Independence Day: Resurgence: The Official Movie Novelization Read Online Free PDF

the Congo and the self-proclaimed Republique Nationale d’Umbutu.
    Rosenberg looked up from his papers and his face went pale.
    “Where are we? Director Levinson?”
    Levinson had seen a lot of border crossings in his life, but for sheer style he had to rank Umbutu’s ahead of all the rest. No simple floodlights and customs house here. Huge totems built from the skulls and bones of aliens flanked the road, over which a sign proclaimed the breakaway republic. The U.N. soldiers picked out the totems in the beams of their flashlights, making them seem even spookier than they would have in daylight. The border guards weren’t your standard-issue military police, either. They were big and mean-looking, with tattoos and ritual scarring and looking not at all pleased to see a United Nations convoy parked on their doorstep.
    Rosenberg got out of the jeep, too. Clutching his briefcase, he came up next to Levinson.
    “Who are they?” he asked.
    “Umbutu’s rebel forces,” David answered.
    Rosenberg got even paler. “The warlord?”
    Levinson shrugged. “Nothing to worry about. The old man died. I hear his son is much more of a moderate.” He walked up to the border garrison and said, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Dikembe Umbutu.”
    Instead of answering, every member of the garrison pointed their guns at Levinson, which provided him with an interesting bit of information. Instead of AK-47s or the other standard armaments a Central African rebel group might be expected to possess, Umbutu’s border guards were all armed with alien blasters. The green glow from the energy reservoirs was sharp in the darkness and emphasized the hostile expressions on the guards’ faces.
    “I see you found their armory,” he said. Rosenberg looked as if he might be about to faint. Collins wasn’t happy either, but he stayed close to Levinson, trusting the boss to know what he was doing. That was yet another of the things that made him a useful assistant.
    Levinson had been expecting a welcome party, but apparently that wasn’t how Umbutu the Younger did things. Maybe it wasn’t that much of a surprise, given the facts. He had survived his own father’s insanity and attempted murder, his best friend’s betrayal, and a series of attempted coups after he took power following his father’s death. Now he was firmly in command of his breakaway republic, but the established governments on all sides had no love for Dikembe Umbutu. Under the circumstances, it didn’t pay to be too welcoming to anyone, for fear of appearing weak.
    A voice came from behind the soldiers.
    “The one and only David Levinson.”
    It was a woman. French accent. Familiar.
    Ah. Catherine Marceaux. What’s she doing here?
    Marceaux approached through the garrison, which parted to let her pass. Even in the unflattering illumination of floodlights and flashlight beams, she was a beauty. David tried to conceal his confusion. He failed. He was congenitally bad at hiding his emotions.
    “Catherine? Wow, that’s…” He didn’t know what he was trying to say. “Uh, what are you doing here?”
    “You don’t think you’re the only expert he called, do you?” She had a little mocking smile on her face. Friendly, but also competitive.
    “I’m just a little surprised to see you,” David said. Might as well come right out and admit it. She was, after all, a psychiatrist.
    “I’m a little surprised you remember my name,” she replied, and now she wasn’t smiling.
    “Come on now,” David said. “Let’s be professional.”
    “We both remember what happened last time we tried to be professional.” With that, she seemed satisfied that she had made her point, whatever it was. She turned and walked away.
    “I’m sensing a palpable tension,” Rosenberg commented.
    Levinson tried to play it off.
    “We’ve bumped into each other at a few conferences.”
    “I bet you have.”
    “Shut up, Floyd.” David walked off. He wasn’t in the mood for the innuendo of