The Zul Enigma (14 page)

In a single fluid
movement, Bob rose from his chair – he was taller than Carlos expected
– and strode towards them, the epitome of what a handsome clean-cut
no-nonsense American President should look like, with a confidence that belied
the fact he’d been in power for less than a year, having taken up the reigns
when the former President died in a car accident and the Vice President
suffered a fatal heart attack a day later. Positioned much further to the right
than his predecessor, he was nearing the end of his party’s first term in
office and appeared at ease with the heavy load he carried on his shoulders,
despite his administration’s struggle to weather a series of damaging political
storms, the latest being the NASA fiasco.

Although his manner was
relaxed and confident, Carlos knew by reputation he was a hard man with the
potential to be ruthless.

Greg stretched out his
hand in greeting. ‘Hello Bob, it’s been a while.’

‘It sure has. Good to
see you Greg.’

‘Allow me to present Dr
Carlos Maiz, Director of The United Nations Office for Outer Space Affairs
based in Vienna.’

Carlos took a step
towards Bob, weighing up his chilling blue eyes. Even the small wrinkles that
edged them couldn’t soften his penetrating gaze. As Bob gripped his
outstretched hand and gave it one firm shake, Carlos caught the hint of a
fresh, tangy cologne.

‘Good morning, Mr
President, it’s a privilege to meet you.’

‘Welcome to the White
House, Dr Maiz.’ Bob said in his lazy Southern drawl. He looked over his
shoulder towards his Secretary of State. ‘Anita, come over here and say “hi” to
Mr Howard and meet Dr Maiz, won’t you?’

Once the introductions
had been made, Bob invited them to sit down at the opposite end of the huge
oval room where there was a roaring fire protected by a fireguard.
Perpendicular to it, two large plush cream brocade-cushioned sofas flanked by
antique walnut side tables faced each other. At right-angles to the far end of
each couch and offset towards the centre were two Georgian mahogany carver
chairs upholstered in a satin regency stripe with their backs to the fire.

Greg sunk into the
cushions of the far couch, while Carlos and Anita sat next to each other
opposite him. Bob took a seat on the upright chair at Carlos’s right elbow.
Anita rested her notebook on her lap as she perched at an angle on the edge of
the sofa, one foot anchored to the floor the other tucked neatly behind it. She
was a petite plain woman who was especially softly spoken, but her retiring
demeanour and mild manner concealed the scalpel blade of a keenly analytical
mind.

‘First
of all, thank you for adding this item to our agenda at such short notice,’
Greg began and Bob gave him a curt nod. ‘I’ll get straight to the point,’ said
Greg leaning forward and resting his small hands on his hefty thighs, the
contrast making them look oddly out of proportion. ‘Last Monday evening the
UN’s communication system in Vienna was compromised by an individual claiming
to represent the Galactic Federation.’

Anita threw a glance at
Bob, but his face betrayed no reaction. ‘Go on,’ he drawled, and Greg recounted
the story of Zul’s contact with Carlos.

‘Considering the
sensitivity of this issue we felt obliged to inform you. We also request you to
authorise an investigation by one of your agencies.’

Everyone had been
watching Greg as he spoke, including Carlos, but from time to time he’d noticed
Bob’s eyes flash in his direction. Although each glance was as quick as the
flick of a lizard’s tongue, Carlos was under no misapprehension he was being
appraised. He shifted in his seat and unbuttoned his jacket.

‘Here are transcripts of
the messages,’ Greg said handing Bob a blue folder. ‘The ITU-T report’s on
top.’

Nobody spoke as Bob
scanned the documents. It didn’t take him long. He passed the file via Carlos
to Anita, who leafed through and returned it to Bob.

‘Why are you bringing
this to me, of all people?’ he asked.

‘Because your office has
access to cutting edge communications technology, that’s why I’m asking you to
investigate, to see if your people can find something ours missed.’

As Bob grunted, Carlos
interjected, ‘If they can’t prove the messages originate from Earth then we
have a major situation. It won’t just concern us at the UN, it will concern the
entire planet.’

‘You’re kidding me,’ Bob
said looking down at Carlos from his upright chair.

‘No sir, we’re not
kidding you.’

‘You mean you’re
seriously suggesting that this, waddya call him, “Zul” is an alien?’

Carlos bristled. The
furtive looks earlier and now the patronising tone? He was insulted. He sat
forward with his elbows on his knees and glanced over at Greg signalling that
he’d take it from there. Greg tried to protest but it was too late. Carlos was
already speaking.

‘Mr President, sir, I
very much doubt it’s a hoax.’

The angle at which their
seats were positioned made it hard for Carlos to look Bob straight in the eye.

‘Now why would you say
that? You can’t prove it.’

‘How do you explain that
not only our communication specialists but those at ITU-T also don’t know where
the messages came from or how they were lodged on our system?’

Bob
laughed out loud as he shook the file, his eyes searing through Carlos’s head.
‘There’s Jack shit in here. Do you really believe this lightweight piece of
reporting is evidence you’ve been visited by little green men? Where’s your
proof?’

Sitting next to Carlos
Anita dropped her head and began drawing a daisy chain round the border of the
blank page in her book, shading it with crosshatching. He didn’t know whether
she was embarrassed by Bob’s outburst or trying to hide her amusement.

With a mocking smile Bob
slapped down the file on the table at Carlos’s elbow. The sound made Anita
jump. Bob then leaned back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, hands folded
in his lap and legs straight out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

Carlos felt as if he’d
taken a physical blow. His ears buzzed with a rush of adrenaline and he could
feel his heart pumping, lifting his shirt with every beat. It took all his
control to stop himself from lunging forward and grinding his fist through
Bob’s perfectly shaped nose, spreading it like jam all over his handsome face.

Carlos inhaled slowly,
trying to steady his pulse and relax the muscles in his jaw as one by one he
uncurled the fingers of his right hand and placed it on top of the folder that
Bob had slammed down on the table. With enormous effort he kept his tone
relaxed.

‘Hey, that’s why we’re
here Mr President. To ask you to check about this evidence you’re calling
“lightweight”, using your own highly trained experts.’ Then he raised a finger
in the air and wagged it. ‘But I already know what the result will be. Your
people won’t trace these communications either.’

Greg, shocked by the
blatant hostility coursing between the other two men, wanted to get Carlos’s
attention, to stop him from making matters worse. He tried to shift his weight
forward but, swallowed by the sofa cushions, ended up squirming like a fly
caught in a web.

Carlos squared himself
towards Bob. He continued in a low slow voice, fixing him with an unwavering
gaze.

‘You say you want proof.
Well, I’ve seen proof,’ he jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb and
paused to make sure his words had sunk in. ‘Zul said he’d send me a sign… and
he did! He sent me a hologram. It was a newborn baby. I picked it up but in
minutes she starts regressing to a foetus, getting smaller and smaller until I
end up with nothing in my hands.’ Carlos stopped for effect. He touched his
eyes with both hands. ‘I saw this happen with my own eyes.’ He looked from Bob
to Greg to Anita. ‘This was Zul’s proof to me. Now I have no doubt in my mind
that he is
not
from our…’

Greg, escaping from the
cushions, interrupted Carlos his big face flushed. ‘You said nothing about this
to me.’

Carlos held up his hands
and shrugged. ‘I know. I should have told you.’

The ensuing silence was
only broken when Amanda opened the door and wheeled in a trolley laden with
coffee and sandwiches. She poured the coffee and left. Bob signalled the others
to help themselves to milk and sugar. Still, not a word was spoken, the only
sound being the clink of silver teaspoons against bone china and muted chewing.

An age passed before Bob
put down his plate. He leaned towards Carlos. ‘Dr Maiz, forgive me, but I find
what you say a li’l hard to take on board.’ He loaded his words with a helping
of sarcasm that was impossible to miss.

Greg also put down his
plate. He cleared his throat. ‘Let’s just stick to the facts, right Bob? Dr
Maiz has received messages and we don’t know who sent them. It’s an
inexplicable breach in security and we have to get to the bottom of it. We’re
here to ask your help. To ask you to authorise your resources to investigate on
our behalf.’

Bob glanced at Anita and
nodded. ‘Okay, we’ll do it. We’ll need to contact your security people in
Vienna. Do you have a problem with that?’

Greg shook his head.
‘I’ll tell our Network Security Manager to expect your call. His details are in
the file.’

Bob slapped his hands on
his knees and stood up indicating the audience was over. ‘I’ll get our guys on
to this right away. I don’t know how long it’s gonna take, but I don’t want Dr
Maiz disappearing before it’s resolved to our satisfaction. We have a
guest-house a few blocks away. I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable there,’ he
said glancing at Carlos. ‘Greg? You’re gonna have to excuse me while I brief my
staff about the investigation you’ve requested. We’ll reconvene here to talk
about the rest of the UN agenda in say a half hour?’

He walked to his desk
and buzzed Amanda. ‘Will you show Mr Howard and Dr Maiz to the waiting room and
make arrangements for Dr Maiz to be taken to our VIP accommodations up the
street? Then I want you back in here. Something urgent’s come up. I’ll continue
my meeting with Mr Howard later.’

The President gave
Carlos and Greg’s hands a curt shake and Amanda ushered them out as Bob walked
back to where Anita was still sitting. Within five minutes, Amanda was back in
the Oval Office.

‘Amanda, don’t rush
getting Dr Maiz out of here. I wanna hear what he and Mr Howard have to say to
each other, so leave them for a while.’

Amanda nodded.

‘And get hold of Barbara
Lord, the Director of National Intelligence. Tell her I want everything on Dr
Maiz they can find. See her report’s on my desk within the hour. I want that
gentleman kept under the highest level of surveillance and I want regular
updates on everything he does and everyone he speaks to. I wanna know about Mr
Howard’s calls too.

‘Then get General
Schwabe in here. I want you at the meeting too, so’s I can brief you all
together. We’ve got ourselves a very odd situation going down.’

***

Amanda brought General James Schwabe into the Oval Office and they settled down
on the couch opposite Anita. Bob, as was his habit, was already sitting on an
upright chair.

‘So, Mr President,
what’s this all about,’ asked James, Director of the National Security Agency,
trying to mask his irritation at being kept away from his business at the State
Department.

‘The Secretary-General
of the UN, Mr Greg Howard, contacted me yesterday outta the blue wanting to add
an urgent topic to the agenda of our today’s meeting, the topic being
suspicious e-mails getting onto the system at the United Nations Office for
Outer Space Affairs,’ the President began.

‘Bearing in mind the
Director of OOSA, Dr Carlos Maiz, was meeting James and his gang at the
Pentagon this morning to discuss preferential usage terms for the Space
Elevator… by the way how did that go?’ Bob asked James.

‘Just as we anticipated.
He wouldn’t brook any partiality. None at all.’

Bob grunted. ‘I see. No
surprise there then. We’ll have to work on other ways. Okay… back to the
messages… so considering Dr Maiz was the recipient of the said e-mails, I
thought it prudent to invite him along to the meeting as well. Anyhow, this
gentleman of Spanish extraction, who has the bearing and dress sense of a
Colombian cartel boss, sat here at my elbow with a poker face and proceeded to
tell me he believes he’s been contacted by aliens.’

James and Amanda glanced
at each other and then looked back at Bob.

‘Aliens! That’s
ridiculous,’ sniffed Amanda, the President’s secretary.

‘I couldn’t believe what
I was hearing either, Amanda. Neither, so it seemed, could Mr Howard and in
deference to him, a man whose integrity I respect, I listened to what this
individual had to say and promised to have my people look into the visitations
he described.’

Bob paused. ‘So, James,
can you help us out here?’

The General raised his
eyebrows and pursed his full lips. ‘I’m not sure. As you well know, NSA
eavesdrops on all phone calls and e-mails going in and out of the UN, although
we don’t have other forms of surveillance in their offices. Nothing’s been
brought to my attention to date. I’ll have someone check out OOSA’s records in
Vienna immediately. But tell me, how did these… visitations… take place?’