Diablo Mesa(75)

“Corrie, this is remarkable work,” he said after a moment. “And I think you’re onto something big. More than that: I know you are.” He went silent. And then his blank look was suddenly replaced by what seemed to Corrie like grim determination. “We must act fast. And in secrecy: we can’t yet know who precisely might be involved.”

Corrie stared at him.

“Here’s what I want you to do,” Lime told her. “Go back to your cubicle, gather your notes and files on the case. If you’re right, we may be up against some powerful operators—possibly within our own government. So our only option is to personally go to the Roswell camp, evaluate the situation, secure the site, warn that expedition—and, if necessary, take steps to protect them.”

“Yes, sir,” Corrie said, hearing the surprise in her own voice. She’d entered Lime’s office pleased with just how much she’d pieced together…but she hadn’t banked on how serious the next step would be—assuming she was right.

“We’ll also need Sheriff Watts to show us these tracks,” Lime said. He had mastered his surprise, and despite the gravity of the situation, Corrie couldn’t help but be impressed by how quickly he’d put a plan together. “Is he out there with Buford?”

“Buford’s not there—I heard he’s laid up with a case of gout. But when I spoke to Watts by sat phone a few hours ago, he was still out in the desert with Nora Kelly’s brother.”

“You and I need to take a chopper out to the camp.”

It was Corrie’s turn to be surprised. “Right now?”

“Now. Even if we’re proceeding on what you call speculation, surely you can see the situation is critical. Don’t talk to anyone—just gather the information we need and meet me back here in ten minutes. We haven’t a moment to lose.”





49



AT MANZANO BASE,” Lime told Corrie as they left the field office and got into his vehicle, “there’s a helicopter standing by to take us to the Roswell camp.”

Corrie didn’t know where Manzano Base was, but said nothing. New Mexico seemed to be dotted with military bases. Lime gunned the engine and peeled out of the FBI parking lot onto the Pan American Frontage Road, switching on his lights and siren.

“The reason I didn’t requisition an FBI chopper directly,” he said, “is because we don’t know who might be involved.”

He accelerated up the on-ramp to I-25, heading south.

“What makes you think the FBI could be involved?” Corrie said. Her own speculations hadn’t reached beyond the military, or perhaps the CIA and its predecessors.

“Corrie—I didn’t want to say this before, but what you said back in my office jibes with certain anomalies that have been taking place within the DoD.” He paused. “There’s no reason to conceal it any longer: the real reason I was sent here was to investigate possible rogue elements within the FBI. Morwood knew that—and he may have been murdered because of it. I sense…” He gave her a significant look. “I sense you might share certain suspicions about his death.”

Corrie nodded, feeling a flush at some confirmation—finally—of her instinctual doubts.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Lime said. “I don’t have proof, nor does my immediate superior—yet. But what you’ve told me may well crack this thing wide open. Going outside standard FBI protocol is just a precaution, and I happen to have high-level contacts at Manzano. They’re going to give us a chopper, a pilot, and a soldier—just in case.”

Corrie nodded, surprised at Lime’s high-level access and ability to scramble a chopper so quickly.

“And I’m especially concerned now that comms are down at the expedition.”

Corrie’s surprise jumped exponentially. “When did that happen?”

“I tried to call just after you left my office. They have multiple sat phones—why would they suddenly all go down at the same time? Something’s wrong, perhaps very wrong, and we need to get there right away. I’m also concerned about Watts. Could you give him a call—see if his phone is still working? Tell him to stay where he is and we’ll pick him up. On no account should he go back to the base—we’ve no idea what might be going on there.”

Corrie dialed. To her relief, Watts answered.

“Homer? It’s Corrie.”

“Listen,” said Watts, “we just got back to the jeep. We didn’t dare approach Pershing, and we’re about to head back to—”

“Hold on,” Corrie interrupted. “We think the base camp might be in danger. Agent Lime and I are about to chopper out there ourselves. Their comms are down.”

“I know—I just tried to reach them. Any idea what’s going on?”

“None. But you need to stay where you are, and we’ll pick you up on the way.” She glanced at Lime, who nodded. “What are your coordinates?”

Watts read them off his GPS.

“We’ll be there in about an hour.”

They left the freeway and headed southeast, through a checkpoint and onto Kirtland AFB, then down an access road behind the base that ran across empty desert toward the Manzano Mountains. They took a branching road to the base of the Manzanos. At a second, higher-security checkpoint, they passed through a gate in a chain-link fence, manned with guard towers, then into a complex that consisted of Quonset huts, hangars, and a low metal building. Bypassing these, they arrived at an airfield. A helicopter was on the tarmac. As she watched the rotors warm up, it began to dawn on her that Lime couldn’t just be FBI: he must hold some classified rank in the military. She’d heard rumors of agents who also had high-level positions in the CIA, the DIA, or some other branch of U.S. intelligence.