Area 51: The Reply-2 (5 page)

Turcotte leaned forward in his seat. He'd seen the bouncer that had crashed from a very high altitude at terminal velocity into the New Mexico countryside.

There hadn't been a mark on it. What could have damaged the craft the Russians had?

"What kind of craft?" Duncan asked, showing that this was news to her also. "A bouncer?"

"Not a bouncer. Bigger than that but nowhere near mothership size either."

Kostanov shrugged. "It was very badly damaged. The scientists worked at reverse engineering what we had, but there was not much success."

"Where was your craft found and when?" Duncan asked.

"Nineteen fifty-eight in Siberia. Best estimate

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from the crash site was that it had been there for several thousand years. I believe the disclosure of that craft was used by the Russian government as part of their attempt to maneuver one of their people high on the UNAOC council. I would assume UNAOC is keeping that quiet for their own reasons and because there is little to be gained from the craft."

"Was it an Airlia craft?" Duncan asked.

"We didn't specifically know about the Airlia until just recently," Kostanov said, "but from what I have seen of your mothership, it was made of the same black material that the mothership is made of, so I would assume it was Airlia."

Duncan waved for him to continue.

"Despite the lack of success the head of Section Four felt that if there was one craft, there most likely would be others. The scientists postulated that this craft could not have crossed interstellar distances, therefore it had to have been ferried here. The unit I was part of was directed to search down other leads."

The Russian turned to the map and used a handheld laser pointer. "In 1988 we received word from KGB sources that someone had discovered something strange, here in southwest Ethiopia. I accompanied a Spetsnatz—Soviet special forces—unit," Kostanov added, with a glance at Turcotte's green beret and the colonel's sand-colored one, "that was sent in to do a reconnaissance."

"And you found?" Duncan prompted.

"We never made it to our target site. We were attacked by a paramilitary force. Since we were going in on the sly and did not have air support 40

and could not risk an international incident, we were heavily outgunned. Half the team was killed. The rest of us were lucky to make it back to the coast and get picked up by our submarine."

"A paramilitary force?" Turcotte spoke for the first time.

"Well armed, well trained, and well led. As good as the Spetsnatz I was with and more numerous."

"Who were they?" Turcotte asked.

"I don't know. They weren't wearing uniforms with insignia. Most likely mercenaries."

"Get to the point," Duncan said. "What was at that location?"

"The word we received was that there were some sort of evidence of advanced weaponry," Kostanov said. "Alien weaponry."

Everyone in the room sat up a little straighter. The question of alien weapons had been raised many times in the closed chambers of the UN Oversight Committee.

Given that the A-bomb had been partially developed from an Airlia weapon left in the Great Pyramid, there was a great deal of speculation about what other deadly devices might be secreted somewhere around the planet. The destruction of the Majestic-12 bioexperiment facility at Dulce, New Mexico, by a ray from a foo fighter indicated that there were weapons the Airlia had that many governments would dearly like to get their hands on. Weapons that the UN would like to get under positive control before an irresponsible party gained hold of them.

The message Professor Nabinger had received from the guardian about the civil war among the

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Airlia indicated that they'd had a weapon powerful enough to have wiped the Airlia home base, known in human legend as Atlantis, off the face of the Earth so effectively that it had become only a myth.

"More specifics," Duncan said.

"I don't have more specifics," Kostanov said. "As I told you, we never made it to the target. This happened in early 1989, and as you know there was much turmoil and change in my country that year. We were never able to relaunch another mission. You now know as much as I do."

"And the target is?" the British lieutenant colonel asked.

Kostanov shrugged. "That is for your intelligence people to tell you. I gave them the location. I assume they have better pictures than I had ten years ago."

Duncan gestured at a woman in a gray three-piece suit who had been sitting along the wall while Kostanov spoke. She now stood up. She was tall and slender with jet-black hair, cut tight around her head, framing an angular face. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, but it was hard to tell as her skin was perfectly smooth and pale.

"My code name is Zandra," the woman said. "I represent the Central Intelligence Agency."

Zandra held a small remote. She clicked a button. A long-range satellite photo appeared. "Northeast Africa," Zandra oriented them quickly. She clicked and the shot decreased in scale. "Southwest Ethiopia, near the border with Kenya and Sudan. Very inhospitable terrain. Largely uninhabited and largely unexplored."

Turcotte nodded to himself. That fit the pat-

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tern. The Airlia had picked the most inaccessible places on Earth to hide their equipment: Antarctica, the American desert in Nevada, Easter Island. Always where it would be difficult for humans to get to and survive.

"The most significant terrain feature in this part of the world is the Great Rift Valley. It starts in southern Turkey, runs through Syria, then between Israel and Jordan where the Dead Sea lies; the lowest point on the face of the planet. It goes from there to Elat, then it forms the Red Sea. At the Gulf of Aden it splits, one part running into the Indian Ocean, the other going inland into Africa, to the Afar Triangle. The lowest point in Africa, the Danakil Depression, which is where our target is, lies directly along the Great Rift Valley.

"From there the Rift Valley goes south, encompassing Lake Victoria, the world's second largest freshwater lake, before ending somewhere in Mozambique."

Another click and there was a tiny square in the center of a deep valley, high mountains on both sides and a river running in the center. The next shot and they could see that the square was a fenced compound next to the river. The vegetation was sparse and stunted.

"That's your target. According to legal documents we've traced, that compound is owned by the Terra-Lei Corporation, which is headquartered in Cape Town, South Africa. They own a variety of interests, and they claim this compound is a mining camp. It's been there for sixteen years. Our satellites have never shown any mined material leaving. The only way in or out is by plane or 43

helicopter or a hazardous three-day trip by all-terrain vehicle from Addis Ababa.

"The interesting thing about Terra-Lei is that the only sort of mining operation, if you could call it that, they've ever been associated with has been sending mercenaries into Angola to attack diamond mining camps. Terra-Lei's main business is arms; manufacturing, buying, selling, and exporting them to the highest bidder. They used to do quite a good business on the international black market until Mandela came into power."

Zandra used the laser pointer. "Here is the airstrip near the compound. This building"—she highlighted a three-story structure—"is where we believe the Airlia artifacts are stored. This is the barracks for the paramilitary mercenary forces guarding the compound. There are also surface-to-air missiles, here, here, here, and here. Several armored vehicles." Zandra gave a frosty smile.

"Certainly they would not need such protection for just a mining compound."

"If these Terra-Lei people are out of South Africa, then why didn't they just move what they've found home?" Duncan asked.

"We don't know," Zandra said. "Our best guess is that maybe they can't move whatever it is they've found. Or perhaps the unstable political environment over the years in South Africa precluded that option. There was a discreet inquiry made through the United Nations Alien Oversight Committee to the South African government to get open access to the compound."

"And the answer, as you can tell by the fact we're heading there with a squadron of SAS on board," Duncan said, "was silence."

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So they know we re coming," Turcotte summarized.

"Most likely," Zandra confirmed.

"Bloody hell," the SAS colonel muttered, then asked, "What about the Ethiopian government?"

"What about them?" Zandra replied, her tone answer enough that that was not a factor here.

Duncan looked at the SAS officer. "Colonel Spearson, what's the plan?"

Spearson stood and walked to the front of the room. He looked at the American officer in the flight suit. "When can we launch, Major O'Callaghan?"

O'Callaghan pointed at a map of northeast Africa. "The ship's captain is pushing his engines to the max, so we're making good speed. Our launch point, where all aircraft will have enough fuel for a round trip plus fifteen minutes on-station, is here, forty kilometers from our present position— which means we will be able to launch in less than an hour."

Spearson didn't look happy about that timetable, and Turcotte knew why. It would be dawn shortly, and the SAS would hit the compound just before daylight.

It was a tight window with a lot of room for disaster.

Spearson cleared his throat. "An American AWACS is in position off the coast.

It will control all flight operations, coordinating O'Callaghan's helicopters and jets from your navy. I am the commander of all ground forces. I will be on board an MH-60 until the first air assault wave lands. At that time I will reposition to the primary target.

"The basic plan is a four-stage attack. Stage

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one is to land a squad by parachute on top of the building you believe holds the artifacts. These troopers are to gain a foothold. Stage two is an attack by antiradar missiles launched by Navy planes to take out their surface-to-air missile sites. Stage three is the rest of my force coming in by helicopter with gunship support. Stage four is to secure the compound." Spearson looked at the others in the room. "Questions?"

"How is your airborne force going in?" Turcotte asked. "HALO or HAHO?"

"HAHO," Spearson replied, letting Turcotte know that the men would be jumping at high altitude and opening their parachutes almost immediately, flying them in to the target. The thin chutes wouldn't get picked up by radar like aircraft would, allowing them to arrive undetected.

"I'd like to go in with the jumpers," Turcotte said.

"That's fine," Spearson said.

Duncan stood up. "All right—"

"I've got some questions," Spearson suddenly said, looking directly at Duncan.

"What if these Terra-Lei people have indeed uncovered some Airlia weapons?"

"That's why we're going there," Duncan said. "To find that out."

"But what if they can use these weapons against us?" Spearson clarified his concern.

"Then we're in big trouble," Duncan said simply.

"I doubt they have had any success in that area," Zandra interjected. "We've kept close tabs on Terra-Lei. You can be assured that if they had uncovered anything they could use, it would be on

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the international arms market in one form or another."

Spearson didn't seem much comforted by that. "What are our rules of engagement?"

"If you meet any resistance," Duncan said, "you are free to use whatever force is necessary to overcome that resistance."

Spearson frowned. "Your planes will be taking out their radio and radar facilities right after my initial forces land. There's bound to be some casualties from those strikes. That means we will most likely have fired the first shots."

Duncan's face was impassive. "We gave them their chance to cooperate. The United Nations Security Council has already considered this situation, and it is felt that the threat of Airlia weapons being in the wrong hands is too great a danger. UNAOC has been given the power by the Security Council to use whatever force is necessary to get all Airlia artifacts under UN control."

Spearson stared at her hard, then nodded. "Right, then. Let's get up to the flight deck and get going."

Turcotte stood and followed the SAS colonel. As he reached the door, Lisa Duncan put out a hand and tapped his elbow. "Mike."

"Yes?" Turcotte waited, surprised. That was the first time she had called him by his first name.

"Be careful."

Turcotte gave her a smile, but it was gone just as quickly. "Did you know about the Airlia craft the Russians found?" he asked.

"No."

"That's not good," Turcotte said. "Oh, well, I 47

guess it's not important right now. I'll be safe. I'll make sure I duck if I have to."

"Try to do better than that," Duncan warned.

Turcotte paused. They stared at each other in the narrow metal stairwell for a few seconds. "Well," Turcotte finally said, "I've got to go."

"I'll see you on the ground," Duncan said.

Turcotte turned and climbed the stairs that led to the massive flight deck of the Washington. There was a warm breeze blowing in from the seaward side.

Looking across the flight deck, Turcotte could see SAS troopers rigging equipment. Some were doing a last-minute cleaning of their weapons, others honing knives or smearing camouflage paint onto their faces. Pilots from both the Army and Navy were walking around their aircraft, using red-lens flashlights to do a final visual inspection.

A figure loomed up in the dark and a rich British accent rolled across the flight deck. "You Turcotte?"

"Yes."

"I'm Ridley. Commander, HAHO detachment, Twenty-first SAS. I understand you're coming with us?"

"That's right."

"Well, I'll assume you know what you're doing. You jump last and don't get in anybody's way or you're bloody well likely to get shot, and you won't catch me crying in my tea over that. Clear?" Ridley was already walking toward their aircraft.

"Clear."

"Turcotte," Ridley said. "Sounds fucking French."