The Traveler Read online

  “What is this place?” Anya Korvesky asked as she too saw the desolation of the thirteen-building ghost town. The rotors of the Black Hawk stirred up small dust devils that bounced from dead street corner to dead street corner, dodging the broken and rusty dregs of the automobiles left behind by the few citizens and reporters who survived that horrible two days in the desert.

  Henri leaned back and was tempted to reach into his coat pocket and bring out a cigarette that he no longer carried nor had a habit for. He would just have to suffer through the memories of those days that had eventually started bringing to a close his colorful career as a collector of rare and valuable artifacts. Now he was but a paid messenger for a man he had sworn to kill over the death of a wife gone many years now. The past for Henri Farbeaux was always just a thought away, buried deep in memory that not even he himself could sort through.

  “That, my dear, is what the Americans refer to as a ghost town. One that was quite active back in the summer of 2006.” Farbeaux closed his eyes as he leaned back just as the Black Hawk started to settle down into the desert scrub just outside the dead town. “This is Chato’s Crawl. I’m sure it sparks a flare of memory for you.” He smiled over at her, making her feel uncomfortable and not knowing why. “After all, it was in all of the papers.”

  The memory was indeed there thanks to the briefing reports from the Mossad. She looked back at the now-relaxed Farbeaux.

  “The terrorist cell that was uncovered here and in the mountains?”

  “Terrorist cell?” Henri gave her a bemused chuckle and then looked at Anya full on as he removed his sunglasses. “You’re one of them now, and you’ll soon learn that most American cover-ups start with a grain of truth and expand from there. Terrorists, yes, by all means they were indeed that.”

  “One thing you should know about me, Colonel, I do not have your sense of humor.”

  “Really?” he said as he leaned back against the bulkhead of the compartment and replaced his sunglasses. He smiled again as the large helicopter settled onto the sand-covered roadway where once upon a time giant C-130 Hercules cargo planes had set down to disgorge its cargo of 101st Airborne troops for the defense of the American desert. “Well, my dear, possibly being the future Mrs. Everett, you better develop that sense of humor.” His smile left his face as the wheels of the Black Hawk set down on the sand-covered roadway behind the large and abandoned Texaco station. Farbeaux finally sat up and looked at her seriously. “This is the town where the first shots of the war you just survived and your boyfriend did not were fired. Kind of ironic, isn’t it? I mean being brought to the place where it all started, for me, for you,” he said as he saw the face of Jack Collins on the inside of his eyelids, “and for many others.”

  “Well, we’re not alone,” Anya said as the whine of the Black Hawk turbines started to dwindle to nothing as the air force crew chief opened the sliding door and hopped out.

  Farbeaux assisted Anya from the helicopter and then saw that there were three more UH-60s sitting in a neat circle in the old parking lot of the Texaco station, which had seen far better days.

  “This way,” the crew chief said, indicating the broken and smashed diner across the street.

  Henri smiled as he recalled the first time he had been there and met the owner of the small eatery. He recalled her name: Julie Dawes. From what he understood the old man, Gus Tilley, had made the woman’s and her son’s lives quite comfortable after the finding of the Lost Dutchman gold mine. He shook his head as he took in the dilapidated diner. He lost his smile when he remembered the men he had lost in the town and below it in tunnels made by a being from another world as it sought to exterminate men from this planet—the opening shots of the war between mankind and the Grays.

  As the filthy glass door of the diner was held open for them by the Black Hawk’s crew chief, Henri immediately saw the three armed men just inside. The security was part of the Group. Henri could always tell because Collins trained his men to blend in. The three just sat around in civilian clothes and watched the grouping of six people waiting at tables that had been placed together.

  “Colonel Farbeaux, Anya, have a seat, we’ll be starting in a moment.”

  Henri smiled at Virginia Pollock. He swore the lady had more grace to her than most women of royal blood would have coursing through their veins. In his estimation the assistant director of this very strange agency was just plain elegant and deserved to be treated that way.

  “It is good to see you again, Dr. Pollock,” Farbeaux said as he went to her and kissed her hand. She smiled and then glanced over at a very perturbed Master Chief Jenks, who was puffing heavily on his cigar, which Virginia had told him not to light.

  “Wait one goddamn minute,” Jenks said as he stood from the table he and Virginia had been sitting at. Virginia rolled her eyes when she realized the master chief was about to fly into a jealous rage. She batted her eyes, thinking that he did feel something for her after all. “You’re that son of a bitch Frenchy colonel that sank my freakin’ boat!” he said with wide eyes.

  Henri realized who the brutish little man was and that he had been near him the entire time down in Antarctica and never put the face to the name—until now.

  “Well, the famous Master Chief Jenks. Haven’t seen you since—”

  “You know goddamn well when the last time was, Froggy: when you blew up and sank my boat down in that backward-ass lagoon in the Amazon.”

  “That’s enough, we can talk about our colorful pasts another time. Sit down, please.”

  All faces with the exception of Virginia Pollock’s turned at the sound of the voice. Niles Compton stood at the swinging doors that used to front the kitchen of the Broken Cactus Bar and Grill. He placed his briefcase down on a covered table and then allowed Gunnery Sergeant Rodriguez to help him settle into the chair. Then Rodriguez and the other three security men went about the small area that used to be full of small cocktail tables, placing large monitors and computer links that had their power lines running over to the Texaco station where a small generator had been set up. There was only one of the original three pool tables left and that was being used by a tray full of Styrofoam cups and steaming coffee. Small sandwiches were also laid next to the service. All eyes were on the shattered features of the director of Department 5656.

  “We will begin shortly. It seems our security director has something to work out with his people.”

  Henri smiled as he sat down next to Anya and then infuriated the master chief when he winked at him. As for the chief, he had decided that as soon as he was able and thought he could get away with it he was going to eat frog legs for dinner. He would kill the Frenchman for destroying his boat, USS Teacher. Farbeaux’s smile grew when he heard the raised voices coming from the kitchen.

  “Mr. Director, I’m so happy that things in security continue to go on as smooth as a French woman’s”—he looked at Anya, Virginia, and then with a dip of his head in deference to the women and to the quiet kid in the wheelchair in the corner—“a French baby’s bottom.”

  The comment was accompanied by a smashing of metal onto the old, stained, and broken checkerboard tile of the kitchen.

  * * *

  The old rack of dusty utensils flew to the tiled floor near the repaired hole that was once created by what the Group had come to know as the Destroyer. It had since been filled in with concrete as had all the other hidden tunnels underneath the town. The outline of the repaired hole kept Sarah’s attention as she endured the anger of Jack Collins. Captain Jason Ryan was close to being insubordinate to the colonel. The two were almost nose to nose and even Charlie was pushed aside when the two security men clashed.

  “I asked you point-blank if your assault and infiltration team was ready, you said yes.”

  Ryan didn’t back away an inch from Collins. Sarah and Charlie Ellenshaw could only watch the two friends come close to blows. She had never seen Jack act like this with his people. Will Mendenhall stood in the far corner wi
th his arms crossed over his chest. Sarah could see that he was torn between coming to Jason’s defense as he always did, and seeing Jack’s obvious point of view. Will understood the difference, being he was fully trained on tactical assault whereas Jason wasn’t fully up to date. He could see the reasoning behind the colonel’s anger.

  “You,” he said as his finger hit Charlie Ellenshaw in the chest.

  “Ow,” the cryptozoologist said, but to his credit, Mendenhall and the other two noticed Charlie bravely held his ground just as Jason had done.

  “I know you’re hurting, Doc. You don’t lose personnel like Pete and Matchstick, Gus and Dr. Gilliam, and then just go about your everyday life like normal. You have to learn that in the business we have chosen—a business we have voluntarily chosen—you lose people, Doc, and they are always friends. Always!” Jack emphasized the point with his nose only inches from Charlie’s.

  Sarah saw Charlie deflate.

  “You lost your pal, Pete, but I and Niles, we lost thousands, Charlie. And no matter what you do, you cannot bring them back. I know for a fact that you can’t.” Collins turned away from a saddened Ellenshaw and lowered his head and his voice. “I’ve tried a million different ways to do just that.”

  “Colonel, I—”

  Jack looked up, still angry, but mostly sad for the way he had had to come down on the people he admired and respected. “You are both dismissed. Captain, you too. I need a word with Ryan alone.”

  Sarah took Charlie by the arm and turned to leave the broken kitchen that still held the lingering smell of old grease and even older beer. After all of this time the diner placed an exclamation point on the term ghost town. Will hesitated before opening the swinging doors as he took in both men. One, his best friend, the other, a man who was more like a father than his commanding officer. He shook his head and then left the kitchen.

  Collins rubbed his tired eyes and then faced Ryan. Normally the tattoo on his face would have been cause for teasing and laughing, but lately there had been very little of that throughout the Event Group complex.

  “I told you, Jack, I am not the leader you want. Will is far more qualified than I am. Just because I have more time served doesn’t mean I am a better or more qualified officer. I’m a fighter-jock, a tomcat driver”—the sad look again—“or was one anyway.” He shook his head as he looked at a man he respected above all others. “And you know that kind of fighter jock arrogance makes for terrible leadership skills, at least for me. The navy knew that when everyone else still had hope for me. Now I guess you know, Jack.”

  “But you made the choice of going in with inexperienced people on your team.” Collins nodded. “I know we are horribly shorthanded, Jason, so why didn’t you cancel the operation when the specialists you needed weren’t available?” He faced Ryan with a sad look. “Carl never would have done that. In order for this plan to work, and believe me it’s the thinnest mission we will ever come across, and the most dangerous, I have to have everyone on the same page.”

  A hurt look came across Jason’s face and then he turned to leave the kitchen, but stopped just short of exiting as he stood but didn’t face Jack.

  “Jack, I’m not Carl.” He gestured toward the doors and the people beyond. “No one here is. Who’s the one pushing too hard?” He finally faced Jack. “I’ll settle it with this, Colonel, would you have canceled the operation with what you know is at stake?” He turned and left, leaving Jack to see himself just as he was seeing others—planning things with too much emotion.

  That was unacceptable to a man like Collins. Jason was right, he did what Jack himself would have done. Collins supposed it was the hidden fear of losing even more people. He decided that Ryan’s rescue mission was more than brilliant, it was one he himself would have planned.

  * * *

  On exiting the kitchen, Collins walked over to the old and broken waitress station and sat on an old and dusty bar stool. His eyes watched as Jason went to a table where Will had pushed a chair out with his foot. Jason sat. Then his eyes took in the master chief and Virginia, who was patting the retired naval engineer on the arm as if calming him down from something. And as Collins knew, that could be any one of a million things that would set the master chief off. Then his eyes went to the dark corner where the young man sat silently in his wheelchair. Mendenhall had reported that since his rescue from the Mexican prison the young man had said nothing other than to ask about the welfare of his mother. He was now watching the men and women sitting around him with a neutral look on his face. Jack did notice the worn and tattered black Converse sneakers on the young man’s crooked feet.

  By far the most interesting table was occupied by Anya Korvesky, who nodded her lovely head at Jack. Her companion was looking directly at Collins. Henri Farbeaux sat stoically with his right eyebrow raised in interest after Jack had exited the kitchen. He felt the energy still coming off the colonel and Jack wondered if his bright idea would eventually lead to disaster. But for what they had to do in the next six months they needed the skills that Farbeaux had in abundance.

  Niles cleared his throat and then started to stand as was his custom when he taught courses and addressed his management groups, but felt the bright flare of pain in his leg and decided he would speak from the comfort of a chair.

  “For those of you who know where we are, I should tell you that the land and the town has been officially purchased by Department 5656. No one will ever be allowed in this town again after this day. We…” He paused only briefly. “I decided that this will be considered a battlefield grave site and will be protected as that for now and forever. We lost too many good people and soldiers here.”

  All in the room saw Niles’s head dip as the last words were spoken. They had all indeed come a long way since that black summer in 2006.

  Again he cleared his throat. “Your escorts have explained to you what our department does for the United States government.” He looked at Anya, Xavier Morales, and Master Chief Jenks. He didn’t bother including Henri Farbeaux in that comment due to the fact that the antiquities thief knew just as much about the Event Group as any one of them. “And that is as far as it will be explained until you agree to join us for what we have to do. That is the second reason we are meeting outside of our own facilities. This operation is not officially a part of our expanded charter. What we will do, we do on our own with a little bit of covert help from … well, our boss.” Compton looked at Collins, who straightened and then took a step forward and faced the room.

  “If you choose to end this here and now, you will be escorted back to your former situation or job.” Jack looked at the thus far silent Xavier Morales, who still sat with his small hands folded in his lap. At first Jack thought the young man was frightened at the strangeness of the last two days, but he was slowly realizing that the computer genius was just watching, learning—or was it scheming? “The director has arranged for both you, Mr. Morales, and for you, Master Chief Jenks, to return home to your normal lives if you choose not to be a part of our operations. Mr. Morales—” Jack walked over and stood in front of the young man, who only looked up without comment. Jack handed him an envelope. “That is a cashier’s check for two hundred thousand dollars. If at the end of your conversation with Director Compton you wish to depart our company, that check will be yours, no strings attached.”

  The young man’s eyes never wavered and he didn’t do anything with the envelope except place it on the small table in front of him. Jack moved away after the noncommittal response.

  “I think I will take door number one also,” Henri said as he looked seriously from Jack to Niles.

  “Your deal is completely different, Colonel. Jack will explain that option to you in a more private setting.” Compton looked from a nonsmiling Farbeaux to a confident Collins. “I would now like to introduce to most of you someone who you have never met before,” Niles said as he looked at his people. “Anya, please stand up.”

  Mendenhall, Ryan, Sarah, and Charlie
all looked confused as each of them had met and worked with Anya since the war began with the Grays.

  “Major Korvesky has decided to join Department 5656 as an American citizen. The president has signed an executive order and placed it in her new file at Group. She will be accorded management status and be placed under my direct control until she makes the adjustment to the colonel’s security team once this operation is complete. Welcome, Anya, to Department 5656.

  “Miss Korvesky is now officially a part of the Group, she has been signed off on by the president. That leaves Master Chief Jenks, you, Colonel Farbeaux, and our young friend, Mr. Morales.”

  “Easy for me,” Henri said as his face corkscrewed into a sour look as he tasted the coffee. “I’ll take a check just like you offered this young man and then I’ll take my leave.” He smiled and sat back down next to Anya, who sat with a bemused look on her face.

  The pistol appeared in Henri’s face just as he lifted the Styrofoam cup to his lips. The look in the former Mossad agent’s face was telling him she had little patience for his offhanded joking. She cocked the nine millimeter.

  “Okay, that’s a very good negotiating tactic,” Henri said as he sipped his coffee, but everyone saw that the Frenchman never blinked. This was not, after all, the first time he had had a gun shoved in his face.

  “We do things a little differently here, Miss Korvesky,” Niles said as he watched Jack slowly place his thumb between the hammer and the firing pin of the Glock pistol. He easily removed it from a very disappointed Anya. He moved back to the bar after ejecting the clip and placed the weapon on the dusty top. He gave a sour look at his security men, who had supposedly assured them that Anya was not armed. Henri winked as he lowered his cup of coffee, but there was very little humor in the gesture.