JANET

Booker pulled at his shirt collar uncomfortably. He was wearing an airline pilot dress uniform. It was a black suit - a double-breasted jacket with four gold rings around the cuffs and pleated black pants. It came with a black tie, a white collared shirt, freshly shined black shoes and a matching belt. The hat was tucked under his arm.

Dutch had ordered the uniform in Booker’s size from the base exchange across the street from the diner. By the time he was changed and dropped off at the edge of Laketown, they were running late. Outside a guard house blocking access to a tunnel into the mountain, Dutch handed him an ID card. “Do not get caught with that ID card,” he said. “And if you do, you didn’t get it from me, understand?”

“Is it yours?” said Booker.

“Of course not,” he said. “No way I’m giving you my ID, kid.”

“Whose is it?” said Booker.

“It’s a backup. Always have a backup in a place like this, just in case.”

“You stole it?” said Booker.

Dutch waved off Booker’s questioning look, and said, “Listen close, kid. You’re young, but that’s not a dead giveaway you don’t belong. The base has its fair share of young guns. But that doesn’t mean people won’t question whether or not you're legit when they see you. Good news is, Groom Lake operates on a buddy system for the most part. When you’re assigned here, you get a buddy to work with, maybe two. Realistically, you can only talk to your buddy and your direct superiors. It segments the work, and slows everything down, but it ensures no one has the full scope of a project or knows too much about the goings on within projects. Keeps secrets secret, understand?”

“I guess,” said Booker.

“So, a good rule of thumb when you talk to people is that you’re not supposed to talk to them, because they’re not your buddy. Get it? Someone comes up to you and asks why you’re there or what you’re doing, just pretend you have a reason but can’t share it. Pretend they’re dumb for asking.”

“You think that will work?”

Dutch shrugged. “You got a better idea? Just stick close to me, and you should be fine.”

Together, they joined a large group of well-dressed people waiting for the guard to let them through. On the other side of the guard house, electric carts were waiting to ferry guests into the tunnel. It didn’t take long before Dutch and Booker were scanning their ID cards and walking through the barrier to one of the carts.

The tunnel smelled damp and earthy. A few guests sharing the cart exchanged words in low voices, but Booker and Dutch stayed silent. They drove for what felt like several minutes before reaching an old, industrial-looking elevator shaft. It was all exposed metal and wires. When Booker climbed off the car and stood at the base of the elevator to look up, the shaft seemed to stretch for miles above. The lights along the shaft grew dimmer the higher up they were.

In groups of ten, the guests climbed aboard the old elevator and were sent up. One of the women in their group let out a small scream as the elevator creaked and bounced when first taking off. After that, the ride was smooth. They climbed and climbed, gaining speed in the dim elevator shaft. The rocky walls seemed to streak by with incredible speed. When it slowed and they reached the top, Booker could feel the anticipation of the group all around them.

A familiar face was waiting for them at the top of the elevator - One of the PC’s opened the elevator gate for them, smiling and nodding to the guests. Booker looked at Dutch, questioningly. He was wondering if this clone was actually Red. Dutch shook his head, slightly, and Booker took it to mean that this must be just another PC.

The passage from the elevator veered to the right. Lights were strung over their heads, and as they rounded the bend, a pair of huge metal doors came into view. Two more PCs were posted by the metal doors. Dutch and Booker were standing at the back of the group, and when the doors were pushed open, brilliant light washed over them, throwing the tunnel into harsh sunlight.

Booker wasn't the only one who shielded his eyes. Then came exclamations of wonder from the first of the group to get a look inside. Blinking furiously as they crossed the threshold, Booker was slowly able to take in the scene of High Point Hall.

They were standing at one end of a cavernous hall. It must have been 100 yards long, and the entire length of floor was polished marble, dark brown and gray in color. A hundred feet above them was an enormous crystal chandelier, radiating white light around the exposed rock ceiling and walls.

Opposite them was the enormous arched opening carved out of the side of the mountain, exposing the sunlight and an awe-inspiring view of the salt flats and Groom Lake base far below.

From the double doors where they stood, marble steps led down into the hall proper, tables covered with red silk and eccentric place settings were arranged around a square dance floor. Guests were already mingling around the tables, or else sitting for dinner being served by PCs dressed in white jackets with matching white gloves.

To the right of the dance floor was a band stage. The music performed by a group of uniformed PCs reverberated around the cavernous hall, adding a welcoming melody to the general din of talk and laughter from the assembly.

Booker slowly followed Dutch and the group of guests into the party, still drinking in the scene. Upon entering the room, eyes were immediately drawn to the jaw dropping view from the enormous opening to the world outside the mountain. It gave the cave-like room an open-air feeling, and Booker noted a magnificently appointed stone staircase on the left side of the opening that led to a small stone balcony above the rest of the hall. While not large, the balcony above must offer an even more spectacular view of the dried lakebed far below, and, he thought, of the hall itself when looking inward.

It took a while for Booker to collect himself from the unexpected grandeur of the hall, but now he was scanning faces. There were well-to-do looking people all around, but none he recognized. Well, there was one he recognized. The U.S. President, surrounded by a large group, stood in the center of the red clad tables. He was talking to a man in full military dress uniform whose back was turned to Booker. Thinking it wasn’t wise to get too close to that group, Booker turned to the outskirts of the party, pulling Dutch’s sleeve.

“Let’s go this way,” he said in a low voice. “No point getting tangled with that group, is there?”

Dutch, who was also scanning the crowd, only said, “I need a drink.”

As if on cue, a white clad PC walked forward with a tray laden with different drinks. “Gentleman. May I offer you -”

Dutch snatched a lime garnished drink off the tray before the PC finished speaking, drained it, and dropped the empty glass back on the tray. Taking a second drink, Dutch said, “Thanks, pal.”

Booker took a beer from the tray and nodded his thanks. As the PC moved away, Booker noticed the display set up in front of the stoney walls of the hall. Huge, glass displays. Dutch was turning toward the red tables, but Booker grabbed his arm again. “What’s all that stuff?” he said.

Dutch glanced across the hall to the display wall, and said, “Don’t know. Don’t care. Let’s pick a table and lay low. I don’t see Joanna yet.”

“Come on! It won’t hurt to have a look. Joanna’s after something on display, isn’t she?”

“All the more reason not to go over there!” said Dutch.

“We’ve got time. Let’s go,” said Booker, setting off for the display wall. He heard Dutch let out a half frustrated, half resigned sort of groan before following.

There were lots of strange things nestled behind the glass on the display wall. Booker slowly walked along the wall as if examining displays in a museum. There was an enormous stone tablet covered in faded hieroglyphs that looked vaguely Egyptian. A faded map of the world that showed Antarctica as a land full of life, with script written in a language Booker did not know. There were several old books on red velvet pillows, their pages dense with handwritten notes Booker didn’t stop to decipher. There were strange rocks and crystals of various shapes, sizes, and colors. A polished silver needle, about a foot long, and an inch thick, had its own display stand behind thick glass.

There were pictures of people Booker didn’t know, handwritten letters and notes, and a line of even more objects on display that grew in strangeness the more he looked. He saw pieces of scrap metal, weird devices that, he felt, had an inhuman quality to them. There were a few fossils and skeletons on display. A basketball sized rock, split in half so both interior sections were visible, had insect-like fossils buried within. A label below the display said that it was actually a meteorite found in the late 1950s in Russia.

Toward the end of the display wall was a small skeleton, erected on a stand. It was about four feet tall and oddly human in character. But the ribs were a latticework of shapes, the neck unnaturally long, and the eye sockets huge. Booker counted four fingers and four toes. The bones themselves had a green tint to them.

“Is that what I think it is?” said Booker, feeling a shudder run down his spine.

Dutch crossed himself and gave a small, involuntary shake. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I’ve seen some weird stuff before, but nothing like this.”

In the corner of the hall was another, huge skeleton that towered over all. Booker looked up at the long, beaked skull and round eyes. It looks something like a pterodactyl but seemed way too large. The bird-like animal walked on small hind legs, and enormous wings folded at its side so that it would walk along the ground. It stood as tall as a giraffe.

A voice beside them said, “Quetzalcoatlus. Amazing specimen, isn’t she?”

Both Booker and Dutch turned around to see a man with salt and pepper hair and an immaculate black tuxedo walking toward them. He rolled a glass of whiskey in his hand, the ice clinking against the crystal, as he looked up at the skeleton.

“You know, it was my team that recovered this for the Colonel. It’s the only, nearly complete specimen in the world. Stolen back in the 80s. The black market for fossils is something you wouldn’t believe. We received this one in ‘87. Never knew why the Colonel wanted it so badly, but I hear they were sinking money into all kinds of research related to flight back then. Maybe they were scanning the bones, trying to figure out how such a large animal could get off the ground. That’s what Area 51 is all about, isn’t it? Aeronautics. Propulsion,” said the man with a noncommittal jerk of the head.

Booker exchanged a look with Dutch, as the man flashed a grin and stuck out a hand. “Howard Kepler. We met on the tarmac this afternoon.”

Dutch shook hands first, grunting his acknowledgment. To Booker, Kepler said, “And you? Another JANET pilot?”

Booker nodded and shook hands. “Pleasure,” he said.

Kepler’s eyes narrowed and he did not let go of Booker’s hand. “Have we met before?” he said after a moment.

“Not that I know of,” he said.

Kepler finally let go of his hand and sipped his whiskey, saying, “You look familiar. Either way, I’m sure you both will be seeing a lot of me in the coming months.”

Booker said, “Looking forward to it.” Tapping Dutch, and nodding in toward the red tables, he said, “Let’s go find a spot.”

“You know who I am, don’t you?” said Kepler. Booker had already started to move away but stopped. He gave a small shrug, glancing again at Dutch, as Kepler said, “Director. FBI. I’m here on personal invitation from the Colonel.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Dutch, draining his glass and setting it down on a side table.

“You know, you JANET pilots are an unpleasant bunch,” said Kepler, draining his glass and slapping it down beside Dutch’s. “I’d be careful. Both of you. You don’t want to get on my bad side.” As he spoke, a PC walked up to them, holding a replacement drink for Kepler. As he took the fresh drink, Kepler said, “Now hold on a moment. You were at the airstrip this morning, weren't you? I could have sworn I saw you earlier.”

The PC said, “No, sir.”

Booker grinned at Dutch before saying, “I see it’s your first time to Groom Lake, Mr. Kepler.”

Kepler rounded on him and said, “Excuse me?”

“No, excuse me. I think we’ll leave you to it.” Booker turned to go, pulling Dutch with him, but Kepler called him back again.

“Wait just one second,” he said, pointing at Booker’s face with the hand holding his fresh drink. “I do know you. Who are you?”

Booker just shook his head and turned away again.

“Don’t turn your back on me!” said Kepler.

But before he could say more, Booker rounded on him and said, “Enough! I don’t have time to explain how things work at Groom Lake, especially not for someone like you. There are some things that you - yes you - don’t need to know. I suggest, Director Kepler, that you go back to the party. Enjoy your drink. Forget we talked. You might be the Colonel’s guest tonight. But you don’t work here. We do. It should be clear who outranks who on this base. Are we clear?”

Kepler looked supremely taken aback. Booker waited long enough to watch Kepler sputter for a few seconds, then he turned his back on the FBI Director and walked away. His legs were shaking a little as he walked, and he felt cold sweat on his brow. But there was something else burning inside. Could it be excitement he felt? Disbelief? Kepler didn’t call for him to stop again, so he assumed his outburst had worked. After they had made it several yards away, Dutch burst into silent laughter, holding his stomach, and wiping under one of his eyes.

Through suppressed chuckles, he said, “Kid, that was really stupid. You’re going to get us killed, you know that?”

“Screw that guy,” said Booker. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t figure out who I am.”

“You think he’d know you?” said Dutch.

“Well, Joanna and I had a few run-ins with an FBI agent. Carol Summer. She’s after Joanna, and if Agent Summer talked to the FBI director about Joanna, the FBI Director might know who I am. Might cause a problem?”

Shaking his head, and still smiling, Dutch sighed and said, “Kid, why is it that every time you talk, I feel more and more like we’re screwed?”

“Some plan you guys put together,” said Booker, scanning the crowd again. His one objective now was to find his father. If Dutch was right, his dad was out there somewhere. Booker could still help him. From what? He had no idea.

The sun was starting to set outside, turning the sky a brilliant shade of pink. The picturesque view created an ethereal feeling in the hall. Even in Booker’s growing anxiety amidst all these powerful people, he couldn’t help feeling awe at the effect of the sunset on the hall.

Walking amongst the tables and around the outskirts of the dance floor, Booker took a moment to soak in the incredible view out of the enormous open-air side of the hall. And he finally caught sight of his father. He froze and threw out an arm to stop Dutch. Then he pointed, and Dutch said, “There he is, kid. Now what?”

Robert Dunn, tall, bearded, and wearing his finest tuxedo, stood away from the guests by the mouth of the cave that was High Point Hall. Hands behind his back, a familiar stern expression on his face, he struck quite a figure with the setting sun at his back. Beside him was the man in full military dress who had been talking to the president earlier. Before Booker could figure out the best way for them to approach his father, a woman with red hair and a floor length black gown approached and stood at his father’s side. As she whispered something in his ear, Booker realized who it was; Dr. Evilyn Heart.

‘Damit,’ he thought, turning his back to them as Evilyn’s eyes scanned the room. Now he was looking at the opposite side of the room, at the huge metal doors from which they had all arrived. As he looked, the doors began to slowly swing open. A singular figure emerged from the darkness of the mountain tunnel. She walked slowly into the hall, bathed in pink and yellow light from the setting sun. Her crimson gown would no doubt shine in a sea of black and white clad guests, and her blonde hair seemed to glow in the setting sun.

Booker could feel heads all around him turning to watch Joanna Jones enter the hall and descend the marble steps toward the throng of guests. All eyes were on her, but she had eyes for only one person. Booker felt a rush as she looked right at him and smiled.

✦✦✦

When Summer was pulled by the arm into the cavernous High Point Hall, she couldn’t help but feel overcome with a sense of awe. Captain Tully had made sure they took the elevator up through the mountain alone. Once they entered the hall, he pulled her to the side, away from the crowd of people gathering around the red tables by the dance floor.

Standing by a doorway that led to a kitchen prep area, he said, “Alright Agent Summer. You’re up. Where’s the CIA woman?”

Servers dressed in white jackets with white gloves buffeted them as they hurried in and out of the prep area, carrying plates of savory steaks or butter fish files, or trays of fresh drinks. Summer scanned the faces in the room as best she could through the constant movement of the servers. To her surprise she recognized many of them. The Vice President was there. The actual President too. There were senators, military generals, and, of course, the CIA director sitting alone by a table, looking bored.

“I don’t see her,” said Summer.

Captain Tully squeezed her arm tighter and said, “Keep looking!”

Summer gritted her teeth and continued scanning. She caught sight of Howard Kepler in the crowd and her heart leapt. If anyone here could help her, it was Kepler. He might be a pompous ass, but if he saw Joanna at the party, there is no way he could continue ignoring Summer. He had to take her seriously, and he could help her out of this.

She watched as Kepler bounced from group to group and slowly made his way to one side of the Hall where huge glass displays ran along the rocky wall. She saw Kepler talking to two men dressed in pilot uniforms. One man was large. The other, relatively small and young in comparison. They were standing in front of what looked like a huge flying dinosaur skeleton - what on earth that was doing here? When the two pilots turned away from Kepler, she saw the younger man’s face clearly and gasped.

“See her?” said Tully.

“No,” she said hastily, unable to look away from Booker Dunn’s face. He must be much more involved in Joanna’s plan than she could have imagined. But how? What purpose did he serve here? How had she got him into the Gala?

“Ain’t the CIA known for being crafty? Maybe she’s got a wig, or a strange outfit to help her blend in. She’s down there somewhere.” Summer scoffed, and Donald rounded on her. “You have something to say?”

“Joanna doesn’t ‘blend.’”

“Then where the hell is she?”

As he spoke the double doors of the hall opened, a single person entered the room. Setting off a box of fireworks wouldn’t have drawn the eyes of everyone in the hall more effectively than Joanna did in her shining red dress. Even the band set up by the dance floor seemed to reach a crescendo as the doors swung open. Summer shook her head in disbelief. Jaonna’s dress looked almost as perfect as her blond hair and radiant smile. All the men and even some of the women in the crowd seemed awestruck by her grand entrance into the hall.

Beside her, Donald let out a low whistle and said, “As I live and breathe. That's our girl?”

“That’s her,” she said.

Donald chuckled and shook his head, squeezing her arm painfully. Then he grabbed one of the servers walking by and handed Summer over to him, saying, “Watch her. She doesn’t talk to anyone; she doesn’t move from this spot. And if she makes a sound -'' he pulled a handgun from his belt and handed it to the PC - “use this to hit her as hard as you can in the head and drag her out of here. Understand?” The PC looked shocked, but slowly took the gun and took Summer by the arm.

Donald reached into his pocket and pulled out the handcuffs he’d removed from Summer’s wrist earlier that day. He quickly cuffed her wrists, and she winced as they squeezed her tender skin. “Don’t get any ideas,” said Donald.

Summer glanced at the PC, who gave her an almost apologetic look. Summer returned the nastiest look she could muster before saying to Donald, “Good luck.”

Donald grinned over his shoulder as he walked away, following Joanna around the opposite side of the room. Summer looked back into the large group at the center of the hall around the table to find Booker Dunn again.

✦✦✦

Donald took a long, slow breath as he followed the woman in the red dress, sizing her up. On the far side of the hall, he watched her examining the different displays within their glass cases. Other guests were mingling around the displays as well, chatting and toasting each other with their drinks. Donald weaved in and out, getting closer to the red dressed woman.

When he was ten feet away, he waited and watched, hiding behind a gaggle of guests. What was she looking for? The woman scanned over some old, dusty looking rocks on plinths. She ignored the old Egyptian hieroglyphics, the dusty looking scrolls, the strange metal devices, and finally reached a display of different handwritten notes, photographs, and charts. Donald had seen them all before. Just a bunch of useless junk. Nothing of interest to him.

The woman looked closely at several of the photographs and charts. When she reached a collection of photographs displayed in a grid of five by five, she leaned closer to the glass, her eyes growing wide. She went so far as to touch the glass as she drank in the display in apparent amazement and, perhaps, slight amusement.

Now, he felt, was the time to reveal himself. Brushing through the group of guests separating them, he closed the distance in a few long strides, and said, “You must be, Joanna.”

She didn’t look away from the display for a moment. Instead, she let out a small, seemingly unintentional chuckle, and said, “And you must be Captain Tully.” She looked at him, her face alight with excitement.

In spite of himself, Donald let himself enjoy her figure and pretty face for a moment. Then he inclined his head and said, “My reputation precedes me.”

“Your infamy precedes you,” she said, offering him her hand. “I’ve heard that you're not a very nice man, Captain Tully.”

“Then you must have heard wrong,” said Donald, taking her hand and kissing it. “I consider myself a gentleman at heart. Though my responsibilities require a cold heart at times here at Groom Lake, I am a fair Captain.” He held her hand firm, looking her straight in the eye, but she didn’t pull away. To his surprise, she squeezed his fingers tighter and moved closer to him.

In a low voice, she said, “I doubt that very much, Captain Tully.”

Donald clenched his jaw as he let her go and looked at the display she’d found so enthralling. He’d seen it before. A grouping of photos. Each photo showed the same man in different locations. Beside the grid layout of photos was a drawing of some kind. There were geometric shapes, arrows pointing out different parts of the shapes, and mathematical equations scribbled all over it. Could this really be what she was after?

Tearing his eyes away from the display, he looked at her again - again, soaking in her pretty face. Smiling, he said, “How does a woman like you rustle up an invitation to Groom Lake, I wonder”

“You don’t know?” she said.

“Enlighten me,” he said.

“I’ve offered to help the Colonel with something special,” she said.

“And what would that be?” said Donald.

“It seems the Colonel has had something stolen from him,” she said.

“Is that so?” said Donald, heart leaping in his chest. “And what would that be?”

Joanna didn’t answer. She just grinned mischievously and went back to examining the display of photos and the drawing.

Glancing at the display again, Donald tried provoking her, saying, “I have it on good authority you have more on your mind than just ‘helping the Colonel,’ as you say.”

“Is that so?” she said. “Whose good authority?”

It was his turn to grin. “Oh, no one special. Just a mutual friend. She tells me that you’re well known for those light little fingers; She says you like stealing things from important people. Is that why you’re here? Could this be why you’re here?” he said, rapping the glass with his knuckles.

Joanna laughed and said, “Why would I be interested in these? A few photos and drawings? They’re meaningless.”

“Are they?” said Donald.

Joanna grinned again. “If you’re so worried, you’re just going to have to keep a close eye on me. Enjoy the party, Captain.”

With that she walked away, slowly descending the marble steps to the tables below. Donald examined the display again. Among other shapes, the drawing showed a circular diagram with handwritten notes all around. He didn’t understand the calculations, and that wasn’t because of the handwriting. It was because Donald hated math. He scoffed in disgust and looked over the grid of photos, scanning them quickly.

They all showed the same man. Some showed him in front of grand landscapes, or cityscapes. The quality of the photos was all over the place. Some were digital. Some looked to be high quality film. Others looked so brown and old; they reminded him of something you’d see in a civil war documentary. For a moment, Donald thought that the man in the photos looked familiar. But that must be because he’d seen these so many times before.

As he examined one of the photos that showed the man with a bushy beard, standing by a stone railing with a river and tall skyscrapers behind him, a reflection in the display glass caught his eye. Seeing the face in the reflection, made Donald’s whole body tense, and he felt a rush as he wheeled around

It couldn’t have been who he thought it was, but, sure enough, as Donald scanned the crowd, he saw him. Booker Dunn was dressed in a pilot’s uniform and walking among the red clad tables. He was standing beside the JANET pilot from that afternoon - the large man with the mustache.

Donald gritted his teeth, his eyes boring into the side of Booker Dunn’s face. Then he looked at the CIA woman again. Her red dress acted like a beacon in the sea of black and white. She was parting the crowd, nodding and simpering to all passersby, going in the opposite direction as Booker Dunn.

Donald made up his mind quickly. Grabbing another uniformed PC by the collar, he pointed out Joanna Jones and said, “See that woman in the red dress? Don’t take your eyes off her for even a second! If you see her tampering with one of these displays, kill her! If you see her getting cozy with the Colonel, you come and get me, understand?”

He shoved the PC away and dove into the crowd after Booker Dunn. If that kid managed to catch Robert’s eye, or - even worse - the Colonel’s eye, he was finished. Donald cracked his neck, eyes glued to the back of Booker’s head, knowing he couldn’t let that happen.

Donald was at the back section of tables when the band stopped and there was a call for silence at the front of the hall. The Colonel was about to begin the presentation. Donald was jostled as guests scrambled to find their seats. Through the surging sea of black-tie guests, he saw Booker Dunn and the other JANET pilot take seats five or six tables in front of him.

Looking even further up the hall, he saw Joanna Jones sitting close to the CIA Director. Donald hesitated a moment, but slowly sank into a chair. From here, he could see them both. He wouldn’t take his eyes off them. Not for one second.

✦✦✦

James Lakewood, the Director of the CIA, wasn’t interested in the conversation at his table. Most gossiped about the president. Rumors were spreading that he was recovering from some kind of surgery performed on the base. What kind of surgery had it been? Lakewood didn’t care.

He was more interested in High Point Hall. He’d always wondered what it would look like, and he wasn’t disappointed. The cavernous room, bathed in golden light, was marvelous. He sat quietly, enjoying the view of the setting sun. That was, until a familiar, sultry voice behind him said, “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

He smiled. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said. “I promised you a dance, didn’t I?”

“You did indeed,” he said. “And, you were right. That dress is spectacular.”

“Oh, James. I’d believe you if you actually took a moment to look at me.”

“I don’t need to. I saw all these heads turn a moment ago. You’re the only woman who could have that effect on a whole room,” he said, gesturing to all the men at the surrounding tables.

“Not the whole room,” she said, “Are you worried you’ll be disappointed?”

Lakewood turned in his seat to look at her. She sat in the chair behind him, hair curled, cheeks flushed, and shoulders bare in her strapless gown. He couldn’t help but smile. She looked absolutely stunning. A vision of youth, confidence, and beauty as she always seemed to be. “You look wonderful tonight,” he said.

She smiled that smile he knew so well. “You know it’s all for you.”

He chuckled and turned back to face the setting sun. “It might all be for me, but I wonder how you expect to get your job done when every eye in the hall is on you, my dear. Not ideal for the job at hand.”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport, James. You know I can’t resist a good party,” she said.

He chuckled again, and said, “How's our friend, Booker Dunn?”

“Better than I could have imagined,” she said.

“So, your plan is working?”

“Not as I expected. Booker seems to be full of surprises. But he is serving his purpose”

“You located the documents?”

“I did,” she said.

“And?”

“You were right. I understand why you find them so important. I’m not sure that I believe it quite yet, but I understand.”

“Don’t think about it too hard,” he said, grinning to himself.

“Does he know?”

“He might know. He might not.”

“Oh, you’re such a tease,” she said.

“We’re against the clock now. I hope you have a plan to distract all these people so you can make the lift.”

“We have time,” she said. “Time for one last dance before the night is over.”

✦✦✦

Summer, still standing off to the side by the server station, watched as the room went silent and the Colonel began the presentation. The PC holding her arm seemed agitated. His head was on a swivel. He was nothing like the other clones she’d seen so far.

As the Colonel began to speak, Summer felt the PC squeeze her arm and say, “Okay listen close. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. You stay right here. Don’t move until I get back, understand me?”

“You’re leaving?” Summer hissed in disbelief.

She watched as the PC grabbed another server and whispered instructions as he pointed at her. The new PC looked her up and down, nodded and then moved to stand beside her.

“Where are you going?” she hissed, as the first PC shoved the handgun into his waistband and covered it with his white jacket. The PC glanced back at her, before picking up a drinks tray and heading off into the crowd. “Where is he going,” said Summer, talking to the PC now standing beside her.

Summer watched the PC weave through the tables, dropping off drinks and taking empty plates. The crowd had eyes only for the Colonel as he introduced Dr. Robert Dunn. Summer tore her eyes away from the PC weaving through the crowd at the sound of the name. Robert Dunn - Booker’s father.

She watched as Robert took the stage and paced back and forth. His voice projected around the room, but Summer couldn’t listen. Something deep down - call it instinct - told her that tonight's real events revolved around the PC with the gun. She scanned the crowd and realized her mistake. She shouldn’t have looked away. The hall was full of identical servers in white jackets with white gloves. The PC had disappeared more effectively than if he’d melted into the walls.

She swore under her breath, eyes darting from face to face among the identical servers. Which one was he? What was he going to do? Whatever it was, he hadn’t planned on Summer seeing him. Donald had pulled him out of the crowd like he was just another clone, but he wasn’t! He was different. But how? She was dimly aware of the crowd oohing and ahhing about something, but she kept searching.

She was beginning to feel desperate when she finally found him. It had to be him. Across the room, on the display wall, was a server, identical to the rest. He stood in front of one of the displays, facing the stage, hands behind his back. But as Summer watched, several other servers walked in front of him, holding trays laden with dishes and empty drinks glasses and he was obscured from view. She could see that he was fiddling with the display.

“Oh my god,” said Summer in a low voice. Quickly, she scanned the crowd below, watching the presentation. Donald was sitting at a table near the rear. Even from here, she could see him glaring at Joanna, who, in her red dress, stood out like a sore thumb. “All eyes on you,” said Summer, letting out a small chuckle. Typical Joanna. While your eyes are looking one way, she is making things happen in the opposite direction.

Summer looked back to the display and saw the servers dispersing. There were three - no four - of them leaving the display wall. Which one had made the lift? Glancing at the display, it looked unchanged. But she knew that could be the case. It was so quick. So effortless. They had taken something.

But the PC had disappeared just as effortlessly among the other servers. Whatever they’d taken, Summer realized, it could be anywhere in the room.

✦✦✦

Bantering back and forth with Joanna, Lakewood couldn’t help chuckling as the Colonel signaled for the band to stop and the hall slowly fell silent. Standing with the setting sun at his back, Colonel Jacobs struck an impressive figure. Tall, broad chested, bald, and scowling with the grizzled look of a career military man. Hands behind his back, he waited for complete silence to fall before he spoke.

“Good evening,” said the Colonel, his voice seeming to effortlessly project around the cavernous hall. “Please take your seats. To any first time guests, welcome. To any returning guests, welcome back.” He waited as the last few stragglers around the hall found a seat at one of the large red tables. “This is High Point Hall. You’re here today to bear witness to the greatest technological leap forward of our lives, and the lives of all man to have existed or will exist. Our world changes today, ladies and gentlemen. Whether it’s for the better or worse is for you to decide. I urge you to pay close attention, and respect what you are about to see.”

The Colonel gestured to the man standing behind him with one arm and said, “Dr. Robert Dunn. The floor is yours.” As the Colonel departed, Robert Dunn was left alone at the end of the hall. All eyes faced him as a few of the PCs dressed in their white jackets and white gloves rolled out five metal pedestals. The top of each pedestal was covered with a black sheet.

Robert waited for the five pedestals to take position behind him before speaking. He paced in front of them for a moment, one hand to his lips as if contemplating his words carefully. When he spoke, his voice echoed eerily around the hall. “The future. What does the future hold? Here at Groom Lake, we don’t think in terms of years into the future. We think in terms of decades. What technology will revolutionize the world twenty years from now? Fifty years from now?”

He let the question dangle over the silent hall for a few moments, taking time to look into the faces of his audience. “What does the future hold?” he said again. “Imagine, if you will, that you’re a person from the year 1900 - just over 100 years ago. Not even the blink of an eye on the cosmic scale - ask yourself the same question. What does the future hold? In the year 1900, you travel around by horse and buggy or by train. One woman in six dies in childbirth. It takes weeks to cross the Atlantic Ocean. Travel across the United States has only recently become possible. You’re incredibly vulnerable to infection. Now, imagine that someone comes up to you and says that there will be airplanes invented, and also jet airplanes, and supersonic airplanes. You can go from London to New York in three hours. There will be a single bomb that can level entire cities. It’s going to involve a new technology that you don’t understand because you have yet to understand what holds the atom together or even what the atom looks like. There will be tiny devices that fit inside your pocket that can perform all kinds of calculations and connect you with people all around the world. Kids will be able to use them.”

Again, Robert let silence fall around the hall. Not until the last echo of his voice dissipated did he go on. “If you told these things to a person in the year 1900, I think they’d try to have you committed. Why? Because the future is something they couldn’t possibly imagine.”

Robert moved aside so that his audience had a full view of the five pedestals behind him, and the PCs standing there pulled the black covers away. Atop each pedestal sat a gleaming silver sphere. They each emanated a strange blue glow, but it was impossible to see where the light originated from. “What you’re about to see is something you never could have imagined,” said Robert.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, but then each sphere shimmered slightly and levitated off their pedestal. The PCs rolled away the pedestals so that the spheres could float freely. A small murmur rippled through the audience as the spheres floated forward, completely silent. Then there were shouts and screams of alarm as the first of the onlookers saw the object outside.

In the pink and yellow sky, an enormous white object was descending toward them. It seemed to camouflage perfectly with the sky at first, but as it grew larger and larger, more people saw it. The white oblong object looked perfectly smooth, like a giant tic-tac. A low hum seemed to shake the walls of the hall as the huge object floated into the mouth of the cave, completely blocking the view of the sky and salt flats below. They were all cast into a sudden, cool darkness. The chandelier above cast dancing yellow light over the room, extenuating the shadows pressing in around them.

The five silver spheres rose up and began circling the giant white craft: three horizontally and two vertically. Once the white craft came to a stop, the humming ceased. The onlookers were buzzing, watching the spheres silently orbit around the enormous pill-shaped craft. Robert regained his position center stage, the craft behind him, and the crowd slowly fell silent again. Gesturing to the craft, Robert said, “I present to you, man’s new technological frontier. Our first gravity engine space craft.”

Stunned silence lingered, then a slow outburst of applause began to ring through the hall. The thunderous cheers lasted for what must have been over a minute before Robert, smiling, raised his hands for silence. “We’ve successfully created a stable, non-decaying, variant of element 115 to produce a self-sustaining fuel cell to power the anti-gravity shielding around each craft you see here. They never need refueling, they never overheat, they’re completely stable.”

Four legs unfolded from the giant white craft and a doorway slid open from invisible seams on the surface. The craft touched down and a ramp descended, allowing the onlookers a small glimpse into the belly of the craft. There was not much to see, but there was a light source within, and room to move around.

“We’ve designed the craft for a crew of four. There’s space for bunks, a research station, storage for supplies, and a bridge for operation. The silver spheres you see orbiting the craft are not just for show either. Those are the key components of our gravity engine. The craft has the ability to operate on its own power, reaching speeds north of Mach 20. But the spheres engage a different kind of propulsion.”

The legs of the craft retracted, and the doorway slid closed. Even knowing the location of the door, it was impossible to see the seams on the craft’s surface once the door closed. It slowly floated backward out of the hall, revealing the last traces of pink sky on the horizon. The silver spheres continued orbiting the craft silently as it settled a few hundred yards away from the mountainside.

The spheres started to orbit faster now, emanating more blue light as they did so. Soon, the air around the craft seemed to shimmer and distort. The effect was unnatural and caused the hairs on Lakewood’s arm to stand on end. As the spheres orbited faster and faster around the white craft, a whine like a spooling turbine engine began to build in volume. It grew louder and louder, pressing against the eardrums, vibrating the very air around them. When it reached a point where many in the crowd were covering their ears in pain, the sound dissipated. The air stopped vibrating.

The white craft hovered silently in the air now. The spheres were no longer visible at all except for a blue glow that encircled the entire craft.

Robert said, “The craft is no longer moving under its own power. The spheres orbiting around it are bending space, cocooning the craft in its own gravitational field. This is our gravity engine. No longer do we need to rely on rockets to fight off the effects of gravity. For as long as we have existed, we’ve been bound by the laws of gravity. Trapped on this earth, fighting to break free and travel to the furthest stars. It’s finally possible. But not by fighting gravity. By bending it. This craft doesn’t need to move at all. Instead of moving through space, the gravity engine moves the space around the craft. Speed is limitless. Distance is meaningless. With the snap of our fingers, the cosmos are within our reach.”

Robert snapped his fingers, and the craft disappeared. The only indication that it had moved at all was a shudder throughout the entire mountain, like a small earthquake. More screams of surprise rent the air, but then there was laughter and riotous applause. Someone shouted, “Where did it go?” Robert explained that it was merely sent back down to the ground. They only wanted to show the speed at which the gravity engine could operate. More questions were now being thrown out from every direction. There were detailed scientific questions, but even more questions about military application. How did Robert and his team plan on using this technology for first strike weapons? Could the shielding protect from a nuclear detonation? Was the white, tic-tac shaped craft armed? Robert’s face fell into a cold scowl as he slowly diffused their expectations, insisting that the technology’s potential lay in the stars above, not in warmongering.

Lakewood had seen enough though. He turned in his chair to check on Joanna. She rested one arm on the back of her chair so she could look at him and said, “You seem underwhelmed. Don’t tell me you already knew about all this too?”

He laughed, and said, “There are more important things to occupy my thoughts tonight. Like how this plan of yours is going to work out.”

“Hush,” said Joanna. “Don’t worry so much. I’ve got this under control.”

The Colonel had returned and was explaining that a more technical briefing would take place the following morning with a plan for the rollout of the new tech. He dismissed the angry looking Dr. Robert Dunn from the spotlight and called up the President and the First Lady to open the dance floor and start the party proper. The band played Hail to the Chief to a smattering of applause, then began a nice tune so that dancing could commence.

All watched the president and the first lady for a moment, but others slowly joined. Joanna stood, taking Lakewood by the hand, saying, “Shall we?”

Lakewood allowed himself to be led onto the dance floor, and a few moments later, he and Joanna were revolving through the crowd together. He marked all the gentlemen eyeing his partner with interest and sighed. “Ever the envy of all,” he said.

“Yet I always choose you,” she said.

“You sure know how to flatter an old man,” he said.

“An old friend,” she said, kissing his cheek.

God, he loved working with her. Joanna was clever - cunning even - could never resist showing off, and always knew how to make his spirits soar. Whatever she did, she did with flair, and he was sure she had something special up her sleeve for him. He smiled, enjoying the dance, until finally saying, “So, when do you plan on putting your plan into action?”

“As always, you’re two steps behind,” she said.

“You’ve got it already? I’m almost disappointed. No dramatic reveal? No sense of drama? I’ve missed the whole thing.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “So little faith. You asked for quick and clean. I think this is cause for celebration, don’t you think?”

“Indeed,” said Lakewood.

“A toast then,” she said. Joanna had guided him around the dance floor and toward the outskirts as they spoke. When they broke apart, a waiter was waiting for them, holding a silver tray in one hand with a cold beer and a glass of whiskey. Joanna plucked the two drinks off the tray, handed the beer to Lakewood, and said, “To another successful partnership.”

They clinked glasses, and Lakewood sipped his beer. “So, where is it then?”

“It’s right here,” said Joanna, taking another sip of her drink.

Lakewood chuckled and said, “Are you hiding it under that dress somewhere?” But as he spoke, the server was holding out the silver tray toward them. Sitting in the center of the tray was a stack of photographs and a hand scrawled note with diagrams and math equations drawn all over it. Lakewood looked at the server, who winked, then to Joanna, whose eyes sparkled over the top of her whiskey glass.

“No,” said Lakewood, looking at the server. “I don’t believe it!”

“Believe it,” she said. “On a silver platter. As promised.”

As Joanna plucked the photos and the note off the tray and shoved them into a small envelope produced from the slit of her dress, Lakewood burst out laughing. “You lifted these?” he said to the server. When the server nodded, he said, “When you can’t blend in, find someone who can.” Looking at Joanna once more, said, “Ever the envy of all! You’ve always been able to turn heads.”

“In this case, it’s to make sure they look where I want them too,” she said, tossing a strand of hair behind her neck.

The server melted into the crowd around the dance floor. Joanna handed her almost full glass to him and said, “If you don’t mind, James, I have a few things to wrap up before the party ends.”

She left him there on the edge of the dance floor. He called out to her, and she looked back over her shoulder. “That’s one hell of a dress,” he said. She smiled and continued on, disappearing into the sea of black and white.

✦✦✦

Booker watched his father give the presentation from somewhere in the middle of the crowd. He had a general idea of what his father did for a living, but this was beyond anything he ever could have imagined. The well-dressed people sitting around his table oohed and aahed at all the right moments, but they also seemed to take the whole thing in stride and quickly moved on once the presentation was over. Two of the older men sitting close to him put their heads together to talk about the beautiful blond in the red dress sitting a few tables away.

Booker watched his father closely as the Colonel opened the dance floor by calling up the President and his wife. Robert Dunn hovered in the growing shadows of the High Point Hall balcony, the sky growing dark behind him. When he moved, Booker moved.

As Booker stood up, Dutch grabbed his arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Booker shook him off and said, “I’ve got to do this.”

Robert was walking around the side of the dance floor, toward a drink station manned by one of the PCs in a white jacket and black bowtie. As Booker stood, the entire throng of guests seemed to stand up as well. He began weaving his way through the crowd as many joined the dance floor, or ambled around looking for acquaintances with whom they could gossip about the presentation. Booker was jostled by someone backing their chair away from their table and he was pushed into a woman with her back turned to him.

“Sorry,” said Booker, as the woman turned to face him. To his horror, the woman was Dr. Heart. She looked annoyed, then there was a flash of recognition on her face, and she said, “You!” She grabbed Booker’s arm, her acrylic nails digging into his sleeve. He yanked free of her grip and bolted into the crowd. Dr. Heart tried pursuing him, but she was blocked by the guests moving around the table, quickly creating a barrier between them.

Now Booker was moving away from his father, deeper into the group of guests. He looked left and right and saw a man shoving his way through the crowd, making a b-line right toward him. The man had light brown hair swept straight back, a toothpick clenched in his teeth, and a nasty look on his face. Booker gulped as the man’s narrowed eyes seemed to bore like drill bits right into Booker’s face.

He changed directions again and saw Dr. Heart closing in on him. He changed directions again, stepping on a few toes and drawing some angry outbursts from the nearest guests. He looked all around for his father but couldn’t see him anywhere. As he looked around, he realized he had stumbled right onto the dance floor. Couples were all around him, spinning and moving in all directions in time to the music.

Then someone grabbed him firmly by the shoulder’s and spun him around. He pushed the attacker away, but strong hands spun him around and a familiar voice said, “Easy there, Wonderboy.”

Joanna had grabbed one of his hands, pushed his other onto her hip, and spun him effortlessly around the dance floor, leading him in a slow waltz. He caught a whiff of her perfume as he looked over her head and saw the angry looking man snapping his toothpick and hovering around the edge of the dance floor. He watched them closely. As they spun around, he saw Dr. Heart, her fancy updo looking slightly disheveled now, also watching them closely from the sidelines.

Joanna said, “What’s a handsome young man like you doing in a place like this?”

Catching sight of the angry man again as the music swelled, he said, “I won’t be here for long. I think they found me.”

Joanna spun away from him, her dress flowing around her effortlessly, then circled him. Her eyes scanned the room as her arm grazed his chest, the back of his shoulders, and then she was in front of him, and they were moving again. She squeezed him close and said, “Maybe so. But they can’t get you here. We can enjoy each other for a moment.”

“Who is that?” said Booker, talking about the angry looking man.

“Captain Donald Tully. He’s one of the bad guys.”

“What does that make you?”

“You’re not still upset about getting drugged, are you?”

“Upset? You never said anything about drugging me and handing me over to the bad guys.”

“I said I’d take care of you.”

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it.”

She chuckled softly in his ear. He could feel her warm breath on his neck as she said, “Oh, Booker. Have I fallen so far out of favor?”

“Out of favor? That FBI woman was right. I shouldn’t have been so trusting. Now I’m stuck here.’

“Ah, Summer does have a talent for getting mixed up in these types of things. She’s here too, you know. Do you want to talk to her? Help her put a stop to my plan?”

“I want to find my father! You said he was in trouble!”

“He is in trouble.”

“It doesn’t look like that from my angle.”

“He can’t help you like I can. I’ll tell you what - help me finish this, and I promise to get you home, safe and sound, before tomorrow morning.” She nodded to the stone balcony at the edge of the hall’s open-air side. “See that balcony up there? I just need to get up there, drop off a small little envelope, and then we’re done.”

“That’s it? You already got what you came for? How?”

“I just need help keeping prying eyes away for a few moments. I don’t want Captain Tully or your red-haired friend getting in the way. Help me with this?”

“No, I’m out. Sorry, Joanna.”

The music slowed as the band reached the final notes. “I’m sorry too,” said Joanna.

“For almost getting me killed?” said Booker.

“No. For this.” As they spun one last time, and the music stopped, Joanna stuck out her foot and Booker tripped. His momentum from the dance carried him clean off his feet as Joanna suddenly let him go, and he tumbled to the ground. He slid on the polished dance floor, catching a glimpse of Joanna disappearing into the crowd of dancing couples, now clapping and cheering in appreciation of the dance. Then he banged into someone and came to a stop on his back.

“Hey! Watch it!” said a voice above him.

Booker looked up and saw his father, Robert Dunn looking down at him. Robert’s face lit up with shock as Booker grinned at him. “Hi, Dad,” he said, with a small wave. Dr. Heart and Captain Tully appeared on either side of his father, all three looking down at him. Booker sighed, and said, “Crap.”

✦✦✦

Summer watched the dance closely, seeing Joanna grab Booker Dunn and wheel him around as Captain Tully and Doctor Heart hovered like vultures. But they were focused on Booker, not Joanna. It was agonizing having to watch helplessly as Booker fell to the ground, right at their feet. Joanna was on the move again, a shining red jewel.

Her mind was fogged with tiredness and stress, but she felt a surge of focus as she watched Joanna ascending the stone steps on the opposite side of the hall toward a marble balcony. In the corner of her eye, she saw the shadow of a bird swoop in and out of sight outside the hall’s cavernous opening to the outside world. It was all happening right now, right before her eyes. Joanna was almost to the top of the stairs, easily sidestepping a pair of guests who were on their way back down.

It was now or never. She wouldn’t let Joanna win. Not again! But what could she do? Desperate, she scanned around herself for a weapon. If she could fight free of the PC holding her, she could make a run for it.

Then she saw him - the PC with the gun tucked into his waistband. He was ten paces away, pulling his jacket off and heading for the door to the prep area beside them. Summer saw the black grip of the handgun as he wrapped the jacket into a ball in his arms. He was leaving the hall.

Summer acted fast. She jerked her arm free of the PC’s grip easily, stamped on his foot, and elbowed him hard in the face. She felt a crunch as his nose broke. The PC fell, holding his bloody face and yelling in pain.

Summer was off and running - she needed that sidearm. The PCs around her were all still in shock, trying to figure out what had just happened. Hands still cuffed, she drove both fists up into a tray in one of the server’s hands, causing all the drinks to crash over the floor as he fell. Summer seized the tray as he went down and kept running. She was five steps away from the PC with the handgun.

He was turning, a look of stunned disbelief spreading across his face as she descended on him. Raising the tray with both hands, she struck him hard over the head. They tray produced a loud gong sound and the PCs face went slack as he fell straight back to the ground. Summer rolled him over, pulled the gun free and wheeled around, ready for anyone. She was quickly surrounded by servers in white jackets, but they all backed away at the sight of the gun.

Then she was off again. She didn’t stop to look at the crowd. Music was still playing, and the general hum of the guests didn’t seem changed. Not yet anyway. Lungs burning, she ran around the outskirts of the party, right toward the balcony steps.

“Out of the way,” she yelled, as a few guests ambled nearby. She needn't have shouted. Once they caught sight of her, holding the gun aloft and hurrying forward, they couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.

She kept stumbling, and she found it hard to breathe because of the sharp pain in her ribs. They might be broken, but it only made her want to run harder. She was at the balcony steps. She ran up them two at a time! She was at the top, wheeling around. Joanna was there, standing at the edge of the railing, looking up at the stars.

“Joanna!” she shouted, aiming the gun at her.

Joanna turned, and her mouth fell open. ‘That’s right,’ Summer thought vindictively. ‘You’re not getting away with it this time!’ Joanna was slowly raising her hands. She said, “Summer, you don’t want to do this.”

There were shouts from below, and Summer could hear footsteps ascending the stone steps behind her. “Where is it?” she shouted. “What have you taken?”

“Summer, put down the gun,” said Joanna calmly.

“Where is it!”

Behind Joanna, a shadow seemed to swoop down from the night sky and land on the stone balcony among the planters full of greenery. The bird was poking its beak through the ferns, pulling out a white, square envelope. The wings unfurled and flapped, as it began to take flight again.

Summer wheeled the gun barrel around, took aim, and fired. One. Two. Three shots! Joanna ducked as the bullets whizzed by her. Screams erupted from all directions, echoing around the hall. A burst of feathers in the air showed that Summer’s aim was true. She caught a glimpse of the white envelope that had been in the bird’s beak fluttering away into the night, disappearing in the shadow of the mountain side.

✦✦✦

Lying on the floor, Booker grinned sheepishly up at his father as Captain Tully reached down and grabbed him by the collar. He was wrenched to his feet with incredible strength and had just enough time to gain his footing before he was being dragged away. “Dad!” he yelled, but before he could say more, he caught a fist in his stomach and doubled over in pain. Through watering eyes, he saw his father standing still, looking stunned, as his son was being shoved into the waiting arms of two uniformed PCs.

Donald said, “Get him out of here. Take him to the temple!”

The guests around them looked confused and alarmed. They were making way as Booker was dragged away from the party, but Booker only had eyes for his father, who was now being joined by the Colonel. Robert Dunn didn’t speak, but the Colonel was pointing aggressively at Booker, and speaking quickly. Captain Tully moved to block Booker from view as he was dragged away, looking as if he intended on trying to diffuse the situation.

Gunshots erupted from somewhere in the hall. Pop! Pop! Pop!

Screams followed and no longer was anyone looking at Booker. People were rushing around, ducking for cover and grabbing the people closest for support. Booker’s last view of High Point Hall before he was dragged through the double doors was of mass confusion and alarm. The guests were scattering. His father was visible, but his back was turned to him. Standing above it all, atop the balcony, a beautiful blond in a shining red gown stood perfectly still and calm. Joanna’s eyes were on him, a dark starry night sky at her back, as the double doors closed him into the darkness of the mountain tunnel.