Overlord (11 page)

The strange phenomenon had sucked up over four square miles of beachfront and had vanished as if it had never been.

SIXTEEN MILES SOUTH OF CHATO’S CRAWL, ARIZONA

The UH-60 Black Hawk hovered one mile away and sent out her coded signal to the security team at the compound. An answering bleep in the pilot’s headset told him the code had been read and acknowledged—they were clear to enter the no-fly zone. As the large Black Hawk slowly started forward it was still being tracked by three missile batteries hidden inside the compound and surrounding terrain, ready to shoot down anything that came near to the darkest asset in the United States.

The helicopter rose to two hundred feet and swung slightly west; the compound came into view. The site had changed much in the past eight years since the incursion by the Grays during that horrid summer when so many American servicemen and women had lost their lives.

The large and brand-new two-story Victorian house was the dominating feature with the small tar-paper-roofed shack sitting next to it hidden in its shadows. As Jack Collins, Professor Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III, and Will Mendenhall watched from inside, they didn’t see any of the twenty-man security team they knew to be eyeing the Black Hawk’s approach. The pilot aimed for the very small helipad that was camouflaged by a cross of flowers from every angle except straight up. Jason Ryan eased the large Event Group bird down. Charlie started to move toward the open sliding door and was held back by Will.

“Wait, Doc, we don’t want to lose you now.” The lieutenant eased Ellenshaw back into his seat, then nodded through the doorway at the approaching man in the jeans and blue denim shirt, with a white cowboy hat that had seen far better days. The man waved his hand and then stepped up to the open doorway.

“Colonel, Lieutenant, good afternoon.” The man looked beyond the two officers and eyed the professor. “And Doc Ellenshaw.” He again nodded, held up a small black box, and extended it to Collins first. “Colonel, if you would squeeze the foam sides of the box, please.”

Jack took the Bio-Dynastic cell, squeezed it with his right hand—palm up—and handed it back to the cautious guard. The analyzer beeped twice, then a hidden green LED light glowed softly. Jack’s name appeared on the liquid crystal screen with his rank and picture. The DNA analyzer cleared Collins for entrance into the secretive compound. The guard nodded at Jack, peeled away the twin-foam-rubber grips, replaced those with two fresh ones, and handed it to Mendenhall. The process was repeated for him and Ellenshaw. The link to Europa had taken the moisture from their grips and processed it through the DNA autobase she had of every Event Group staff member.

“Thank you, sir.” The guard stepped back after checking Charlie’s vitals on the screen. He was having a hard time not laughing at the photo of the crazy, white-haired cryptozoologist and the silly look he had on his bespectacled face.

“Sergeant.” Jack stepped from the Black Hawk and then stretched. He scratched the itching beard he had yet to shave and then looked at the Marine. “Matchstick and Gus?”

“Well, Colonel, Gus is in the small house as usual. Matchstick is still held up down in the computer room in the big house.”

Will and Charlie stepped up beside Jack.

“How long has he been like this?” Will asked, trying to get a firsthand account of what had been happening the past few days.

“Five straight days and nights. We moved a small cot into the basement for the rare times the little guy lies down, and he takes all of his meals in there. The Europa link is running twenty-four hours a day. Not unusual in and of itself, but strange because he doesn’t want us looking over his shoulder.”

“Yes, we know, that’s why we’re here.” Mendenhall smiled when he saw the old man open the even older screen door to the small shack. Gus Tilly stepped off the rickety porch and halfheartedly waved at the visitors. He moved toward the group at a slow gait and Jack saw the age Gus had fended off for so long had finally managed to slow him up.

“Colonel, Will.” Gus held out his hand and shook the two officers’ hands. He stepped up and looked Ellenshaw over. “Professor,” he said, taking Charlie by the arm and ignoring his outstretched hand. “Your name is all over that damn research material Matchstick is porin’ over, and I need you to slow that boy down before he kills himself,” he said, half angry. “What is this about?”

Jack and Will watched the exchange just as confused as Ellenshaw.

“I know he’s been in Europa’s files from the Crypto department but he’s locked the file and we can’t get in. He’s classified all of his research with a security code.”

“A situation that should have been avoided,” Mendenhall mentioned as he broke into the conversation. “Pete Golding should not have given Matchstick clearance to secure his own research material or files.”

“Look, Niles has given over complete control of certain aspects of computer security directly to Matchstick…” Jack hesitated, not able to say too much. “While he does a special project.”

Jack stepped up. “Gus, are you all right?” he asked, looking at the thin, frail shape of the old prospector.

Tilly held a hand up and swished it through the air.

“Ah, gettin’ old, is all. The Group doc, that Gilliam woman, said it’s exhaustion. ’Fraid that little shit in there”—he pointed at the new house—“has me worried beyond reason with his strange behavior. He ain’t been to the mine in two weeks.”

They were interrupted by one of the civilian-attired guards as he came from the small garden hut that doubled as the main gate for the compound. He was carrying an armload of what looked like newspapers. Jack exchanged looks with Mendenhall as the guard stepped up to the four men.

“Sergeant, Matchstick’s daily reading material arrived about an hour ago. I’ve checked them all for bugs and they’re clean. Should I take them to him?” the guard asked the Marine sergeant.

Collins reached for them. “No, we’ll take them.”

“Tell him now’s not the time to hold back secrets from friends, so give the little green bastard a piece of your mind, Colonel,” the old man said with a mischievous grin on his whiskered face. “You seem to be the only human that intimidates him anymore. The way he looks at me is like he’s in disconnect … Sorta sad-like.”

A very tired Jack nodded his head and winked at Gus, then started toward the main house. All but the sergeant and guard followed. Charlie thought a moment and turned to Gus.

“Gus, why haven’t you two ever moved into the house the people of the United States built for you?”

Gus looked from Ellenshaw toward the large house. “All that place does is remind me about the many American boys and girls that lost their lives in order for us to have that monstrosity. Hell, the only reason Matchstick is in there now is because that damn Europa terminal wouldn’t fit into my old shack.” Gus’s gray eyes lingered for a brief moment longer on the Victorian house, then he abruptly turned and made his way back to the home he and a little green man from space had lived in happily since Gus had found the injured alien in the mountains eight years before.

Charlie frowned, then turned and caught up with Jack and Will.

“Gus is worried more than he’s letting on about why Matchstick is behaving the way he is,” he said as he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses.

Collins afforded the naive Ellenshaw a glance. “He’s old, Doc. Gus feels Matchstick is ignoring him because of this Gray problem. He’s lonely again, is all.”

Will Mendenhall stopped before reaching the wide wraparound porch of the white-painted house. “I take it all of this stuff we’re hearing about secret plans for the president is what’s keeping Matchstick away from Gus?”

“Maybe, but he always lets us know of what he needs. This latest is new behavior.”

Two guards greeted the three men and showed them into the basement by hidden elevator. The Europa connection required every inch of four-inch, bulletproof-glassed space. Jack looked inside once the elevator doors opened and saw the mess beyond the glass. Newspapers and books were spread everywhere. The four desks were overflowing with material. Of Matchstick there was no trace.

“Jesus,” Charlie said as he examined the interior of the closed off computer area, “what a mess.”

Jack saw a pile of newspapers move and then settle. It trembled once more and then stopped again. He quickly adjusted the newspapers in his arms and entered his security code at the station beside the door. The glass panel hissed as it slid open and the three men entered. Collins gave the papers and magazines to Mendenhall and stepped toward the large pile of papers. He brushed some of them away and looked down to see a sleeping Matchstick on the floor, covered in his research material and maps. The little green man was snoring lightly as his small chest heaved up and down. Jack saw the large eyes underneath the opposing lids as they worked back and forth rapidly and he knew Mahjtic was dreaming. Not for the first time Collins wondered what would a small green alien dream about? Home? His slave days amongst the Grays? He leaned down to a knee and lightly tapped Mahjtic on the T-shirt-covered belly. He smiled when he saw he was wearing a
Star Wars
shirt with the wise old Yoda holding up a finger. Jack shook his head and tapped Matchstick once more.

The black eyes sprang open in near panic. The small green alien looked at Collins and then recognition finally reached his very active brain. The alien smiled widely.

“Hi,” he said in his raspy voice as Collins helped him to his feet. Matchstick closed the small white terry-cloth bathrobe over the T-shirt and hugged Jack’s legs. Then he went to each, Charlie first and then Will, and repeated the process. The three men exchanged bemused looks.

“Here, I guess these are yours.” Mendenhall held out the pile of newspapers and magazines.

Matchstick’s mouth formed into a small
O
and then he took the offered newspapers and started going through them quickly, tossing first one, and then the next away onto the already paper-covered floor. Then his almond-shaped eyes widened as he found the one he wanted. He held it close to his giant eyes and studied the headlines. Jack, out of curiosity, leaned over and looked at which paper held the small alien’s attention. He looked up at Will and Charlie.

“The
National Enquirer,
” he said with a curious lilt to his voice. Matchstick dropped that one and then picked up the
News of the World
tabloid from Great Britain. He studied it and then with the gossip rag in his hand turned and went to a small table to sit and read. He completely ignored the three men as they followed.

Matchstick suddenly started pointing and tapping the newspaper violently, then angrily threw the tabloid away from him. He placed his large head in his arms as lowered his face onto the tabletop.

“Okay, Matchstick, what’s wrong?” Jack picked up the crumpled newspaper and examined the headline there.

ENTIRE RESORT REPORTED DESTROYED BY STRANGE HURRICANE,
it said. Jack held out the front page and showed Will and Charlie.

“What are you working on, little guy?” Collins asked Matchstick as the small alien finally raised his head. “This have something to do with Overlord?”

Will and Charlie exchanged looks as that code name was heard once again. They knew better than to ask Jack what it was, but the name kept popping up from time to time.

Mahjtic didn’t answer as he stood and then walked toward the computer terminal. There was no voice synthesizer because Europa had a hard time understanding Matchstick’s English vocalizations, so he had to manually input all his requests through the antiquated keyboard, which the Green found immensely and frustratingly slow. He started tapping away with lightning speed with his long fingers.

The three men exchanged concerned looks as Matchstick completely ignored them. Jack’s eyes watched Mendenhall as he pulled away some Hot Pockets wrappers and boxes along with forty or fifty empty Jell-O cups, then lifted a file from the debris-strewn tabletop. Will held it up so Collins could see it clearer. It was a Europa printout of a White House security briefing as delivered by the president’s national security advisor. Jack took the report.

“Matchstick, you know your limits with Europa, don’t you? There was to be no, I repeat, no computer break-ins of any kind where the presidential chain of command is concerned, right? You have to go through channels, and that means Pete Golding.” Jack watched as his words seemed to have no effect. “Other than planning for Overlord, you still have limits. We can get anything you want, but we have to know why.” Jack turned and made sure his words weren’t overheard by Mendenhall or Ellenshaw.

Matchstick suddenly started shaking as if he had become cold; his slim fingers stopped typing on the keyboard. The small being grabbed one hand with the other to control the tremors. Matchstick closed his eyes, sending the side-sliding eyelids to close from the temple area of the head. This happened several times in rapid succession, then Matchstick slowed and opened his eyes wide as he slowly reached for Jack’s hand.

“Saucer?” was the only word he muttered in the soft and buzz-filled voice.

“No, we haven’t found anything.”

Matchstick still held Jack’s large hand as his head turned away in thought. Then he looked at the colonel once again, his dark, jet-black eyes intense. Collins hadn’t seen the small fella act this strangely since four years back, when he was having psychic nightmares about the events on the moon that led to the discovery of the alien and Martian technology that was recovered. Tech that eventually led to Garrison Lee and Niles Compton’s Operation Overlord plan. Only this episode looked to be worse.

“None … of the ancient … crash sites … yielded a power plant?” Matchstick stumbled with the words.

Only Jack knew any details about the Overlord plan, so Charlie and Will just listened. Part of the plan called for the acquisition of an alien-designed engine from one of the saucers, for what? Jack could only guess as neither Niles, Matchstick, the president, nor Senator Lee ever took him into their confidence on certain aspects of Overlord.