The Pentagon, Washington DC Four Weeks Ago
Kevin Short, Head of Pentagon Security, was awakened from a deep sleep at precisely four o
’
clock by the phone ringing next to his bed. Groggily he reached out for the receiver. "Kevin Short speaking," he said, in a gruff voice from a smoke dry throat. Within a few seconds he was wide awake and sitting bolt upright in bed. "You're fucking kidding me, right?...When did this happen?...HOLY SHIT
…
I
’
m on my way."
Short stood in the temperature controlled room that had housed the bodies of the dead aliens for as long as he could remember and his body was shaking uncontrollably. The inch-thick bulletproof, hermetically sealed glass walls and ceiling were intact and gave the room its nickname, 'The Tank.
’
Positioned in the centre of a much larger subterranean room and lit by banks of high powered halogen flood lights from all four outer walls, the chamber was like a huge illuminated aquarium but without the water. The numerous motion, temperature and pressure sensors had remained silent and the only door to the chamber was in place and secure when he arrived. In the security control room overlooking the chamber he had watched the CCTV footage of the two aliens in silent disbelief. Pronounced dead since their discovery in the Nevada desert in 1962, they had been in 'the tank' ever since.
"This is impossible, it couldn't have happened.
”
Short said out loud, to no one there. One hour before, the room had been crawling with people confused and in shock, trying to find out how the trick had been achieved; but it was not a trick. Now the chamber was silent again and eerily empty without its two long term occupants, occupants so top-secret that only a handful of people in the world knew of their existence. Occupants that had just vanished into thin air. In synchronized unison their muscular, pale white bodies arose from their stainless steel beds and walked naked, without hesitation, through the glass as if it didn't exist. The CCTV images scared him to his bones. Where the fuck are they? Where did they go to? Short suddenly felt the need of a cigarette. He needed to think, and at this moment in time he had no explanation for what had happened. How the fuck do you explain the impossible?
Houston Texas. Present Day
Hunter was sitting at his desk in the Ellington Building staring out of the window, deep in thought. Moments before he had put down the receiver after a tiring fifteen minute phone conversation with the President. His face looked strained and he rubbed his forehead to relieve the tension he could feel building in his neck and shoulders. It had been a month since the aliens had disappeared and thankfully, as yet there had been no public sightings. But more worryingly, there had been no sightings at all, even though a lot of highly skilled CIA agents were looking for them. The President was mad, very mad.
The alien communications had stopped and the source of the signals was still unknown other than to say they were coming from somewhere in the Solar System. Hunter had been fully briefed after the attempt to destroy the project by the religious sect from San Francisco had failed. The details had surprised him. Vicki's brother had basically saved the team with seconds to spare before blowing his own brains out in utter desperation. Worryingly, the connection between Richard Stark and his sister Vicki had been missed by Officer Wayne.
All of the remaining members were now in custody awaiting trial, except for their leader Adam Domaradzki. Hunter knew he was in Mexico, but Mexico was a big place. The documentation found at the Sect headquarters was disturbing. They had all signed a 'last man standing' pact that meant, until Domaradzki was found, the team would be at risk and Hunter was acutely aware of the danger posed by this maniac on the run.
Everyone on the team was aware of the attempt to destroy the project but no one wished to stop working, not even Rob McPherson who was targeted with a car bomb.
Hunter picked up the phone again and dialed.
“
Officer Wayne, it's Hunter here. I need to see you in my office." There was a pause. "Eleven o'clock." Another short pause. "Sure thing. See you then."
A few moments later Hunter walked into the control room. "Good morning team," he said, in an upbeat manner.
“
Good morning,
”
came the communal response.
"How are things going, Rob?" enquired Hunter.
Rob McPherson turned around on his swivel chair to face Hunter.
“
Well, the communications have certainly stopped and we're frantically searching to find the source of the original signals. All our co-ordinates point to a spot that is apparently just space, it doesn't make any sense at all." McPherson turned back to study the information on his monitor. Stuck to the top of his monitor was a photo of Vicki and his new born son, Daniel.
Right at this moment Hunter felt utter frustration with the whole thing but managed not to show his feelings to the team. They were still amazingly upbeat considering what had happened thanks to Rob's strong leadership and he sure as hell didn't want to change that. "Okay guys keep it up, you're doing a great job. Very soon we're going find them, I just know it."
"Any news on Domaradzki?" asked Walter Rottenburg in a monotone manner, as Hunter was about to leave the room.
He stopped and paused in the silence of the room for a moment then turned to face Walter. "Nothing to report as yet, Walter, but rest assured, we are chasing the rat down the hole and we will find him and bring him to justice. That I can promise you." Hunter gave a reassuring smile to Walter, turned and walked out of the control room towards his office.
"I believe him, Walter. Hunter is a man of his word. Please don't worry," responded McPherson reassuringly, knowing that the team couldn't relax while Domaradzki was still free. Walter turned back to study his monitor, but his face showed signs of stress.
McPherson had spent many hours analyzing the original alien communication but could not find a way of understanding it. It consisted of a sequence of digital ones and noughts, just like the signal transmitted from the Arecibo radio telescope on November 16 1974. That signal consisted of 1679 pulses. The alien signal consisted of 2,097,152 pulses, but what was the key to understanding it? McPherson was trying everything in his power to find the answer, but as yet to no avail. He recognized the number as the cube of 128, so the information was probably in some kind of three dimensional form, but what did it all mean?
At exactly eleven o'clock Linda Washington knocked on Hunter's office door.
"Come in," Hunter responded.
"Officer Wayne to see you sir."
"Punctual as usual, Officer Wayne," said Hunter, looking at his wrist watch. "Please take a seat....Thanks Linda, that will be all for now." Linda smiled and closed the door behind her as she left.
"Coffee?"
“
Please." Wayne was nervous. Only the week before, he had been almost torn apart by Hunter at the enquiry, for failing to make the connection between Vicki and her brother. Luck had saved the project and that was unacceptable to Hunter and he was real mad that a New York cop had blown Domaradzki's cover and not the man trained to hunt and kill, sitting opposite him. Hunter had conceded though that Wayne was not tasked with the job of finding Adam Domaradzki, as he was at the time 'below the radar.'
Hunter poured some freshly brewed coffee into a cup and offered it to Wayne.
"Thank you."
"This job is not finished," Hunter said, in a stern voice, as he stared across the table at Wayne.
“
Yes, sir, I realize that."
"But it has to be finished very quickly. Do you understand?" Hunter stated in no uncertain terms.
“
Yes, sir
—
I fully understand."
"McPherson and his wife are still alive, thank God, but only by a stroke of luck. If they'd been on time they'd be dead now. Like the couple who took the car planned for them.
”
“
Yes, Mr. Williams."
“
Good
—
So get your ass to Mexico, find the rat and kill him. Do you need any medicine?"
"I already have some thank you."
"Do you need any help?" enquired Hunter.
“
No, sir, I don't need any help, I'm trained to work alone and I already have contacts in Mexico that I can use if necessary."
"Do not fuck up this time. You will not get another chance."
"I won't let you down, sir."
"I hope not. Just think of it as the most important assignment you've ever had."
Officer Wayne stood up and left the room. He sensed this was not the time to sit and drink coffee with Colin Williams. After closing the door behind him he looked up and exhaled. He knew exactly what Hunter had meant. He needed to do what he did best and there was no time to waste. Wayne walked briskly down the corridor to Linda Washington's office. Her door was, as usual, open. When he walked in Linda was holding up a white envelope.
"Your plane tickets to Mexico. Good luck." Wayne took them, smiled nervously and walked out without speaking.
Hunter was sitting in his leather chair staring out of the window, deep in thought. The phone rang and he knew the ring tone meant it was the President.
“
Mr President, how are you?"
The next ten minutes was intense dialogue with the President about the missing aliens. Hunter had visited the Tank and spoken with Kevin Short. He had also watched the footage of the aliens walking through the inch thick glass, in utter disbelief. They were missing and nobody knew where they were or where to look. The pressure on Hunter was building and he was feeling it now, more than at any time in the past.
At exactly 19.00 hours the helicopter had landed on the roof of the Ellington Building and shortly after some of the team members had boarded for the short flight to Ellington Air Force Base and their secure compound. Hunter was not taking any chances with his team, knowing that their lives were still at risk, this was now the only way to get to work and the only way to leave, until Domaradzki was officially found and caught.
Vicki could hear the helicopter approaching and she looked out of the window to watch it land. Baby Daniel was fast asleep in his crib having just been breast fed until he fell asleep on the nipple. She looked at him and smiled, he was perfect in every way.
It was time to check the evening meal, as Rob would be home any moment and starving as usual. Vicki often thought about the quirk of fate that saved them from the car bomb that was meant to kill them all, even baby Daniel. And yet it was baby Daniel that saved them by delaying their exit from the hospital by just six minutes.
Soon Rob was home and sitting next to baby Daniel. His tiny fingers subconsciously clasped around Rob's little finger he'd placed between the rungs of the crib. Vicki watched and smiled at Rob as he watched his son sleeping peacefully.
“
Well
—
Are you going to speak, or what?" Asked Vicki smiling.
"Sorry my love, yeah, how are you?"
"Fine, just fine." Vicki responded.
"And how has junior been today?"
"Oh, junior has been just fine too. He's eating, sleeping and filling his diapers, just as a baby should."
"He missed me today, I can tell."
"Oh really, how do you know that?" enquired Vicki, curiously.
"Father's instinct darling, I just know." Vicki laughed out loud.
"You silly fool. Sit at the table please, dinner will be ready soon."
"Oh good, I'm starving. It does smell damn good, what is it?"
"Diaper stew," Vicki answered with a broad smile on her face.
"Sounds good to me," laughed Rob, rubbing his hands in eager anticipation.
It was still difficult for both of them to find humor in their everyday lives but they were trying. The memory of Richard's suicide was still so raw in their memories, let alone the attempt on their lives but the baby was keeping them occupied, bringing them so much happiness and that helped the healing process they both desperately needed.
Rob watched as the steaming hot chili con carne was carried into the room by Vicki and placed in the centre of the table. The smell was delightful and Rob was eager to start. As Vicki sat down to join him the phone rang.
"How often does that happen?" Vicki said annoyed. Rob got up to answer the phone but she pushed him back down onto his seat. "Eat it while it's hot darling, I'll get it.
”
“
Hello, Vicki speaking
……
Hi, Mom, how are you?"...Vicki put her hand to her mouth and her eyes began to fill with tears. Rob just knew it was her father. "When did he die Mom?" Tears streamed down her face as Rob embraced her. When will this nightmare ever end?
Cancun Mexico
Adam Domaradzki had hired a small fishing boat for the day from an old fisherman now more interested in liquor than fishing. The secondary reason for hiring the boat was to enjoy some sea fishing, a habit he'd picked up from Richard Stark in San Francisco. The sea was calm and blue, reflecting the cloudless sky and the fishing boat was reassuringly stable and steady, not like the day before when the swell was big, throwing the boat, the old fisherman and its contents of mainly empty beer bottles from port to starboard and back again for almost four hours.
Some three miles from shore in the direction of Cuba, he cut the engines. There was silence, no sounds, other than the gentle splashing of the sea against the side of the boat's old wooden hull. On the starboard side of the boat near the helm there were a number of black plastic bags tied with yellow string. Domaradzki picked up the one on the top of the pile and opened it. Inside some of Honey's leg muscle was already conveniently cut into chunks which he expertly threaded onto a large stainless steel paternoster consisting of six barbed hooks. Carefully standing up he cast out, putting the rod in its holder and reeling in some loose line until he was happy with the line tension.
The other bags contained her arms and her quartered torso, which one by one he tossed overboard into the sea. With no dog to feed anymore there was no point in removing her eyes or tongue as tasty morsels. From the last bag he pulled out her ashen, severed head and held it up in front of him by her short black hair. He looked into her clouded cold eyes and remembered how different she looked when he was fucking her. Gently he caressed her still frozen cheek with his index finger before tossing her last remaining body part into the sea.
All around the small boat the sound of excited sea gulls filled the salty air as they eagerly dived into the water to feast on the intestines floating on the surface. The tip of the fishing rod at the back of the boat lunged downwards in its holder. Something had taken the bait. He grabbed the rod and yanked hard in an upward motion, setting the hook and straining the fishing rod and line to its limit. He could feel this was a big fish. As it broke the surface he knew he had a fight on his hands, the marlin was not going to give up without a struggle.
The following evening the sun was setting at the Aquamarina in Puerto Juarez and the cool white coral beaches were emptying of people and their sunburned children, returning to their hotels and apartments weary and hungry from a day in the cruel Mexican sun and fresh sea air.
Adam Domaradzki was getting used to his new name of Diego Martinez and enjoying the seemingly lazy lifestyle of a playboy. All of the time though his mind was working overtime on how he would finally destroy the Houston Project. He sipped his cold beer and pressed the dial button on his cell phone.
"How yah doing, buddy?...Can you bring the boat over this weekend as planned? ...Excellent, I look forward to seeing you and the boat. Are you bringing any company with you?
…
Blonde, young and beautiful yeah, and what about yours?
…
Do I know them?...Black young and sex crazed you say. Sounds good to me my friend. I look forward to meeting them. Bon voyage.
”
He hit the 'end call' button and placed the cell phone on the table, flicked open his Zippo, lit a Marlboro and inhaled deeply. It was time to read the Bible. Opening the page at Romans Chapter 8 verse 1 he started reading:-
“
There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit."
He continued, reading all 39 verses for his penance and promise to the priest and God.