Craig Kreident #2 Fallout (40 page)

“You never heard this from me.”
 
The lieutenant colonel spoke in a low tone that no one outside could hear over the music.
 
“What you saw was the prototype of a ‘
visible
stealth’ aircraft, code-named HAVE NOT.
 
One of our test pilots overflew you at close range, enough to rattle your vehicle.
 
Then he used HAVE NOT’s high-power microwave weapons to knock out every one of your electronic systems.”

“Visible stealth?”
 
Craig looked puzzled.
 
“I’ve heard about microwave pulses to stop a car dead in its tracks — some police forces are starting to use that as a non-lethal countermeasure.
 
But ‘visible stealth’ seems to be a contradiction in terms.”

Terrell folded his hands together.
 
“Just as regular stealth is invisible to radar frequencies in the electromagnetic spectrum, we are developing materials and coatings that are invisible at
optical
wavelengths.
 
The visible light that human eyes can see.
 
It’s the same principle.”
 
He drew back.
 
“But aliens and UFOs?”
 
He shook his head.
 
“No, I don’t think so.”

Paige’s blue eyes went wide.
 
“An invisible fighter plane using microwave-pulse weapons to knock out electronic systems?”
 
She winced as she bumped the bandage on her nose.
 
“No wonder people think you have UFOs up here.”

The Jazz music continued to play.
 
“None of that information is scheduled to be released for a few years,” Terrell said with a hard edge in his voice.
 
“And since you’re both Federal employees, we will file felony charges if either of you allows this to leak to the public.”
 
He walked briskly to the stereo, which he clicked off.
 
“And I’ll deny everything.”

Paige grinned.
 
“Of course you will.”

Craig looked innocent.
 
“If
what
gets out, Colonel?
 
That Ms. Mitchell helped stop the militia, single-handedly wrestling Sally Montry out of the land rover and holding her under arrest until help could arrive?”

Terrell shook Craig’s hand.
 
“I’m glad we see eye to eye on this, Agent Kreident.
 
Meanwhile, let’s get you out to the flightline — we aren’t cleared to keep visitors up at Groom Lake this long.”

CHAPTER 49

Friday, October 24

10:31 P.M.

Excalibur Hotel and Casino

Round Table Amphitheater

A knight on horseback cradling a twenty-foot lance trotted in front of Craig and Paige, his polished armor clanking.
 
With one gauntleted hand, he raised his visor, saluting the crowd as other riders swirled around him, bearing colorful pennants.

Trumpet blasts announced the knight’s entry as his horse whinnied and pawed the dirt in front of the reviewing stands, ready to charge across the arena.
 
In the Excalibur’s raised stands, the spectators applauded.
 
Buxom damsels dressed in low-cut flowing dresses threw flowers up at the crowd from the arena.

Craig winced with a twinge of pain as he leaned over to Paige.
 
Although bandaged, cleaned, and shot with antibiotics, he still ached all over.
 
What he wanted most was a long, hot bath and a long, deep sleep.

He studied Paige in the dimness of the stands before speaking.
 
She wore a long black dress, complete with a slit up the side that revealed her shapely legs.
 
Her blond hair lay against the silk fabric, and when she flipped a strand behind her shoulder, she glanced over at him.
 
Only the thick white bandage on her nose spoiled the effect.

“Looking at something?” she said, her voice muffled and nasal.

“Yes indeed.”
 
Craig reached for his drink, a bottle of Samuel Adams beer.
 
One of the best beers the Excalibur had to offer, according to Paige.

She sipped her own beer, a thick Guinness, then leaned back against the hard chair with a wistful smile.
 

The crowd laughed as a court jester was stuck in the rear end by a knight’s lance.
 
Regal-looking King Arthur sat on a throne next to his queen, while Merlin performed magic tricks.
 
The soundtrack boomed loudly from the arena speakers.

Paige looked amused at his expression.
 
“Still have your mind on the militia, Craig?” she asked.
 
“Or is it Sally Montry?”
 
She crossed her legs and leaned forward to whisper in a conspiratorial voice.
 
“Or is it those UFOs?”

“Don’t get me started,” said Craig.
 
“Just don’t get me started.”
 

He drained his beer glass and pushed it across the table, then positioned himself to ease the ache in his injured leg.
 
“With the information on the Eagle’s Claw we got from Jorgenson’s home, and Mike Waterloo’s, as well as the people we’ve arrested — Bryce Connor, Deputy Mahon, and Sergeant Marlo, not to mention Sally — we should be able to unravel the whole militia group.
 
Not only did we save the day, Paige, we also hit the jackpot.”

Paige ran a finger around the top of her own beer glass, touching the foam of the thick black stout . . . at which Trish would have turned up her nose.
 
“So what’s next for you?”

Craig shrugged.
 
“Oh, I go wherever they send me.
 
I’ll head back to the Bay Area, but who knows where the Bureau will want me next?
 
Depends on where a suitable case turns up.
 
I specialize in the high-tech investigations . . . but they could just as well have me investigating parking-meter fraud.
 
What about you?”

Paige remained silent for a moment.
 
Her fingernails ran up and down the smooth side of the glass, and she held his gaze with her striking blue eyes.
 
The longer she looked at him, the stranger Craig felt — out of breath, his cheeks warm.

She glanced down when she finally spoke.
 
“Me?
 
Well, I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to Livermore, at least not for a while.
 
Too many memories of Uncle Mike there — but it goes deeper than that.
 
Whenever I think of the nuclear community, I remember all the years I had spent trusting him, how he and my father worked on all those tests together.”
 

She hesitated.
 
“It could be a good opportunity, actually.
 
I’ve never lived outside of California for any length of time, except when I went to college — but now is the best time to go somewhere else.
 
I just need to get away, get my life together.”

Anxious to distract himself, Craig took another sip of his beer, saddened that she wouldn’t be close any more, but he also understood why she couldn’t stay — not with the memories she had to deal with.
 
It reminded him of Trish’s leaving all over again. . . .

But this was different.
 
He could never confuse Paige for Trish, and her reason for leaving wasn’t to follow a burning goal that consumed everything else.
 
It was just to find some personal peace.
 
For the time being.

He swallowed.
 
“So where do you think you’ll go?”

She took another sip of her dark beer and placed it on the table, running the back of her hand across her lips.
 
In the arena below, the horses thundered around in a circle.
 
“DOE has openings at several of the labs back east — Brookhaven maybe, or Oak Ridge.
 
I’ve got connections, and good references, and my clearance transfers.”

“Brookhaven?
 
Where’s that?”

“In New York.”
 
She looked out over the court assembling below them, troops of knights in shining armor, flashing their pennants.
 
A princess in a conical hat strutted around the arena, followed by ladies in waiting who carried her filmy train.
 
In the front ranks, one muscular knight sat rigidly at attention on his prancing stallion; the knight brought up his sword to salute King Arthur.

Craig felt a sinking feeling come over him.
 
New York?
 
The other side of the country.
 
It
was
Trish all over again.
 
In defeat, he gave her a wan smile.

Paige continued.
 
“But I’ve been looking at going to Argonne instead.
 
Fermilab, near Chicago.
 
I know some people there, and I’m sure I could get a few good leads just by picking up the phone.
 
I’ve never really been in the Midwest — it’s supposed to be peaceful out there, a lot more laid back, more neighborly.
 
I don’t know.
 
I might stay there for a while, for as long as I can stand the cold winters, then head back to California.
 
The west will always be home for me, but I’ve got to shake this out of my system.”

The waitress brought another beer for both of them.
 
Craig fumbled for his wallet, but Paige beat him to it.
 
“This one’s on me.”
 
She left a tip sure to bring the waitress back.

Craig clinked his glass against Paige’s.
 
“Then here’s to all of us good guys.”

“Here, here.”
 
She stared at him with her clear blue eyes as she drank.
 
From her serious expression, she seemed to be reading his own turmoil, his own confused thoughts.

Craig felt his face grow warm.
 
If he let Paige go now without saying something about his feelings for her, he’d end up kicking himself forever.
 
She
wasn’t
Trish.
 
And that was all behind him.
 
It was time to move on with his life — and now was the time to start.

He set down his beer and opened his mouth, finally getting up the courage to say —

“Hi, kids!”
 
A slurred voice came from beside him.

Craig turned to look over his shoulder.
 
Maggie the Mind Reader.
 
A bright green parrot sat perched on her shoulder.
 
Walking with a visible stagger, she stopped in front of their seats.
 
“It’s about time you two showed up.
 
I hoped you would make my last show.
 
Too late now.”

“We got a little busy.”
 
Craig smiled, then looked at Paige.
 
He felt the tension flow from him, leaving a sense of disappointment.
 
The moment had passed.
. . .

Paige leaned forward, laughing.
 
“When do you go on again?
 
We’d love to see your act.”

“Sorry, Sweetie.”
 
Maggie placed her hands on the narrow table and leaned toward them.
 
“That was really my last show.
 
I gave my notice.
 
Time to move on, but I’m making one last swing through the pit.”

“You’re kidding,” Craig said.
 
“I thought you told me old showgirls never die.”

“They don’t.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Paige asked.

The parrot squawked and flapped its wings.
 
Maggie turned to give it a
shush
.
 
Turning back, she blinked at them.
 
“I’m going away.
 
Just like you two.
 
But old Maggie’s going to get away from all the free booze, then pack it in to San Diego where I’ll start over.
 
I’ve got grandkids there.”

Craig blinked.
 
“And do your mind reading act in San Diego?
 
Do they have enough clubs for that?”

“Clubs?
 
What the hell are you talking about, Sweetie?
 
I’m going to work in a pet store.
 
I love animals.”

Craig laughed as Paige patted the chair next to her.
 
“Sit down.
 
How about one more mind reading before you go?”

Maggie glanced at Paige, then back to Craig.
 
She shook her head.
 
“You kids don’t need old Maggie to read your minds — what you need is some time alone.”
 
She winked and turned, walking away with a slight stagger.

Paige placed her hand on top of Craig’s and squeezed — but she left it there, caressing the tops of his fingers.
 

Embarrassed and self-conscious, Craig laughed as the old woman left, feeling Paige’s touch burning his skin.
 
“Now that’s a wild way to end a day.
 
This place is going to miss her.
 
What an act, even if she really can’t read minds.”
 
He turned to Paige.

She looked at him with her sparkling blue eyes.
 
“Who’s to say she can’t?”

DEDICATION

To the men and women of the Nevada Test Site—who endured long hours and separation from family for their nation’s defense

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As usual, a great many people helped us in the writing of this book.
 
In particular, we would like to thank:
 
Janet Berliner, Mark A. Johnson, Brooke Buddemeier, Deb Ray, Kathleen Dyer, Leslie Lauderdale, young Chris Westbrook, Gorgiana Alonzo, Ginjer Buchanan, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Brian Lipson, Richard Curtis, Amy Meo, Lil Mitchell, Rebecca Moesta Anderson, and Cindy Beason.