All Hell (20 page)

“Don't fire until you have visual verification, Hound. Do you see anything yet?”

“Not yet—sun's too low on the horizon, blocking my view. Wait . . . did you catch that?” The surprise in his voice could be heard over the slightly static transmission.

“I think so.”

“Whatever that thing is, it ain't a meteor, eh. The sun is glinting off of metal.”

“Lock on and fire, Hound. Whatever it is, we can't let it touch down.”

“Acquiring lock, Lynx.” The beep beep beep beeeeeep of the radar finding its target came in loud and clear, “Locked and ready. This hunt's over buddy. What the f—that's impossible—the fox just vanished. What are you reading, Lynx?”

Gaines noticed that the blip representing the object on the hologram also disappeared. He knew that meant that ground tracking had lost the object as well.

“Same thing, Hound. No radar, no visual—nothing. Let's use search pattern Alpha to scout the area.”

Commander
Smythe hit the stop button. The blips on the holographic globe froze in place. The pilot’s recording went silent. “Needless to say they didn't find anything. Any theories?” He looked around at all the participants in the room.

“What about NORAD?” asked Commander
Britton. He leaned his overweight body forward as he spoke.

“We contacted our NATO allies and they have yet to offer any answers. Also, our friends at NORAD say their telescopes have yet to reveal anything,” answered
Smythe, as he placed his fists on the table, leaning forward.

“What about the cameras?” asked
Gaines. Each fighter was equipped with a gun camera lodged in the belly of the aircraft.

“Revealed nothing at this time,” answered
Smythe.

“How about a new experimental space craft created by the Japs?” Britton asked, “Or
Ruskies—or the Americans for that matter,” he added. He was a career military officer only a few years away from retirement. Over the years, he developed no love for any country except his own.

Commander Weston from foreign intelligence made his presence known. He didn't particularly care for Britton and couldn't resist a chance to make him look bad. “Doubtful. This object didn't burn up in the atmosphere, which indicates it had to have some kind of heat shielding. I know of only two countries with the capabilities to develop the kind of shielding technology that would allow an entry like that; Japan and the US—but neither one's there yet.”

Britton turned his head towards Weston and cleared his throat. “Maybe they are and we just don't know it yet. The potential advantage to returning space vehicles and satellite salvage teams is significant enough where they might have pushed their progress forward a year or two,” he said, fully intending to challenge Weston's sources.

Weston did not like when he was doubted. He prided himself on perfection of both the mind and the body, as his muscular build attested to. He was in great shape for a man over fifty. “If they had it, trust me, I would know. Besides, the object vanished into thin air. Unless, of course, the Japanese got some type of alien cloaking device, I would rule them out,” he added sarcastically.

Smythe could not help but crack a smile. He didn't like Britton either and enjoyed it when someone made him look like the fool he was.

Commander Britton wasn't very happy when he gazed upon
Smythe's reaction. Admiral Brock growled, annoyed at the inappropriateness of it all. This was hardly the time for important men to bicker.

Before things got too heated, Gaines decided to diplomatically intercede. “Perhaps that's not so far off base, gentlemen.” Immediately all heads turned towards Gaines. “Well, I mean…” The sudden turn of so many high ranking heads caused Major David Gaines to pause temporarily, wondering if his “save” was going to place him in hot water with the Admiral.

“Don't be shy, Major. I'd be interested in hearing all theories,” Smythe responded, returning everyone's attention to the seriousness of the situation. Gaines was his protégé for years and he knew he was very insightful. He had high hopes of Gaines one day taking over his position as Commander of Canadian Intelligence.

“Well, what about an extraterrestrial spacecraft?” queried Gaines dead seriously. He ran his fingers across his chin and waited for their reactions.

Commander Britton rocked back in his chair, his hand pressed against his forehead. “Extraterrestrial space craft. Oh, c'mon!” he roared.

Gaines immediately countered. “For years there have been documented cases of aircraft reported on radar speeding through Canadian air space and maneuvering like no known man-made vehicle. We ourselves have had over 750 sightings and events on record, before we transferred the records to the National Research Council.”

Britton erupted in an outburst. “Nonsense. Next thing you know, you'll be telling us this is a time traveling machine from the future.”

“Well, actually sir, that is also a conceivable possibility,” remarked Gaines.

“Any other ideas?” interrupted Admiral Brock. He was not completely dismissing Gaines' theories, but he knew that further discussion of these ideas would be counterproductive in present company. There was a moment of silence. “Nothing. OK. Weston, continue to check all your sources. If anything turns up, I want to know about it immediately. Britton, have those pilots interviewed again and send all transcripts to Major Gaines. I want this done within the hour. That will be all.”

Commander Britton and Weston acknowledged their orders and left the room. Gaines rose slowly, preparing to follow them out.

“Major Gaines, one moment please. Commander Smythe and I decided we want you to handle the investigation.”

Gaines looked at
Smythe who gave his nod of approval. “Why me, sir?”

“Well, to speak frankly, I think you're the best man for the job.”

“What about Britton and Weston?” Gaines asked.

“Britton's main concern is our military. Since this doesn't appear to be an immediate threat, I don't think he'll give it any thought. Besides, I think he's a bigoted horse's ass. Weston's a good man, but he also has more immediate concerns. I want you because you'll give this investigation the proper attention it deserves and Bruce tells me you've got a good open mind. Frankly, I don't know of anything else either, besides some
friggin' alien or time traveler that can do what this thing did. In this envelope are the transcripts, film, and tape. As more information comes in, I'll forward it to you. Look it over and let us know what you think. I'll see you Major, in one hour.”

“Yes sir,” said Gaines saluting the Admiral.

“One more thing, Major,” said Bruce Smythe with a smile, as he and Admiral Brock were leaving the briefing room. “Take a shower. You stink.”

“Yes sir.” Gaines smiled and went to work.

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THE ROSWELL PROTOCOLS
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