Aaron Mitchell had vanished. That it had occurred at all staggered Victor equally as much as it had put the fear of death into Gordon LeMay. Mitchell’s escape from the most secure facility ever built in the history of the United States would have made front-page news were it not for the complete media ban placed on the event. Nobody would ever know that Mitchell had even been incarcerated there, much less that he had escaped and that his absconding had remained undetected for almost twelve hours. It had only been the keen senses of one of the security guards who had often been responsible for Mitchell’s incarceration that had detected something odd about Mitchell after the visit from his psychologist – a change of gait, a slightly different inflection of voice, an unwillingness to come out of his cell for exercise.
Upon closer inspection it had been revealed that the psychologist had taken the place of the criminal in a deftly arranged deception that Victor knew Aaron Mitchell must have had in place for years, perhaps decades. That his former protege had possessed the forethought to somehow arrange the loyalty of a man who could not be much further removed from the former Special Forces soldier did not surprise Victor at all – Mitchell had been so successful in his role as Majestic Twelve’s senior undercover operative directly
because
of his resourcefulness. What surprised Victor was that he had kept his doppleganger in play for so long, even now, in his advancing years. Victor had long ago thrown his hand in fully with Majestic Twelve, understanding that there was nothing else out there for him and no reason not to become devoted to the organisation for life.
A soft buzzing intruded on Victor’s reverie and he turned with some reluctance from the stunning vista outside and closed the balcony doors behind him. He pulled the blinds closed to prevent any observation from other houses in the town, and then moved across to the door and opened it.
Outside stood a tall, gaunt looking man whom Victor recognized instantly although most people could have walked past him in the street and had no idea who they were looking at.
‘Good morning Victor,’ the man greeted him with a hand shake and a sombre voice. ‘May we come in?’
‘Of course,’ Victor croaked as he backed away from the door and gestured for the men outside to enter.
One by one they walked into the room, each wearing a suit that would have cost Victor a month’s salary, watches on their wrists worth more than some luxury cars and subtle colognes from brands too exclusive to even be available in malls.
For the most part Victor did not recognize the men as they filed into the room, accompanied by two younger men who were clearly armed escorts. The apartment door was closed behind them and they variously sat or stood as Victor turned to face them. Of those that he did recognize, he knew them to be reclusive billionaires who had forged their fortunes in the stock markets of the world, real estate, agriculture and military technology. Not one of the men was less than fifty years of age, and there were just eleven of them, not twelve. Their number had been reduced a few years previously when Dwight Opennheimer, a Texan oil billionaire, had met his maker deep in a cavern in New Mexico at the hands of Ethan Warner while searching for the elixir of life, now held safely in the hands of MJ-12.
‘What news, Victor?’ asked the tallest of them, colloquially known to Victor as Number One – the reference that had in the past allowed Victor to differentiate between one member of Majestic Twelve and another during audio conversations.
Victor started with the good news.
‘Gordon LeMay has been successful in organizing and deploying a small, highly trained force of men to the Antarctic. They are operating under the pretence of a highly classified mission to liberate US possessions from enemy forces, who have seized those assets after a melting glacier exposed a secret US base.’
Victor detected an air of approval settle upon the men as they looked at him, their gazes seeming to appraise him. Victor had spent the better part of his life serving these men so they knew him well enough, and he recalled other voices long in the past that he no longer heard, founding members of the group who had long since passed away. Majestic Twelve was controlled by patriarchs, the most learned of their kind.
‘Are those assets fully under LeMay’s control?’ asked another of the men. ‘He has been somewhat unreliable of late and we all know about how the Defense Intelligence Agency has been attempting to expose us.’
‘LeMay’s tenure as Director of the FBI will likely end before the year is out, but at this time he remains a useful asset. We cannot predict who will be promoted to director upon his departure, but with the increase in surveillance of our interests we cannot guarantee that any future director will be allied to our cause.’
Majestic Twelve were more than aware of the efforts made by General Nellis, the Intelligence Director, in exposing them through the work of the Defense Intelligence Agency. Many of their most recent failures had been a direct result of the DIA’s interference in their operations, and that led naturally on to the next question that Victor had been dreading.
‘What of Aaron Mitchell?’
The tall, gaunt man’s question was neither accusing nor casual. Victor knew that they would likely be aware of what had occurred, for MJ-12 seemed to have eyes everywhere. None the less, it was a failure on Victor’s part – he should have ensured that Mitchell was killed when in custody.
‘Mitchell escaped from Florence ADX Security Max facility yesterday morning. I have no information regarding his whereabouts. I take full responsibility for this failure. I should have had him neutralized when I had the chance.’
‘And yet you did not,’ the tall man said. ‘Why?’
Victor took a breath before he replied.
‘Mitchell has served us for almost thirty years,’ he replied. ‘In that time he has never failed us, but he is getting older and is not able to perform for us as well as he once did. He questioned our loyalty to him, believed that we might abandon him at any moment. I took that opportunity to attempt to assure him that our loyalty was as strong as his had been, by allowing him to live. That was a mistake and a loose end that may now prove difficult to tie up.’
The gaunt man nodded, caught a few glances from his companions before he replied.
‘Loyalty, Victor, is a prized asset. Mitchell was worth giving the benefit of the doubt and his capture was regrettable. He did not kill the president at Travilah as he should have done, and thus now the only person who has failed us is Mitchell himself. We must move forward from this. How long before we have the artifact in our possession?’
Victor felt an overwhelming relief wash through him, a tension in his stomach unwinding as he sighed beneath his breath and spoke more easily.
‘Our sources inform me that the object will impact East Antarctica within just the hour. Our teams will be in position ready to take possession of the artifact, although we have evidence that the DIA is also deploying a team via the McMurdo research station.’
The tall, gaunt leader of Majestic Twelve peered at Victor.
‘Warner and Lopez?’
Victor nodded.
‘Warner and Ford, as it is at the moment. Lopez was injured during their last mission and is recuperating in a hospital in Washington DC.’
‘Then now is the time to strike,’ the gaunt man said. ‘Have somebody reliable finish Lopez off prior to our return to New York, while she cannot fight back. That will remove one thorn from our side for good while Warner is otherwise indisposed.’
Wilms nodded.
‘I don’t have many details but I think we can safely assume that given the sensitivity of the Antarctic mission the DIA will have deployed with armed escorts, likely Special Forces troops.’
The gaunt man frowned.
‘We cannot afford to have a major engagement in Antarctica, such an event will not go unnoticed.’
‘All media and military channels suggest that nobody outside of MJ-12 and select groups of NASA and DIA personnel are aware that the object is even in Earth orbit. For now, we have the advantage – I suggest that we use that and push forward in an attempt to beat the DIA team to the site. It has been many decades since Majestic Twelve assets have used the base.’
‘The site was abandoned decades ago when scientific research teams began building their damned observation posts all across Antarctica,’ the gaunt man lamented. ‘We could not afford our operation being disturbed or located, and we did not predict that Black Knight would suddenly begin its descent into the atmosphere.’
Victor knew that MJ-12 had been formed in the aftermath of the Second World War after a series of extraordinary events involving unknown craft observed in flight around the globe. Although such unidentified flying objects had been observed throughout history, even back as far as ancient Egypt, it was only recently that any headway had been made in understanding what the craft actually were and the nature of their purpose. When one such craft had impacted the ground in New Mexico in 1947, close to a town called Roswell, and aviator Kenneth Arnold had observed what he termed “saucer like discs” flying at tremendous speed near Mount Rainier in that same year, the Eisenhower administration had formed Majestic Twelve to coordinate a covert study of the phenomenon. What the administration of the time had not fully appreciated was that the founders of Majestic Twelve were men who had been fully aware of the Nazi experiments with supposed extra-terrestrial technology in the years before and during the Second World War, and involved in spiriting that technology away from the United States Government after the fall of Berlin. Majestic Twelve was not just a cabal of industrialists intent on the control of governments – it was actively continuing the work of the Nazis.
‘Do we have sufficient resources in place to recover the craft and secure it?’ Victor asked.
The men of Majestic Twelve looked at each other for a moment before the gaunt man nodded.
‘We do,’ he replied. ‘But it may prove difficult for the teams to gain access to the base.’
‘How so?’ Victor asked. ‘Is the glacier damaging the facility?’
The gaunt man shook his head.
‘The Nazis who built the base encountered something up there, which was why they never went as far as to occupy the location permanently.’
Victor felt a tingling on his arms as the hairs on the back of his neck rose up.
‘Encountered something?’
Number One nodded, his pale eyes haunted.
‘Our own people encountered the same thing years later, and we too abandoned the base and sealed it.’
Victor swallowed thickly. ‘What’s up there?’
The gaunt man shook his head.
‘You don’t want to know, but we can assume that neither our own or the DIA’s team will make it out of there alive.’
***
XI
Wilkes Land,
Antarctica
Captain Forrester strode onto the bridge of the
Polar Star
, Ethan following as the captain barked an order to his crew.
‘Give us the bridge.’
The crew immediately vacated the bridge as the captain moved to stand behind the wheel and gently placed his hands upon it. Ethan got the impression that Forrester would rather be guiding his ship by hand through the icy seas than letting computers and GPS satellites navigate their course. The captain made a last few checks of the computers, and then as the last SEAL onto the bridge closed the door behind him, Forrester spoke clearly enough for them all to hear.
‘In 1947, as I’m sure you’ve all heard many times before, an unknown object crashed near Roswell in New Mexico. Captured by the United States Army Air Force, they announced proudly to the world that they had captured a flying saucer, that announcement appearing in several national newspapers. Within days the Air Force recanted that statement, claiming that what they’d found was a weather baloon.’
Ethan knew enough about the legend of what happened in Roswell to know that it was pretty hard to confuse the materials used to create weather balloons with those required to produce a flying metallic disc.
‘What is rarely reported is that the alleged crash also conincided with Kenneth Arnold’s sighting of similar objects near Mount Rainier in Washington State in the same year, both of these iconic events coinciding with a top secret United States Navy operation that was conducted in Antarctica in 1946 and 1947 as part of the Navy’s Antarctic Developments Program. The project became better known in later years as Operation Highjump.’
‘What was the operation for?’ Hannah Ford asked.
Forrester accessed a screen on the bridge controls and relayed it to a monitor mounted high on the bridge so that everyone could see it.
‘Operation Highjump was organized by Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd Jr., USN. Its primary mission was to establish the Antarctic research base Little America IV. The objectives were ostensibly to prepare crews for fighting in frigid conditions and full-on Arctic warfare, as well as extending the sovereignty of the United States over as much of Antarctica as possible. The government of the time had already recognized the threat of a battle-hardened Soviet Union’s ability to expand and consolidate its gains after the fall of Berlin.’
Ethan knew that after the cessation of hostilities and victory in Europe, the allies had begun to view the Soviet Union with great mistrust, a feeling shared by their erstwhile Communist allies. Facing each other over the smoldering rubble of Germany, the two massive armies had settled into an uneasy peace that would soon become the chill of the Cold War and the dawning of the thermonuclear age.
‘Operation Highjump was to develop techniques for establishing, maintaining, and utilizing air bases on ice. The work would improve existing knowledge of electromagnetic, geological, geographic, hydrographic and meteorological propagation conditions on the continent.’
Hannah allowed a small smile to form on her lips.
‘You don’t sound like you think that was their main objective.’
Chandler and Amy had gathered on the bridge and were listening intently as Forrester went on.