… an ounce of protection that ensures a pound of loyalty — and with it, your family’s safety.”
She heard no telltale rumble. One moment the tracks were clear, the next the Maglev train had simply appeared, the windowless seventy-foot steel bullet’s chassis riding above the tracks on a magnetic cushion.
A side panel slid open. Jessica entered a plush cabin lined with rows of reclining bucket seats. The MP set her bags inside and left — she was the only person on board.
A message flashed on a wrap-around LED screen:
PLEASE TAKE A SEAT AND BUCKLE UP.
She sat down in the nearest seat and snapped the belt in place—
— the Maglev pulling two Gs as it accelerated effortlessly on a velvet cloud, its lone human passenger slipping into unconsciousness.
“Jess? Jessica, wake up dear.”
She opened her eyes. The Maglev had stopped, its side panel open. Disoriented, she was not sure if she had slept ten minutes or ten hours.
The dark-haired, blue-eyed woman seated next to her was in her mid-fifties, her face very familiar.
“I know you.”
“Actually, your mom knows me. Lydia Gagnon. I was one of Council’s inner circle of twelve who interviewed you.”
“Where am I?”
“Let’s call it Oz.”
“I suppose that makes me Dorothy. Are you Glynda, the good witch?”
“I like that… Glynda.”
“Are there any wicked witches down here I should know about?”
“Just one. And she’s married to the Colonel. We’ll discuss him later.”
“Seriously, Lydia, where am I?”
“Jess, you’ve been granted Cosmic Clearance, but it’s conditional.”
“In other words, I’ll be working in an underground complex for the next six weeks with no concept of where I am.”
“It’s not so bad. Up until now you’ve lived in a black and white world. I’m here to show you the colors of the universe.”
15
Adam followed Interstate 64 west through Virginia, the rolling hills of the Blue Ridge Mountains accompanying him as he made his way through Rockfish Gap. Rising along the steep elevation, he was greeted by a breathtaking view which enticed cars to pull over (illegally) along the shoulder of the road to snap photos with their iPhones.
A road sign at the highway’s crest confirmed he was heading in the right direction: Charlottesville–12 miles.
He had received the message on his cell phone during his Friday morning staff meeting. The call was from Steven Greer.
“Mr. Under Secretary, my bodyguard tells me you’d like a private get together. I can meet you at three p.m. on Friday; after that I’m busy for the next few months.”
Adam already had plans; Randy had seats behind home plate for the night’s Nationals vs. Giants game. For nearly an hour, he debated the pros and cons of meeting with Greer before cancelling with his brother.
Adam exited the highway in Charlottesville. He got lost twice on country backroads before locating the entrance to the Greer’s sixty-five acre farm. After being buzzed in at the gate, he followed a gravel road up to the two-story, five-bedroom house.
He was greeted at the front door by the warm smile of a gray-haired woman in her early sixties. “Hi, I’m Adam Shariak. I’m here to see Dr. Greer.”
“I’m Emily, Steve’s wife. Come in. I’m so glad you made it in before the fog; the driving can be treacherous. Steve’s in his study, getting everything ready for our group. Fortunately, most of them arrived at the hotel earlier this afternoon. Do you think you’ll be joining us?”
Before he could answer, Dr. Greer emerged from the study, extending his hand. “Mr. Under Secretary, thanks for driving all the way out here on short notice. Why don’t we talk in my study. Em, can you get me at five? I need to meditate before our guests arrive.”
Adam followed him into the twenty-by-thirty-foot room — part library, part office. Furnishings had been moved to the periphery to accommodate fifteen folding chairs which were set up in a circle around a Persian rug, the leather high-backed office chair reserved for Dr. Greer.
“Are you comfortable in that folding chair, Mr. Under Secretary?”
“Fine.”
“So then, what can I do for you?”
“I’m not sure exactly. To be honest, I feel a little bit like one of King Arthur’s knights, sent on an impossible quest to find the Holy Grail.”
“The Holy Grail being…?”
“A zero-point-energy device.”
“Interesting. And who put you on this quest?”
“Bill Clinton.”
Dr. Greer threw his head back and laughed. “I’m sorry, but there’s a delicious irony to all this.”
Adam told Dr. Greer about the changing of the suite door numbers and the invisible ink and flashcards.
“Clinton really did that? With his access, you’d think he’d have used something from this century.”
“The guy seemed pretty determined to deliver the message.”
“The guy was president for eight years. If he really wanted to deliver the disclosure message to the masses, all he had to do was go off-script during a live State of the Union address, and the genie would have been out of its bottle. Like I said during my talk, presidents have become place holders. The real power is held by a secret cabal made up of high-ranking members of the Federal Reserve, four private banking cartels — who also happen to own four of the largest oil companies in the world — and defense contractors.”