Immune (The Rho Agenda #2)(54)
“Mark,” Heather called. “We have to get out of here. The lead search party is going to hit this canyon in a few minutes.”
Almost immediately, he jumped to the cave floor, wiped at his face with the back of his hand, and turned toward the exit.
“Jennifer did this.”
“Probably.”
“I can’t believe she didn’t even tell us. She came out here and shut down the ship, knowing they would find it without the cloak.”
“They would have found it anyway.”
“She should have told us before she did it. She goddamn well should have told me.”
Heather didn’t know what to say. The way the tears streamed down her cheeks, she doubted she could say anything anyway.
Mark and Heather stopped at the cave entrance, took one last long look at their ship, then turned and began the long journey home.
52
"Thanks, Billy."
Billy “Grinning Wolf” Enoso held out a disk fresh from the CD drive on his computer.
"You know you can count on me whenever you need something. Especially for something as interesting as this."
Tall Bear shook his friend's hand. "Yeah. Just make sure you keep it quiet. This is some bad medicine, comprende? Loose lips could get you and I both killed."
Grinning Wolf's mouth twitched, although the laughter stayed confined in his black eyes. "Never liked anybody enough to talk to them anyway."
"Good. Glad you got a chance to see me then."
Tall Bear stepped into his Jeep Cherokee, slid the disk into the CD player, and pulled out onto the dirt road, which led back toward town.
For all their technological pride, sometimes the feds were so stupid you just had to laugh. In World War II, the US had come up with the brilliant idea of using native Navajo people as code talkers, passing messages that the Japanese were unable to break. There had even been a recent movie about it. Yet here he was, communicating across the Internet with his source in DC via sound files recorded in Navajo.
True, he hadn't been bold enough to do it from his own computer. The government monitored people based on flags, those mystical keywords that attracted the attention of the computer gods. Having been the first on the scene of the Los Alamos truck ambush and subsequently on national TV in opposition to an FBI search had provided enough of those flags to ensure Tall Bear’s communication would be monitored. Even the FBI could probably figure out what language he was using in those communications.
As the voice on the CD began speaking, Tall Bear found the tension rising in his shoulders and upper back. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but this wasn't it.
The Lakota Sioux had a term for greedy, scheming, nonnative people: Wasi'chu. Tall Bear had always liked the way that rolled off his tongue when he was angry. And right now the Wasi'chu in Washington, D.C., had him thoroughly pissed and pretty much scared shitless.
The man named Jack Gregory had given him a headful of information about what was going on at Los Alamos, information that had gotten the former director of the National Security Agency and most of Jack's team killed. Tall Bear had used his own sources to verify Jack's information, but this latest recording stunned him.
While the world was busy arguing about how and when the United States should release the alien nanite serum, a multi-billion-dollar black market in the stuff had sprung up. Apparently, the going bid for an individual dose of the nanite serum was 250 million dollars. Every old sick billionaire and every cartel drug lord was desperate to get his hands on some of that juice.
Several of the families of the kids who had participated in the nanite clinical trials had already sold their blood for several million dollars per pint. Even though there was nothing illegal about that, the government had hushed it up and placed all of the families under secret service protection to prevent kidnappings.
But what worried Tall Bear were the whispers about Dr. Stephenson and his connections at the top levels of the US government, connections that were rumored to go much deeper than official. While you could pretty much discount most Washington rumors, these had come from a source that was rarely wrong. And what they whispered of was a third and far more dangerous alien technology.
How it could be more dangerous than this nanite crap, Tall Bear couldn't imagine. Didn't want to.
The CD recording ended, and Tall Bear brought the Jeep to a stop. He ejected the CD, got out, and laid it on the gravel, directly in front of his rear tire. Back in the driver's seat, Tall Bear spun his wheels, grinding the disk into a hundred pieces, sending them flying into the desert amidst a plume of dust and rocks.
Despite all the help Tall Bear had provided thus far, he had reserved a final decision on Jack Gregory and his girlfriend. Now that decision was made. It was time to pay one more visit to the high hogan.
53
"Where's my chopper?" Dr. Stephenson's voice crackled with annoyance.
"Sorry, sir. It was in the hanger for maintenance. A replacement is on its way now."
"I don't care if it's missing a blade. Get me a chopper here in the next thirty minutes or find yourself another job. Are you understanding me?"
"Yes, sir." The deputy director's secretary swept from his office, her face pinched and drawn.
Stephenson turned his attention back to the information streaming into his laptop. Unbelievable. After all these years, they had finally found the Second Ship. That damn Admiral Riles had ended up doing him the biggest favor he could imagine, and all because of the search for his rogue agents.