JANET

Captain Donald Tully believed himself to be a careful man. A patient man. But right now, he was also a man quickly running out of time. He’d wanted to question the boy before leaving Las Vegas, but that goddamned FBI woman had to lead them on a little chase. If they hadn’t caused such a stir with the local police, he might have had time. But no. He would have to improvise.

As the JANET flight touched down on runway 35, he bit down on a fresh toothpick trying not to think about how badly he wanted a cigarette. The cabin lights came on as the plane reached the forward hangar, and all the passengers unbuckled and stood up in the center aisle. Sitting at the very back of the plane, Donald snapped his toothpick with his thumb and rolled his head back as the excitable group of senators, scientists, and white house staff slowly filed out of the plane ahead of him. When the last of them finally disappeared out the passenger door, Donald stood and stretched his neck.

“Alright boys, let’s get going. Bring her along,” he said, pointing to Agent Summer, handcuffed in the row across from him. She looked dazed, and uncomfortable. The soldier sitting with her nodded. Looking to the next row, he said, “And you, Adams, try not to drop the kid again.”

“Yes sir,” said Adams. He and another soldier had the unconscious kid between them.

Donald stretched his neck one more time, turned down the aisle and exited the plane. The desert sun stung his face as he emerged on top of the air stairs. The familiar sight of dusty brown mountains on all sides gave the impression they had landed in a big bowl. He descended the stairs, ignoring the group of passengers gathered on the runway a few yards away going through a final security check. It would be an hour before they received their security badges, instructions for lodging, and the list of rules for their stay.

“Hey! You there,” called a voice from the throng of people getting checked in. Donald saw a man detach himself from the group and approach him. The salt and pepper haired man wore slacks, a breezy white button down, and a hard expression. Before he got far, a pair of men with M16s draped over their shoulders stopped him in his tracks. Donald donned his sunglasses, and was about to walk away when the man called out to him again, saying, “What’s the meaning of this? You have no right detaining one of my agents!”

Following the man’s gaze, Donald looked up the airstair to the JANET plane and saw Agent Carol Summer, hands still cuffed behind her back, squinting against the sunlight as she was guided down the steps.

“Unless you can explain what’s going on, I demand that you release her! I’ll take this straight to Colonel Jacobs if I have to!” said the man, refusing to let the armed soldiers push him back into line.

Approaching him, Donald said, “And who might you be?”

“Howard Kepler,” said the man. “Director Howard Kepler. FBI. Get your twins off of me!”

“Let him through, boys,” said Donald, grinning as the two men - who indeed had identical faces - stepped aside and Kepler had to flatten out his ruffled shirt. Sticking out a hand he said, “Captain Donald Tully, at your service. First time to Groom Lake I see.”

“It won’t be my last,” said Kepler, shaking hands.

“You’ll get used to seeing their faces around here then,” said Donald, chuckling. “We call them PCs. Photocopies.” He gestured for Kepler to lead the way to a row of vehicles waiting to drive guests into the base.

“Where are you taking her?” said Kepler, looking back over his shoulder at Summer, now following behind them.

“We’ll have her cleaned up at the clinic to start,” said Donald. Each of the vehicles they approached had a uniformed driver waiting. The driver of the first car opened the rear passenger door so Agent Summer could be loaded in. Donald said, “Wait here a moment, Director Kepler.”

Kepler had caught sight of the driver holding the door open and said, “Jesus, they come in threes.” Then, to the driver, he said, “You should tell your brothers over there I’m not to be trifled with.”

Donald chuckled again, knowing Kepler was in for quite a shock when he eventually figured out that the PCs were not brothers. If he ever figured it out, that is. He watched Booker Dunn being carefully loaded into the back seat of the second car. Then he pulled Summer’s badge out of his pocket, rubbed away a few smudges, and approached the first car before they loaded her in. “Special Agent Carol Summer. Welcome to Groom Lake,” he said. She swayed on the spot slightly, her dazed eyes trying to focus on him. He handed the badge over to the soldier leading her, and said, “We’ll get you fixed right up.”

She spit a glob of bloody saliva on the ground by his feet. He looked at it, then to the soldier leading her and said, “Make sure she’s comfortable.”

He walked back to where Kepler waited, arms folded. Kepler said, “Are you going to explain this, Captain Tully?”

Donald let out an exaggerated sigh and said, “You see, I was hoping you could shed some light on this whole mess we got going on.”

“Me? I don’t follow,” said Kepler.

“Care to explain what one of your agents was doing stealing a government vehicle? Kidnapping one of our detainees as we picked him up?”

Kepler swore under his breath. Rubbing his temples with one hand, he said, “Alright. Tell me what happened. What did she do?”

“My team was told to pick up a boy at the Bellagio and bring him here; orders from the Colonel himself. We park out front, wait for the kid to get loaded into the back of my car, and, next thing I know, your agent hops in the front seat and drives off with him.”

“Impossible,” said Kepler, shaking his head. “She wouldn’t interfere like that. Unless…” A pained expression came over his face as he eyed the second car where summer and the kid waited in the back seats. “Who’s the kid?”

“Unless my information is wrong, that’s Booker Dunn,” said Donald.

“Oh my god,” said Kepler, running a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable. After everything we talked about.”

“So, what’s the FBI want with Booker Dunn?” said Donald, eyes narrowed. He watched Kepler closely, trying to read his expression.

“This is unbelievable,” he said again. “That’s Booker Dunn in the back of that car?” Donald didn’t answer. Kepler had the lost look of someone trying to force a puzzle together, as he rubbed his chin and continued stealing glances at Agent Summer in the back of the first car. Finally, he said, “Let me talk to her. Give me twenty minutes and I’m sure I can clear this whole thing up.”

Donald suppressed a sigh as he examined his fingernails. He could see where this conversation was going and wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. He gave a slight nod to the armed men who had stopped Kepler by the airstairs, and they approached. “Can’t you just clear this up now? I’m in a bit of a time crunch,” he said, watching the men approach from over Kepler’s shoulder.

“I can assure you, Captain, that this is just a misunderstanding. Release Agent Summer to me, and I’ll speak with the Colonel about this directly.” Donald cleaned his sunglasses using the hem of his shirt, and Kepler’s face seemed to flush as he said, in a deep voice, “Release her, now! Bring her to me, Captain.”

Putting his sunglasses back on, Donald said, “I don’t think I will. And I don’t like that tone of yours one bit. You see, this is Groom Lake, Director Kepler. This is my base. Your agent has interfered with an important Air Force operation. She almost killed a few of my men and Booker Dunn in the process. And you want me to just hand her over to you, no questions asked? You forget yourself, sir. She’s got a lot to answer for, and, unless you’d like to end up in the detention cell right next to her, I suggest you start talking to me.”

Right on cue, one of the armed soldiers arrived and grabbed Kepler’s shoulder firmly. “Jesus,” said Kepler softly. “You can’t be serious.”

Donald sighed and said, “I’m running short of time, Mr. Kepler. If you don’t want to talk to me, you’re more than welcome to wait for the Colonel with Agent Summer, but it will be under lock and key. The Colonel might have time to stop by tomorrow, after his party is over and your wife is on her way back home.”

Donald wiped sweat off his upper lip and seemed to consider all his options. After a moment he said, “Alright, I don’t have all the details. But Agent Summer approached me this morning to talk about that kid; Booker Dunn. She was convinced that he was part of a CIA plan of some kind. There’s a retired CIA operative Agent Summer has been keeping tabs on who brought the kid to Vegas, but she didn’t know why. Now that kid is here. You said Colonel Jacobs wants him?”

Donald folded his arms, processing this new information, but didn’t answer.

Kepler rambled on, saying, “Agent Summer said something about a fire? The kid’s house caught fire last night. And she said the kid’s father works here at Groom Lake. It all seemed so trivial at the time, but maybe there’s a connection.”

“A fire,” said Donald, thinking hard. “And you’re saying the CIA brought the kid to Las Vegas?”

“A retired CIA operative. Her name is Joanna Jones,” said Kepler. “That’s all I know. We need to talk to Agent Summer and find out everything she knows. She wouldn’t interfere with an Air Force operation without good reason. If I could just talk to her, I could bring her information to Colonel Jacobs directly and get this whole mess sorted out.”

Donald chewed his bottom lip, stretching the silence. Contrary to what Kepler was saying, this whole mess was starting to become more clear. Not all of it. The CIA involvement worried him even more than the FBI. How had things gone this wrong so quickly? But Booker Dunn was starting to make sense. Booker Dunn; Robert Dunn’s son. The house burned down last night. The Colonel made the order to bring Booker Dunn here to Groom Lake. Why? He nodded to himself, thinking he knew why.

Adams had finished loading the kid into the second car, and must have gotten bored, because he approached and said, “Hey Captain, with the kid being here, does that mean tomorrow's special op is canceled? Me and some of the guys were counting on that danger pay, if you know what I mean.”

Donald gritted his teeth, looking from Adams’ oblivious face to Kepler’s confused expression.

Kepler said, “What special op?”

Looking at Adams, Donald said, “I think we’ve talked long enough. Thank you, Director Kepler. Go back to your wife and enjoy the party. We’ll get this sorted out.”

As the two armed men led Kepler away, he tried to shove them off saying, “Hey! We had a deal! You can’t hold my agent! The Colonel will hear about this!”

“I’m sure he will,” said Donald, under his breath. Kepler was saying that Donald hadn’t heard the last of him as he was pulled back to the throng of passengers in the check-in line. Donald looked at Adams again and shook his head. Adams shrugged and opened his mouth to say something, but Donald cut him off. “Just get in the car.”

Adams shrugged and turned away, but Donald stopped him. “Hold on, Adams.” Adams looked at him questioningly, and Donald said, “How old do you think that kid is?”

Adams looked confused but he said, “Early twenties. Why?”

“Just curious,” said Donald.

Adams said, “We’re going to have trouble waking the kid up if the Colonel wants to talk with him today. We’ve been trying everything, but he’s out cold.”

“The good doctor will have a solution, I’m sure.” Adams nodded and turned to go. “Hold on there,” said Donald. Adams turned back again, and Donald said, “How long have you been working for me?”

“About a month, sir,” said Adams.

“You like the assignment?”

“I do.”

“Good. And, how old are you, Adams?”

“I’m twenty-four, sir.”

Donald dismissed Adams, saying, “Go on now. And for god’s sake, keep your mouth shut about special operations out in the open. The FBI Director doesn’t need to hear about your danger pay opportunities” As Adams apologized and walked away, Donald grinned. A single stroke of inspiration had just made his spirits soar. A simple, beautiful plan seemed to just fall in his lap; not only would it deter Colonel Jacobs, he could also close those loose lips of private Adams in the process.

A few moments later, they were driving along the runway with closed hangars rushing by on their right. The driver turned down a side street, taking them past huge supply crates piled between two hangars. Passing two more rows of buildings, they turned right on a larger road behind the rows of hangars that connected with Laketown a mile to the North. Here, there were a few office buildings filled with labs, file rooms, and cubicles.

The car came to a stop in front of a large beige building with a red cross hung over the double doors out front. Below the red cross, gold letters spelled out “Alexander Tully Memorial Hospital.” Donald hopped onto the curb and saw the second car coming to a stop behind them. He didn’t wait for the others. Hustling up the stairs, he threw the double doors wide and walked straight by the receptionist, who didn’t even look up from her desk. Down the hall, first a left, then a right, then he banged through the swinging doors of the infirmary.

The infirmary was a long room lined with beds on either side. High windows let in a small amount of light from the dusty sky outside, and fluorescent bulbs hummed over his head. Most of the white sheeted beds were empty. There were a couple nurses at the far end tending to a soldier.

Mostly, the infirmary was a place for heat stroke victims, soldiers trying to beat a nasty hangover, and, occasionally, a place to recoup after breaking an arm or leg on the recreation field during training or a rough game of touch football. Walking down the row of beds, Donald said, “Alright, alright, alright, people; everybody out! Let’s go, get this boy out of here.” Pointing at the three nurses in turn, he said, “I want you, you, and you gone. Understand? Wheel this one out of here too. Double-time!”

Without question, each nurse complied. One walked straight out. The other two put down what they were working on and unlocked the wheels of the soldier’s bed and pushed him down the aisle and out through the double doors. That left one person in the room. Dr. Evilyn Heart.

Dr. Heart wore black heels, a black pencil skirt, and a high collar white blouse under a white lab coat. Her shoulder-length red hair was pinned up and her expression stoney. As soon as the three nurses and the bedridden soldier were clear of the room, she said, “Jesus, Donald. Where have you been?”

“Easy now,” he said, raising his palms up in mock surrender. “You should be kinder to the man who’s fixin’ to solve all your troubles tonight.”

Evilyn pinched the bridge of her nose and said in a slightly shaky voice, “Jacobs is going nuts. He’s hunting for us, Donald. We’re screwed unless you can think of a goddamn miracle to get us out of this.”

The doors at the end of the hall banged open, and in came the unconscious kid between Adams and the other soldier, followed by a third soldier leading FBI Agent Carol Summer.

“And voilà,” said Donald, presenting the small group to her with a grand sweeping gesture. “Your solution.”

Evilyn folded her arms and said nothing as the small party approached them. Donald grinned, feeling almost giddy with excitement about his plan. “Agent Summer,” he said, taking her arm. “You come right over here and sit. That’s the spot.” He deposited her on a stool next to one of the beds and dismissed the soldier that escorted her in.

Pointing to Adams, he said, “You stay here. I need a word.” Pointing to the other soldier holding the kid, he said, “Drop him on the bed there, then go get me a couple PCs. No need to come back.”

The soldier nodded, dropped Booker Dunn on the closest bed, and left through the double doors from where they’d all entered. The room fell silent as Donald put his hands behind his back and walked over to the desk where Dr. Heart was standing.

He began picking up different objects from the desk to examine as he spoke; a stapler, a small name plate with Dr. Heart’s name on it, a spherical glass paperweight with blue spiral designs in the center. “You’ve been sloppy of late, Adams. I don’t like that. Not one bit. Dropping the kid? That’s beneath you, don’t you think? A high priority target like that; we have a responsibility to protect him, don’t we?”

“Yes sir,” said Adams, glancing at the kid lying awkwardly on the bed behind him.

“And you dropped him. Seems careless. Reckless,” said Donold, tossing the glass paper weight up in the air and catching it again. Walking over to Adams he held it out for him. “Pretty, aint’ it?”

“Sir?” said Adams, taking it from him.

“And what’s all this about you and the boys missing your danger pay? Special assignments with good ol’ Captain Tully are lucrative, sure, but you know it's bad form to bring up our special ops when prying ears are nearby. It could lead to awkward questions, don’t you think? Especially, if those prying ears belong to, let’s say, our fine country’s FBI Director? A man who, tonight, will have the ear of our very own Colonel Henry Jacobs? The last man on Earth that should be hearing rumors about special ops coming out of my base?”

Donald couldn't help grinning and letting his words dangle in the air between them for a few moments. “The way I remember it; when I picked my team for this ‘special assignment,’ I made it clear that it was strictly off the books, did I not?”

“Yes, sir. You did, sir,” said Adams.

“So why are you talking about it out in the open? Careless. Reckless. Don’t you think, Adams?”

“Yes, sir,” said Adams.

“You won’t disappoint me again, will you, Adams?” said Donald.

“I won’t let you down again, sir,” said Adams.

Donald patted his shoulder and said, “Good, good. I hoped you’d say that. We should give that there paperweight back to Dr. Heart, don’t you think?”

Adams nodded and held it out. Donald took it, grinning. He tossed it up again, caught it in his fist, then reared back and used it to bludgeon Adams over the head. Adams crumpled under the blow to the temple, falling straight back onto the white floor tiles, and Dr. Heart screamed!

Blood was dripping down the side of Adams’ face. Donald felt flecks of it covering his own face and neck. He turned and tossed the glass paper weight, now covered in blood, to Dr. Heart. It almost slipped through her fingers like a bar of soap.

Donald laughed out loud, watching her almost drop it. He cracked his knuckles and watched Adams writhing on the floor in front of him. Then he started kicking him. He kicked hard against Adams’ chest and shoulders. Adams screamed in pain. Donald stamped down on Adams’ arm, breaking it at the elbow with a sickening crunch.

Adams screamed again, cradling his broken arm as the double entrance doors opened and a pair of PCs entered. They froze, stunned looks on their faces. Donald pointed at them and said, “In here. Get this mess off the floor. Now!”

The two PCs rushed forward and slowly helped Adams to his feet. Adams was whimpering, his face already swelling, drool spilling from his bottom lip. Donald punched him hard in the stomach and followed with a right hook across Adams’s face that knocked him completely unconscious. One of the PCs holding Adams slipped in the pool of blood at their feet, causing the two men to drop Adams to the floor.

Laughing and flicking blood off his hand, Donald looked at the PCs and said, “There is no special assignment. Understand? No one knows about this.”

The two PCs nodded quickly.

Gesturing to the bloody mess that was Adams, and then the room at large, he said, “None of this ever happened. Understand? And that boy right there,” he pointed to Booker Dunn, “He doesn’t exist. You never saw him. Got that?”

The PCs nodded again.

“Good boys,” said Donald. “Now get Adams into some civilian clothes and put him in one of the beds. From now on, Adams is the boy we picked up in Las Vegas, and he has been in a terrible car accident. He needs medical attention. Get me some nurses to take care of him.”

“Yes, sir,” said the two PCs as they scrambled to do what Donald commanded.

Laughing triumphantly, Donald picked up a towel from a small medical tray beside one of the beds and started wiping his hands and face to remove the blood.

Dr. Evilyn Heart, still standing by her desk and holding the bloody paper weight said, “What have you done, Donald?”

Stretching his neck from side to side, Donald said, “I’ve fixed our problem. Seems our guest won’t be able to say much to the good ol’ Colonel on account of his being in a rough car accident. And who's to blame? The lovely Special Agent Carol Summer.” He spun on his heel to face her. Summer was sitting, stoney-faced, on the stool where he’d left her.

Digging in his pocket, Donald retrieved the key for her handcuffs and stepped over Adams' unconscious body so he could reach her. “Isn’t that right, Special Agent Carol Summer of the FBI?” he said, reaching around her and unlocking her handcuffs. Once they were removed, he folded them up and put them in his pocket. Summer slowly rubbed her wrists in her lap as Donald grabbed another stool and dropped it in front of her so he could sit down.

Taking both her hands with his own, he examined the tender skin where the cuffs had dug into her wrists. “Not so fun, is it?” he said. Then patting the back of her hands he said, “You have a choice to make, Special Agent Carol Summer. You see, our boss wants to talk to this Booker Dunn character real bad. Seems to think that the kid has some valuable information to share. I have a funny feeling he’s gonna want to talk to you too, seeing as how you tried kidnapping him before we could get a hold of him. He’s not happy about that stunt you pulled. Not one bit.”

Donald let the silence build between them, taking in her pale face, the cuts and road rash scrapes along her neck and arms, and the watery eyes that looked as if they were about to overflow. In a low voice, Donald said, “You’re gonna die here. People who arrive at Groom Lake without an invite don’t make it home, understand me? We’ve got too many government secrets. There is too much risk to national security. And you’re starting out on the Colonel’s wrong side. You can tell him whatever you want, but I guarantee you, when he’s done with you, he’s gonna kill you. Well, I should say, he’s going to have me kill you. That’s what I do around here, you see. I keep the peace. I keep the people in line. I take care of the problems.”

Tears started flowing down her face now, and Donald felt a surge of satisfaction deep in the pit of his stomach. He squeezed her hands tight, trying hard not to smile as he continued. “But I can help you. If you want to go home, see your friends and family again, you’re going to have to work with me. This isn’t about right or wrong anymore. It’s not about the truth or lies. This is about you choosing if you want to live or if you want to die. Simple as that. Understand?”

Summer nodded shakily, and Donald squeezed her hands again. Leaning to one side so she could see Adams sprawled on the clinic floor, surrounded in a pool of his own blood, he said, “It’s time to make your choice, Special Agent Carol Summer of the FBI. Is that young man lying on the floor the same young man you tried kidnapping?”

Donald watched her staring at Adams for a full ten seconds. She finally looked up at him and said, “Yes.”

Donald patted the back of her hands again and said, “Good girl. Now, when the Colonel asks you who that young man is, you’ll say …”

Agent Summer blinked a few times before saying, “I’ll say that’s Booker Dunn.”

“Wrong!” said Donald. “When the Colonel asks who that young boy is, you’ll say you have no idea.”

“But-” she began.

“The Colonel is not interested in names,” said Donald. “And neither are you. Understand?” She frowned at him and sat in silence. Donald took that as confirmation enough and said, “Now, why don’t you tell me why the FBI is so interested in the real Booker Dunn? He tip you off about something? Tell you about some kind of conspiracy? Did he say that people are trying to rob the Colonel of some special tech?” She looked confused and shook her head. “What then?” said Donald.

In a shaky voice, Summer said, “I shouldn’t have gotten myself involved. If I had known that you were -”

“Yes, yes. All water under the bridge,” said Donald, rolling his wrist impatiently. “Why were you so interested in him? Your boss says you know more about him.”

She shook her head and said, hurriedly, “I only know about Joanna. She’s using him for something.”

“The CIA woman?” said Donald, remembering what Kepler had told him. “So Booker Dunn blabbed to the CIA?”

“I don’t know,” said Summer. “I just know that he is part of her plan somehow.”

Squeezing her hands tightly, Donald took a deep breath. “You’re not making any sense. What do you mean the CIA is using him?”

“Joanna is using him,” said Summer, almost frantically. “She used to work for the CIA. We know she has been hired to steal government secrets before; from us at the FBI, the White House, political campaigns offices, embassies. She was the CIA’s best at getting intelligence from governments around the world, including our own. I caught her. But she was never prosecuted or punished. She was just forced to retire. And I’ve been watching her ever since. The only reason she’s here is because she’s after something. And the only reason she is interested in Booker Dunn, is because he is part of her plan somehow.”

Donald leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers against his thighs. “Interesting. But I still don’t see how the boy fits with what you’re saying. What use is he to her?”

“Ask her yourself,” said Summer.

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” said Donald.

“She is here somewhere,” said Summer, letting out a slight scoff.

“Bull shit,” said Donald.

“She was on the plane with us,” said Summer. “Front row beside the CIA Director.”

Donald swore, standing abruptly and causing his stool to go flying. He turned to Evilyn, who was trying to scrub the blood off her hands with a white towel. The bloody paperweight was sitting on her desk. He picked it up and dropped it in the trash bin beside her desk, then snatched the rag out of her hands to clean his own.

Evilyn said, “Now what, genius?”

Donald leaned against the desk and folded his arms. For a moment, he watched Summer with her arms wrapped around herself. She rocked back and forth on her stool. When he’d made up his mind, he said, “Get the supplies you need to wake up the real Booker Dunn and take him somewhere Jacobs won't find him.”

“What am I supposed to do with him?” she said.

“Get him to tell you about the sphere,” said Donald.

“What makes you think he’ll know anything?” she said.

“He has to know. Word is his house - which is Robert’s house, remember - burned down last night. Robert’s football must have gone off a day early, or maybe the kid messed with it and caused it to go off early. Either way, the Colonel’s missing a sphere and the only way he brings the kid here is because the kid knows where it is.”

Evilyn shook her head, rubbing her hands uneasily, saying, “I can’t do this anymore. Our plan is ruined, and now we’ll be lucky to get off this base alive after all this. The CIA, the FBI, and Jacobs are all involved now!”

“Wrong,” Donald hissed. “Our plan worked perfectly. We just weren't there to collect the sphere.”

“You said Robert’s house burned down,” Evilyn hissed back.

“Yeah, well, Robert said we’d have to do this outside. If the football activated inside, that would cause quite a fire when the sphere arrived.” Evilyn rolled her eyes, and Donald said, “The point is, it worked. We can still get out of this. That kid is the key.” He nodded to Booker Dunn, still lying awkwardly on one of the beds.

Evilyn was still shaking her head. She said, “Jacobs is going to find us. We’ll never get away with this. Not now.”

“Just trust me,” said Donald. “Just wake up the kid, find out what he knows. I’ll handle the rest.”

“How am I supposed to get him to talk to me?” she said.

Donald couldn’t help grinning as he looked her up and down. She was fit, and pretty enough with a full figure and nice face. He reached out, brushing the side of her cheek, and she pulled away. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. Your charms worked just fine for his daddy. Like father, like son perhaps,” he said. The topmost button of her high collar blouse was right there, so he pulled it free for her.

Quick as a flash, she slapped him hard across the face. Donald chuckled, as she glared at him, nostrils flared and color flushing her cheeks. “You're sick,” she said.

“No, I’m right,” he said.

“What about Robert?”

Donald was just thinking the same thing. He was fairly certain Robert Dunn had no idea his son had just arrived on the base. He thought it best that it stayed that way. “Robert doesn’t need to know,” said Donald. “Let’s just you and me handle this one.”

“And the CIA woman?” said Evilyn. “God, this whole thing is such a mess!”

Donald shook his head slowly. The CIA woman was indeed a problem. What size problem, he did not know. But if Agent Summer was telling the truth, perhaps she was after the sphere as well. Or something else? Groom Lake has had plenty of run-ins with the CIA over the years, but for the most part, secrets stay inside the base. Maybe this woman was trying to change that.

“I’ll figure it out,” said Donald, watching Agent Summer again.

Adams had been changed out of his uniform and was now lying in a clean bed beside the real Booker Dunn. As the two PCs finished mopping up Adams’s blood from the tile floor, Donald instructed one of them to help Dr. Heart remove the real Booker Dunn from the infirmary. After Dr. Heart and the kid were gone, a few nurses arrived and began attending to Adams and Special Agent Carol Summer. The whole time, Donald leaned against Dr. Heart’s desk, thinking. He could feel a way out of all this. He could still get the sphere. He could figure this out.