'How's Sergeant Mendenhall?' Sarah asked, trying to break the tension.
Collins looked from Virginia back at Sarah. 'He'll make it. The docs say he has four broken ribs to my two and a pretty good gash to his head. He's still able to say we officers were too slow in our reactions.' Collins smiled. 'Personally, I think he's still trying to get out of OCS, which I've decided to send him to.'
Virginia stepped up closer to Collins and Sarah. 'Jack, I do want to see Mr. Tilly at least one more time before we head back.' She paused and held her hand into the lighting that had been turned on at the site. 'I was checking the mother animal and... well, look at this.'
She held her hand out to the major, and on it was a substance that glimmered in the light. Jack and Sarah stared in amazement as the large particles of gold filtered through Virginia's fingers.
The last tunnel the Destroyer had dug had cut right through the no-longer-mythical Lost Dutchman Mine.
The president of the United States had flown out for the memorial service for the Event personnel that had been lost. He meandered through the milling crowd, shaking hands and giving his thanks for the job that had been done. All told, they had lost 32 Event staff on the Site One team and another 41 of the geology and security staff in the tunnels, and all this didn't account for the 99 other soldiers, airmen, and state troopers involved in this catastrophic encounter with life from outside this world.
Earlier the president had met with Lee and Niles, and they had explained in detail the items Europa had uncovered about the Centaurus Corporation, the Genesis Group, and the Hendrix family. The president had made certain calls and the teams in New York and Virginia were awaiting the personnel additions for the final chapter in the Roswell Incident, which had covered the past sixty years. The president had a copy of the e-mail that had been sent to Senator Lee from the Group's number one enemy.
My Dear Senator Lee & Esteemed Company--
We have been at odds for several years now and I fear all good things must come to an end. I must intrude upon your organization this one last time to assist me in breaking an obligation to a man and organization that may hold some interest for you. In a cavernous basement on Seventh Avenue in New York, a basement that has only one entrance, I believe you may find the very items you have most desired since a stormy night lo these many years ago in New Mexico.
For cooperation in allowing me egress from your wonderful country, I am forwarding two gifts of goodwill. First, for Senator Lee, if you examine the relics from the past, you may find one that interests you the most in the previously mentioned building in New York. Second is the gift of knowledge I myself have only learned of recently. I must insist you understand that this information has left a terrible taste in my mouth, as it reeks of amateurism. At a spot not three hundred paces northwest of the exact impact center on a ranch once worked by Mr. Mac Brazel, you will find buried the sad finale of the Roswell Incident and Operation Purple Sage.
I must admit I am tempted to offer these gifts for free, but alas, I do need to leave, and you have the power to allow that to happen.
Until we meet again, you have my fondest thanks.
Regards,
Colonel Henri Farbeaux
THIRTY-FIVE
Charles Phillip Hendrix II was in the middle of a presentation to several high-profile investors from Germany and Taiwan in the boardroom of the Centaurus Corporation. Arrayed around the room were models of the various weapons systems the company had contracts in either building or providing vital systems for. The younger Hendrix had brushed the whole Farbeaux incident under the table until the Frenchman could be caught by the corporation's security teams. Then that bastard would learn what it was to betray him, for in his opinion, if you betrayed Centaurus, you betrayed America herself.
'Gentlemen, if you will look at the growth factor for our peripheral military contracts, you will see that Centaurus has the outlook to achieve--'
At that moment the double doors of the boardroom opened and his assistant backed through them and then turned apologetically toward him. She was followed into the massive boardroom by at least ten men in navy blue Wind-breakers, and as they spread out into the plush conference room, Hendrix saw FBI was printed on the backs of all of them in bold yellow letters.
'I'm sorry, Mr. Hendrix, they say they have a warrant...'
'Charles Phillip Hendrix the Second, I am Special Agent in Charge Robert Martinez. You are under arrest for the crimes of conspiracy to commit murder, industrial espionage, and treason against the people of the United States of America.' The agent took Hendrix by the arm and gently made him place his hands on the polished table.
The prospective investors slowly stood and moved away from the table and tucked themselves into a far corner, distancing themselves as far as they could.
'You have the right to remain silent...'
Hendrix wasn't hearing his Miranda rights being read to him, he was looking at the man standing in the doorway, wondering why a naval officer was here.
Lieutenant Commander Carl Everett watched with his saucer cap tucked under his broken arm as Hendrix was placed under arrest. He removed a cell phone from the sling his arm was in and punched in a pre-programmed number and waited.
'Everett,' he said when the phone on the other end was answered, then he held the phone out to Hendrix.
'Yes!' he growled into the phone.
'Hendrix, do you recognize my voice?'
'Yes, Mr. President,' he answered as his shoulders hunched and his voice emptied of hope.
'I take it you have been placed into custody?'
'For the time being. I'll plead my case in court direct to the American people,' Hendrix answered with as much cockiness as he could.
'I think we're going to leave the courts out of this one. You are hereby divested of all businesses in the United States, and your personal and company assets are frozen. You are now an unpaid consultant to the federal government on the knowledge your company has discovered about extraterrestrial technology and their intentions toward us in the future. You will offer this information in exchange for your life. If at any time you renege on this arrangement, you will be arraigned in a court of law and found guilty of treason at a time of war. Be fruitful and very forthcoming with your information, Mr. Hendrix, your worthless life depends upon it.'
Everett saw Hendrix close his eyes, signaling the end of the conversation, and then Carl removed the phone and gestured to a woman who was waiting just outside the doors.
'This is Mrs. Celia Brown; she will be the caretaker for Centaurus for the foreseeable future, at least until the 1RS and the General Accounting Office can auction its divisions off.'
Celia Brown of the Event Group walked in and past Hendrix. She held her hand out to the two investors who were sitting dumbfounded on a couch in the corner of the office.
Everett leaned toward Hendrix and whispered, 'Compliments of the Event Group.'
Hendrix didn't respond, he just allowed the FBI to drag him away and into his future as a guest of the country he loved, giving up everything he had ever worked for.
The president hung up the phone with Everett, then stood and stretched. He yawned and sat back down in the large overstuffed chair and finally looked at his three directors of the FBI, CIA, and the National Security Agency. He then looked to the far end of the Oval Office and nodded to the two Secret Service agents who stood on
