The Pandora Directive: A Tex Murphy Novel (22 page)

“Freeze!”

I was already frozen.

“Get your hands up where I can see them!”

He was young, maybe twenty-four. His face was flushed, and the gun wavered slightly in his white-knuckled hands. I dug into my coat for my pack of smokes.

“Don’t be reaching for anything! Get your hands up!”

I pulled out the cigarette pack and displayed it calmly. “Keep your pants on, Deputy Fife.”

Junior was obviously incensed, but unsure of what to do. He’d probably never pulled a gun on anyone in his life, though I was willing to bet he’d wasted untold hours fantasising about it. In his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined that whoever he lost his gun-of waving virginity to would be so apathetic.

I pulled out a Lucky. “Got a light?”

“Drop the cigarette and get your hands up!”

“It’s not loaded.”

“Drop it!”

The second man trudged up from behind. “Put a lid on it, Todd.” he was older, probably in his late fifties. His MP shirt was open, revealing a dingy white T-shirt. His pants were baggy khaki trousers, and he was wearing sandals. He walked past Todd, the security guard, and pulled a lighter from his shirt pocket as he approached me. “Float me one?”

I held out the pack of Lucky Strikes, and the older guard drew one out. He lit my cigarette, then his own. “I ran out of smokes three days ago. Pure hell. Can you imagine being in a place like this with no smokes?”

I smiled compassionately. I’d run out a cigarette before, and it hadn’t been pretty. Behind the older guard, told lowered his gun, looking like a kid whose baseball had just gotten stuck on a neighbour’s roof. His polished-to-a-fault, military-issue footwear was coated with dust. I felt a little bit sorry for him. The Roswell complex didn’t look like it got much action.

Up close, my smoking partner didn’t appear to be as old as I pegged him, but he had the wrinkly brown face of a surfer-cum-alcoholic. He took a long drag and looked up at me.

“Sorry about the welcome. Told here is new on the job. I think you startled him.”

“I have that effect on strangers. It must be my hat.”

The older guard nodded. Told stepped up. “It’s against regulations for a civilian to be on the grounds. We have to arrest this guy.”

I looked from Todd to Cigarette Guy. He looked back at me and shrugged. “If there’s one thing Todd knows, it’s regulations, though we may have extenu-ating circumstances here. You don’t happen to have an extra pack of Luckies, do you?”

“Sorry.”

“Well, I’m afraid Todd may be right. Looks like we’ll have to arrest you.”

Todd perked up noticeably. “I’ll go get the handcuffs!”

“Don’t bother. Here’s my identification.”

I reached into my coat for the NSA ID and handed it to the older guard. He looked it over thoroughly, with Todd peering eagerly over his shoulder. After a few anxious moments, he handed it back to me. “NSA, huh? Haven’t had one of you boys down here for years.”

“Sounds like you’ve been here awhile.”

“Hell, what is it now? Twenty-three years. Six months… a couple weeks.” he glanced at his watch. “And about five and a half hours. I love this job. I don’t know who I pissed off, but they got me back real good.”

He turned and looked at Todd. “Todd doesn’t know what he did either, but he’s here to replace me. I’m training him to take over all my important duties. Tomorrow we’re gonna go over how to make a decent quiche in the microwave.” he looked back at me. “So, Colonel Murphy, What brings the NSA to our little corner of nowhere?”

“I’ve got to get into the underground part of the complex. By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

Todd’s eyes got as big as Oreos. The older guard raised an eyebrow. “Willis. So you’re going down? Hasn’t been anyone down there since the war. At least not since I’ve been here. Don’t suppose you can tell me why.”

I shook my head. “Top secret. A matter of national security. Course, that’s what we do, you know.”

Todd caught his breath long enough to squeak in Willis’s direction. “How do we know he’s who he says he is? No one’s supposed to go into the underground section. That’s the one thing they keep telling me.”

“Shut up, Todd.” Willis glanced sideways at the younger guard as though he were the tenth person to tell him that he had a rip in the seat of his trousers.

“I know what they say. It doesn’t apply to the NSA. They can commandeer a bathtub while you’re in it taking a shower if they want to. They’re not accountable to anyone, not even the military. If you give Colonel Murphy any crap, he might just decide to blow your head off.”

I straightened my tie. “Well, I’m glad we understand each other. As for you, Todd, I suggest you check your regulations. The NSA is the exception to every rule. Now if you aren’t too busy, I could use a little help with directions.”

Willis was as co-operative as a man who’d been saved from nicotine withdrawal, and Todd was too cowed to raise any more objections. We walked to the guardhouse, and they disarmed half a dozen alarm systems. It was obvious that Willis had never done this in his twenty-three years of service. At one point, he pulled a lever to restore power to the underground complex. As he did it, he gave me a look that said, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Forty-five minutes after I’d landed, I was escorted to the large steel door in the side of the rock ledge. Willis stuck the key into a key hole on a panel door. The panel opened, and the old guard punched in some kind of code. With a dusty groan, the steel door swung open.

I stepped inside and looked around. The room was small and empty, except for an open elevator on the opposite side. The walls and floor had been carved out of the stone, and the dim, fluorescent lighting gave the interior a harsh, cold feel. The two guards were waiting outside like a couple of kindergarteners on the first day of school.

“Before I go down, tell me something. I’ve heard rumours about why the military shut this place down and sealed it off. What do you know about it?”

Todd looked at Willis, terrified. Willis cleared his throat. “The higher-ups don’t like to talk about it, but I’ve heard a few things. Bad things.”

“Such as — ?”

“Well, when I first got assigned here, they told me never to turn on the power to the underground area, no matter what. I asked ‘em why. They just said never, ever do it, under any circumstances. Some people say there’s aliens down there. They say their photo-somethin’… I don’t remember the word. Something about being attracted to the light or heat. They say that’s why the military shut the place down, quarantined it. They say the aliens killed almost everyone down there and almost. I guess you’re gonna find out for yourself.”

I stepped into the elevator and surveyed my options. There were buttons for Levels One, Two, and Three, I decided to start at the top and work my way down. I pressed the button for Level One, but nothing happened. To the side of the button panel, I noticed a blue card slot. Pulling out the blue card I’d been given with the NSA ID, I stuck it in the slot. The buttons lit up, and the elevator doors slid shut. I press the button for Level One again. This time of the elevator shuddered, then began to descend. After five or six seconds, the elevator came to a jarring stop, and the doors slid open.

A large, black number one it was painted on the wall opposite the elevator. I stepped out into a hallway and looked left, then right. The low, white fluorescent light gave the hallway the look of a morgue. There was nothing to see immediately, so I turned my left and walked down the hallway. My shoes left faint imprints in the thick layer of dust on the tile floor. My footfalls echoed all around the hallway. The mouldy smelling air felt dense, like breathing through a dust rag.

I reached the end of the hallway, where a second hallway ran perpendicular. A sign informed me that the dormitories were some way to my left, the mess hall and recreation centre to my right. I decided to look around the living quarters first.

The walls on this level were painted light purple and were completely unadorned. About thirty feet from the spot where the hallways intersected, I saw the first of a series of doors with numbers painted on them. I tested the knob on the first one, but the door was locked. I moved to the second one, which was unlocked.

I opened the door and stepped into a long, fairly narrow room. Twelve single neatly made beds stood in two parallel rows. Each one had a corresponding locker. Except for the thin layer of dust on everything, the dorm looked immaculate. I walked to the nearest locker and opened it. Inside were several changes of clothing, shoes, and toiletries. After checking several other lockers, I decided that there wasn’t much to see.

As I was about to leave, I spotted a piece of paper on one of the beds near the rear of the room. It turned out to be an unopened letter, addressed to Bryce Ellsworth. The return address was the Ellsworths off Ames, Iowa. I checked the postmark and saw that the letter had been posted on November 11th, 1996. Turning the letter over in my hand, I debated whether or not to open it. I seriously doubted that anyone was going to claim it. Besides, the statute of limitations had to have expired.

I tore open the yellowed envelope and pulled out several lined pages, a photograph, and a few newspaper clippings. The content of the letter was typical newsy, mushy, howdy-from-home stuff. I tossed it onto the bed. The photograph showed an older couple posing alongside a young couple with a baby. Fifty years had passed since this picture was taken. The older folks were undoubtedly deceased, their places taken by the young man and his wife. What had happened to the man these people had sent the letter to? Did he die here in the complex? Or did he escape and make it back to his family?

I turned my attention to the newspaper clippings, which were very well-preserved. The headline on the first trumpeted: Desert Standoff Enters Fourth Month. The story detailed how United States forces were massing on the Iraqi border. The second article’s headline read: President Dole: We’re Prepared for War. The third clipping was taken from a publication of ill-repute and blared: Military Ready to Unleash Alien Weapon! In retrospect, this article seemed to be surprisingly accurate. It referred to the Roswell crash and the recovery of a mysterious object, which the military had cleverly incorporated into a Domesday Device.

After I finished reading Corporal Ellsworth’s mail, I decided that the dormitory had nothing more to offer. I turned to the hallway and walked to a door at the end. It was labelled Restricted Access, unlike those leading to the dormitories. I tried to open it, then look for a slot where I could use one of the cards in my pocket, but no such luck. Turning back, I went on to the mess hall.

Like the dormitories, the eating area was neat, austere, and of absolutely no interest. I found the door to the kitchen and took a look around. Cupboards, cabinets, and shelves contained tons of canned goods, herds of bagged, powdered milk, an ocean of bottled mineral water, and acres of cracked wheat in barrels. At least I wouldn’t have to go hungry. Out of curiosity, I checked several freezers and a refrigerator, finding nothing more intriguing than some potentially award-winning science projects.

My next stop, the recreation area, was a gigantic hybrid, half gymnasium, half airport lounge. The amenities included three full-size pool tables, dart boards, a boxing ring, free weights, a half-court basketball floor, a handful of conversation pits, a dozen couches, and two large-screen televisions. It looked like a decent place to kill time, but I wasn’t in the market for leisure. After a short scan, I continued to search elsewhere. The hallway outside the mess hall and recreation area led to a door identical to the one I’d seen by the dormitories. Apparently, I was sealed off from the rest of Level One, at least on this side.

I walked back to the elevator, then continued on. The part of Level One I had access to was shaped like an H, with the left side containing the locations I’d searched. The right side contained a series of storage areas, with everything from gas masks to basic tools. I didn’t find anything that would help me locate the power cell.

I went back to the elevator and press the button for Level Two. Seconds later, the elevator doors opened. The facing wall was identical to the one on the upper level, except a number two was stencilled on it. I stepped out into the hall and looked around. Something different was immediately noticeable. Part of it was the thicker quality of the air and the blast holes pockmarking several spots in the floor and walls. My eyes were immediately drawn to the corpses.

Seven bodies were strewn on the floor of the hallway, the nearest one only several paces away. As I got closer, I saw the horrible, staring face of what had probably been a young man, his eyes fixed and unseeing. I bent down and took a closer look. His eyeballs were shrunken and seemed to have the texture of old rubber. His skin was chalky and wrinkled. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought his body had been mummified. The mouth was open, as if he was screaming at the moment he died.

The other corpses were all in the same condition. Two of the dead men were wearing lab coats; the others were wearing old Air Force uniforms. The sensation of being in a morgue was overwhelming. I’d never been particularly comfortable around death, but this place was far worse than a run-of-the-mill mortuary. A sense of foreboding began to seep into my bones like a humid chill.

I stepped over and around the bodies on my way down the hall. At the end, I encounter another sign. The Biology Laboratory was somewhere to the right, the Metallurgy Laboratory to my left. I looked in either direction, and then something grabbed my attention. At the end of the hallway to my left, the Restricted Access door was ajar.

There were no corpses in this section of the hall. The dead men had probably been trying to reach the elevator when they met their maker. I reach the Restricted Access door and pushed it open. The colour of the walls in this section were tan, obviously a superior shade to the light purple of the less important areas. I was in a long tunnel, with three doors on the left side and four on the right. About seventy or eighty feet away, I saw another Restricted Access door.