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  29

  Subterranean Complex—Midwest USA

  JESSICA SAT UP IN THE HOSPITAL BED as the attendant wheeled in her lunch, replacing the cart which still held her breakfast. Lifting the plastic cover, he saw that she hadn’t eaten a thing.

  “Ms. Marulli, if you don’t eat then how do you expect Dr. Spencer to discharge you?”

  “I’ve been here six days which is five too many. Today starts Day 1 of a hunger strike.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  She looked up as the Canadian-born physician entered her room, accompanied by his wife, a registered nurse.

  Like most of the medical staff serving MAJI’s subterranean complexes, Dr. Ken Spencer had begun his career in the military. He had met his wife, Robbin, during the first Gulf War, the couple returning to Alberta where they opened a private medical clinic. But once a year they reported to the complex outside Edwards Air Force Base where they were whisked by Maglev train to one of the secret subterranean complexes—the six week rotation tripling both of their annual salaries.

  “Good afternoon, Jessica. And how are we feeling today?”

  “My head feels better, my left forearm’s slightly sore from where that asshole tasered me last week. Other than that, I’m fine.”

  The physician inspected the quarter-size welt along her biceps where he had been ordered to implant the tracking device. “Give it another day; I’m sure it’ll feel better by then. The good news is that you passed your concussion protocol.”

  “Does that mean I’m free to leave?”

  “Just give Nurse Robbin a few minutes to remove your I.V.”

  * * *

  Lydia Gagnon watched her friend’s daughter from behind the one-way glass, her skin crawling from the presence of the sociopath who had just entered the viewing area.

  Colonel Alexander Johnston’s crystal-blue eyes glittered beneath the fluorescent light, the soft pink flesh covering his bony cheeks yielding to the silver-white whiskers of a five o’clock shadow. The man known as Dr. Death smelled of baby powder and formaldehyde, the scent coming from his hands and the frayed sleeves of his black turtleneck sweater.

  General Thomas Cubit gagged at the stench. “Christ, Colonel—this is a medical facility, not a morgue. There’s a new invention … maybe you heard of it—it’s called soap.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Dr. Marulli serves under my command. I will not allow you to subject her to your psychotronic mind control.”

  “She’s a security risk.”

  “She is not a risk,” Lydia shot back. “Mr. Mull tested her and she refused to comply, returning the ZPE device to the lab.”

  “Mr. Mull isn’t convinced and neither am I. Her activity in the Hive the night she witnessed the ARV is very suspicious.”

  “That’s only because the two of you are paranoid schizophrenics,” General Cubit said. “I’m releasing her, and I’m taking her off probation, allowing her full access to the facility.”

  Alexander Johnston turned to him, speaking through clenched yellow teeth. “You’re making a mistake.”

  “And you’re outvoted,” Lydia said.

  With a grunt that sounded like a wounded animal’s growl, Colonel Johnston turned for the door, kicking a wastepaper basket on his way out.

  Lydia ran her sweaty palms across her lab coat. “I despise that man. What do you think he had the doc inject into her arm?”

  I don’t know, but the more active she is, the quicker it will pass.”

  “What happened with Shariak?”

  Cubit smiled. “They tried to bribe him and he turned it around. If the old man hadn’t tossed him out there would have been a sea-change in the inner ring.”

  “That’s why Dr. Death’s on the war path.”

  “Yes, and you can bet the hardliners won’t go quietly into the night.”

  Capitol Hill, Washington, D.C.

  Senator Randy Hall, Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee, sat back in his desk chair and re-read the list of names his brother had prepared for the first week of hearings.

  “Adam, who the hell are these people? I don’t see a defense contractor’s name among them.”

  “I’m saving the CEOs for week two. Week one are scientists and members of the Armed Forces who can attest to the existence of the Unacknowledged Special Access Projects we’re investigating.”

  “If they haven’t received money from the treasury, then their testimony is irrelevant. I told you I wasn’t going to allow you to waste the Appropriations Committee’s time.”

  “First, this is a joint hearing and I’m riding shotgun. Second, every defense contractor we call upon to answer questions about these illegal black ops projects is either going to deny they exist or plead the fifth. By calling these witnesses first and establishing that these USAPs exist, taking the fifth will seem more of an admission of guilt instead of an action to protect a top-secret weapons system.”

  “I assume these people have high security clearances … how are you going to get them to violate their national security oaths in order to come forward and testify?”

  “You prepare the subpoenas and let me worry about that.”

  Part 4

  “We’ll know our disinformation is complete when everything the American public believes is false.”

  —former CIA Director William Casey

  “The business of the journalist is to destroy the truth; to lie outright; to pervert; to vilify; to fawn at the feet of mammon, and to sell his country and his race for his daily bread. You know it, and I know it, and what folly is this toasting an independent press? We are the tools and vassals of rich men behind the scenes. We are the jumping jacks, they pull the strings, and we dance. Our talents, our possibilities and our lives are all the property of other men. We are intellectual prostitutes.”

  —John Swinton, former managing editor,

  The New York Times & New York Sun

  “The CIA owns everyone of any significance in the major media.”

  —former CIA Director William Colby

  North Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  March 2, 2033

  The three-foot-high by four-foot-long double-paned barrier of glass stood upright on the table top. Wedged inside the half-inch spacing separating the two glass panels was an ant colony, the insect habitat composed of an edible neon-blue gel.

  Michael Sutterfield’s eyes followed the intricate pattern of tunnels channeling the perpetual activity of the nest. “They’re like a well-trained army.”

  Dr. Mohammad Mallouh acknowledged the comment from the other side of the table. “They certainly function as a collective consciousness.”

  “And not a sociopath among them, huh Dr. M? No ants committing impulsive acts … every ant doing their job. Because if an ant were to go off the rails, the others would probably have to kill it.”

  “Ants are not people, Michael.”

  “You’re right. The colony wouldn’t exclude one of its own kind unless the ant first did something wrong. But me—I’m banned from CE-5 training because of something I could ‘potentially’ do against the Interstellars?”

  “It’s not fair, but after what happened years ago with the sociopaths in MAJI and the climate change deniers, the world is taking no chances.”

  “Didn’t President Trump ban those victims of wars from entering the country because he believed Muslims were terrorists?”

  “The Syrian refugees … yes.”

  “Do you know a lot of Muslim terrorists?”

  “I don’t, no. Your point is well taken, however—”

  “I got an email yesterday from an Army recruiter. I thought maybe it was just something they send out around your thirteenth birthday, but I did some checking. Turns out military recruiters target sociopaths. Turns out a lack of conscience is a good trait to have when your government asks you to murder thousands of enemy soldiers and innocent civilians.”

  “Your points are well taken.”

/>   “But you still won’t let me participate in CE-5?”

  “It’s not up to me. I’m sorry.”

  Michael stared at the ant farm, his pulse a steady 63 beats per minute. “I was wrong, Dr. M. There is one sociopath among the colony—it’s the queen. She’s the reason they stay in line.”

  Lifting the ant farm in both hands, the teen smashed it upon the table, his right fist emerging from the blizzard of blue goop with a shard of glass which sliced through the air, opening Dr. Mohammad Mallouh’s throat.

  There was no spurt of blood, no aftermath. The lights in the Global Village Pod simply flashed on, atomizing the hologram so that only the teen remained, his sensory suit popping loose as he rose from the bucket seat.

  Climbing out of the pod, Michael Sutterfield left the basement to join his parents at the dinner table.

  His mother smiled. “You’re just in time. How was school?”

  “Good. Dr. Mallouh said to say hello.”

  30

  Dirksen Senate Office Building, Room 108

  Capitol Hill, Washington, D.C.

  ADAM GAZED AROUND THE wood-paneled chamber as the eight Democrats and twelve Republican senators made their way to their high-backed leather chairs positioned around the half-moon-shaped dais. The chamber was filled to capacity, the audience squeezed into tightly-packed rows, Dr. Steven Greer among them. More important was the presence of the two C-SPAN cameras, one aimed at the members of the committee; the other at the witness table where the Under Secretary now sat with the individuals scheduled to give testimony during the morning session.

  Senator Randy Hall took his place at the center of the dais. It had taken a lot of persuasion and the calling in of several terms worth of favors for the chairman to put together a quorum of committee members in what many in the Beltway were publicly touting as a “Department of Defense witch hunt.” It was one thing to talk about “plugging the Treasury’s leaky dam,” but no elected official wanted to be placed in a position to have to punish a defense contractor … not if they had any hope of being reelected.

  Senator Hall turned on his microphone. “Good morning. “As it appears we have the minimum number of senators present to declare a quorum, I will ask everyone to take their seats so that we can begin. For the record let me state that this Hearing of the Appropriations Committee was requested by Adam Shariak, the Under Secretary of Defense–Comptroller as part of an internal investigation regarding the potential existence and funding of unaccounted for programs, collectively defined as Unacknowledged Special Access Projects. These USAPs are considered illegal if they lack approval by either the President of the United States or Congress.

  “Because of existing family ties between the Under Secretary and myself, I am now going to recuse myself and turn the chair over to my esteemed colleague from Michigan, Senator Karen Sampson.”

  The six-term Republican accepted Randy Hall’s handshake and gavel before situating herself in his chair. “Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Under Secretary Shariak, before we call on your first witness to testify, perhaps you would explain to the committee what relevance Mr. Sheehan brings to this investigation.”

  “Yes, Madam Chair. Because the witnesses we’ll be calling on to testify today and throughout the week were issued top security clearances and have taken a national security oath, it’s imperative that both they and the members of this committee understand that their testimony regarding illegal activities conducted by individuals or entities operating both within and outside the United States government in no way conflicts with that sworn oath. Mr. Sheehan’s experience in these matters qualifies him to address this issue and provide a necessary comfort level so that we may proceed.”

  “Very well. If the witness will state his name and occupation for the record.”

  The hulking man in his early seventies, with the mop of curly white hair, adjusted his microphone as he leaned in to address the members of the committee. “My name is Daniel Sheehan. I am an attorney, admitted to the bar of New York and Washington D.C. I have practiced civil law for almost forty years since graduating from Harvard Law School in 1970. Some of my more high profile cases as a constitutional trial lawyer include serving as one of the five defense attorneys assigned by the Cahill Gordon firm representing The New York Times in the Pentagon Papers case. I was one of the three trial lawyers in F. Lee Bailey’s firm assigned to represent James McCord in the Watergate burglary defense, and it was our office that persuaded Mr. McCord to write the letter to Judge John Sirrica which helped trace the chain of command of the Watergate burglars back to the White House. I was also chief counsel in the Karen Silkwood case against the Kerr McGee nuclear facility in Oklahoma, as well as the civil case against the illegal enterprises of Richard Secord and Albert Hakim, the gentlemen who were working with Lt. Colonel Oliver North.

  “Prior to today’s hearing, I met with the Under Secretary and spoke with each eyewitness in regard to their involvement with these USAPs. Madame Chair, having done a great deal of analysis of the constitution, I am completely confident that the funding of these black ops projects is a violation of the Neutrality Act. The Neutrality Act is a federal statute under Title 18 of the United States code that prohibits private citizens from engaging in any type of war-like activities against any other non-United States entity without authorization from Congress. The Oath these eyewitnesses took, known as the Oath Upon Inadvertent Exposure To Classified Security Data Or Information, does not pertain to illegal activities which violate the Constitution and, therefore, the oath cannot be enforced.”

  “Does the Committee have any questions for Mr. Sheehan? No? Then Mr. Sheehan you are excused. Under Secretary Shariak, you may call your next witness.”

  A green-eyed, slightly balding Caucasian man in his early sixties took the microphone.

  “Please state your name and occupation for the record.”

  “My name is Jonathan Graham Wade and I make a living designing furniture. Prior to that, I spent thirty-seven years with the United States Air Force as a counter-intelligence officer in the Office of Special Investigations. My first assignment to what the Under Secretary refers to as a USAP occurred in the summer of 1979 when I was transferred to the Nevada Test site, which is now the Nevada Security Site. There are actually two different locations out there. There’s the test site—known as the DET-3 Test Center—and then there’s Groom Lake, better known as Area 51. I was with a detachment of test personnel from Edwards Air Force base assigned to the Groom Lake Complex. Because my primary responsibility was to conduct counter-intelligence operations at the base, I was briefed or read in on an Unacknowledged Special Access Project.”

  “Can you tell us what that project involved, Mr. Wade.”

  “Yes, ma’am. The project involved the United States government’s investigation of UFOs and the Air Force’s involvement with extraterrestrials.”

  The chamber erupted with the buzz generated from a hundred side conversations.

  Adam looked over his shoulder to steal a quick glance at Steven Greer. Instead of appearing pleased, the UFO expert had a grim look on his face.

  The repetitive rapping of Senator Sampson’s gavel eventually quieted the crowd. “Another outburst like that and I’ll be forced to clear the chamber.” She stared down at the witness from her perch. “Really, Mr. Wade? This committee is investigating the potential existence of illicit defense funding and you want to turn this into a circus?”

  “Senator, I was asked to testify about these Unacknowledged Special Access Projects. The reason they’re ‘Unacknowledged’ is because the individuals running them don’t want the public, your committee, the President of the United States, or even their own employees to know about them, and the biggest, most secret USAPs all deal with UFOs and ETs. Many of you may not be able to handle that fact, but if you want to dismiss the truth by labeling it a circus or conspiracy theory, or those of us who came here today to testify as nut-jobs, then you ought to consider two things: First, every one of us w
as entrusted with duties requiring security clearances far above top-secret; second, dismissing anyone who comes forward to discuss this topic as being crazy is exactly what the intelligence agencies and the people in charge want you to do. I know that because hiding the truth in plain sight by attacking an eyewitness’s credibility is exactly what I used to get paid a lot of money to do.”

  Catcalls of “let him testify” and “we want the truth” filled the chamber.

  Senator Sampson held up her hand for quiet. “Alright, Mr. Wade, you have our full attention … please continue.”

  “As I was saying … while I was stationed at the Groom Lake Complex, I conducted investigations into the UFO phenomenon, with my primary mission focused on UFO sightings and any threats imposed by these extraterrestrials on Air Force or Air Force-related properties.”

  “And have you actually seen a UFO?”

  “Yes, senator. I saw them when I was stationed at McGuire Air Force Base in Montana—they were always buzzing the bases where the nuclear weapons are kept. I also saw footage of an aerial demonstration at Nellis where they would accelerate to incredible speeds, stop on a dime, and execute a ninety-degree turn.

  “But tens of thousands of civilians have seen them as well. Back in 1997, the ETs gave us an incredible show over Phoenix that was witnessed by tens of thousands of people and, of course, was immediately dismissed by the authorities.”

  “Mr. Wade, it’s hard to believe so many people have had these … encounters, and yet there’s never anything in the news or on TV.”

  “Senator, maybe you still believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, because if you actually think we have a free press, then you’re fooling yourself. Thanks to Ronald Reagan and deregulation, a handful of CEOs now decide what the news is, and they take their marching orders from the CIA, who will fabricate or kill any story in order to protect their own agenda. As for members of the Armed Forces, any military personnel who speak about these encounters in public or to members of the media often find themselves transferred to some remote base far from home. Soldiers in the field who were first responders to a UFO crash have been intimidated, and in some cases beaten, by arriving members of our Blue Teams, where it is Standard Operating Procedure to physically threaten the soldier or even to kill him and his family should he ever go public with what he witnessed. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve seen one of these elite Delta Force guys crack open an American soldier’s skull with the butt of his assault rifle simply because the sentry glanced at a photo of a downed UFO.”