Dragon Over Washington (The Third War Of The Bir Nibaru Gods) (24 page)

“That’s not damage caused by firearms. You can’t see craters, no blackened buildings and no perforated walls. You can’t see any fires or burn damage except the factory. There are no structures with holes in them. So, it wasn’t done by bombing or direct fire or explosive devices of any kind,” Thorpe said. Andy glanced at the red-haired man, seeing a tiny smile on his lips. Andy looked at the images again.

“Then how?”

“You know. You know as well as I do. You played me the intercept from the BMP. You didn’t take it seriously, didn’t you?” Thorpe said, grinning.

“You can’t be serious —”

“All right, I’m not. But that’s the only kind of explanation that makes any sense. The enemy is - well, I don’t know what it is, but we got a description out of the intercept. Some kind of biological entity,” Thorpe said. He got up and let Andy sit at his station, browsing through the images he himself had provided.

“It does make some sense. It would explain why there are no craters or shell damage. This entity, or enemy, doesn’t work like this. It has other weapons,” Thorpe said triumphantly. Andy leaned back and shook his head.

“You can’t be serious.”

“All right, I’m not. Show me another explanation.” Andy shook his head, but kept silent. Thorpe marked the town on his map and wrote ‘“Town demolished, no firearms”’ under Russia on his blackboard. Andy watched him silently.

“Anything new on my written message?” Thorpe asked. Andy tore his gaze away from the blackboard.

“Yeah, actually there is. She said it’s an ancient Cuneiform writing using pictograms. The professor managed to decipher a few words from the message, mainly the ones that kept reappearing. She says she thinks the message from the NY apartment and the message we caught on the radio intercept are in the same Mesopotamian language. She said the words that kept appearing are ‘God,’ ‘storm’ and ‘war.’ There was also a time frame mentioned, seven weeks. There was also some kind of warning, but she wouldn’t give me details yet.”

Thorpe looked at his blackboard. Andy saw Thorpe sag when he mentioned the seven weeks period.

“Stormgod. They worship a Stormgod in Owego. Ask the professor if she can - who is that professor, anyway?” Thorpe asked.

“Told you, she’s from the University of Maryland. She’s an expert on Mediterranean and Mesopotamian history. She’s a nice old lady in a wheelchair,” Andy said.

Thorpe shuddered.

“What’s with you?”

“I’m just having difficulty hearing you talk about a professor that way. Do you know how hard I worked at collage never to be noticed by any teacher? Nothing good ever came from them,” Thorpe said.

“You’re an idiot. I told you, she’s a very nice old lady. She wouldn’t harm a fly.”

“Well, ask her if she can find any connection between what we heard on the recording and the message, maybe something about the deadline.” Thorpe said.

“Sure, no problem.” Andy walked out the cubicle, but stopped and put his head in again. He thought for a moment.

“Why don’t you come with me to the cafeteria? Grab something to eat and a coffee? Or a Coke, since I don’t think your mom allows you to drink coffee yet.”

“No, I can’t. Factor X might call and I have to figure out a way to track the things in Colorado - they seem to evade me more easily as time passes. There’s a satellite pass coming up. Maybe tomorrow,” Thorpe said. He realized Andy was still looking at him. “Look, I have to stay here. Less than six weeks now. Maybe I - hey! Let go of me!” Andy had pulled him up and was forcing  him out of his cubicle.

***

They sat in the division’s cafeteria, Thorpe resting his head on the plastic table. Andy joined him a moment later, bringing a tray. He placed a steaming mug in front of Thorpe and took the small cup of coffee cup for himself. There were also a few donuts. Thorpe held his mug in both hands, bending over it, breathing in the aroma. Andy looked at him. At first the young man was edgy, checking his watch constantly. It took him some time to relax.

“You know, though it is sometimes hard to believe, you are a grown man. A hot chocolate milkshake raises doubts,” Andy said. Thorpe ignored him for a moment, just warming his hands over his cup. Finally, he looked up, a twinkle in his tired eyes.

“Oh, really? It’s real easy going into a bar and ordering whiskey and looking tough. The real trick is to order milkshake and still appear to be a tough guy,” Thorpe said, lowering his voice. He took a sip from his milkshake.

“You really are an idiot. Have I told you that?” Andy asked.

“Constantly. Such is the life of geniuses. They are never appreciated while they live,” Thorpe said.

“Keep dreaming, idiot. What’s with Colorado? What have you found there?” Andy asked.

Thorpe sighed. “I don’t really know. There’s something there, but I don’t know what it is. It keeps avoiding my satellite cameras. For all I know a bunch of huge mutant lizards will attack a city or the NSA camp there and I wouldn’t have even seen them coming. They are huge, stealthy mutated lizards,” Thorpe said. Thorpe opened one eye, saw Andy staring at him, and smiled.

“Yeah, I know. Stealth lizards. This sounds like a B movie from the fifties. Attack of the Giant Stealth Lizards! But the moment they are picked up by a camera, they vanish into thin air. Poof.”

Thorpe sighed. “I am the one they are counting on to find these things, but it’s not easy. And the thing that bugs me the most is that if one of them attacks the camp or a town or a ranch I wouldn’t even know about it till I hear it on the news. I got lucky once when one of them tried to attack a farm, but luck is not something I can depend on. I had an idea, watching them and switching the camera setting between IR and visible light, but sometimes they change their camouflage so fast I can't track them,” Thorpe said.

“Well, now. Isn’t that interesting. I see fate has stepped into your life, again,” Andy said. Thorpe raised his eyes and looked at the direction Andy was pointing. The cute guard from the entrance, Shannon, was just entering the cafeteria. She was wearing her uniform pants with a white shirt that exposed a tanned, muscled midriff when she moved about. A belt with a handheld radio and a handgun and ammunition hung at her waist. Thorpe’s eyes followed a glinting ring in her bellybutton.

“The beauty and the beast. All in one,” Andy murmured. He watched Thorpe while he followed her, entranced, then Thorpe lowered his gaze to his milkshake. Andy turned his attention back to Shannon.

“Roby, fate favors the ones who favor action,” Andy said. When Thorpe looked up, Andy shifted his eyes to the guard. Thorpe’s eyes followed him. Another guard joined Shannon. He was a tall man, muscular. He put his arm around her as they both stood in line. Snippets of their laughter reached Thorpe and Andy.

“Oh well, she’s just a guard. No great loss,” Thorpe murmured. He tried to sip whatever remained in his glass. Andy watched him a moment.

“What? You’re goanna give up so easily?” Andy asked.

“Look, I’m right in the middle of a crisis here. You know, national security? Human lives? Stars and stripes and all that? Any of that rings a bell? Besides, what’s up with you and Molly? Don’t you have anything better to do?” Thorpe asked. He was looking at Andy. Taking great care, Andy noted, not to look elsewhere.

“Let this be a lesson to you, Roby. Never wait. Grab fate by the horns,” Andy said. Thorpe was looking out the window. The base was spread out in front of them. Thorpe’s eyes wandered over the buildings and hangars without really noticing them. He looked back at Andy. The neat analyst lifted his cup of coffee to take a sip, but frowned when he saw the cup had left a moist circle on the table. He took a napkin and wiped both cup and table.

“What was that?” Thorpe demanded. Andy leaned back as Thorpe leaned towards him, a strange look on his face. Andy looked frightened, seeing Thorpe’s eyes burn with intensity.

“Err, umm, if you don’t reach out and take whatever life –" Andy stopped talking as Thorpe rose from his seat. Thorpe’s eyes were on the table and Andy’s napkin.

“The napkin? I just don’t like to leave wet traces on the table. It’s just a thing that I do,” Andy said, looking at Thorpe. Thorpe moved over and clapped Andy on the back before he could get away.

“The shirt, man! Don’t get it wrinkled!” Andy protested.

“You’re a genius!” Thorpe said. Then he took off, running. Andy looked after him. Thorpe returned an instant later, grabbed a chocolate-coated donut and vanished.

“I know I’m a genius. Hey, you owe me a buck for the drink and donut!” Andy shouted after him.

***

“Traces! That’s what’s it all about! Traces!” Thorpe shouted in glee while skipping through the NSA corridors towards his cubicle, ignoring the looks he got on the way. He opened up the Satellite Control System and planted new targets, coordinates for tonight’s pass. He set up the satellite to use a longer-range, infrared wavelength for the tonight’s images and configured it to take a number of low-resolution images covering most of the Flattops area. Thorpe pressed the upload button and leaned back, grinning.

He looked at the picture he printed out of the real-time from the satellite. The monster stared at him now, with its reptilian eyes, massive open jaws, and long, bulky form coiling. “You’re toast tonight, friend! You’re not going to have any counter to my latest move. The game is mine!” He grinned.

Thorpe looked at the blackboard and the map, and then turned to his smartphone. There was a message waiting for him from Roger in New Zealand. “Hi Tanya,” Thorpe murmured, reading Roger’s message. “I’m glad you took an interest in our nature photographs. The Libyan Desert offers numerous opportunities of filming the silver backed badger. We are now going to Al Jaghbub, the biggest town in the area for rest and for stocking up on supplies and charging batteries.” Thorpe grinned.

“Hi Roger. How is the desert? It must be very exciting. You must be very brave to take photographs in the desert. How is that town you are going to? Is it really an oasis in the desert? Take care, Tanya.” Thorpe looked at the message once and then sent it.

“I’ll show those agency idiots in Africa -”    

“Mister Thorpe.”

Thorpe jumped out of his chair at the sound of the too-high voice coming from behind him. He came down slowly, his heart beating in his throat and turned furiously towards Agent Winder, who was standing right behind him.

“Will you -”

Thorpe stopped talking. Agent Winder was smiling like a man who had never smiled in his life. There was something horrible in that smile - or grimace.

“We have gone over the satellite pictures of the attacked villages. There weren’t any signs of the perpetrators. We are still searching for them,” Agent Winder said.

“Ah, okay,” Thorpe murmured.

“We have a preliminary report of another village that was attacked in Angola. We will be in touch,” Agent Winder said, glanced at Thorpe’s blackboard and left.

“And Andy tells
me
I have no people skills,” Thorpe murmured, listening for the agent’s footsteps, moving down the corridor.

Thorpe returned to his blackboard. He scanned the information he had gathered, glancing at the picture of the monster and a picture of the message from the New York apartment. He searched for more Radio Blankets, though the only ones he found were around Al Jaghbub. He searched the NSA database for more connections. He -

Thorpe shook himself erect. He had somehow dozed off while sitting in his chair. He instantly turned to the communication’s computer, but there was nothing, he hadn’t missed any calls. Thorpe sighed, got up and went to wash his face. He sank down into his seat a few moments later. He opened Ellis’s file again and looked at her pale, smooth skin, her black eyes and lustrous black hair. The tip of her nose was slightly pink and her cheeks were rosy. He found himself smiling again, returning her half smile.

Something beeped and Thorpe closed the file hurriedly. He looked around him guiltily, but there was no one around. Thorpe opened the Satellite Control workstation. It was time. The satellite was beginning to transmit the first image from the series Thorpe had set up. Thorpe had configured it to look at things that were fainter and colder, and would thus be using the longer range infrared band. Thorpe watched the screen intently.

The image was slowly forming on his screen. Thorpe whistled. The first hot trail appeared almost immediately. Thorpe was now looking at trails of his targets, still hot, but a lot colder than the targets themselves. The trail reached a few hundred feet before it faded completely. Its head was invisible, as Thorpe knew it would. The target could mask itself, but the hot trail it left behind it was another matter. Thorpe saw another trail, followed by another. Thorpe whistled.

“Bingo! All of them in the first image! You can mask yourself, but you heat up the rocks you pass over! You can’t hide the traces of your trails, can you?” There were half a dozen trails in that first image, of different length and different warmth, all of their beginnings invisible. Thorpe whistled stronger. The second image started to appear and Thorpe could already see the hot trails, as if tanks had traversed the region. Thorpe stopped whistling when the third image began to appear. There were trails all over it as well.

“How many of those things are out there?” It was a whisper. Thorpe felt as if his cubicle had been invaded, violated. He always considered computers to be his friends, his protection from the world, the only things that were logical and always cooperative, but the passing week had taught him to be afraid of the things they showed him.