Ottawa, Canada
2400 Hours
His code name was Janus. He was addressing twelve men in the heavily guarded room of a military compound.
"As you have all been informed, Operation Doomsday has been activated. There are a number of witnesses who must be found as quickly and as quietly as possible. We are not able to attempt to track them down through regular security channels because of the danger of a leak."
"Who are we using?" The Russian. Huge. Short-temperde
"His name is Commander Robert Bellamy."
"How was he selected?" The German. Aristocratic. Ruthless.
"The commander was chosen after a thorough computer search of the files of the CIA, FBI, and a half dozen other security agencies."
"Please, may I inquire what are his qualifications?" The Japanese. Polite. Sly.
"Commander Bellamy is an experienced field officer who speaks six languages fluently and has an exemplary record. Again and again he has proved himself to be very resourceful. He has no living relatives."
"Is he aware of the urgency of this?" The Englishman. Snobbish. Dangerous. "He is. We have every expectation that he will be able to locate all the witnesses very quickly." "Does he understand the purpose of his mission?" The Frenchman. Argumentative. Stubborn.
"No."
"And when he has found the witnesses?" The Chinese. Clever. Patient.
"He will be suitably rewarded."
***
The headquarters of the Office of Naval Intelligence occupies the entire fifth floor of the sprawling Pentagon, an enclave in the middle of the largest building in the world, with seventeen miles of corridors and twenty-nine thousand military and civilian employees.
The interior of the Office of Naval Intelligence reflects its seagoing traditions. The desks and file cabinets are either olive green, from the World War II era, or battleship gray, from the Vietnam era. The walls and ceilings are painted a buff or cream color. In the beginning, Robert had been put off by the Spartan decor, but he had long since grown accustomed to it.
Now, as he walked into the building and approached the reception desk, the familiar guard at the desk said, "Good morning, Commander. May I see your pass?"
Robert had been working here for seven years, but the ritual never changed. He dutifully displayed his pass.
"Thank you, Commander."
On his way to his office, Robert thought about Captain
Dougherty, waiting for him in the parking lot at the river entrance. Waiting to escort him to the plane that would fly him to Switzerland to begin an impossible hunt.
When Robert reached his office, his secretary, Barbara, was already there.
"Good morning, Commander. The deputy director would like to see you in his office."
"He can wait. Get me Admiral Whittaker, please."
"Yes, sir."
A minute later Robert was speaking with the admiral.
"I presume you have finished your meeting, Robert?**
"A few minutes ago."
"How did it go?"
"It was-interesting. Are you free to join me for breakfast, Admiral?" He tried to keep his voice casual. There was no hesitation. "Yes. Shall we meet there?"
"Fine. I'll leave a visitors' pass for you."
"Very well. I'll see you in an hour."
Robert replaced the receiver and thought, It's ironic that I have to leave a visitors' pass for the admiral. A few years ago, he was the fair-haired boy here, in charge of Naval Intelligence. How must he feel?
Robert buzzed his secretary on the intercom.
"Yes, Commander?"
"I'm expecting Admiral Whittaker. Arrange a pass for him."
"I'll take care of it right away."
It was time to report to the deputy director. Dustin fucking Thornton.
Dustin "Dusty" Thornton, deputy director of the Office of Naval Intelligence, had won his fame as one of the greatest athletes ever to come out of Annapolis. Thornton owed his present exalted position to a football game. An Army-Navy game, to be precise. Thornton, a towering monolith of a man, had played full- back as a senior at Annapolis in Navy's most important game of the year. At the beginning of the fourth quarter, with Army leading 13-0, two touchdowns and a conversion ahead, destiny stepped in and changed Dustin Thorn- ton's life. Thornton intercepted an Army pass, pivoted around, and charged through the Army phalanx for a touch- down. Navy missed on the extra point but soon scored a field goal. After the ensuing kickoff, Army failed to make a first down and punted into Navy territory. The score stood at Army 13, Navy 9, and the clock was running. When play resumed, the ball was passed to Thornton, and he went down under a heap of Army uniforms. It took him a long time
The limousine was waiting at the river-entrance parking lot. "Are you ready, Commander?" Captain Dougherty asked. As ready as I'll ever be, Robert thought. "Yes."Captain Dougherty accompanied Robert to his apartment so he could pack. Robert had no idea how many days he would be gone. How long does an impossible assignment take? He packed enough clothes for a week and, at the last minute, put in a framed photograph of Susan. He stared at it for a long time and wondered if she were enjoying herself in Brazil. He thought, I hope not. I hope she's having a lousy time. And was immediately ashamed of himself. When the limousine arrived at Andrews Air Force Base, the plane was waiting. It was a C20A, an Air Force jet. Captain Dougherty held out his hand. "Good luck Commander." "Thanks. I'll need it. Robert walked up the steps to the cabin. The crew was inside finishing the preflight check. There was a pilot, a copilot, a navigator, and a steward, all in Air Force un
Day Two0800 HoursThe next morning Robert approached a clerk behind the Europcar desk. "Guten Tag.”It was a reminder that he was in the German-speaking part of Switzerland. "Guten Tag. Do you have a car available?""Yes, sir, we do. How long will you be needing it?" Good question. An hour? A month? Maybe a year or two? "I'm not sure.""Do you plan to return the car to this airport?" "Possibly."The clerk looked at him strangely. "Very well. Will you fill out these papers, please?" Robert paid for the car with the special black credit card General Hilliard had given him. The clerk examined it, perplexed, then said, "Excuse me." He disappeared into an office, and when he returned, Robert asked, "Any problem?""No, sir. None at all."The car was a gray Opel Omega. Robert got onto the airport highway and headed for downtown Zurich. He enjoyed Switzerland. It was one of the most beautiful countries in the world. Years earlier he had skied there. In more recent times, he had carried out
The first piece of the puzzle lay in the tour bus, and Robert drove to Talstrasse, where the buses departed, as though it might reveal some hidden clue. The Iveco bus was brown and silver, small enough to traverse the steep Alpine roads, with seats for fourteen passengers. Who are the seven, and where have they disappeared to? Robert got back in his car. He consulted his map and marked it. He took Lavessneralle out of the city, into the Albis, the start of the Alps, toward the village of Kappel. He headed south, driving past the small hills that surround Zurich, and began the climb into the magnificent mountain chain of the Alps. He drove through Adliswil and Langnau and Hausen and nameless hamlets with chalets and colorful picture-postcard scenery until almost an hour later, he came to Kappel. The little village consisted of a restaurant, a church, a post office, and twelve or so houses scattered around the hills. Robert parked the car and walked into the restaurant. A waitress was
I’m getting too old for this, Robert thought, wearily. I was really beginning to fall for his flying saucer fairy tale.Hans Beckerman was staring at the metallic object on the ground, a confused expression on his face. “Verfalschen! That is not it.”Robert sighed. “No, it isn’t, is it?”Beckerman shook his head. “It was here yesterday.”“Your little green men probably flew it away.”Beckerman was stubborn. “No, no. They were both tot – dead.”Tot – dead. That sums up my mission pretty well. My only lead is a crazy old man who sees spaceships. Robert walked over to the balloon to examine it more closely. It was a large aluminium envelope, fourteen feet in diameter, with serrated edges where it had ripped open when it crashed to earth. All the instruments had been removed, just as General Milliard had told him. "I can’t stress enough the importance of what was in that balloon."Robert circled the deflated balloon, his shoes squishing in the wet grass, looking for anything that might gi
Later that day a press conference was held inGeneva, in the austere offices of the Bundesgasse, the Swiss Ministry of Internal Affairs. There were more than fifty reporters in the room, and an overflow crowd outside in the corridor. There were representatives from television, radio and the press from more than a dozen countries, many loaded with microphones and television gear. They all seemed to be speaking at once.“We’ve heard reports that it was not a weather balloon …”“Is it true that it was a flying saucer?”“There are rumours that there were alien bodies aboard the ship …”“Was one of the aliens alive?”“Is the government trying to hide the truth from the people …?”The press officer raised his voice to regain control. “Ladies and gentlemen, there has been a simple misunderstanding. We get calls all the time. People see satellites, shooting stars … Isn’t it interesting that reports of UFOs are always made anonymous? Perhaps this caller really believed it was a UFO, but in actu
Hangar 17 at Langley Air Force Base in Virginia was locked in complete and rigid security. Outside, four armed marines guarded the perimeters of the building, and inside, three high-ranking Army officers stayed on alternate watches of eight hours each, guarding a sealed room inside the hangar. None of the officers knew what he was guarding. Besides the scientists and doctors who were working inside, there had been only three visitors permitted in the sealed chamber. The fourth visitor was just arriving. He was greeted by Brigadier General Paxton, the officer in charge of security. “Welcome to our menagerie.” “I’ve been looking forward to this.” “You won’t be disappointed. Come this way, please.” Outside the door of the sealed room was a rack containing four white, sterile suits that completely covered the body. “Would you please put one on?” the General asked. “Certainly.” Janus slipped into the suit. Only his face was visible through the glass mask. He put large white
DAY THREE Bern, SwitzerlandWednesday, October 17th Bern was one of Robert’s favourite cities. It was an elegant town, filled with lovely monuments and beautiful old stone buildings dating back to the eighteenth century. It was the capital of Switzerland and one of its most prosperous cities, and Robert wondered whether the fact that the street carswere green had anything to do with the colour of money. He had found that the Berners were more easy-going than the citizens from other parts of Switzerland. They moved more deliberately, spoke more slowly, and were generally calmer. He had worked in Bern several times in the past with the Swiss Secret Service, operating out of their headquarters at Waisenhausplatz. He had friends there who could have been helpful, but his instructions were clear. Puzzling, but clear.It took fifteen phone calls for Robert to locate the garage that towed the photographer’s car. It was a small garage located on Fribourgstrasse, and the mechanic, Fritz Mand