Area 51: The Reply-2 Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Robert Doherty
has ever happened. And I'm not sure I feel much better about these UN people than I did about Majestic. The big players on the Security Council have loaded the committee with their people, and they seem to be doing a lot of talking in secret."
"That's why I'm here," Kelly Reynolds said, tapping her laptop. "To make sure the truth gets out. Majestic worked in total secrecy; at least here we have some openness."
35
Nabinger snorted. "You've got openness at least until something happens. Then see how fast this place gets locked down tight."
"That's the big question," Reynolds said. "What is going to happen next?" She was looking down at the photos. "I've got a stupid question, but why did the Airlia bother to write all this high rune stuff down if the guardian computer has a record of it all? Seems kind of primitive for a race as highly developed as they were."
"I've been asking myself the same question," Nabinger said.
"And what have you come up with?" Reynolds asked.
"I don't know," Nabinger replied. "I think the high rune language in many places was written by humans copying the Airlia, but I'm not sure." He gathered up the photos. "By the way, do you know where Mike is?"
"No. He was in D.C. with Lisa Duncan testifying, but when I tried to call him from the airport before I came back here, I was told he was off on a mission."
Nabinger nodded knowingly. "Yeah, well, I'd like to know exactly what he's up to now. You can bet he isn't sitting on his butt wondering, he's doing something."
36
Chapter 4
At the same moment that Peter Nabinger was wondering where he was, Captain Mike Turcotte was sipping a cup of coffee in one of the ready rooms on board the aircraft carrier USS George Washington.
Turcotte could feel the steady drum of the engines reverberating through the floor panels. The George Washington was the newest carrier in the American Navy's inventory. The most recent of the Nimitz class, it displaced over 100,000
tons of water and was cruising south at thirty knots from its normal duty station in the Persian Gulf. Off the starboard bow lay the coast of Ethiopia.
That the carrier had been taken off-station from the critical and volatile Persian Gulf told Turcotte how important this mission was, as much as what Lisa Duncan, seated to his left, had already told him. The presence of a British lieutenant colonel three seats over who sported the sand-colored beret of the elite British Special Air Service, SAS, also indicated a certain degree of 37
martial seriousness. On the other side of the British colonel was an American major in a flight suit, the patch Velcroed to his left shoulder showing the Grim Reaper of Task Force 160, the Night-stalkers.
They were all prepared to listen to a briefing by a former Soviet operative.
The man, Karol Kostanov, spoke in clipped English, his accent polished at one of the KGB's finishing schools during the height of the Cold War. He claimed he had been working freelance around the world since the breakup of the Soviet Union.
How the UN Alien Oversight Committee had gotten hold of him, Turcotte had no idea, but he imagined that it involved a lot of cash, based on the expensive suit and custom-made shoes Kostanov wore.
"Please proceed, Mr. Kostanov," Duncan ordered once she made sure everyone was ready.
Kostanov had a carefully cultivated day's growth of beard, framing his aristocratic face and thin glasses, the frames made of some obviously expensive metal. Turcotte wondered if Kostanov even needed the lenses in the glasses or if they were part of his costume, designed to impress. Kostanov's skin was dark, his hair streaked with gray.
"I was contacted a day and a half ago by a representative of the United Nations Alien Oversight Committee," Kostanov began, but Duncan waved a hand.
"I know about that," she said. "You claim you know about a cache of alien artifacts in southwestern Ethiopia, guarded by people who work for a South African business cartel. Since we are
"That's why I'm here," Kelly Reynolds said, tapping her laptop. "To make sure the truth gets out. Majestic worked in total secrecy; at least here we have some openness."
35
Nabinger snorted. "You've got openness at least until something happens. Then see how fast this place gets locked down tight."
"That's the big question," Reynolds said. "What is going to happen next?" She was looking down at the photos. "I've got a stupid question, but why did the Airlia bother to write all this high rune stuff down if the guardian computer has a record of it all? Seems kind of primitive for a race as highly developed as they were."
"I've been asking myself the same question," Nabinger said.
"And what have you come up with?" Reynolds asked.
"I don't know," Nabinger replied. "I think the high rune language in many places was written by humans copying the Airlia, but I'm not sure." He gathered up the photos. "By the way, do you know where Mike is?"
"No. He was in D.C. with Lisa Duncan testifying, but when I tried to call him from the airport before I came back here, I was told he was off on a mission."
Nabinger nodded knowingly. "Yeah, well, I'd like to know exactly what he's up to now. You can bet he isn't sitting on his butt wondering, he's doing something."
36
Chapter 4
At the same moment that Peter Nabinger was wondering where he was, Captain Mike Turcotte was sipping a cup of coffee in one of the ready rooms on board the aircraft carrier USS George Washington.
Turcotte could feel the steady drum of the engines reverberating through the floor panels. The George Washington was the newest carrier in the American Navy's inventory. The most recent of the Nimitz class, it displaced over 100,000
tons of water and was cruising south at thirty knots from its normal duty station in the Persian Gulf. Off the starboard bow lay the coast of Ethiopia.
That the carrier had been taken off-station from the critical and volatile Persian Gulf told Turcotte how important this mission was, as much as what Lisa Duncan, seated to his left, had already told him. The presence of a British lieutenant colonel three seats over who sported the sand-colored beret of the elite British Special Air Service, SAS, also indicated a certain degree of 37
martial seriousness. On the other side of the British colonel was an American major in a flight suit, the patch Velcroed to his left shoulder showing the Grim Reaper of Task Force 160, the Night-stalkers.
They were all prepared to listen to a briefing by a former Soviet operative.
The man, Karol Kostanov, spoke in clipped English, his accent polished at one of the KGB's finishing schools during the height of the Cold War. He claimed he had been working freelance around the world since the breakup of the Soviet Union.
How the UN Alien Oversight Committee had gotten hold of him, Turcotte had no idea, but he imagined that it involved a lot of cash, based on the expensive suit and custom-made shoes Kostanov wore.
"Please proceed, Mr. Kostanov," Duncan ordered once she made sure everyone was ready.
Kostanov had a carefully cultivated day's growth of beard, framing his aristocratic face and thin glasses, the frames made of some obviously expensive metal. Turcotte wondered if Kostanov even needed the lenses in the glasses or if they were part of his costume, designed to impress. Kostanov's skin was dark, his hair streaked with gray.
"I was contacted a day and a half ago by a representative of the United Nations Alien Oversight Committee," Kostanov began, but Duncan waved a hand.
"I know about that," she said. "You claim you know about a cache of alien artifacts in southwestern Ethiopia, guarded by people who work for a South African business cartel. Since we are
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