Area 51: The Mission-3 (21 page)

Che Lu carefully punched in the numbers that she had been given by Turcotte.

Lisa Duncan took two ibuprofens, washing them down with a swig from her water bottle, trying to tame a pounding headache. Once again, she and Mike Turcotte were going in different directions. While Turcotte and Yakov had just taken off in the bouncer with the two USAMRIID men for South America, she was heading for sunny California.

The pills had barely gone down when her SATPhone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket.

"Duncan."

The voice on the other end was hesitant and the accent was heavy. "I am trying to find a Captain Turcotte."

"Who is this?"

"Professor Che Lu. Ms. Duncan, Captain Turcotte

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spoke well of you and gave me this number to call in case of emergency."

Duncan's hand gripped the phone tighter. "Where are you?"

"About five kilometers from Qian-Ling. I have Professor Nabinger's notebook."

"And Peter?"

"We buried him."

Duncan let that sink in. Even though there had been little doubt Nabinger had died in the helicopter crash, the reality of the words had a weight she had not expected.

"We paid him as much honor and respect as we could," Che Lu added.

"I appreciate that."

"His notebook has some important information in it," Che Lu said.

"The secret to the tomb?"

"I believe it talks about the lower tomb, but it does not say exactly what is in there. From what he wrote, I guess there may be more Airlia in there. It also talks about power—the power of the sun."

"A ruby sphere?"

"I do not know," Che Lu said. "It does mention that a key is needed to enter the lowest level."

"What kind of key?"

"I do not know. There is some more information in the notebook written in high runes that I have not been able to translate yet. It is possible that the key is already inside, perhaps in the large cavern with all the Airlia equipment. Or the key may lie inside of the guardian. The word key, as indicated by Nabinger himself in his last notes, could also mean just a code word. Or a pattern of codes to be used on the hexagonal control panel."

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Duncan sighed. As usual nothing was clear when dealing with the Airlia. "Can you get in Qian-Ling?" she asked. She had seen the satellite imagery from the NSA and the ring of PLA troops around the tomb. Still, Che Lu had gotten inside once before. And away.

"Getting in may be possible," Che Lu said. "It is the getting out that may be impossible. For that I may need your help."

"What do you want me to do?"

"What can you do?" Che Lu asked.

Duncan frowned. "Not much. Your country has completely cut itself off from the outside world. If UNAOC or the United States made another attempt to penetrate Chinese territory, it could lead to war." Duncan didn't want to add that she didn't exactly trust UNAOC anymore and she was playing her U.S. cards to the max with South America.

"Nevertheless," Che Lu said, "I must go inside. And to go inside I need the help of those with me. And to get their help, I must give them some hope."

Duncan thought for a few moments, then replied. "I'm sorry, but I have to be honest. I'll do whatever I can, but I'm very limited in what actions I can take."

There was a short pause. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

"What are you going to do?" Duncan asked.

"I am old," Che Lu said. "I wish to see what is hidden in the bottom of Qian-Ling before I die. The others here will have to make their own choices."

"Good luck," Duncan said.

"Thank you. I will talk to you again."

The phone went dead and Duncan slumped back in her seat. The headache was worse than ever, the pills seeming to have affected it not in the slightest.

She looked up as the door to her cabin opened. A

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crew member handed her a message sheet. Both shuttles were going to launch at the same time, inside of eight hours.

Was there a connection between the shuttles and the Earth Unlimited launches?

She didn't see how there could be, but that didn't mean there wasn't. The information that Earth Unlimited had been affiliated with the biolab at Dulce had certainly been a shock. When she had been tasked to take a look into Majestic, she hadn't found that link.

What if there was another ruby sphere in the bottom of Qian-Ling? She remembered the ruby sphere they had found in the cavern under the Terra-Lei compound in Ethiopia. Set there as a hedge by Artad against Aspasia coming back to Earth. Hell of a deterrent, Duncan thought. Of course, she knew that threatening to destroy the planet to keep Aspasia away was not much different from the MAD doctrine—mutual assured destruction—that the United States and Soviet Union had maintained for decades during the Cold War. Except the Airlia had maintained their cold war for millennia.

The power of that ruby sphere, dropped into the gaping chasm in the bottom of that massive cavern, exploding deep inside the Earth's magma would have caused a ripple effect throughout the planet along the rift lines between tectonic plates. It was a doomsday scenario as devastating as nuclear winter.

She also remembered the black stone, like a dark finger inside the cavern in the Rift Valley, with the Chinese words written on it. There was a connection between Africa and China. And no matter how faint the dots, she was willing to draw any line in the hope it might help Che Lu.

She called a contact of hers at the NSA, National Security Agency, and told him to keep a tight look not

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only over South America, where Turcotte was heading, but also over Qian-Ling, and to copy her on any intelligence reports, no matter how trivial. Then she called Fort Bragg.

Another knock on her door. "Your flight is ready, Ms. Duncan," a sailor informed her.

Turcotte looked across the interior of the bouncer. The two USAMRIID men had their heads bowed together, speaking in low tones.

"Experts," Yakov said with a tone of disgust.

"We need them," Turcotte said.

"People like them are the ones who make situations that people like them have to get us out of," Yakov said.

Turcotte tapped Yakov, and the two of them walked around the small depression where the pilot of the bouncer sat to the two USAMRIID men. The interior of the bouncer was crowded with plastic boxes, and looking through the skin of the craft, Turcotte could see the larger boxes attached by slings to the side of the craft.

"What do you think?" Turcotte asked. "You sure it was a bug?"

Kenyon nodded. "There's only so much we can tell from the video, but we always start by ruling out what it isn't before we try to figure out what it is. Work from the known to the unknown.

"The vomiting. The bleeding from everywhere. Bleeding around the needle happens in some cases of severe viral infection. What's essential is we find out the transmission vector. For example, AIDS requires body fluid—blood or semen—contact.

"Most deadly viruses are not easily transmitted. The odds are great that it isn't transmitted through the air, because most viruses don't last long when exposed to

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ultraviolet light. That's why they usually go through a body fluid."

"I might be a little slow here," Turcotte said, "but what exactly is a virus?

I'm just a soldier—you guys are the experts, and we need to have an idea what we're dealing with here."

Kenyon looked at Turcotte for a second. "There are different types of invasive organisms. The two major forms are bacteria and viruses. Tuberculosis is a bacterial infection. AIDS is a virus.

"Most people think of these things as little bugs that are out to kill humans, but really they're just creatures trying to live. In some cases we just happen to be the host through which they live and reproduce." Kenyon paused. "Well, actually, bacteria are alive. Viruses are and they aren't."

Turcotte looked at Yakov and noted the Russian was also paying close attention.

"Bacteria," Kenyon continued, "are living cells. They cause problems in humans because our body mounts a response to their infection and in many cases the response is so strong it destroys good cells along with the bacteria.

"Sometimes it's the bacteria cells themselves that cause the problem. Cholera is a good example of that. The toxins from the bacteria attack cells in the intestine, causing severe diarrhea that dehydrates the body to the point where many of those infected die. So it's the byproduct of the effect and not the bacteria itself that kills in that case.

"A virus is different. A virus is genetic material— DNA or RNA—inside a protein shell. They sort of just hang around and exist. Then they come in contact with a host. The problem—for the host, that is—is that to 183

reproduce, a virus needs a living cell. In the process of reproducing, a virus kills the host cell.

"You can treat most bacterial infections," Kenyon said, "although there are more and more strains appearing that have mutated and are resistant to traditional drug treatments such as penicillin. But there are very few antiviral drugs. The best defense against viruses is vaccination. And you have to have a vaccination before you get infected for it to do any good. So, most of the time, finding out that someone has a viral infection doesn't do you much good, because in many cases there are no cures."

"So Harrison and anyone else in Vilhena that got this bug are screwed."

"In layman's terms, yes," Kenyon said.

"How long does it take?" Turcotte asked.

Kenyon shook his head. "I don't know. From the video and what Harrison said, it sounds like this thing acted incredibly fast. That's the paradox of viruses that has saved mankind from being wiped out. The quicker a virus kills its host, the less chance it has to be transmitted. If a virus takes someone down in a couple of days— which it sounds like our friend here did—it only has a small window to be passed on. If it takes years, like AIDS, then it has more of a chance to be spread. Thus, the more effective a killer it is, the less chance that a virus will propagate.

"To really answer the question," Kenyon continued, "we need to find out exactly where Ruiz picked this thing up."

Turcotte glanced out the bouncer. He could see the shoreline of South America approaching. "We'll know pretty soon." Something else occurred to him. "The Black Death—"

"Yes?" Kenyon said.

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"You said it was caused by fleas on rats?"

"It still is," Kenyon said.

"But the disease itself, where did it come from?"

Kenyon shrugged. "There are millions and millions of microscopic organisms.

They are evolving, changing, just as we are, except they do it thousands of times faster than us because their life spans are so much quicker."

"But there are labs," Turcotte said, "such as what the UN is looking for in Iraq, where people are trying to make bugs such as the Black Death—biological weapons."

"Yes." Kenyon frowned, not sure where Turcotte was taking this.

"Could the Black Death have been man-made?"

Kenyon laughed. "You're talking the Dark Ages. When they still bled you to get the bad spirits out. When they believed you could change lead into gold. There's no way the Black Death could have been man-made."

"You're forgetting something," Turcotte said.

"What?"

"The Airlia were here over eight thousand years before the Black Death. Don't you think they would have had the technology to come up with it?"

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-13-

Duncan stepped out of the plane, feeling the warm California breeze in her face.

She felt light-headed for a moment. She wasn't even sure what time it was, as she'd crossed so many time zones in the last couple of days.

She looked around. The Pacific Ocean crashed onto the rocky shore to the west.

Vandenberg was halfway between Los Angeles and Monterey, home of the Air Force's missile test base. It was also home to the alternate launch site of the space shuttle.

The launch pad for that craft was the dominating feature between Duncan and the ocean. Standing over 184 feet tall, the shuttle Endeavor was mated to its solid-rocket boosters and external fuel tank, sitting next to its tower.

Even as Duncan caught her first glimpse of the shuttle, a loudspeaker crackled and a voice rolled across the tarmac.

"T-minus six hours zero zero minutes. The count has resumed. Next planned hold is at T-minus three hours. Tower crew perform ET and TPS ice/frost and debris evaluation. ET is ready for LOX and LH2 loading. Verify or-biter ready for LOX and LH2 loading."

"Something, isn't it?"

Duncan turned. Six men and one woman were waiting to the rear of the C-7 she'd flown in on from the

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Stennis. There was a patch on their left shoulder—a half-moon on one side and a star on the other, with a dagger in between the two.

The man who had spoken walked forward, hand extended. He was a tall, black man, well built, head completely shaved. He wore camouflage fatigues with the

"budweiser" crest of the Navy SEALs sewn on the chest above the name tag. Duncan returned the handshake, feeling the strong grip.

"I'm Lieutenant Osebold, Endeavor Mission Team Commander."

"Lisa Duncan, Presidential Science Adviser."

Osebold smiled. "Here to spy on us." He turned. "Here's the rest of our team."

As Osebold introduced, they stepped forward.

"Lieutenant J. G. Conover is my executive officer."

Conover was a skinny, red-haired man. He was sporting a bandage on his right hand. Seeing Duncan's glance, he held it up. "Slight training accident."

"Chief Petty Officer Ericson is our weapons specialist."

Ericson was a small man, compactly built.

Osebold moved to the next in line. "Lieutenant Lopez is our medical officer."

Lopez was a dark-skinned Hispanic, a smile on his face as he shook hands with Duncan.

"Lieutenant," Duncan greeted him.

"Lieutenant Terrel is our engineering specialist," Osebold continued.

Terrel had a big hook nose, a balding head, and tight lips. He nodded at Duncan, not moving forward.