had one rail and that was made from what looked like concrete. It was a single track that ran down the tunnel and had only a metal strip on its left side.
'We usually bring people in through the Nellis gates and through our regular checkpoints, sir, just as if they were regular air force personnel, but we have those points under security renovation. Director Compton and the senator thought this would be easier'
'The senator?' Collins asked.
The two men said nothing.
'Please step back beyond the yellow line, your transport is arriving,' the computer-generated voice said to them.
Mendenhall pulled lightly on the major's shirt as Collins looked down and saw he was an inch or two beyond a yellow stripe that had been painted about a foot from the edge of the platform. He stepped back. Suddenly, a swishing sound came from the darkened tunnel. The next thing Collins saw was a small tube, pointed at both ends and entirely enclosed in glass from waist level up, stop suddenly in front of them. There were no braking sounds at all, just the rush of air and a quick rise of his hair.
'Your transport has arrived,' stated the computer.
'Damn, that was smooth,' Collins said.
'It works on electromagnetism and pneumatics. Power, braking, everything,' the sergeant volunteered, hoping he wouldn't be slammed again by the major's knowledge.
A door slid back and allowed the three passengers to enter. It looked like a smaller version of the monorail system Collins had seen at most major airports, the pointed nose being the only difference. As he took one of the plastic seats in the front of the transport, the door slid closed and the computer spoke again. 'Welcome to the Nellis Transport System. There is no standing while the transport is in motion. The distance covered to the main platform will be eleven point four miles and time duration will be two minutes, thirty-three seconds.'
Collins frowned at the thought of traveling that fast with no one at the controls.
The transport started humming and moved with ever-increasing forward momentum. The major could see the tunnel was dark beyond the glass with the exception of the blue strip lighting that lined the center of the track. The illumination zipped by until it was a solid line of light. There was a slight downward angle and he realized the tram was traveling deeper and deeper into the desert surrounding Las Vegas.
Two and a half minutes later Collins felt the transport decelerating. Then a lit platform came into view that was far wider than the one they had just left. This dock had people on it. They wore coveralls and moved about placing crates and boxes onto a lift. As they sped by, a few of them looked up. The personnel were a mix of different colored jumpsuits and sexes.
'Welcome to Group Platform One,' the computer stated with enthusiasm. The door slid open with a hiss of air and the three men stood.
'You're not in Kansas anymore, Toto,' Mendenhall quipped, then added, 'sir,' quickly, as they stepped forward into the underground domain of the Event Group.
Major Collins watched the men and women loading crated material onto a large lift. The huge elevator was capable of carrying no less than two tanks side by side, but at the moment the thirty-five or so personnel were loading only small crates and boxes onto the monstrous elevator.
'Please follow me, sir, we have another ride ahead of us,' the sergeant said.
Collins allowed the corporal to once again lift his bag and he followed both security men to another set of doors. These doors only had a down indicator light set into the wall beside them. As they approached, the doors slid open without the usual rumble of a normal elevator, and they stepped in. Sergeant Mendenhall nodded his head at the other man, who waved good-bye with a halfhearted salute.
'I'll escort you down into the complex, Major. We don't like to leave Gunny too long without company. He has a tendency to gouge the legitimate customers we get in the shop.' Mendenhall smiled as the doors slid closed.
Collins watched as the sergeant repeated the process he had used on the first elevator. Only this time, instead of his hand he had to place his right eye into a soft rubber piece that conformed to his orbital structure.
'Retinal scans complete, Sergeant Mendenhall. Will your guest please place his right thumb onto the pad to the right?' the computer asked.
Mendenhall gestured the major forward and indicated the glass plate to the right of the eyepiece he had just used. Collins placed his right thumb to the glass, watching as red laser-tracking lines appeared to wrap around his thumb. The light went off.
'Thank you, Major Collins, you may proceed.'
'The computer weighed the elevator and knew that I wasn't alone in the car, thus knew I had a guest with me. This elevator is pneumatically operated. We'll be riding air down into the complex.'
The elevator indicator to the left of the doors told Collins the only choices they had were down, and these read 1-150. He didn't comment on Mendenhall's explanation of the elevator as he didn't really care for the idea of riding air pressure anywhere.
'Where in the hell are we, Sergeant?' Collins asked.
The man smiled and said, 'Well, sir, the men who will explain that to you are far above my pay grade, but I
'Jesus' was all the major could utter in response.
'Altogether there are one hundred and fifty levels, equaling four thousand and some change in feet. Yes, sir, quite a ways. The main levels below were excavated from a natural cave formation similar to Carlsbad, only these caves weren't discovered till 1906.' The sergeant paused, then quoted from memory, ''This is the second facility for the Group; the original was in-Virginia. But this particular complex was built during the Second World War as part of the expansion under President Roosevelt.' 'He smiled again. 'I guess it was a little easier to hide the cost back then. It was designed by the same people who drew up the plans for the Pentagon.'
'What does the Group do here?' Collins asked, eyeing the indicators.
'Again, sir, the most important questions you have will be answered by people other than me.'
The elevator came to a soft halt with only a soft and minute bounce. Mendenhall retrieved the major's bag as the doors slid open. Collins stepped out into what appeared to be a quiet, well-appointed, and normal reception area.
'Major, enjoy your tour of the Group. And hearing of your reputation, I believe I'll like being a part of your team, sir,' the black sergeant said as he placed the bag down. Then he leaned back into the elevator and the doors closed. Collins didn't even have time to say thank-you before he was left looking at the 'up' arrow above the doors.
Collins surveyed the reception area. Three desks were arrayed at different corners of the plush, hunter- green-carpeted room. At two of the desks sat men, busily working at computers. At the center-most station, an older woman sat. Her desk was the largest of the three, and it was this woman who stood, smiled, and walked around her desk. She stepped forward and extended a hand.
'Major Collins, I presume?'
'Yes, ma'am,' he answered, turning and taking the woman's small and elegant hand in his own. The woman was tiny and looked to be in her late fifties. Around her neck her bifocals hung from a thin, gold chain. She wore a long-skirted blue suit with a plain white blouse. Her graying-black hair was up in an old-fashioned bun with not a single hair out of place. She wore only minimal makeup, her only accessory a small American flag pin attached on her left lapel.
She smiled warmly. 'Welcome to the Event Group, Major, otherwise known as Department 5656 of the federal government. I'm sure we will make your days here just as exciting as any you've had in your career.'
Collins raised a brow in doubt and the woman caught the gesture. She just continued to smile and patted him on the hand, before releasing it.
Collins looked around the reception area once more. On one wall hung a massive portrait of Abraham Lincoln, a painting he had never seen before. The oil portrait depicted him sitting and reading a book, of which the title was obscured. On another wall, and a bit smaller, was a portrait of Theodore Roosevelt, complete in his hand-tailored
