10

800 NAUTICAL MILES EAST OF CUMBERLAND BAY

SOUTHERN ATLANTIC OCEAN

The Pyotr Veliky had set a new world record for a southern Atlantic Ocean transit for a ship of war. She had surpassed her top speed of thirty-seven knots no less than six different times as she made the southern crossing. Her nuclear reactor had gone into the red twice when the giant missile cruiser had hit bad weather, this just to keep her speed over thirty knots. The crew was exhausted after their 50 percent alert status had gone into effect after she had departed the fleet. Thus far the ruse had worked as they had received flash radio traffic that the 123-ship Northern Fleet had been overflown five times by a craft they never laid eyes on. The rumor that they were being hunted had quickly spread throughout the ship. Jason Ryan had reminded both Sarah and Anya that the Russian Navy was no different from any navy on earth—believe only 10 percent of all rumors and you should come out ahead on any bet made.

As he stood looking at the tarp and plastic covered alien power plant, Jason was fearful that he had been overzealous as far as his rumor estimate. As he looked skyward into the crisp late afternoon sky he had the distinct feeling that the Pyotr Veliky was now entering a kill zone. That naval officer feeling that comes on career sailors who have seen death up close. He felt that was what was stalking them—death.

Jason watched as five of the Russian and Polish nuclear technicians checked the tarp covering the power plant, making sure none of the sea spray had compromised the sealing plastic underneath. The technicians looked short and bulky in their heavy arctic parkas as they moved about. Jason got a chill and placed the fur-lined hood over his head. He had been on deck for twenty minutes to avoid Sarah’s sad eyes as she spoke to Jack from the radio center of the large missile cruiser. Anya had also excused herself, wishing she had an opportunity to speak with Carl, but she figured that the new admiral had plenty on his plate at the moment.

Soon he realized he wasn’t alone. He turned and saw Anya standing beside him as she stared out over the railing. Jason walked three paces over and joined her.

“Homesick already?” he asked.

“Already?” She smiled and then lost it as suddenly as it had arrived. “I’ve been homesick ever since I said good-bye to Carl. He’s my home, not some barren patch of land.” She turned back to look at the sea and shivered. “So in that sense, yes, I am extremely homesick.”

“I miss my friends. I think I may go on missing them too.” It was Ryan’s turn to look down and away from Anya’s eyes. “When we got that report that Niles was seriously injured in the Camp David attack it was like a portent of things to come, and I realized then just how close I had become to all of my people at Group.” He looked at her. “I mean friends.”

“Mumbai has just fallen,” came a small voice from behind them. “The Indian Army was defeated in just a little over twenty minutes after they had thought they had the upper hand.”

They turned and saw Sarah as she came from the upper decks, careful to avoid the six sailors coming off of watch. The men were in a hurry to get out of the cold air that was increased in misery by the ship’s torrid speed.

Jason and Anya saw the worry on the young lieutenant’s features as she pulled the drawstrings of her hood tighter to fit her small head.

“How is the colonel … I mean the general?” Jason asked.

“Alive at the moment. He, Will, and Henri are in transit, wave hopping south.” She smiled finally. “They are wave hopping on a southern course trying to evade prying eyes. And you know how he hates flying anyway.”

“Yeah, so does Mendenhall. I imagine he may even be frightened enough to be sitting on Farbeaux’s lap right about now, which would thrill that thief to no end.”

The moment of tension was broken and the three laughed.

“You know, if they are heading south, it’s possible they have the same destination as ourselves, which means you might just see Jack real soon.”

“I know,” Sarah said. “But is that a good thing or not? I mean, where we are going might not be the safest place to be.”

“Any word on Beijing?” Anya asked, changing the bleak subject to an even blacker one, but also one that wasn’t as personal as the current question.

“No, satellite images are showing the city is ringed with the largest Chinese army ever to take the field. But after the Mumbai disaster they are holding. The enemy hasn’t made any move like they have in India, and the Chinese right now like it that way.”

“Unlike India, they have a massive troop presence inside the city already. Someone over there was forward thinking enough to get about a hundred thousand men and some heavy armor into Beijing before the Grays’ arrival. Captain Lienanov said that their intelligence shows about a thousand tanks and half that in artillery pieces. But right now the commander of Chinese ground forces is satisfied that the Grays haven’t budged.”

“How about the new president—how is he taking the news?” Ryan asked.

Sarah turned and looked at both Anya and Ryan. “He’s talking about pulling back all American forces to protect the homeland first. Virginia is going to sit in on a meeting with the British, French, Russian, and Chinese delegates and present Matchstick’s analysis of the attacks thus far.”

“No, they can’t expose Matchstick to that man in office, at least right now.” Ryan saw a confused look cross Anya’s face. He ignored her ignorance and stared at Sarah.

“Camden and the others won’t know exactly who they are talking to; a few of them, like the British and Chinese, know about our asset, but all most of them will learn is that he is an asset with vast knowledge of the enemy. Most have guessed, I think, but don’t know for sure we have him in our corner. He’ll be speaking through Europa. Virginia has seen to that. As long as the president is alive she will keep Matchstick away from the Speaker of the House.”

Ryan finally smiled. “That ought to give everyone a thrill, to have Marilyn Monroe explaining things to them. I would like to see their faces on that one.”

“Who is this Matchstick Man?” Anya asked as she couldn’t hold the question any longer.

“You mean that the great Mossad is actually in the dark about something the United States is doing?” Ryan laughed. “God, the world is in a tailspin.”

“Maybe not the Mossad, but I am,” she answered.

“Let’s just say he’s a friend that would give his life for his new home,” Sarah said, warning Ryan with a look about security. “Anyway, I would like to hear what he has to say myself. We may be able to—”

Sarah was cut short by a blaring announcement over the ship’s speakers. Anya turned to the railing once more and leaned over just as the alarms sounded abovedecks. Before they knew it sailors were rushing to stations. The speed of Pyotr Veliky increased just as she started to heel to starboard. She turned so sharply that Ryan had to reach out to keep Anya from being flung headfirst into the sea. He pulled her back and they both slammed into the steel decking. Sarah immediately saw why the giant warship made such a severe turn.

“Oh, my God,” she said as the saucer surfaced in front of the Pyotr Veliky. Water was running off the one-hundred-foot-wide metallic vehicle and she seemed to be stationary in the calm seas. Before Sarah could say more the three were practically lifted off their feet by four burly Russian seamen and hustled to the stairs that led to the second deck. Sarah was in the rear as they rushed up the slippery steel steps but she could not take her eyes off the saucer as it remained in the path of the missile cruiser.

“Get inside and to the evacuation stations immediately!”

Ryan was pulled inside along with Anya by Captain Lienanov.

As Sarah finally entered the hatch the door was sealed and dogged tight.

“Hurry, we have just gone to general quarters. I must get to the bridge!” The captain left the three.

As the captain made his way forward they heard the rumble of four Granit SS-N-19 “Shipwreck” antiship missiles leave their tubes. The entire cruiser shuddered under the launch of the heavy weapons. Then the deep rumble of the ship’s twin AK-130 130-millimeter/L70 gun opened fire. The ship was still leaning heavily to starboard.

*   *   *

On the bridge second captain Lienanov joined the commander of the vessel, Captain Andre Vileski, a no-nonsense and by-the-book man. He was watching the saucer take hits from the heavy-caliber 130-millimeter weapons and just as Vileski ordered the helm hard to port, they saw the four missiles strike the alien vehicle. Two of the Shipwrecks hit the uppermost, raised dome of the saucer and the next two hit the curving edge where the rounded metallic edge met the sea. They were all direct hits.

As the Pyotr Veliky completed her turn five more of the Shipwrecks struck the saucer, and still the craft made no defensive move to save itself from the hard-punching offense of the Russian missile cruiser.

Captain Vileski watched through the large bridge glass windows and nodded his head as the saucer was momentarily blocked from view as several missiles and 130-millimeter rounds detonated at the same moment against the enemy’s hull. The vehicle vanished under a bursting cloud of smoke and debris.

“These bastards will soon learn the difference between battling the Indian Air Force and the Russian Navy!” he shouted. His men on the bridge started to take heart that the brand-new Pyotr Veliky would possibly survive the encounter.

As the warship completed her turn to port and straightened her bow into the light wind, Lienanov tried to remind his commander of the tactic they had been warned about directing them to keep up concentrated fire on the enemy and to not let up. The saucer had obviously taken damage because Lienanov had seen large chunks of flying metal being torn from its upper half before the whole scene became obscured with smoke.

“Captain, we must maintain fire and try and move off as fast as we can. We have orders to avoid a confrontation!” Lienanov knew the missile tubes had gone silent as the fire control teams in the command and control section far below on deck six awaited the order to continue. Only the 130- and twenty-millimeter weapons kept up a constant fire. Lienanov had a distinct feeling they were witnessing the exact same thing that the Indian commanders had in Mumbai—the enemy was waiting for the right time to make their move. “Captain, put up a defensive screen of torpedoes in the water as a shield and allow us to digress, give the trap a chance to work. This action is not in our orders!”

“I think you need to learn your place, Second Captain Lienanov. We are to take advantage of the situation. We will—”

“Look!” his lookouts on the bridge wing called out as they caught sight of the ship, the last of the smoke whisked away by the winds its bulk and engines were creating.

The hearts of the men on the bridge froze momentarily. Instead of seeing the saucer in pieces, it was slowly starting to rise completely from the sea. The water beneath the enemy ship was being pushed aside as her engines whipped the freezing ocean into frenzied white caps. But the one thing they all saw at once was the last of the holes created by the Shipwreck missiles fast closing, healing over like a wound forming a scab. The metal that replaced the damaged areas was lighter in color, but it was metal just the same. The saucer was now undamaged from the massive strike of the missile cruiser.

“Lock on missiles and continue fire!” the captain yelled, and ordered another hard maneuver to starboard.

Too late the mighty ship heeled over, exposing her waterline completely toward the enemy. A straight line of light shot from the upper dome as the saucer made a course correction to match the turn of the Pyotr Veliky. The intense beam struck the bridge section and then sliced through with blinding quickness downward toward the water line and then hissed as it struck the sea. The great warship shuddered and large plates of hull simply fell off as if it had been sliced by a large knife. Water cascaded into decks five, six, and seven. The bridge burst into flame as the laser sliced cleanly through Vileski and his helmsman. The bridge wing with the lookouts came apart and the men fell into the freezing sea, yet still the missile cruiser continued her heel to starboard.

After hitting the deck Lienanov felt the heat as the thick laser beam passed over his prone body. His uniform jacket began to burn and he rolled over in an attempt to smother the flames. All around him men were being fried as the enemy weapon continued to pummel the Pyotr Veliky.

On deck five Ryan rolled on top of the two women and they angrily pushed him off. They felt the electricity produced by the laser as it came into contact with steel and aluminum. Sarah was screaming that she didn’t want to die in the belly of the ship if she started to go down.

“Come on, if we get hit again we’ll lose the ship and the power plant!”

“You want to go out there?” Ryan struggled to regain his feet under the shuddering deck.

“We have to cut the retaining ropes on the power plant or she’ll go down with the ship. She’ll float, Jason. We have to give it a chance to be picked up by another ship!”

“Okay, but it’s going to be a mess outside.”

“I agree, I don’t want to die in here,” Anya chimed in as they heard one of the missile tubes abovedeck cook off as another laser strike hit the launcher. The cruiser shuddered again as she was starting to feel every hard blow of the enemy. The great ship rocked and actually left the water as her aft missile mount and loader exploded in a blinding flash of light and power.

The three started to fight their way against the tide of sailors running to and from their posts as the lights flickered. If the ship lost power from her nuclear power plant the vessel didn’t have a chance in hell of making it out alive.

Jason ran into a roadblock of dead and dying men as they made it to the outer hatch that would take them to the ship’s fantail. He struggled trying to move the sliced and burning bodies of men that blocked the hatch. It was too much. Every time he tried to move one of the poor boys the body would simply separate into pieces.

“Back, go back!” he shouted just as a large explosion rocked the fire and control stations on the deck one. The Pyotr Veliky shook as if it had been grabbed by a rabid dog. As the three tried to run back the way they had come they all felt the temperature rising around them. The steel bulkheads started to heat up from being struck with the laser weaponry of the saucer.

Jason knew the Pyotr Veliky was done for.

*   *   *

The saucer completed its maneuver, successfully blocking the path of the ship that was three times the size and weight of itself. The waters were being churned in a froth of green sea as her engines provided the power to keep it in the air and produce the energy needed to attack. The missile batteries had gone silent but the brave Russian sailors kept up the 130- and twenty-millimeter assault. Even the torpedo tubes lining the lower deck came to life as the weapons officers for each harangued their men to fight. Whatever happened to their ship they would fight until they had nothing to fight with.

Eight VA-111 Shkval supercavitating torpedos were the fastest in the world and carried a punch like no other western or NATO weapon. It was designed to be fast and unstoppable. Its design was made for antisubmarine warfare, but could be detonated electronically by sight if need be. Each of the torpedo tube weapons officers now had direct control of the weapons they launched from tubes that had been angled out from the lower deck of the missile cruiser. As the eight torpedoes traveled under the now hovering saucer they entered the choppy sea directly underneath. The weapons control officer and their tube captains detonated each of the eight. They exploded with the power of a ton of high explosive force, bringing the sea up to meet the saucer’s underbelly. Again the enemy disappeared from view, only this time by seawater.

Sarah, Anya, and Ryan finally cleared the last obstacle to the fresh air outside. Just as they opened the hatchway at the stern they felt the sea rise up around them as the ocean erupted. They were thrown to the wet deck as the water was so churned up by the detonations of the eight torpedoes they thought the final death blow to the missile cruiser had been dealt.

Jason gained his feet and assisted the women to theirs. They saw a horrible sight as the wave of water washed many of the Russian and Ukrainian nuclear scientists over and under the stern railings as the fantail became a hell of green seas. The explosive wash of water had cleaned the deck as efficiently as a fire hose cleaning a parking lot.

“They had the same idea,” Ryan shouted as he ran toward the strapped-down power plant. Several of the ropes had already been cut away and the large engine was held in place by only six of the thick straps that held her to the deck and railings.

“We have to cut the rest!” Sarah yelled as seawater cascaded from every direction.

*   *   *

Captain Lienanov finally staggered to his feet inside of the smashed bridge. Bodies and parts of bodies of the bridge crew lay on and over their consoles and equipment. He struggled to get an assistant helmsman to his feet.

“Get this ship moving!” he ordered the young and very frightened seaman.

The man struggled to his feet and swiped at the scorched area of his forehead and then struggled to the damaged helm station.

“Course?” He screamed to be heard over the din of dying men asking, praying for help.

“Ram that son of a bitch!” the captain shouted. He never realized that the first and only command he had ever given inside the bridge in the midst of battle would be to destroy his ship and everyone onboard. He would ignite the thirty remaining Shipwreck missiles in their launch tubes directly under the saucer, creating the force of a nuclear weapon. Lienanov could not allow his ship to go down with their precious cargo without taking the enemy with him.

The new captain of the Pyotr Veliky fought his way to the 1MC microphone and hit the switch as he unceremoniously kicked out at a young man who had grabbed his legs begging for help.

“Weapons, set your safeties to zero, set your warhead to automatic. I will detonate from here,” he screamed into the mic. “Helm, all ahead, flank speed, direct line of sight, ram her.” His eyes blazed with angry fire at the imminent death of the proud missile cruiser. “We’ll see if this fucker can play the Russian way!”

The Pyotr Veliky, with her engines pushed to their limit, started forward, her bow digging deeply into the sea as her large bronze propellers bit the water. She was heading directly for the saucer sitting in her path at two miles.

The saucer waited and readied for the final death blow her weapons would bestow on the Pyotr Veliky.

The world exploded around the saucer. A naval warhead, the likes of which had never been used before in an act of war, penetrated the saucer’s hull at over Mach 7.5, almost 7,000 miles per hour. The warhead burst open like a morning flower meeting the sun. Its petals spread wide as it pushed through the saucer, ripping a massive hole in her side. It tore through and continued to rip the insides of the enemy warship. It passed completely through the unknown metal and exploded out of the opposite side. The saucer wobbled, then straightened, and the hull began healing itself once again. But this time it didn’t have a chance as four more of the strange warheads erupted inside her. Again she shook and struck the sea with a loud hissing noise. More of the rose petals opened and began forcing themselves into the interior and began breaking the saucer apart. Naval rounds struck the silverish skin and began ripping the guts out of the enemy.

Unable to heal itself fast enough, the power systems of the saucer started to melt down and her ability to reatomize the hull ceased. Internal explosions ripped her apart and in one blinding flash it vanished in a large mist of expanding metal. The remains of the enemy saucer rained down upon the hard-charging Pyotr Veliky.

Lienanov could not believe what had just happened. He scanned the area in front of his speeding ship and saw one quarter of the saucer bob in the churning sea; then it sank into the Southern Atlantic and exploded below the surface.

He quickly grabbed his binoculars and scanned the seas to his stern. His eyes widened in amazement as he saw the strangest sight he had ever seen in his twenty years in service. He lowered his glasses and said a silent prayer as he started to shake in near shock at seeing their savior for the first time.

At the stern of the Pyotr Veliky, Ryan was actually smiling as he too spied the strange vessel emerging from the mist of battle. He dropped the restraining rope he was attempting to cut and grabbed Sarah and Anya and pointed. He shook his head as the rumors he had been hearing out of the Department of the Navy had been confirmed for the first time. The people that had been stationed here in the South Atlantic had finally came to their aid.

“Thank God,” was all he could say.

*   *   *

The USS Zumwalt was unlike any destroyer that had ever plied the oceans of the world. It was the first of her class and the only warship that was completely stealth in nature. At $3.5 billion, it was also one of the most expensive weapons platforms ever invented and was one reason why the injured president of the United States had become embroiled in arguments over military spending. With its strange angled shape she was a sight to behold.

The most amazing part of her design was the equally strange turret mounted on her angled decking. It was two-barreled and resembled two clear plastic ballpoint pens. The barrels were actually the twin alternating weapons that generated opposing electrical fields that launched an Argon-based projectile, or solid shot. In this case it had been what the U.S. Navy had dubbed “the Blossoming Rose,” a kinetic warhead that had been seen ripping the insides of the saucer apart.

The weapon was called a rail gun, the latest in naval weaponry, and it had just saved the lives of over six hundred sailors onboard the Pyotr Veliky.

The United States Navy had arrived on station.

THE PENTAGON

WASHINGTON, D. C.

The situation room was unlike anything in the western world. Designed originally as a war room to administer American military conduct of a global world war, it was equipped with every piece of modern electronics tracking and communications available. It was staffed by over two hundred of the brightest military technicians in the American armed forces. Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marine personnel ran the communications boards that were connected directly to the heads of every foreign government in the world. It also provided real-time communications with the commanders of NATO and the Pacific, Indian Ocean, Mediterranean, and Atlantic areas of responsibility. The same mix of men and women operated the many situation boards spread along the walls that had every continent, every capital, and every city on the planet scanned into its computers and operated on holographic images to give the commanders, or in this case the remaining leaders of the allied coalition of Operation Overlord, the advantage of real-time data.

The leaders of France, England, and Russia were joined by the representatives from China and Germany—men sent to take the place of the late chancellor and president. They sat with Acting President Camden as they watched the satellite imagery of the action in the southern Atlantic Ocean. The images from last night’s battle of Mumbai were weighing heavily on everyone’s minds. The bulk of the allied coalition was very concerned because of Camden’s stunned look. Utter shock had been etched on the face of the man ever since he had witnessed the massacre in India. The sight of seeing so many innocents being captured and led into the large saucer was hard enough that even the supporters of the Operation Overlord plan had cringed at the despicable turn of events.

The men at the main conference table had watched in awed silence at the dramatic rescue of the Pyotr Veliky by the USS Zumwalt. The small man with the bow tie sitting next to the prime minister of Great Britain, Lord Durnsford, tired after his long flight from Honolulu, leaned over the PM’s shoulder.

“Finally something went according to plan. Stationing the Zumwalt in the area has paid dividends. I’m glad something has worked in this bloody mess of a day.”

The prime minister looked at his intelligence chief of MI6, raised his brows, and nodded toward Camden, who sat with a stern look on his face as he shot General Caulfield a cold and withering look.

“I don’t think our newest member liked the fact that one of his warships was doing something he had no knowledge of, even if it was his predecessor’s idea and plan,” the PM whispered. “I think I’ll throw a line in the water and see how our new member reacts.”

The prime minister cleared his throat and stood. A satellite image showed the USS Zumwalt holding station guard against another saucer attack as two American Perry-class frigates came alongside of the Pyotr Veliky to tie up and tow her to her destination. Her nuclear propulsion plant had scrammed and she was sitting there like a dead duck in the Atlantic, with only enough battery power to keep her out of the dark.

“Mr. President, congratulations on a most satisfying conclusion to this dastardly attack by the enemy. Your newest weapons platform performed most admirably,” the PM said with a nod toward the man sitting at the head of the conference table.

The men from Germany, France, and Russia rapped their knuckles on the tabletop in support of the comment. The new representative of China remained still as he eyed the group with something akin to suspicion.

Camden looked at the men around the table. “I’m glad we could assist our friends at sea,” was all he said as he nodded toward his British ally.

The prime minister remained standing as he returned the stiff reaction to his comment.

“Now, gentlemen, we are close to the time that you will have a chance to speak directly with the asset that has provided this group with so much valuable intelligence. Who was also instrumental in formulating Operation Overlord, along with our good friends, the late Senator Garrison Lee, and Dr. Niles Compton. And by the way, we all pray for a speedy recovery of both Dr. Compton and the president. This esteemed gathering will miss their valuable guidance.”

Again, all but Camden and the representative of China rapped their knuckles on the shiny tabletop. With a glance at the thick glass that separated the conference room from the frenzied activity below, the prime minister continued.

“Gentlemen, the asset that is so very valuable to our efforts against the Grays has requested that his identity remain anonymous because of the very real chance that he would be tracked by the enemy to his secret location.” The PM looked at the faces around the room. He knew that the only people here who knew of Matchstick’s real heritage were he, the Russian president, and the leader of France. The gentleman from Germany and the new man from China were kept in the dark. No one was to know the Mahjtic secret but a very select few. “The ability of the enemy to track down our valuable assets has been demonstrated by the attack on the Iranian University, where the alien power plant was being tested. We will not challenge the enemy’s willingness to destroy anything that will help us survive this fight. As a group we have given this asset full cooperation in keeping his identity secret. Even his voice will be disguised, as will his person. He will be speaking through a computer-generated voice, but will answer any and all questions or concerns you may have.”

“Let me understand this. You want full cooperation for this audacious plan that you have kept from certain members of this panel, and you are unwilling to supply us with his real identity?” Camden looked harshly again at his military advisor, General Caulfield, who held up admirably against the hate-filled glare of his new commander-in-chief.

“Mr. President, I don’t even know, nor does Mr. Devinov, nor Mr. Arneu, the exact identity of the man that the president before you and the one before him, trusted implicitly,” the PM lied. “We trusted the president in his judgment, as I’m sure you, Mr. Klinghoffer, and Mr. Xiao, do also.”

Camden was maneuvered perfectly by the prime minister. What was he to say, that he despised the president who sat in this very chair and that he was the last man in the world he would trust? No, he was caught and had to nod his head at the man from Number Ten Downing Street, whom he knew to be extremely close to the former president.

“We have a moment before our asset’s representative arrives to take part in the discussion, so why don’t we take a small break. I know I can use one after that dramatic rescue by your magnificent new warship.”

Camden was cornered again by the praise and could do nothing but lean over and tell his aide to get in contact with the one of the only allies he had in Washington.

“Get Assistant Director Peachtree in here immediately. I need him to sit in on this, and then I want the identity of this so-called asset on my desk after this meeting of the new order dismisses,” he hissed under his breath.

*   *   *

The acting director of the Event Group, Virginia Pollock, was standing outside the E ring of the Pentagon. She paced as she smoked a cigarette, a bad habit she had given up just after college twenty years before, but now found she needed the distraction—after all, it wasn’t every day that you came to see the president of the United States and knew beforehand that you would lie directly to his face. Virginia was a rabid constitutionalist and despised the idea of not allowing the chain of command to operate as it was designed. But she knew that this man Camden was an enemy of everything the Event Group stood for—their forward-thinking philosophy.

She angrily mashed out the cigarette in the receptacle and then saw the man approaching that she had been waiting for.

The gentleman was of medium height, black, and wore a tailored suit from Harrods’s of London. Virginia recognized him immediately as the former congressman from the state of Pennsylvania, Lee Stansfield Preston. She had heard he was in private law practice with a very select clientele. His briefcase was made of alligator skin, which depicted his extremely good taste in the finer things in life and immediately placed Virginia on edge. She didn’t admire anyone who used animals for decoration.

Virginia had been ordered by phone from Pete Golding at Group Center to wait on this man to arrive, as he would be joining her before taking her place with the leaders of the coalition for their clandestine meeting with Matchstick.

“Dr. Pollock?” he asked with his million-dollar Hollywood smile. His beard was expertly trimmed and he wore just enough jewelry to show his success.

“Yes,” she said, becoming concerned.

“Lee Preston.”

“I know who you are, Congressman. I have seen you on television quite often since you left office.”

“Yes, the camera does seem to seek me out on occasion.”

“Mr. Preston, can you tell me why was I instructed to await your arrival before entering the situation room? It’s bad enough that I missed most of the meeting, but our new president is a bear and also a man that particularly despises my boss.”

“So I understand. I have been retained by Mrs. Alice Hamilton, and she, Madam, is a particular friend of mine.” He mocked her slightly as he smiled. “So, President Camden has been ‘checked’ in that regard. He has his peculiar group of friends and so does Mrs. Hamilton. I am one of them.”

“Just what are you doing here?” She removed a cigarette from her pocket and started to light it.

“I am here to protect you and certain other people we both know from implicating yourselves in treason, Doctor.” He removed the cigarette from Virginia’s lips and tossed it away into the receptacle. “You will say nothing in that meeting unless I say to do so. You work clandestinely for the president; I, however, most assuredly do not. You are bound by your oath; I, again, am not. Stay silent and follow my lead, and Mrs. Hamilton can have her friends back in one piece after this mess is sorted out.”

Virginia swallowed as she listened. If Alice Hamilton had sent this arrogant man to assist in getting Matchstick through this, then she had no choice but to allow Preston to do his work.

“Now, shall we go see the great men of the world conducting the momentous work of our times?”

Virginia stood rooted to the spot next to the former congressman.

“I know, it’s mind-boggling to be so close to great men in perilous times.” He gestured toward the door and the Marine guard standing there.

“Some of them inside are great. Others? Well…”

“Who’s talking about them? I meant me.” Preston walked to the door and held it open for the shocked and staring Virginia.

*   *   *

Virginia and Preston were issued Pentagon identity cards and allowed past the posted Marine guards. They both noticed that the Marines were attired in battle dress and wore menacing sidearms in holsters strapped to their chests.

“Makes one feel rather warm and cozy doesn’t it?” Preston said.

He and Virginia were directed to two seats facing the table, but far enough away that they felt like eavesdroppers. “I haven’t had seats this bad since the Lakers-Celtics game in ’89.”

They both sat and it was time for Virginia to ask herself if Alice Hamilton had made the right choice in selecting Lee Preston as her consul in this rather serious game of hiding the real truth from the new president.

The members of the allied council had reconvened as still shots of the siege at Beijing and Mumbai flashed across the one-hundred-foot screen in the center of the situation room. As the members settled into their seats an Air Force officer and two men came into the room and set up a high-definition screen so all could see. Virginia wanted to smile as she saw the likeness of Pete Golding appear. He was in a suit and tie, clothing she had never once seen the computer genius wearing, and it looked as if he were about to crap his pants. The committee would never know that Europa, Pete’s supercomputer, was streaming the live feed from over one and a half miles below the desert sands of Nellis Air Force Base.

It was the British prime minister who took the lead as he and the French and Russian presidents were the only members left inside the Pentagon besides Virginia who knew the full details of everything concerning Magic and Operation Overlord.

“Gentlemen,” the prime minister started, and then in deference to Virginia’s presence, nodded her way. “And lady. I believe we are ready to begin our question-and-answer session with our main asset in this war against our Gray enemy. May I introduce Dr. Peter Golding of the Garrison Lee Institute of Strategic Science, a broad-based and voluntary group sanctioned by the office of the president of the United States for the gathering of intelligence on the hostile force we are now facing.”

President Camden scribbled something on his notepad and slid it over to Daniel Peachtree, who had joined the meeting. The move had not gone unnoticed by Peachtree’s boss, Director Harlan Easterbrook, who knew Camden was starting to consolidate his power base and place people that only he trusted in certain key positions—replacing the director at the CIA was going to be one of his first moves in that regard.

Peachtree quickly scanned the note.

“It’s that damn clandestine group out west again. Find out who this Golding is.”

Peachtree nodded and then sat back as the PM continued.

“Dr. Golding will be acting as liaison with the subject, code-named Magic.”

On the large monitor there was a picture of a blacked-out shape of a man as Pete’s image vanished.

“Dr. Golding, is the subject ready?”

“Yes, he is, Mr. Prime Minister. You may ask your questions.”

Camden became uneasy as he was not used to having others run the show, especially a foreign national inside his country. This was proof the former president had gone too far in relinquishing the role of the United States as the leader of the world.

“Magic, thank you for taking the time to answer some questions for our newest members of this esteemed council. Just be straightforward in your brief and we’ll try and let you return to your work as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.” Europa spoke for Matchstick as he typed the answers on a keyboard with lightning-fast speed. The members of the allied coalition exchanged glances around the table as the synthesized voice of Marilyn Monroe came through the speakers.

Virginia couldn’t help it, she had to smile as even Lee Preston’s brows rose at the sound of the synthesized voice program.

“I think I would like to meet this Magic face-to-face.”

“I think you two would make a good match,” she said as she finally got a brief moment of levity in on the arrogant but brilliant counselor. “You’re both very clinical in the things you do. Yes, I believe you and she would get along just fine.”

Camden gave the two people sitting against the wall a look and then returned his eyes to the screen.

“Magic, I would like to start out by asking what many here are desperately curious about.” The PM sat back down in his chair as he tried to guide the meeting in the direction he and the former president, along with Niles Compton, wanted. “We expected a full-scale invasion by the enemy. Why have they initiated full attacks in only two parts of the world?”

Camden watched with interest along with Peachtree, who was guessing the video stream was coming in from that rumored base in Nevada. He didn’t mention this to Camden as of yet, as he wanted to know what game was being played by Niles Compton and the former president.

“The extensive civilian population of those two cities and the density of that populace are the driving forces for their initial attacks. After the attacks have succeeded they will move on to another major population center for exploitation.”

“Magic, why is the civilian population so important in a matter of world domination?” The PM watched the faces around the table, paying particular attention to Camden.

There was a long pause as Matchstick needed urging from an off-camera Pete Golding to continue and tell the council the truth. Virginia could picture Matchstick at his small keyboard banging away and Europa synthetically reading his answers. She couldn’t help but smile at the simple subterfuge.

“The Grays are starving. The attacks initiated on the Earth since 1947 have been geared to dominate until such a time as they can consolidate a foothold for processing the populace and wildlife, domestic plant and animal life of the planet, for transport back to their home fleet to feed the remainder of their kind.”

As the sensitive voice of Marilyn Monroe answered, the room erupted in outrage. The PM rapped his knuckles on the table to get everyone to calm down. Only Giles Camden remained silent as he looked at the screen.

“Why doesn’t the enemy attack in force against many cities at once, why piecemeal?” asked the French president as the PM nodded his thanks in assisting with the questioning. “And what I see is a major flaw in the Gray tactic is the fact that they have left our entire inventory of communications satellites in orbit. Why?”

“They are limited by power restraints. Generating the power to open up a transit wormhole takes a vast amount of energy. They can only send through a limited number of warships and processing plants at one time before their power base can regenerate. This will eventually be solved by the Grays when they take certain areas of conquered territory by utilizing the nuclear facilities of these fallen countries. As to your query on why they have left the Earth’s communications satellites alone, that is simple—it is their way of gathering intelligence. They have found that the Earth is quite talkative when it comes to secrets. This is why Overlord utilizes—” Again the men around the table heard Pete Golding admonish Matchstick about saying too much.

The leaders and representatives around the conference table were shocked by the brutal truth being told to them.

“Gentlemen, I would like to pause the questioning only momentarily and show intel on something that may interest you. It seems we may have caught a break with the satellite footage you are about to see.” The prime minister nodded his head at Lord Durnsford, who in turn gave an Air Force lieutenant the okay.

On the large screen the view of the blacked out Matchstick and Pete Golding vanished, to be replaced by a green-tinted night view of Mumbai. It was the man from MI6 who explained what they were about to see.

“The footage we will see here is from one of Great Britain’s satellite systems that was retasked over India last evening.” The view was on the city and the saucer sitting in its center. “This was one hour after the attack. As you watch, the three smaller vehicles are dormant as they keep station watch over the larger; now you see another saucer enter the shield area from the south. It was discovered through independent observers that this saucer entered the city from the bay only a few miles away. Electrical readings of the shield had shown a 70 percent power loss after the attack by the Indian Air Force and Army. Now as you see, the shield has dimmed somewhat since that attack. Now watch the approaching saucer as it lands on the very top dome of the larger craft. You see it has landed.” The view showed a mating of the smaller and larger vehicles.

The next scene came on and the PM explained further. “This was an hour later; you see the smaller craft lift off and then exit the alien-controlled area. See the brighter, stronger glow of the shield once this mating was complete? British Intelligence had the readings verified. The shield was back up to almost 100 percent efficiency after this mating.”

“Are you saying that this smaller craft transferred power directly into the large one?” the German representative asked.

“Yes, that is our belief,” Durnsford said. “The battle of Mumbai, although a failure, has given us some rather valuable insight into our enemy’s limitations. The fighting and defense of the three ships inside the shield were drained in fending off the attack.”

“So what if we use special weapons? Would that not drain their power source completely?” the German representative continued.

“That is a question for another time and men such as yourself who are policy makers, not a simple man such as myself. But I would believe the question that stands before us is how do we save lives, not destroy them. A nuclear strike may disable the attackers, but would also completely destroy the city under attack. Rather wasteful, I should think.”

“Thank you for that insight, Lord Durnsford,” the PM said, trying to get the subject of the matter out in the open. “Magic, are you there, sir?”

“Yes, and I agree with the gentleman. The use of nuclear weapons unless out in the open will cause irrefutable harm to the planet and only hasten the downfall of mankind. You will die long before the Grays run out of invasion ships.”

“So, let’s move on, shall we? What you are saying is that the Grays do not want this planet for her natural resources as we suspected, but are treating our world as a food processing plant for their fleet of warships. Why not just come and take the entire planet after our military has been subdued?” The PM’s eyes stayed on Camden.

“Their populace is in need of nourishment; they are a dying race. Once they have a healthy diet they will come in force and take all animal life on Earth.”

“Magic, based on your calculations and those of the Garrison Lee Group, and after studying the Hubble telescope images, what do you estimate the Gray population onboard their home fleet to be?”

There was a long pause as Pete was heard admonishing Matchstick that he had to answer the question. Finally Europa interpreted the query for him.

“Over seventy billion.”

The group sitting at the table erupted as they realized what it was they were facing. The PM allowed the men to state their fears in the open, as he knew this could only scare them into action and possibly sway President Camden into the Overlord camp.

“Once a power base has been established they will land in force and overwhelm not just the military, but the entire world population. Then the Grays will move on. They have already killed many, many species, including—”

Pete was heard stopping Matchstick from elaborating.

“This is kind of disconcerting,” Lee Preston whispered to Virginia.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Magic, does the plan code-named Overlord have a chance of succeeding?”

A very long silence came through the television monitor and the PM hoped Magic would fudge the answer like it had been discussed weeks ago by Compton, himself, and Mahjtic. The small alien’s answer threw that right out the window.

“Ten percent chance of success.”

“Only 10 percent?” the PM asked, disappointed that Matchstick had not been reminded to exaggerate their chances of success to a point where there was hope.

“Yes, the variables and design of the weapon have not been established or tested. The alien power plant recovered in Iran has to be adapted to the working model and is far from guaranteed to supply the—”

Again Pete Golding stopped Matchstick cold before he said too much.

“That’s about enough of this dog and pony show, sir.” Giles Camden stood and then paced to the monitor and snapped it off. “I must admit, I was never a believer in this alien attack, and have been made the fool in its obvious reality, but I will not sit here and allow the people of my nation to be the subject of an experiment in defense when we don’t even know who”—he looked directly from the prime minister to the two people sitting away from the table, Virginia Pollock and Lee Preston—“this asset—this so-called Magic is. I have taken an oath to protect the citizens of my nation, gentlemen, and I will not strip her defenses for something this man”—he slapped the top of the monitor for emphasis—“claims has only a 10 percent chance of working. Whatever this weapon of yours is. No, I will recall all forces of the United States back into home territory and fight them our way.” He turned to General Caulfield. “General, we need to talk after this meeting is adjourned.”

Caulfield nodded his head as he chanced a look at the PM.

“Gentlemen, I recommend that you also prepare to defend yourselves.” Camden walked back to his chair and took a seat.

Now it was the time for the Chinese representative to stand. He was solemn and had not uttered a word since sitting.

“The People’s Republic is under direct assault by this race of barbarians, and now you propose to leave us at the mercy of their onslaught, to allow our population to be taken away, all to benefit you so you can consolidate power back home. This act, gentlemen, is unacceptable. You have lured the People’s Republic and our dead leader into this undisclosed Overlord plan to give your nations time to fight your own battles at home. China’s obligation to this council and this alliance is at an end. We will most assuredly test this power theory advanced by your intelligence services, we thank you for that. Good day, gentlemen.”

The representative started walking from the room, quickly followed by his aides.

“Mr. Xiao, please—”

The doors closed as the German representative stood, bowed, and then also left without a word.

Camden was not finished.

“Who are these two people?” he asked, as he gestured toward Virginia and Preston.

“Mr. President, if you would direct your questions to me, I will be happy to answer all you wish to know … to a point.” Lee Preston stood and faced the president.

Camden grew furious as he took in Lee Preston. There was no need to make the introduction as he was well aware of the former congressman’s name and his reputation as a bull dog. Most of the time his attitude had been directed at people like himself.

“What do you mean ‘to a point’? I am the president of the United Sates and you will answer any and all questions I choose to ask.”

Daniel Peachtree cringed at the way Camden was speaking to a very deliberate and smart man. Preston was no one to have a pissing contest with. The counselor looked at Camden but didn’t respond as he waited for a question to be asked.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Preston? This is a closed military evaluation committee and you are not welcome.”

“From what I’ve heard here today, I believe this concerns everyone on the planet, not just the military.”

“I again state my question, Mr. Preston: why are you here?”

Preston pulled out a document from his briefcase, stepped to the table, and slid it down unceremoniously to Camden, who didn’t bother to reach for it.

“I am here to represent the asset you now know as Magic. To preserve his rights as a free citizen of this country, and his right to remain anonymous in the face of the situation he is involved in. He is a private citizen. I represent Mr. Mahjtic Tilly, and his legal guardian, Augustus Tilly, both residents of the State of Arizona.” He took his seat once more.

Daniel Peachtree was shocked but kept the emotion in check, as he had just confirmed the fact that this Magic was the asset that was being hunted by Hiram Vickers and his Black Team. He placed a hand on the president’s arm and patted it lightly, indicating that he should hear Lee Preston out.

“As to Dr. Virginia Pollock, she is here because she has been tasked, through presidential order, to look after and secure the subject known as Magic. And at this moment she is under the protection of that same presidential order.”

Camden didn’t like the smug look on Preston’s face as he held eye contact with the counselor. He quickly decided to allow the matter to rest as he knew that Peachtree wanted to pass something along to him later.

Before Preston could continue the men inside the glassed-in conference room saw the activity in the strategic center below pick up as several screens came alive with a satellite view of Texas. At that moment a Marine courier entered the room and passed a note to the president.

“This is why we are pulling out of any agreement my predecessor has made to this council.” He held up the note just as the red alarm lights started flashing below in the information center.

“What is it, Mr. President?” the prime minister asked, fearing the worst.

“First, the Pakistani Air Force has gone to full nuclear alert for preparations to defend themselves against the attack in India. They say they will not allow the saucer to move on them after they have finished in Mumbai. They said they will destroy the landing craft before they can move against Pakistan. They claim the Indian government has not done everything in their power to stop the enemy. Thus, the Indian government has reciprocated and brought their border forces to red alert for action against their neighbors if they move to strike at the alien assets at Mumbai.”

The prime minister lowered his head as he saw Overlord vanishing before his eyes.

“What else, sir?” Peachtree asked. His assessment of the situation as explained to the president earlier had come to fruition.

“Houston, the Johnson Space Center in particular, is now under full-scale enemy attack.”

With that short and blunt announcement that history may never record, the coalition of allied nations disintegrated.