13

JOHNSON SPACE CENTER

HOUSTON, TEXAS

Carl was sitting against the deep subbasement wall and was struck in the face by a pair of tan naval dress pants. He looked up at the cigar-chomping master chief as he stood before him.

“Where did you dig these up?” Everett asked. He tried to clear his head after being knocked into a semiconscious state after falling through the training center roof.

Jenks became sullen as he removed the stub of cigar from his mouth and then fixed his old student with the look that said it was time to buck up and listen.

“Plenty of uniforms and everything else lying around; hope they fit.”

Everett stood and removed the bathrobe that was covered in blood and then accepted a torn T-shirt from the master chief.

“Well?” Carl asked. “You’re not one for dramatics, Jenks, what’s the score?”

“As far as I can see, we just got our asses royally kicked. Can’t see much from under here until they dig us out, but you can bet there’s not much left up top.” Jenks looked away at the memory of hundreds of F-15, F-16, and Hornets falling from the sky like hailstones before he had slipped down the torn and twisted stairwell to get to the admiral moments before the building started to collapse around their ears. “Got a few boys down here in the subbasement, some of them are hurt real bad, but it’s better than what it is out there.” He gestured at the collapsed concrete and steel above their heads. “We lost a lot of good people, Toad.” Jenks looked sad, unlike him according to Everett’s memory. “My whole goddamn engineering department is gone.” He looked down at his feet and then angrily threw the cigar away. “I think I was a little hard on those kids.”

“You didn’t kill them, Jenksy,” Carl said as he slipped the filthy T-shirt over his head.

“Yeah, I guess.” He reached into his scorched lab coat and brought out five plastic disks. “But all their work didn’t die with them.” He held up the computer discs. “I have all of our simulations right here. All we have to do is get them to where my babies are waiting. I think these hold the keys to the bugs we sorted out.”

“Your babies?” Everett looked around the dimly lighted area beneath the training center.

“Yeah, the goddamn vessels that will get your boys to the target. They’re not here. Thank God some moron was bright enough not to have the ships and the men that would fly them in one place. No, my two girls are down with the rest of Overlord.”

Admiral Everett was looking at the angry men in the basement until he saw a familiar face. It was the young navy SEAL he had confronted during the training exercise that very morning. He was leaning over and tending to the wounds of a Delta sergeant sitting against the cinder-block wall. He saw Everett and then stood.

“How many made it to the shelters?” Carl asked as he too leaned over and examined the Delta commando’s wounds.

“I’m not sure, sir. The whole damn building came down around our ears as we tried to get below.” He looked around at the remaining men of the admiral’s command. “I think all of the officers from both Delta and the SEALs were killed, I’m not sure. At least half of the … the…”

Jenks walked up to the young SEAL and whispered something to him as Carl watched. The kid straightened and then faced the admiral. “Sorry, sir, it looks like we’ll be down to half strength.”

Everett nodded his thanks and then allowed the SEAL to continue tending the soldier, who looked as if he were going to join those already killed by the enemy’s surprise attack.

“How in the hell did they allow this to happen?” he asked Jenks as he turned angrily to face him.

The master chief managed to find another fresh cigar in the rumpled lab coat and stuck it in his mouth.

“We always knew it was a possibility, that’s why the separation of the engineering boys down south and the training of personnel here in Houston. We couldn’t take the chance of having both elements together. It just so happened that those Gray bastards singled us out.” He removed the cigar and fixed Everett with the look that made the master chief the terror of the United States Navy during his long tenure. “So don’t go thinkin’ your bosses left you and your men hangin’ out to dry, they didn’t. What we have to do now is get our shit together and head south as soon as we can pick up the pieces. As far as your command is concerned, you’ll have to pick up some warm bodies from the command already down south.”

“Why not here?”

“Because, as of six hours ago, this entire unit is ignoring the orders directly from the president of the United States. That means we’re not only deserters, Toad, but now a bunch of pirates that’s soon to be on our own.”

“All right, Master Chief, I’ve had about enough of this secrecy crap. What do you know?”

Jenks finally laughed out loud, drawing questioning looks from the men left in the basement.

“You orderin’ me to answer, Toad?” he asked as his smile remained.

Carl took a deep breath and then shook his head. “No, I’m asking not just for me, but them.” He gestured at the dead and wounded men around them.

“Goddamn, that’s below the belt, Toad.”

“Yes, it is.”

“This Overlord plan is so departmentalized for security reasons I only know my part … and yours. The rest is as big a mystery to me as it is to you. Whatever the large part of Overlord is, it’s bigger than anything I can imagine. If they are using my designs for what they are intended for, I really do want to see the delivery method.”

“Explain,” Everett said, not letting up.

Jenks lit his cigar in the darkness of the basement. “Okay, Toad, we have one of the original simulators for one of my babies right down here.” The master chief turned at another set of steel stairs and then stopped. “Well, you wanna see or not?”

Everett followed Jenks into the bowels of the subbasement.

When they got down the two flights of stairs Carl saw a large object covered in plastic sheeting in the center of a large room. Jenks went to a desk that was covered in dust and then found a flashlight in one of its drawers. He flicked it on and gestured for the admiral to follow.

“This was the original prototype of my initial design. We worked out the engineering with some of those boys from DARPA and NASA. But it’s my baby, make no mistake about it. They helped some, I guess, but mostly on the subsequent versions.” Jenks pulled the plastic away from the large vehicle.

“What in the hell is this?” Carl asked. He had to step back and look at the amazing sight before him.

“This is the landing craft Spruance.” Jenks’s eyes traveled over the graceful lines of the spacecraft. “The first of her kind and the lead vessel for a new class of transport—smaller than the space shuttle, but sturdier and a whole lot faster.”

Everett examined the lines of the ship. It did look like a smaller version of the shuttle, with the exception of the wing assembly. These were short and stubby, almost nonexistent. The tail boom was that only in name, as it ended abruptly just aft of what Carl assumed was the cargo hold.

“Seats a command crew of six, plus the load master. She’s capable of transporting a strike element of fully equipped, fully suited commandos to their final destination. She is armed with two five-thousand-watt laser cannon designed by the boys at DARPA and the Raytheon Corporation.” He turned to face Everett. “I understand that you may have had a hand in securing the technology somewhere in South America.” He smiled. “If the rumors are true.”

Carl didn’t answer as he examined the snow-white skin of the landing craft. He saw the collar on the front nose of the ship below the pilot’s compartment and the ring that would secure it to whatever target it was sent against. It was designed to mate with another craft, but Carl didn’t know what that craft was, but knew his men had been training for its eventual use on the destroyed mock-up that came crashing down with the training center.

“There, now you know as much as myself, Toad, my boy.” Jenks turned and admired the obsolete version of the ship that he had designed. He puffed on the cigar vigorously as he turned back to Carl. “Now, you gonna go with it, or do you want to sit down and cry your little pussy eyes out over the fact that not everybody hands out secret shit like Halloween candy—you little shit-ass.”

Everett turned and faced his old SEAL instructor and shook his head as he returned his gaze to the amazing seventeen-ton craft sitting on its pedestal.

“I think I’ll come along for the ride, you old, crusty son of a bitch.”

“That’s more fucking like it, you candy-ass officer.”

CAMP ALAMO

ANTARCTICA

The winds had picked up just after their arrival at Camp Alamo. Jack stood warming his hands at the space heater as Henri fumbled with the bulky arctic gear, trying to remove the warm parka. Will Mendenhall made no bones about staring at the young British SAS officer who sat at the small desk, writing out the departure time of the helicopters that had delivered the three to the most desolate spot in the world.

Will leaned over and showed him the black captain’s bars on his collar. The SAS lieutenant looked up and gave Mendenhall a brief smile and nodded his head in approval, then returned to his logbook.

“In America,” Will said, drawing his words out like he was explaining something to an immigrant that spoke very little English, “a captain outranks a lieutenant. How about in your country?” he asked as Jack looked over with a small smile. Henri stopped struggling with the bulky parka and watched the exchange. The lieutenant had remained silent since their arrival and that was also getting on the Frenchman’s nerves as much as Will’s.

The lieutenant stopped writing and then fixed Will with that irritating grin.

“Yes, sir, the chain of command is very much like your own. However, the man who will answer your inquiry will arrive shortly.” He smiled and nodded his head. “Sir.”

Mendenhall gave the SAS lieutenant a dirty look and then turned to Collins. “These guys keep a secret better than the director.” He too went to the space heater and warmed his cold hands.

The lieutenant finally stood up as the buzzer on the plastic wall went off. It was like an old-fashioned telephone ring that shut off after only a second. The lieutenant walked to the far wall and faced the still struggling Farbeaux, who had finally removed the difficult parka.

“Colonel, please step aside. Professor Bennett has arrived.” The lieutenant gestured for Henri to step closer to Jack and Will.

The three men heard the soft whine of an electric motor and then the plywood flooring gently parted near the far wall. As it did the two halves slid back, revealing an opening that was dark and foreboding. As they watched in amazement a man in a furry winter coat rose from the darkened abyss. The disguised elevator stopped and the man stepped off.

“Does the same guy that invented half the stuff at Group design stuff for everyone?” Will asked as they watched the man with the thick, horn-rimmed glasses approach them.

“Evidently,” Collins answered as he took in the average-sized man.

“General Collins?” He held his hand out to Jack.

“Yes,” was the quick answer as he shook the man’s offered hand.

“Bloody good.” He shook first Will’s and then Henri’s hands. “You made the perilous trek in one piece, good show. No unexpected in-flight horrors, I take it?”

“If you call potholes in the sky a horror, we had plenty of those,” Collins said as he examined closely the strange man before him.

“Potholes,” the man repeated, and then got what Jack was saying. “Ah, yes, potholes. Good show, old man. Yes, I can only guess at the rough air you must have traveled through all the way from the States.”

Collins exchanged looks with Mendenhall and Farbeaux. Henri just closed his eyes and shook his head as he listened to the Englishman. The man just continued to smile without saying a word. Collins shook his head.

“I’m afraid you’re the second gentleman from your country that’s had the advantage over us when it comes to knowing names in the past two days.”

“Oh, my, yes, that would be appropriate, wouldn’t it?” He smiled but still said nothing until Jack raised both brows, urging him to connect the dots. “Damn, I’m just excited that you’re here, General. My name is Bennett, Charles Darcy Bennett, professor of Astrophysics and a member of Her Majesty’s Design Bureau, and former Dean of Sciences at Cambridge University.”

“Sir Darcy Bennett,” Henri said as he looked from the crumpled man to the general. “He’s got so many letters after his title that you may as well throw in the alphabet; his credentials would be shorter and more to the point that way.” He surprised both Mendenhall and Collins with his sudden burst of knowledge.

“You’ve actually heard of me? Good show, old man.” Bennett was impressed by the Frenchman’s knowledge.

“Yes, well, I ran into you a few years back, I believe. You had just misplaced a rather expensive particle accelerator from the University of Sheffield laboratory.”

The man allowed his mouth fall open in surprise. “Yes, but how would you know about—”

“Professor,” Jack interrupted as he shot the French thief a cold look. “You really don’t want to know. Let’s just say Henri here was aware that your government misplaced that particular piece of priceless equipment and leave it at that.”

Mendenhall smiled and shook his head knowing that it was Farbeaux who had relieved the British government of their little science experiment. Henri just smiled at the professor and said nothing more.

“Well, I’m sure you’re exhausted and would like to get below. We have a rather long day ahead tomorrow.” Bennett leaned in closer to the three men like a conspirator. “Our package is due to arrive.”

Collins nodded his head as if he knew what the package was. He looked over at Will and sadly shook his head.

“Now, shall we descend into madness, gentlemen?” Bennett gestured toward the lift and the dark hole beyond. “Lieutenant Davidson, you may tell your man outside to place his detonator on hold for the moment.” He smiled and looked at the three men. “Our guests’ DNA analysis came back and they are whom we believed they were.”

The SAS lieutenant nodded his head and smiled at Will Mendenhall. “Yes, Professor,” he said as his eyes finally left Will’s, and then he raised a small radio and did as he was instructed.

Bennett saw the questioning look as the three men hesitated at the lift.

“Oh, sorry, the lieutenant and his man, who is hidden quite well outside, had orders to blow you all to hell with twenty pounds of plastique—rather nasty stuff—if your DNA sequences weren’t confirmed when you walked inside and breathed the air of this room. Sorry, we’re cautious buggers around here.” He walked to the lift and then waved the men on. “MI6 is running the security for our little band of mad scientists.”

Jack, Will, and Henri cautiously stepped onto the lift with the smiling Bennett. The professor stepped on a hidden switch buried in the steel grate and the elevator started down into the solid ice.

“Rather much I know, but the James Bond attitude is seriously warranted after the attack on your Camp David, and especially after the disasters of last evening in Mumbai and Beijing.”

Jack looked at the man and raised a questioning brow.

“Oh, of course you couldn’t have known. Both cities have been totally destroyed after the Gray sots absconded with the bulk of their populations. Yes, I’m afraid the fun and games around here are over.”

“I would think so,” Will said, becoming angry at the professor’s flippant remark.

The man became serious as he saw the upset way in which the young captain responded.

“I didn’t mean to make light of the horrors of what happened, young man, but you must realize that we are in no better position here at Camp Alamo—thus the name the soldiers have given it.”

“Why is that?” Mendenhall asked as the lift continued down into the blue ice.

“Because, old boy, the men and women here at Camp Alamo fully expect to die in this rather bizarre endeavor, and have volunteered for Overlord regardless.”

“Well,” Henri said as he felt his stomach lurch as the lift sped up and safety bars rose on all sides of the platform, “I haven’t volunteered for anything.”

The professor laughed heartily. “Again, good show, old man, always keep that sense of humor, it will help you in the coming days. You French, always the kidders in the face of danger, very admirable.”

Henri Farbeaux cursed his luck. “Who said I was kidding?”

The lift traveled down seven hundred feet through thick, blue ice, and that ice caused the professor’s laugh to echo endlessly off the carved walls of the shaft.

*   *   *

As the four men stepped off the lift they were confronted by no less than twenty armed United States Marines. The professor waved his hand and then nodded at the gunnery sergeant leading the squad. Jack was the first to notice the strange weapons in the hands of the Marines. They were lightweight and made of composite plastic. They were also crystal-tipped-barreled rifles, the sort Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw II almost blew both of his hands off with in a deep South American tunnel four years before as he fired off an alien designed weapon.

“It seems at least some of the alien tech is paying off,” Collins said as three of the Marines stepped forward and relieved the men of their bags. The gunnery sergeant stood at rigid attention in front of Jack.

The Marines were dressed in white colored BDUs as half of the twenty men stepped onto the lift and began the long climb to the surface. The rest of the Marine detail left the group of men as Professor Bennett waved the men forward from the elevator gallery. As they entered a carved-out section of ice the men had to stop as they gazed upon what looked like a large crystal tunnel system that stretched for miles. Five arms of tunneled-out ice went off in varying directions as small tram cars loaded with soldiers, sailors, and technicians in white lab coats transited to places unknown. The ice should have been melting in the comfortable atmosphere of the tunnels, but the general noticed the coolant lines that ran just beneath the surface kept the ice sound.

“Yes, a marvel of engineering by one of your universities—Montana, I think. Yes, Montana State. I’m afraid without the coolant lines we would all be bloody swimming.” Bennett approached a tram that was waiting for the three new members of Overlord. “We are surrounded by a very ancient inland sea, thus a lot of frozen water.”

The tram was plastic and traveled along an embedded rail that coursed through the floor of the tunnel system. As Jack and the others climbed onboard the professor punched in his desired destination. The sixteen-person vehicle silently moved off without the aid of a driver.

“Camp Alamo has one thousand different laboratories, five hundred shops for engineering purposes, along with research and development. We have personnel space for ten thousand military personnel and technicians. Completely separate, of course, is the center of the lake system where … well, where Overlord really resides.”

The tram moved forward without a question being asked because each of the three knew that any questions would bring on only more confusion as just another compartmentalized secret.

“We have to make arrangements for about a thousand additional personnel as we bring in survivors of not only the trainees from the Johnson Space Center, but we’ll soon also have guests from the Russian Navy. I understand a rather large vessel of theirs will never see the ocean again after it docks. She took quite a beating a few days ago not far from here.” Professor Bennett looked momentarily saddened. “Bloody shame, actually, as we owe that ship and her crew everything.”

Collins looked over at Mendenhall as they both thought the same thing at once. Sarah and Jason, if they were still alive, would be here shortly.

The tram arrived at a location that was filled with activity. The structures surrounding a large square were made of thick plastic and glass. The roadway here wasn’t ice but asphalt. The tram moved off as the men exited. They were in front of a large structure that flew the blue flag of the United Nations, with the corresponding flags of the once cooperative nations flanking the taller pole in the middle.

“Before we enter the briefing, gentlemen, two young men have requested an audience with you, General. Something about being old acquaintances or something like that. When you finish, feel free to join me inside.” The professor moved off and immediately started to greet others entering the structure with the many steel steps leading to double doors that were guarded by SAS men. These were identified by their red berets.

As Jack, Will, and Henri examined the surroundings of ice walls and the perfectly carved tunnel system, two men in battle whites approached. When Jack saw them he was amazed, to say the least. He had been told his command would involve specialists from all over the world, but never in his wildest imagination did he expect to see these two. He smiled and approached them as they stopped and saluted. Jack ignored the military protocol and held out his hand to the first man.

“Lieutenant Tram, you’re a long way from home.” Jack shook the small Vietnamese officer’s hand. He had served with Van Tram in the same South American action of four years before. The Vietnamese national was possibly the best man with a rifle he had ever seen, and had demonstrated that ability time and time again in the deep mines of Peru.

Tram smiled as he lowered his hand after Collins forsook the salute, then took Jack’s offered gesture and shook stiffly at first, but then with more enthusiasm.

“It is … good … to see … you … again, General,” Tram uttered in his attempt at English.

“And speaking the barbarian’s tongue too,” Jack joked, easing the small man’s demeanor.

Collins turned to the larger of the two. This officer was dressed the same as Tram but had a blue beret over his blond hair. The colonel held out his hand and Major Sebastian Krell of the German Army nodded his head and shook the general’s hand. The major had been one of the best assets he had in the same operation in which Tram had assisted. He had led the defense of the mines in Peru against an army of mercenaries; without him the technology stash would have never been recovered. Krell was also an officer who had been personally trained in black operation by Jack himself.

“Jack,” Major Krell said, forgoing all signs of military protocol as he shook his hand. “Glad to see you finally made it. I guess we volunteered again.”

“So you did, Sebastian, so you did. Don’t tell me you two are assigned to me?”

“Well, I don’t know about our little communist friend here, but when the chancellor said you would be leading the defense of some out of the way and likely dangerous place, I came.”

“Yeah, sorry about the death of the chancellor. I understand he was instrumental in getting this thing”—he gestured at the strange base that surrounded them—“off the ground.”

“Whatever this thing is,” Mendenhall said as he shook first Tram’s hand and then Krell’s.

“Captain Mendenhall? Now that’s rising fast through the ranks,” Sebastian said as he released Will’s hand. “It must be nice to have friends in high places … like generals, huh?”

“I was railroaded, just like the general.” The four men laughed. Will stepped back and gestured toward Henri. “Gentlemen, Colonel Henri Farbeaux of the French Army,” he said with the slightest trace of humor edging his voice.

Sebastian Krell hesitated before taking the Frenchman’s hand. “Colonel Farbeaux. I believe I’ve heard that name before.” He shook despite the fast-returning memory.

“Only if you’ve been in the post office and seen his picture,” Will not quite jokingly quipped about seeing a wanted poster of the infamous colonel.

Farbeaux shook both men’s hands and then looked around.

“Perhaps you can shed some light on what this is all about?” Henri asked as he was noticing soldiers of every nation on the planet as they went from place to place. The one thing he noticed the most was the strange uniforms of some of them. They were completely different from most as they were coveralls and had the emblems of NASA and the European Space Agency emblazoned on their breast pockets.

“Well, we were hoping you would share that with us. All we’ve done is train with our foreign buddies here”—he touched Tram on the shoulder—“and start to take courses in direct-line combat with the boys from your 82nd and 101st Airborne. And then more classes on armored tactics with the 23rd Armored Division of the German Army, which I understood even less than the American classes.”

Jack had no answers for the two officers, but he knew that he wanted to keep these two men close to him, Will, and Farbeaux. He owed these two men that much at the very least.

“Look, I guess I’m the man in charge,” he said, looking from Krell to Tram, “So I guess I can do whatever I want around here. So, you two consider yourselves a part of my staff.”

“Deal,” Sebastian said as he smiled over at Tram, who looked on in a fog of confusion.

*   *   *

Jack, Will, and Farbeaux were led directly into the large building constructed of aluminum and plastic. The barren walls attested to the fast fabrication of the council chamber and only the electronics suite and the monitors lining the walls were anything like normal to the men from the Event Group. Inside Collins and his men were introduced to General Dave Rhodes, commander of the 101st Airborne Division, whom Jack knew almost as well as his friends at Group. The last time Collins had seen Rhodes he had been a captain leading a company of Rangers during the Iraqi invasion. The men shook hands and then Jack was led to Colonel Wesley Bunting, acting commander of the 82nd Airborne. Then finally to one-star general Heinrich Bader, a stern-looking Wehrmacht officer commanding the controversial new German Armor Corps, the 23rd Panzer Division.

Jack shook the general’s hand as the man stood rigid. He knew the officer was the leader of the most controversial division on the planet simply because of the designation of the unit. The 23rd Panzer Division was famous for one thing in history: it was once known as the most brutal component of the once famous Afrika Corps. The 23rd had been disbanded after World War II and the new German chancellor, before his death, had reinstated the famed division, despite the protests of its own citizens. The memories of those hard days had yet to wane in the minds and hearts of many Germans. The strain of commanding such a division was clearly showing on the general’s face.

“General, I’ve heard good things about your new division. Top notch, I understand.”

“General Collins, my men will do their duty. As you know, the savior of our division died for us—not directly, of course, but he was responsible for us being reborn.”

Collins looked the tall German in the eyes and then smiled. “Well, from what I understand you’ll get a shot at the animals that killed him.”

The general clicked his heels, then moved off to join the two other commanders of the defensive units.

Jack turned and faced Will and Henri. “I wonder how long until all three of those men are on the traitors’ block when and if they refuse a direct order to come home?”

Farbeaux watched as they were approached by Sir Darcy Bennett. He leaned in so only Mendenhall and Collins could hear. “The better question, General, is, does it matter if we are all hung at home, or die amongst the ice and snow of this barren land? All in all, I think it doesn’t matter anymore, because whatever they have in store for us in this most bizarre place, it will end up accomplishing either outcome.”

“Colonel, you have to quit being so damn optimistic.”

Jack smiled at Will’s retort as Bennett walked up and gestured for the three men to take their seats. Then he walked to the front of the room and removed his heavy jacket and remained standing. Besides the military officers, Jack saw ten other men in varying states of dress. Most had lab coats on, with about a hundred pens and pencils in each pocket.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the first full staff meeting of the defense group for Camp Alamo. Since the arrival of General Collins this afternoon, this is the first full defensive meeting since Operation Overlord came into being four years ago.”

Jack sat at the opposite end of the table and noticed many of the faces were looking at him. Many shied away but most had the look of hope that he was capable of performing whatever his duties might entail. In other words, there was worry on most of those faces.

“General Collins will be addressing you later in the evening, once the old boy gathers his wits about him after his long and perilous journey. As for now we need all commands and civilian defensive groups to have full equipment and capability studies delivered to the offices of the commanding general no later than”—Bennett looked at the wall clock—“eighteen hundred hours.” He looked at Jack for confirmation, but the general remained silent and didn’t react. How in the hell was he supposed to know when the reports should be delivered? He was sure the cooks in whatever mess hall they were going to eat at knew more about his duties than he did at the moment.

“General, we have developed some amazing defensive equipment for your units to operate with that should provide an edge, if and when they are needed. But after Beijing and Mumbai, we truly hope those measures won’t be needed, and we can get Overlord up before the Grays know what is happening right under their noses.”

General Bader stood and in a nod of deference toward Bennett, apologizing beforehand for interrupting, he partially turned to face Jack.

“Herr Bennett, General Collins, I must know the timetable for my men to take to the field for operational training on the new cannon for our tanks and armor. We have no OJT for maneuvering in this kind of environment. We attend classes, but as the general knows that is no substitute for field training—especially with equipment never before used in combat. That amounts to a disaster in the works.” The general sat down to the nods of the men from the 101st and 82nd Airborne.

Collins saw the academia shaking their heads in disagreement. It was a woman who stood as the buzz of conversation went around the compact room

“Professor Kenilworth, you have something to say?” Bennett asked as he looked at the woman and then shook his head in Jack’s direction, privately indicating to him that this was an ongoing argument between the engineers and the military, something Jack knew was always prevalent between the two. He realized how closely this team resembled the makeup of the Event Group. The dark-haired woman faced the men around the table as the room became silent.

“We have told our friends time and time again, we completely sympathize with the restraints that we have put on you in regards to training. But if we expose a large force of men outside of this complex for training and maneuvering exercises it can do nothing but attract the very element we are hiding from,” the woman said in her British accent. “As far as your vehicles and their new tracks, we can guarantee they will work in this environment.”

It was Dave Rhodes who stood next. He nodded at the professor as she sat down.

“The question is, are we prepared to do what is asked of us in the defense of this camp and the subsurface areas beneath us? By our understanding, Overlord must be protected until such a time as whatever she is, is ready for action.” He turned to face Jack. “General, we have not even been provided working plans of the sub areas of the ancient lake. We have no way of setting up any form of defensive line.” He turned to face the academics to the front of the table. “I must tell you, for all the brain power sitting around this table you are rather short on the knowledge of the difference between the ice Overlord is buried in, and the snow that sits above our heads. Vehicles react differently between ice and snow, new track or not. We need to know what it is we’re protecting and how to do it. This we cannot do without the plans of the frozen lake beneath our feet.”

Jack finally stood and faced the men and women of the defensive group of Operation Overlord.

“I haven’t had time to even brush my teeth since my arrival,” he said to some nervous laughter. He faced the three military officers who sat hoping for some form of good news from their new commander. “But I think I can safely say this: Whatever the defensive posture of this area is, I will study it, learn it, and I will get your men acquainted with their equipment some way, somehow, without upsetting your”—he faced the engineers—“our security concerns. And if we have orders to protect an area of Camp Alamo that I am not aware of, and we have no detailed plans being offered us, then I guarantee that will change, and change immediately.” This time Jack’s eyes met those of Bennett’s and didn’t waver. The three military commanders seemed satisfied for the moment.

“I’m afraid that will have to be taken up with Lord Durnsford when he arrives, and of course with Admiral Kinkaid and Admiral Huffington—all men who won’t take too kindly to your request, General.”

One name Jack knew. Admiral James Kinkaid was a legend in the United States Navy. Carl Everett had spoken about the man many times. He was considered the Hyman Rickover of the twenty-first century; a man who had pushed the antiquated postwar naval forces into the future with the advent of nuclear propulsion. Kinkaid was the same with his rumored involvement with trying to get the navy to be more advanced in the area of space. Jack had heard the rumor he had been shunted aside after particularly bad run-ins with more than one secretary of defense through the years.

As for Admiral Huffington, it was known he was a tenacious Brit who hated any and all things in the nature of surface forces, a man the Royal Navy hid from sight for his addresses to parliament on the endless manufacture of ocean-going vessels that would be sunk in the outset of any major engagement against the Russians or the Chinese. Evidently the powers that be had found usefulness out of these two pariahs, and now the general would have to work with the men the rest of the world leadership and military hated and despised.

“That I will, Sir Bennett. If they want whatever this base is hiding protected, I need to know how to do that, or their plans won’t see the light of day. I have seen the way the Grays fight and they will eventually lay all of this”—he waved a hand around the room—“to waste until there is nothing here but melted ice.”

That seemed to get the attention of all, as the room fell silent. Eyes looked away from Jack’s angry demeanor and looked at nothing. Collins sat down.

“Very well, I think we can adjourn for now to allow General Collins and his staff time to study his rules of engagement and start to evaluate men and equipment. General, we are all at your disposal, as we are desperately seeking the same goal: We must protect what is hidden below us at all costs, even if even we all have to face the two admirals on a daily basis.”

Laughter erupted almost immediately from the academics as the tension was broken. The men and women stood and started making their way to the door, with many of them stopping and shaking the hands of Will, Henri, and Jack on their way by. When the military commanders nodded their thanks, it was Farbeaux who once more summed it up.

“Tell me this isn’t a government operation. Situation normal—”

“All fucked up,” Jack and Will said simultaneously, finishing the old military axiom for the acronym SNAFU.

EVENT GROUP COMPLEX

NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

Matchstick always drew a crowd of the curious whenever he ventured into the cafeteria. Many stopped by just to say a few words to the small green alien as he sat propped up in a child’s seat at the round table. Matchstick was unusually quiet as the men and women of Department 5656 moved off, wondering what had affected the small being so, as he was just staring at the large slice of cheese pizza on his tray. Denise Gilliam sat next to him, watching, sipping her coffee, and worrying about the state of mind of their guest. As her eyes moved around the almost deserted eatery, she was saddened by the fact that it was abundantly clear that most of the military personnel were absent from the complex. The cafeteria was normally a place where the Group’s academic and military arms came together and formed what the Group was known for—closeness. She shook her head and felt what Matchstick must have been feeling—a sense of loss.

Matchstick reached out and placed one of his long fingers next to the slice of cheese pizza, touched it, and then pulled his hand away. Dr. Gilliam knew that when Matchstick wasn’t either eating or talking about eating, there was something definitely on his mind. Finally the small alien looked up at Denise, who smiled, trying to ease the being’s troubled mind. Mahjtic didn’t say anything and then returned his large eyes to the cold pizza.

Charlie Ellenshaw cleared his throat. Both occupants of the table looked up and saw him and Pete Golding standing by the table. With a look from Pete, Denise got the hint and then reached for her coffee.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and bother Gus in the clinic. He’s particularly tired and grumpy today.”

Matchstick looked up at the departing Denise Gilliam and then started to get down from his elevated chair. It was Charlie who sat next to him and smiled.

“Matchstick, you have a minute?” he asked as he pushed back some of his white hair from the frames of his wire-rimmed glasses. Alice Hamilton entered and also approached the table. She held a file in her hand.

Matchstick looked from face to face, fearing they were about to deliver bad news about Gus, but then Alice opened the folder and removed several photos. She held them while Pete explained why they were there.

“Mahjtic,” Pete began, letting the alien know it was serious by his use of his real name. “We just received the latest deep space images from the Hubble.”

Matchstick’s demeanor changed as he had been waiting for the deep-space imagery to come in for the past sixteen hours.

“It seems the final phase that you warned us about has commenced.” Pete nodded that Alice should show him the black and white imagery. She slid the first picture toward the extended, elongated fingers. “We haven’t forwarded these to Dr. Pollock as of yet because we wanted confirmation before alarming the rest of the world.” Pete shook his head sadly as he realized with the evidence they were holding, Operation Overlord, whatever that truly was, was now out of time. Matchstick looked at Pete and Charlie, then the obsidian orbs settled on Alice, who smiled and gestured that he should examine the first photo. Pete gestured that Alice should continue.

“At 2200 hours, local time, three nuclear power plants inside Russia were raided by many support ships of the Grays.” She pointed to the picture of the blank spot near the Vistula River Nuclear facility. She placed another photo of another site. “This is a military reconnaissance view of the Hanford Nuclear Labs inside Washington State taken six hours later. A raid was conducted there; every one of two thousand personnel were killed in the attack. Very experimental energy storage units were taken and then the facility was destroyed, just as the three power-generating plants at other locations, sixteen plants in all. The support saucers entered a transit wormhole and vanished.”

Matchstick studied the prints and then blinked several times as he took in the images. The eyes were wide and attentive as he examined them. Alice pulled two more photos from the packet.

“As I said, these were taken by the Hubble. It shows the alien fleet at Point Hermes, still the same location and still many thousands of light-years away.” She gave Matchstick the photo. He looked at it and then at Alice. “This one is a shot, blurry though it is, of the large processing ships rejoining that fleet after they lifted off from our world and exited the atmosphere through a return wormhole.” She pointed at the fuzzy image of the larger craft as they took up station inside the formation of ships.

Charlie noticed the grip of Mahjtic tightened on the photo.

“Now, the largest ship of the fleet, the one that we now know, thanks to you, is what you have called their main energy-production vessel. You can see it here.” She pointed once more at the same photo. “Now, the saucers that conducted the raids at the nuclear plants inside Russia and at the Hanford facility are seen here after their arrival through another wormhole.” She gave Matchstick another photo, leaving only one inside the folder. “They have linked with this other, the largest vessel in the alien fleet. Perhaps transferring power, we don’t know. Now the disturbing thing is that you always told Garrison Lee and Niles Compton that we would know when the full-scale attack would occur—when this energy ship came up missing from the fleet. Well,” she gave Matchstick the last shot the Hubble had taken, “it has. It and what we estimate as close to five thousand of their processing and attack saucers have vanished from Point Hermes.”

Matchstick didn’t even look at the last as he knew what it would show. Europa was always deadly accurate with her calculations. If she said these attack saucers were missing, they were indeed missing from the remainder of the alien fleet. That, coupled with the absence of the island-sized power ship, meant the Grays were on their way to Earth in force.

“Your opinion, my friend?” Charlie asked as gently as he could. Matchstick looked up and fixed them all with his black, obsidian eyes.

“There … is … only one … event … that could … cause … our enemy … to accelerate … their attack … schedule. The … Gray … Masters … have … found … something … that … must … be … destroyed … immediately,” he struggled to say aloud. He closed his eyes and sat silently. “You must pass this … on … to … Camp Alamo.”

“What could be so important that they have to attack before they are fully capable of doing so?” Alice urged and then her own eyes widened as she realized what Matchstick knew.

“Operation Overlord,” Charlie said.

“Somehow they have learned the location of Overlord and are coming to destroy it with an overwhelming force,” Pete said as he watched Mahjtic shake in his small seat.

“Alice, get these off to Virginia and then copy the colonel—I mean, General Collins. Virginia will know how to reach him. Tell them the jig is up and they have limited time.”

Alice stood and then paused. “How much time do you estimate, Matchstick?”

“Soon, very soon the Grays will strike … and then all … is … lost … for Overlord.”

Charlie Ellenshaw reached out and took the long fingers of Matchstick’s shaking hand and squeezed. The old cryptozoologist tried to smile but found he couldn’t generate the appropriate muscle movement for that simple task, because if the truth be known he was far more scared than their small green friend.

“Go ahead, Alice, send the message,” the acting complex director said with a faraway look.

“I believe I should say what we suspect the Gray target is in the open, so there can be no misunderstanding,” she said.

Pete forlornly nodded his approval.

“Target is Overlord.”

WALTER REED NATIONAL MILITARY MEDICAL CENTER

BETHESDA, MARYLAND

Virginia Pollock accepted the coffee from Lee Preston with a nod of her head. The constitutional attorney had been impressed by this tall, skinny, and very tenacious woman since he had met her. She seemed to be able to stay awake for days at a time and not lose any of her powers of conclusion or reasoning. He was curious as to what she did, exactly who this highly educated woman was, and how she came to associate herself with his friend, Alice Hamilton.

Lee Preston was silent as he sat down next to Virginia and looked at her. She felt the man’s eyes on her and then raised one of her pointed brows in his direction. She didn’t want to talk, but she knew a question was forthcoming. She looked from the lawyer to the sleeping form of Niles Compton.

“You and Dr. Compton have worked together for a while, I take it?” he asked in a low voice.

Virginia sipped the coffee and grimaced, then reached out and placed it on the small table next to the window. Preston smiled and then did the same thing with his cup.

“I know it’s bad. But with all of the security running around here with the president right down the hallway, it’s very difficult getting to the cafeteria.”

“It’s okay; I think my kidneys are floating anyway. Thanks, though. And yes, we’ve worked together for the better part of fifteen years.” She looked from the bed to Preston. “I don’t know what I would do without him there to guide me through the things we have to do sometimes.”

“Well, Mrs. Hamilton speaks very highly of him … and you. She told me that if you cannot be protected by my constitutional prowess, she would geld me like a worthless horse.”

Virginia laughed for the first time in what she thought was a month. She nodded her head.

“How would you ever come to know a woman like Alice?” she asked.

“Well, I’ll make this short, because I only have to say one name that I am sure you are familiar with. Garrison Lee. I was a young buck on the constitutional congressional hearings on budget restraint, and it was rumored I was close to finding out some rather disconcerting information on a rather large department that was hidden deep in the power base of government.” He looked sideways at Virginia and she only winked. “Well, the rumor got out, I’m afraid, and I got a call from President Clinton at the time. He asked if I would meet with a gentleman who might have some information for me concerning said investigation. Well, being stupid and naïve and thinking the president must mean business—you see, he was going through a rough patch as far as his personal and professional conduct were concerned—so I said yes, as a favor to his office I would meet said gentleman.”

Virginia smiled as she knew just where this story was headed.

“We were to meet at my office, but instead as I was leaving home one morning a rather scary gentleman with a limp, a cane, and an eye patch was sitting in my car that was parked in my garage. Without looking at me he introduced himself. The name, of course, was familiar, as most heroes of the old war years are around this city. Well, he calmly asked if I preferred to go on with my professional life or go for a ride with him.”

“I see. A long ride with Garrison Lee. Not one I would like to take.”

“I thought at the time that he couldn’t threaten a member of Congress like that. Well, my phone rang in the car and he nodded that I should answer it. I did. It was the president; he asked if I had met Mr. Lee and I said yes I had, as I watched him out of the corner of my eye. The president asked if I was going to work or go out riding with the man in the car. I couldn’t believe the offhanded way the president of the United States had just threatened me. Well, I told him I’ll just go to work. The president said good, that was what he would do in my place. Then he said that he suspected that all inquiries regarding the rather large budget of the National Archives would”—he smiled—“just slip by the wayside. I said yes, they would.” Then Lee reached over and pushed my automatic garage door opener. It opened and a lovely older lady walked in the garage as if she owned the place, opened the rear door, and stepped in with a brown paper bag. She handed Lee a coffee, me a coffee, and then smiled at me from the rearview mirror. We sat and had coffee, and Garrison and Alice explained to me a little of what they did for a living. And that’s how I met Mrs. Hamilton.”

Virginia laughed out loud at the story, as it was so much Alice and Lee that she would have had nightmares for a year if it had been her. “I doubt very much if Alice would have harmed you. You see, she, like me, is a rabid constitutionalist.”

Lee Preston turned away and looked at the ceiling of the hospital room.

“I noticed you didn’t mention Garrison Lee in that sentence.” He turned and smiled.

“Yes, I am aware of that.” The smile remained.

“Well, if Mrs. Hamilton is a friend of Dr. Compton’s, he’s a friend of mine.” He turned and looked at Virginia. “And after learning a little bit about what it is you people do, even I can live to be a little light on the constitution.”

Before Virginia could respond, the door opened and a man the acting director of Department 5656 recognized immediately, stepped into the room. He paused at the bed and looked down on Niles Compton and shook his head. He had his hands on his hips and made a tsk, tsk sound as he looked. The man turned and walked to the far side of the hospital room and pulled up a chair to face Lee Preston and Virginia. He placed his hands in his lap and smiled.

“Assistant Director Peachtree, what brings you here?” Virginia asked.

The middle-aged man with the perfectly coifed hair looked from the two and then at the darkened screen of the television.

“Oh, well, I guess you’ve missed the news waiting here like you are. It’s Director Peachtree now. It seems my old boss, Mr. Easterbrook, has opted for the private life of a country gentleman.” The smile was wide and genuine.

Lee Preston crossed one leg over the other and remained silent, as did Virginia.

The attention went to Lee Preston. “I think you should know, Mr. Preston, I have initiated an investigation through my good friends at Homeland Security for your part in the illegal immigrant litigation currently happening in Arizona. It seems you may have received monies from sources on many, many enemies lists of that particular federal agency.”

“I was wondering when you people were going to pull the old ‘security risk’ file out and dust it off. I guess I was bound to become a nuisance when I filed court documents trying to stop the good people of Arizona from putting up an electrified fence around their common border with Mexico, and killing Lord knows how many people in the process. Well, take your best shot, Mr. Director, I’ll be waiting in my office with my copy of the Constitution.”

The man nodded and turned his attention to Virginia, then he glanced at Niles across the room.

“Now you, young lady, I need to know where your asset is being held. We would like a chance at debrief.”

Virginia smiled as best she could, but the action never reached her lovely eyes. Preston saw this and leaned back, not wanting to get any venom on his expensive suit.

“I guess you must have missed the part where I told you to go fuck yourself.” She glanced at the dark television screen. “But I guess you were too busy stabbing your boss in the back to have heard.”

“The asset, Ms. Pollock,” he said without his condescending smirk. “The asset known as Mahjtic Tilly—we want him and are going to get him.”

“Dr. Pollock,” she said, batting her eyes the way Alice Hamilton had taught her over the years.

“The president of the United States has issued me orders to debrief your asset at the earliest possible time as the security of the United States is at risk—and that, Doctor, gives him special powers.”

“Debrief,” Preston said aloud. “An old CIA euphemism for torture in the rough, tough, Cold War days.” He looked at Peachtree. “If I recall correctly.”

“If it comes to that. After all, the asset isn’t really human, is he? He’s one of them,” he said, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

“Maybe not,” Virginia said, leaning forward in her chair, “But Lynn Simpson Collins was very much human, wasn’t she?”

The look on Peachtree’s face was priceless as Lee Preston suddenly became very interested in the name just mentioned by Virginia.

“We know more than you ever could fathom, Mr. Director, and someone, someday is going to answer for her murder. I suspect that may end at the White House in the long run, and the man that will explain it to you and the president can get to you anywhere, anytime.”

“I believe you just threatened the president of the United States,” he said as he stood suddenly.

“No, I believe she just made a statement about a murderer being caught, nothing about that murderer being the president. Is that what you’re saying?” Preston said as he too stood and buttoned his coat.

Peachtree smiled and then relaxed as he realized he didn’t have the upper hand any longer.

“Very well, Dr. Pollock, a warrant will be issued and delivered to Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada at the earliest opportunity. I suggest you heed the warrant when issued, even if your complex is buried beneath the desert. We want the asset, and we will get him.” Peachtree started for the door, stopped and looked at the unconscious Niles Compton, and then turned back to face them. “One way or the other.” He left.

“I hate to say it, but right at this moment that man is holding all the aces in the deck, and even the deck belongs to the White House.”

Virginia knew she had to get Matchstick out of the complex. She shook her head as the door opened once again. It was one of the president’s loyal Secret Service agents; she recognized him from his constant vigil over the comatose president. He walked straight to Virginia and handed her a note.

“This was just passed to us from the president’s private phone system. The first lady asked me to pass it on to you.” He left the room.

Virginia knew that the message had come to her through the official channels that included the president’s laptop and through his close ties with the NSA. She read the note.

“Damn,” she said aloud as she looked at Lee Preston. “Mr. Preston, I thank you for being here and helping me with Peachtree, but I have to ask you to leave me alone with Director Compton for a moment.”

“I understand,” he said and started to leave.

“Mister…,” She stopped and then thought better of her lead in. “Lee, please corner that Secret Service agent in the hallway. Ask him to find General Caulfield and get him here as soon as possible. He should know how to get ahold of him.”

Preston nodded his head and then left. Virginia went to the bedside of Niles Compton. She saw him sleeping but leaned over and spoke.

“Niles, wake up, it’s happening. Operation Overlord is going to be attacked. Niles, please wake up.”

Virginia looked around the room in despair as Compton remained out.

With the president’s men going after Matchstick, and the Gray situation going critical, she was faced with having to go directly through the official chain of command. That meant dealing with Giles Camden’s new staff, where she knew a sympathetic ear was going to be impossible to find. She looked at Niles and frowned as he seemed to be dreaming in his sleep. She turned away as the door opened once again. She was disappointed that it wasn’t General Caulfield or another friendly face, but two men she had seen on television standing behind the new man in office.

“Look, assholes, I’ve had enough threats for today, so you can kiss my—”

“Dr. Pollock, we’re not here to threaten you,” said the smaller of the two with his briefcase held tightly in his grip. “I think we’ve come to help. We want to know if there is anything we can possibly do to assist you and whoever it is that you work for.”

Virginia was stunned as she remembered the two young faces from the news reports.

It was the two young public relations experts for the new president of the United States, and they looked very frightened.