EXTRACT FOR
Reptillian Encounter
(David Mannes)

Kyrgyzstan

Present day

DAMIEN WYNTER WIPED the blood off his lower lip with the back of his right hand and looked up at the towering tank of a Russian that stood over him.  Across the rugged, narrow wash, cluttered with small boulders, rocks, and sage-brush and scrawny, dried-out shrubs, lay the glittering prize that both men sought.

A long, black, burnt furrow had gouged the rocky terrain, continuing for several hundred yards.  At the end of it lay the scattered silvery remains of a UFO.  It had crashed, the pilot attempting to slow the craft and stop, but it had failed to do so before the ship had smacked into a cluster of boulders.

"Go back to your own country.  You have lost this round, Mr. Majic," growled the Russian with a smirk on his thin lips.  Yuri Ogenysky had been an enforcer with the KGB before the downfall of Communism.  Close to sixty years of age, his bear-like body was still hard and strong. He was square-jawed with silver, combed-back hair and glittering dark brown eyes.  Ogenysky clenched and unclenched his massive hands. 

Wynter's pale blue eyes glittered with resilience and anger.  He'd come too far, tracked down too many clues to let the artifact be taken away by a belligerent, egotistical man like Ogenysky.  Like a rattler, he struck. He rolled onto his back and swung his legs up, delivering a sledgehammer blow to the Russian's groin.  

Yuri gagged, bent slightly and staggered back but wasn't as crippled as Wynter had hoped.  At least he'd bought himself some time to bring out what he needed.

The Russian straightened up and took a step forward. Yuri's eyes flashed. "That wasn't nice. Now I have to rough you up, as they say, so that you learn how to act when you meet your betters." He reached for the baton that was strapped to the wide brown belt around his waist.  It also held a holster and sheathed hunting knife.

Suddenly the ground around them erupted with spurts of dust kicking up. The roar of an engine made both men stop and turn. A cloud of dust trailed the racing old jeep as it rumbled its way down the gully.  Inside the jeep were a half dozen armed men, their AK-47s firing as the vehicle bounced closer.

Both men dove aside and clambered for cover among the scattered rocks and boulders.  Damien drew his SIG Sauer 229 automatic from the holster strapped to his thigh.  Damn it to hell.

"I call truce until we take care of these thieves," yelled Yuri.  Pulling out his own automatic from its holster, he fired at the jeep. 

"Agreed." A bullet ricocheted off the boulder.  Wynter ducked, but he still felt a sharp sting.  He wiped his cheek, only to find blood on his finger. A chip had scraped his cheek.   He peeked out, took aim and fired three rapid shots.  One of the men fell off the jeep.

The jeep skidded to a stop and the five remaining men jumped out, firing wildly.  Yuri fired two shots.  Another of the attackers hit the ground and lay still.

Damien looked across at Yuri. "Drug runners or militia?" he yelled.

"I don't care."

"We can't let them get the technology," said Wynter.

"Agreed.  If it comes to that, I have some C4 and a detonator in my pack."

A hail of bullets hit the rocks. Wynter and the Russian poked their automatics out and fired several rapid shots.  There was a yell.  The firing ceased.  Wynter peered quickly around the boulder.  The men had taken positions behind the jeep.  Another body lay maybe twelve feet away, an AK-47 still in the man's grasp.

Yuri reached over and gripped the assault rifle. The AK-47 was not known for its accuracy, but it did provide some seriously needed firepower.  Yuri checked the magazine, which still held ten rounds.  He jammed it back in the gun.

Wynter popped his magazine and jammed in a fresh one. "How many spare mags have you got?"

"Two more, after this one is spent." Yuri raised the AK-47 slightly.

"We can't drag this out. They may have re-enforcements coming."

"Cover me."  He tossed the rifle to Wynter. "I'll plant the device.  It is a shame to lose it, but the last thing we need is those pigs getting this and selling it."

"Count to three, then run." Wynter took a deep breath, then flew across the narrow clearing to where Yuri was, firing as he went.  Yuri took off, scampering further down the gully.  He darted around scattered rocks and brush before heading back to where the saucer debris was.  

The Russian could hear the rapid fire of the automatic rifles and the responding rat-a-tat-tat of the AK-47, then Wynter's automatic.  Reaching the saucer, he took out the explosive and stuck it onto the remaining housing.  Glancing down, he saw part of the anti-gravity fuel propulsion container. There was a crack in it and a thin trail of thick silver liquid, like mercury, trailed away.  Yuri took out a small plastic container from his vest pocket and took a sample.

"YURI! I CAN'T HOLD THEM OFF MUCH LONGER!" yelled Wynter. 

The Russian stabbed the detonator into the plastique and clicked the timer.  He dashed back, firing his automatic.  "We need to clear the area."

Wynter fired again.  A hail of bullets pummelled the boulder as the Russian slid home.  "We have to run through them."

Wynter cocked an eyebrow. "This is crazy."

"You only die once," said Yuri.  He smiled crookedly.  Both men reloaded.  

"On two," said the Russian.

"One, two..." 

A bellowing yell and both men charged the jeep, firing their guns.  One of the men, a swarthy-faced individual with a thick black beard, popped up and fell back, a bullet hole between his eyes.  Wynter swiftly rose up and fired a couple of shots. He ducked and sprinted from behind the vehicle and ran down the gully, diving behind a cluster of boulders to his right.  

Yuri ran to the left and killed two more men as they turned.  He felt a hot impact across his thigh that stung like a bee.  He'd been hit, but it didn't slow him down.  He ran on, and leaped behind the boulders as Wynter covered him.

A huge blast shook the ground.  The jeep flew into the air, the remaining gunmen were flung back like rag dolls and crashed against the hard earth.  A volcano of flames, rock and dirt shot upward. Wynter and Ogenysky felt themselves picked up and flung back.  A breath of hot wind flashed down the gully.  Then it was over.

Wynter groaned.  He rolled over and picked himself up.  He was covered in dust.  He coughed and wiped his face.  Several feet away lay the Russian.

The jeep and men who'd attacked them had been within the blast radius.  They were nothing more than charred pieces of meat.  A crater smoked where the craft had been.  It would've been nice to get some of the super coolant.  They were still trying to analyze its composition.  It was the one part that was missing from being able to get the electromagnetic engine to work.

A sudden thought occurred to Wynter.  He went back to the Russian.  Yuri was unconscious.  Wynter checked the man's pockets and discovered a small plastic vial filled with some thick, silvery liquid.  The sonofabitch had found some of the super-coolant and taken a sample.  Wynter pocketed the vial and clambered up the wall of the gully.  

Over the rise was his vehicle.  He'd flown into Kazakhstan and landed at a base used by the US military.  Presenting his orders to the CO, he'd been given an unmarked black, 2009 Land Rover and drove over the border.  An extraction team was waiting for his signal.  It'd be good to get home.  His trip, it seemed, hadn't been a total loss.  Suddenly he felt a sharp smack from behind.  Blackness flashed before his eyes and he fell to the ground.

Yuri stood looking down at his competition.  "Nice try, Wynter."  He bent over and retrieved the vial. "The truce is over, comrade."  The big Russian laughed.

Wynter groaned and rolled over.  His eyes blinked.

"This is coming with me."  Yuri flashed the vial, then shoved it into the pocket of his canvas pants.

Damien grinned and whipped out a flat metallic case, sort of like a cigarette case, from his jacket pocket.  He aimed it at Ogenysky and pressed a circular button on top. The end pointed towards Yuri flashed blue, and suddenly the Russian straightened up and went into convulsions.  The device, like a taser, shot a bolt of electricity at him.  The smell of ozone, sweat and urine filled the air as the giant Russian crashed to the ground.  He convulsed again, and lay still.

"Damn, guess I had the juice turned up too high.  My bad."  Damien picked himself off and brushed off the dust from his brown leather flight jacket, khaki shirt and blue jeans, then strode over and took the vial from Yuri's pocket for the second time.  He placed it carefully in his backpack before turning his attention to the Russian.  He strode over to the still body.  He reached down and felt the pulse.  Weak, but steady.  He checked Yuri's pockets and removed his gun, a GSH 18 automatic. The gun, developed in the late 90's, held eighteen 9mm rounds in the magazine. 

Wynter considered disassembling the gun and throwing the parts away, but finally settled for unloading it and throwing the magazine in one direction and the chamber round in another before he tossed the gun into the brush.  Wynter also found a cell phone, which he dropped on the ground and, with a well-placed boot heel, smashed it until pieces lay scattered around.  Then he then clambered up the arroyo and walked back to his jeep that sat in the shade of a huge outcropping.  Parked nearby. Wynter saw a Toyota SUV.   Obviously, Yuri's vehicle. 

"I really shouldn't be a total bastard about this," said Damien to himself. He looked around. A man could die out here in this barren wilderness or be hunted down by thieves or renegade militia, but at the same time, he couldn't afford any more delays or have the Russian contacting any of his playmates.  He popped the hood of Yuri's car and jerked out the spark plug wires.

Damien took off the backpack and placed it on the passenger seat of the Land Rover, then clambered into the driver's seat.  He buckled himself in and put the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life and he turned the vehicle around, spitting dust into the air as he drove off down the makeshift trail.

June 10, Present Day

Grand Canyon

DAVID GOLD FELT his stomach drop out as the Zodiac raft careened over the rapids and dropped suddenly, barely scraping by the jagged rocks jutting out from the tumbling river. The raft sped along the Colorado River, bouncing like a bucking bronco. The other members of the raft tour, a fifty-ish couple, Ira and Maureen Baumberg, who were celebrating their twenty-fourth anniversary, and a couple of university students, Richard "Keg" Martin and Kelly Loomis, giggled and shrieked as the cold spray washed over them. The water from the tumbling river was refreshing and exhilarating.  Their guide, a young Native American man named Peter Cloud, laughed and bellowed, "Things should be slowing down now, folks. We'll be at the site in a few minutes."

Blazing bright sunshine streamed down the deep rough, multi-coloured canyon walls that looked as if the area had been a giant sandbox for a giant child, who had scooped and stacked as he played.  The river curved and the water slowed as it merged with an adjoining river. 

"We're coming round to Comanche Point," said Peter.  

The water calmed. David looked up, wiped the drops of water off his sunglasses and saw a sprawling campsite along the narrow beach.  Several large rafts were pulled up on the beach, tents were set up and light gray smoke from a campfire trailed wispily into the air.  As they came closer, David could see a group of five people taking photos of the cliff walls, and perhaps a half dozen people were digging along the shore.  A jagged cave opened in the cliff wall, and it looked like lanterns were strung outside it.

Peter brought the raft to shore.  It scraped gently on the stony bottom. 

David saw a tall, lanky man dressed in a short-sleeved khaki shirt and cut-off blue jeans detach himself from the group along the cliff wall.  It was David's younger brother Jacob, his long, dark hair fluttering in the warm breeze.  David hadn't seen Jacob in two years, not since their dad's heart attack, which brought Jacob back from an archeological dig in Israel.  Jacob had stayed with his parents, helping out while their father regained his health.  David had taken a couple of weeks off from his full-time pulpit in Los Angeles, where he was a rabbi, but couldn't spend as much time as he had liked.  Afterward, Jacob looked for work stateside, so he wouldn't be so far away if another family emergency happened.

As the raft approached, David and Keg jumped out and pulled the raft ashore, then stayed and helped the Bambergs out.

"We're making a brief stop here so David can get off," announced Peter.

Jacob jogged over. "David!"  He hugged his brother. His teeth gleamed in a wide smile against the deep tan.  As David tugged off his helmet, noticed that there were a few grey hairs in Jacob's shaggy head.   They stood back. 

"It's great to see you," said Jacob.

"Same here. Two years is too long."  David unzipped his life preserver and gestured towards the workers.  

"How's it going?"

"Good. There are some remarkable pictographs and petroglyphs. We're recording them now.  We've also found some shards of pottery.  One of my students, Jill Macklin, is further down the beach with the metal detector, looking for jewelry or other metal artifacts."

"Active site."

"Yes, but I have my holy grail here, too." David winked.

"I don't think you'll find the Ark of the Covenant or Temple remnants here," laughed David.

"No, but there is supposedly some remnant of a lost city or civilization along the river somewhere along here.  According to an Arizona Gazette story from 1909, an archeologist named Kincaid, back around the turn of the century, claimed he had found amazing Egyptian or oriental artifacts in a cavern."

"The stuff legends of glory are made of."  David laughed.

"Yeah, well it's nice that we have permission just to do some basic excavating. It gives my students real field experience and there's some interesting history."  Jacob grinned. "The park and university museum are always appreciative of anything we find."

A shriek erupted from down the shore and echoed in the high canyon walls.  

"PROFESSOR GOLD! COME QUICK!"

"It's Jill, Professor," said a short, husky dark-haired student named Stan Mendoza, who came running up a breakneck speed. "She found something you gotta see!"

Jacob grinned, "So I assumed." He turned to the rest of his students who were frozen like statutes.  "Go back to work. I'll let you know. "

"Maybe she found a rattlesnake or a desert mouse," snickered Augie Wilson. Wilson was a hulk-like blonde Texan football jock who had taken the Southwest Archeology course for desperately-needed credits so he could stay on the football team.   He was on his hands and knees, brushing off some rock that was probably a cooking pit.  

Tom Hyranuk, a medium-built student from Canada with light brown hair, shook his head.  "Give it up, Hulk.  She wouldn't let you rescue her if you were the last man on the planet."

"Fuck off, Rancid."

Jacob, with David with Peter and the other rafters at his heels, jogged down the narrow strip of beach.  They came to a dead halt around the bend of the canyon wall.  Jill Macklin, a petite slim blonde student dressed in a khaki shirt and blue jean cutoffs, stood amid a pile of rock and sand debris.  "The metal detector is going off the scale, professor." 

  Jacob went over and took the device from her.  Its annoying, high-pitched squeal sounded like a swarm of hungry killer whales.  He walked around the pile of rock, dirt and sand, sweeping up and back.  He looked at Jill.  "Whatever is under this is big."  He looked up at the tall cliff.  "Looks like part of it gave way and just crumbled down.  There's a shelf up there."  He found a narrow, eroded deer trail leading part way up, and then there was nothing but sheer cliff to climb.  He turned his attention back to the jumble of giant boulders, dirt and sand.

"Maybe it's some ancient Spanish treasure!"  Jill's green eyes sparkled with adventure.

"Most likely debris from a crashed plane or helicopter, given the scope," said Jacob.  "They've had a few of them over the years.  The updrafts can play real havoc." 

"What did you find?" asked David.

"That remains to be seen." He turned to the small crowd of tourists.  "Any of you care to sweat a bit and dig?  Let's see what's under this mound."

"Lead on, brother," said David.

"This is going to be so exciting," said Maureen Baumberg as she turned and smiled at her husband. Maureen was a lean, strong woman with short, sandy-coloured hair.  Her balding husband Ira had his own architectural firm.  He was a tall, broad man in relatively good shape.

Peter volunteered to run back and get some equipment.  He returned with the other students in tow.  Their curiosity was aroused and there was no way they were going to continue on their standard assignment when something big was happening. Shovels were quickly handed out and Jacob organized the digging pattern.  "Remember, gently. We don't want to damage whatever is under here."

They dug in silence, though some of the students had Mp3 players or iPods plugged into their ears, and snatches of music could be heard.  A hot breeze stirred the sand on the canyon floor.  The sounds of so many shovels digging sounded like a gently shaken maracas. The hot sun beat down on them like a relentless slave driver.   Sweat dripped off them in small streams, staining bare chests and shirts.  

One of the students, a freckled redhead named Molly Wheeler, gave a shout. The others stopped and looked at the glistening reflective silver metal, as bright as a burning star, that had been revealed.

"Looks like the wing of an airplane," said Tom.

"Wonder if we're going to find bodies," gulped Keg.

"We should notify the Park Rangers," said Jacob. "Unfortunately, cell phones don't work too well down here, so someone will have to go back."  He turned to two students, Marc Shapiro and Danny Sanchez.  "Take one of the canoes and go back to Lees Ferry.  Notify the Sheriff's office."

"You got it, Prof." Sanchez gave a two-finger salute, and with the gangling tall toothpick called Marc in tow, they started their trek.

"Now, let's see if we can uncover the rest of this," said Jacob.  With an enthusiastic cheer, the students and the tourists went back to work.

The group worked enthusiastically, digging and brushing off the exposed metal. The day wore on.  Purple shadows in the canyon deepened.  The sun was waning.  The walls of the canyon turned orange, red and yellow.  

"Whatever it is, it's big," said David Gold. The group had uncovered probably about twenty feet and the object was taking on a circular shape.

"Yes, and by the looks of the strata, it's been buried a long time."  Jacob Gold bent over and touched the metal, brushing off some of the soil and then palming some and examining it.  He took a loupe out of his pocket and put it to his eye.  "Bits of shell, quartz, sediment."  He put the loupe back in his pocket and scanned the cliffs above.  "This has been here a very long time."

"How long are we talking about?" asked Ira Baumburg.  He and his wife had pitched in along with Gold's students.  Ira took a swig of water from his canteen.

 "I'd say a few thousand years, crazy as it sounds."

"The circular shape. Do you think it's a UFO?" asked Maureen.

"Probably some experimental Air Force craft that crashed into the canyon," said David.

"Then why haven't they retrieved it?  Air Force doesn't leave scrap parts lying around," said Ira.

Close to the river, the students huddled, taking a break.  

"Can you believe it? We found a freakin' UFO!" Augie Wilson roared.

"It's pretty awesome, but maybe it's just part of a jet," said Tom Hyranuk.

"Yeah, right, didn't know we had circular airplanes, dude," said Wilson.

"What do you think, Peter?" asked Molly.

"It's pretty weird.  This land has been sacred to my people for a long time, but I don't buy into all the hocus-pocus stuff."  Peter shifted his position and leaned back against a boulder. "But the craft is interesting.  During the year I'm an engineering student at University of Arizona.  Got to say, I've never seen anything like this.  I'd love to get a sample of the metal and test it."

"Prof's coming," said Stan.

Jacob Gold, followed by his brother and the Baumburgs, walked into the camp.

"It's getting late. Let's get the tents set up and a campfire going.  We'll have some dinner and relax tonight.  Do some more digging tomorrow morning."

"Other than Ira and myself, is anyone else capable of cooking?" asked Maureen.

"I do a fair bit of cooking," said David. "What have we got?"

"Canned fish, and in the cooler, we have hot dogs. There's beans, canned fruit and vegetables," said Peter.

"Weenies and beanies it is," said David.

After dinner, Peter and David walked back up to the site.  A powerful lantern spread a beam of light in front of them.  "I want to examine that rock wall a bit more closely."

"Couldn't it wait until morning?"  David Gold took a pipe from his pocket and began stuffing it with cherry tobacco.  He tamped it down, and pulled out his Bic lighter.  A few puffs of smoke rose towards the darkening sky.

"Haven't quit, I see," said Jacob.

"I don't have many vices. I'm allowed at least one," replied David.

"If I remember correctly, your other is single malt scotch."

"Says the wine connoisseur," snapped David.

Jacob shone the light against the cliff wall and walked slowly toward it.  He panned the light over the ground and ran his fingers over a heap of rubble.  Jacob bent over and started moving some of the debris away by hand.  Turning to his brother, he said, "Help me."

"What is it?"

"You'll see."

The two men worked steadily, forgetting the time.  A dark shadow on the cliff got larger and seemed to have some depth.  Jacob turned to his brother. "It's a cave!"

"You want me to get some shovels or some of the others?"

"Might not be a bad idea."

Within a few minutes, lanterns had been set up and the group was busy shovelling and hauling away rocks and dirt.  After an hour, they had removed enough to reveal an entranceway about the size of an average window.

"The entrance is larger, but there's a lot of the cliff blocking it," said Jacob.

"Are we going inside, Professor?" asked Jill.

"It might be dangerous," said Ira, who was bent over and peering into the blackness.  He shone his lantern inside, where the light revealed a perfectly-carved tunnel.

"We should wait until morning," said Maureen.

Jacob grinned," You're right, but the fact is that here we are."  He took a flashlight, bent over and wiggled through the entrance.  Inside, he stood up and swivelled the light. The passage was about six feet across with smooth and polished walls.  This was no natural cave entrance.

"What do you see?" asked Stan.  His voice echoed softly.

"Get David to come in and bring a lantern."

A few minutes later David wiggled through.  He had a lantern in his hand.  The beam reflected off the wall, and a dim light lit the corridor.  David gasped.  "Holy shit!"

"Yes, the workmanship is quite incredible.  Care to walk down the corridor with me?"

The two brothers continued on.  The corridor continued for at least fifty feet.  They came to a round entranceway and cut stairs leading upward.  David shone the lantern up. "Lot of stairs."

"I suspect it goes up the canyon wall for some ways."

"You going to go up?"

"We're here, might as well."

Outside, the students peered into the opening and shined their flashlights inside.  

"It's a constructed corridor," said Peter.

"I don't hear the Professor. You think something happened to them?" asked Jill.

"I'm sure if some horrible monster leaped out and ate them, we'd hear them scream," said Augie.

"That's not funny, Hulk," said Molly.

"Shut up, Freckles."

"Please, settle down," said Maureen.  "I don't know how wise it was for Professor Gold to go in there.  That tunnel may not be stable," she said.

"The professor's been exploring old ruins for years," said Stan.  "He knows what he's doing."

"Have you been on other digs with him?" asked Ira.

"Yes. I'm a grad student of his. This is nothing compared to some places we've been."

"I wouldn't mind having a look myself," said Peter.

"All right," said Molly.  "Who's with us?"

The Baumburgs protested, but to no avail.  Finally, they agreed to stay in case anything went wrong. Peter handed them a spare walkie-talkie. "I don't know how well they'll work here, but hopefully good enough."  He clambered into the entrance after the students.

The stairs seemed to go on forever.  There were no handrails, and Jacob and David each used a hand against the wall to steady themselves.  The steps were higher and deeper than normal.  After twenty minutes their legs ached and they sat down to rest.

"I jog a couple of times a week," said David. "I figured my legs were in good shape.  Damn, I'm going to be sore tomorrow morning."

Jacob took a deep breath.  It was cool in the stairwell. "We still have a fair ways to go."

A few minutes later, they resumed.  After another half hour, they reached a landing where a carved stone door blocked their way.  There were hieroglyphics carved next to it.  Jacob studied them. After a minute or two he shook his head. "It looks sort of like Egyptian, but it's different. Older, maybe."

"Can you decipher it?" asked David.

"It seems to say something like meeting room, but don't quote me."

"There's got to be a catch or something," said David and he began to explore the edges of the door.

"It might work on some sort of counterweight system."

An echo of footsteps came up the stairwell.  "Doc, you there?" called Stan.

A few seconds later, the landing was crowded with young people.

"What are you doing here?" asked Jacob.

"Well, we weren't going to sit there and see if anything bad happened to you," said Jill.

"I think I found something," said David.  He pressed against a petroglyph.  There was a grinding sound and the stone door swung inward. More darkness greeted them.

Area 51

Groom Lake, Nevada

LT. JOHNNY FRANKLIN stared at his computer a moment as a warning lit up on the screen.  It was almost ten o'clock in the evening and the base was quiet.  He was on security detail for restricted areas. Though various departments handled their own areas, for some reason the Air Force was responsible for a number of secret restricted areas that had nothing to do with them.  He typed swiftly, forwarding an alert to Washington.  He then got up, left the communications section and hurried down the pale green concrete corridor.

Colonel Kim Sykes was cleaning off his desk. He stacked several file folders that would have to be locked up. It'd been a long day.  A test of a new aircraft was scheduled for tomorrow and a bunch of senators, a few joint chiefs, and some private consultants were flying in to watch. The senators would probably be a pain in the ass. They came with stupid assistants who thought they were important.  But it was nothing he couldn't handle. 

Sykes was a career officer. At fifty, he'd been divorced for five years now.  The couple had started drifting apart once the kids had grown up, and his wife Helen was tired of his lies and secrets. Syke's son Ron was in Afghanistan flying a helicopter.  His son Pat had forgone the family military tradition and was in grad school in Los Angeles, studying filmmaking.

A tap at the door made Sykes turn to find Johnny Franklin in the doorway.  "Colonel, we have a situation at one of the restricted sites we monitor.  I've alerted Washington, but I thought you should know."

"Where and what?" asked Sykes.  He rubbed his eyes with his right hand.  All he wanted was to go back to his quarters watch the football game he'd recorded on the DVR and have a beer or two.  But it didn't look like that was going to happen.

"The Marble Canyon site. We have a breach."

"Marble Canyon? Where the fuck is that?"

"In the Grand Canyon, Sir. It's one of the restricted zones under our watch," said Franklin.

Sykes shook his head. "Ah, shit. Notify the tribal police and the sheriff. Have them stand by."

"You want to send a team in?"

"Isn't that usually Washington's call? It's not our responsibility." Sykes paused and took a breath then continued, "but given the hour, get a Nightstalker pilot and team assembled.  I'll lead it myself.  Might as well stop wondering and find out why we even have systems there."

Marble Canyon, Arizona

IRA BAUMBURG SAT on a pile of rubble.  A low buzzing caused him to look up.  Darker than the midnight sky, two Blackhawk Apache AH64D helicopters hovered above the canyon like demonic dragonflies. They were equipped with 30mm cannon and stinger missiles. They came lower until suddenly a floodlight washed over the site, lighting it up like high noon.  Ira shielded his eyes.  Rappelling lines were unfurled and dark bulky shapes were sliding down to the campsite.  He picked up the walkie-talkie that sat next to him and clicked it on.  "Professor Jacobs.  I think we have visitors and you'd better get out here, right away."

There was no reply, only static.

Jacob Gold gathered his students.  "It's getting late.  We'll head back to camp.  Tomorrow we'll come back with full gear and explore.  This is amazing."  Gold and his students had managed to investigate several rooms; all were empty. They'd walked what he estimated to be a least a half-mile of corridors.  They were all perfectly formed and certainly not natural.  They'd entered a huge hall where an Asian statue sat along with a number of pottery relics.  From what Gold could determine in what little time they'd been there; the artifacts were from different cultures over a vast time period.  In fact, it seemed as if the room had been some sort of museum.  

  Gold collected the rubbings his students had made of the various hieroglyphics they found. He carefully rolled them and put them in his backpack. Tomorrow, he'd study them.

* * *

IRA AND MAUREEN Baumgarten sat on the ground; their hands cuffed behind them with plastic flexcuffs.  Standing over them were two soldiers in black covert ops gear, armed with M-4 Assault rifles.  The other members of the team were gathered on either side of the cavern entrance, waiting for Gold and his students to emerge.

Maureen sobbed softly to herself, realizing that they'd probably end up in jail and lose their house paying fines, bail and legal fees.  What had started out as a great adventure had turned into a disastrous vacation.  She looked at her husband.  Ira was staring at the rifle in the soldier's hands.  He was breathing rapidly.

Sykes studied the metallic area that had been uncovered.  He felt its smooth, cold surface and walked the perimeter.  It was certainly some sort of aircraft, but nothing like he'd ever seen.  Was this perhaps the remnants of some experimental crash?  If so, why hadn't the Air Force retrieved it?  What was so important about this area?  Sykes made a mental note to check the file on this area.  It was certainly curiouser and curiouser.

A murmur of voices spread across the area.  Maureen turned and saw a shadowy shape emerge from the cave entrance and a spill of light washed over her briefly.  The click of weapons being readied echoed.

Jacob Gold blinked as he was washed in bright floodlights. He raised his right hand over his eyes and saw the bulky shapes of men surrounding him.

"You're in a restricted area, mister.  You're under arrest," snapped a deep, booming voice.

"What are you talking about?" asked Gold. "I didn't see any signs."

"You didn't notice any white sensor poles with a sign informing you not to trespass?" snapped Sykes.

"Uh Colonel, sir," said Sergeant Anderson, "The slide outside must've destroyed the sign."

Sykes looked at the young female officer and sighed. "And no one thought to report it and get it fixed?"

"Not my area of responsibility, Sir."

Sykes closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Well, this is FUBAR. We'll remove them and let the other agency deal with it.  You have your orders, Sergeant."

Sykes, followed by Lieutenant Charlie Goodenough and Sergeant Shawna Anderson, squeezed through the cavern entrance.  Sykes was curious as to what was so important about the area. Aiming his flashlight down the corridor, he signalled his team to follow.