The Bovine Connection (29 page)

“So… I have asked myself this simple question. If the Russians were heavily embroiled in this, what about our government? I have been interested in the connection between aliens and our government for quite some time, and have made some startling discoveries. Here’s the biggest scoop of your entire career. There is a top-secret aerospace program being led by a private citizen… A billionaire who’s connected to Elberton, Montana… no one I’ve spoken to seems to know who he is. He has, however, been seen at the Newton Air Force Base with the Committee Chairman of the U.S. Ways and Means, John Kaye, but no one knows his name.”

Angelica looked as if someone had slapped her. “Now, that’s interesting! Back to politics,” she whispered.

Now get this, the mysterious billionaire purchased artifacts from the Russian Mafia… artifacts from the KGB’s expedition into the ‘The Tomb of the Visitor’… More interestingly, according to the defected archeologist-- before he was murdered-- the artifacts purchased actually came from ‘The Chamber of Knowledge’ they discovered through a hidden passageway in ‘The Tomb of the Visitor’ that day in 1961. The archeologist had communicated to his colleagues’ right before his death that he had translated secret blueprints of highly-advanced extraterrestrial technology.

Now, the million dollar question for you is: how far you are willing to go with your story? It’s going to get extremely dangerous the deeper you dig.”

Angelica looked back down at the scroll. “This has taken an interesting direction,” she mumbled. Angelica paused to gain her composure. “So your interest is in the blueprints for advanced technology. Okay, now it’s coming together.” Angelica looked inquisitively at Dr. Bishop.

Dr. Bishop nodded respectfully. “Angelica… John Kaye, the Chairman for the U.S. Ways and Means, may be helping to fund the facility with our taxpayer dollars. Peculiar, ay?”

Angelica concurred, “Peculiar, is an understatement.”

Dr. Bishop observed Angelica as she sat contemplating. ”It’s extremely risky, you already know too much, however.”

Angelica nodded her head, her eyes grave. “Yes,” she said, still contemplating. Her expression indicated she might be second guessing how far she was willing to go.

Angelica met the doctor’s eyes. “When you left the message at the lodge that I was in danger…”

Dr. Bishop appeared surprised by the question, interrupting her in mid-sentence. “Paul Colbeck said you were asking a lot of questions and making connections to the Newton Air Force Base, which supposedly has a hidden ET base underneath it.”

Exhaling, Angelica turned her body to face Dr. Bishop directly. She gave him a dumb look. “Underneath Newton is an underground ET base?”

“You heard me correctly. Well, asking questions about Newton does not go unnoticed in a town like Elberton. We agreed on the phone, you were probably being watched, and since you were at a point of no return-- no pun intended-- well, you were exactly the person who could help us find out more about the advanced technology they are using at the aerospace facility.”

“And what exactly is your interest in the facility,” she asked, “just so I’m clear, Doctor?”

“My interests are the ancient alien artifacts,” Dr. Bishop said. “The blueprint for the technology – perhaps hundreds of years beyond our current technology, or more. I have a strong hunch on what that might be.”

Angelica thought for a moment. “Why did you leave the voicemail and the note anonymously? Why didn’t you just say who you were?” Angelica held a suspicious frown.

“I probably should have,” he told her, “but I was afraid my messages could have been intercepted. I was trying to show some semblance of caution. But bottom line, I genuinely want to help you.” Suddenly, Dr. Bishop thought he heard a sound coming from the warehouse. He looked around the lab and then back to Angelica, raising his finger to suggest they lower their voices and whisper. “You know, in my field we are uncomfortably aware of the archaeological cover-ups. If the general public were ever allowed inside the nation's attic, as the Smithsonian has been called, they would be amazed at the skeletons they’d find. It would rock the very foundation of our society.”

Angelica shook her head, “It does seem that the general public is always being kept in the dark. And here I’ve been, an investigative journalist in this very city, and these hidden discoveries have been right under my nose this whole time. You seem to know a great deal about this aerospace facility. How do you recommend I proceed?” she asked sincerely.

“Well, first, you should find out who the billionaire is,” Dr. Bishop said.

“Do you have an idea as to who he could be?” Angelica asked with her head cocked.

“The CEO camouflages him from the public,” Dr. Bishop replied.

“Can’t you just follow the paper trail?” Angelica asked, as if she had concluded the best way.

“No, his name appears as F.M.G. There are no photos of him, nothing shedding light on his identity,” Dr. Bishop said, as he raised his hand and scratched his forehead.               

“What do you think he’s doing at the facility?” she questioned.        

“I may be wrong; however, judging by the artifacts found in ‘The Tomb of the Visitor’… or more accurately, ‘The Chamber of Knowledge’… I believe he’s working on teleportation, and I think he’s going to a planet where the Egyptian visitors supposedly built ancient pyramids, as well. It’s a planet that is steeped in human mythology and fascination, and it’s our neighbor.”

Angelica laughed nervously and tilted her head as he continued. “Mars?”

Dr. Bishop smiled and nodded. “I believe he purchased the blueprints for advanced teleportation technology, perhaps thousands of years more advanced than anything we humans could discover.”

“You do?” Angelica uttered, as she examined Dr. Bishop’s face. “Where is the aerospace facility located?”

“Nevada.” Dr. Bishop straightened his lips.

“Well, I guess I’m heading to Nevada,” Angelica said, sounding uncommitted to the idea.

“Good, I’ll join you.”

Angelica appeared surprised. “Join me?” She chuckled.

“When do we leave?” Dr. Bishop took out a business card from his wallet and handed it to her.

“No one there is going to agree to an interview with a journalist from D.C.,” Angelica said.

“We can try.” Dr. Bishop smiled.

“Or an archaeologist from the Smithsonian,” she said wryly. “Are you sure you want to do this, Doctor?” Angelica stared in disbelief.

“You don’t want to go alone, do you?”

Angelica thought for a moment. “No, I guess that is not the best option considering I might be in danger,” she answered truthfully.

“Good, so when do you want to leave?” Dr. Bishop was anxious.

“Well, let’s see. I have to make some cursory preparations so… in a few days.” Angelica took a deep breath. “Okay, you can make the logistical arrangements and I’ll have my office line up the interview… I’ll call you tomorrow.” Angelica said slowly.

Dr. Bishop rolled the scroll up and placed it back in the tube. He walked over and sat it back on the shelf. “This way, I’ll walk you out.” He motioned and then walked over and opened the door.

“Dr. Bishop, what if they don’t agree to an interview?” Angelica asked as she scrambled her feet to the floor and stood up from the stool.

“Well, I think we go anyway. We could at least get a good look at the facility, and perhaps, ask around a bit.” He winked sheepishly.

Angelica stepped out and then turned around to focus on his earnest eyes. “I’ll wait for your call.”

A
s Angelica stepped out of the Smithsonian’s main entrance, she found herself in the middle of a group of school-aged children who had just gotten out of a nondescript, yellow school bus. Angelica stepped aside so they could pass by her, careful not to bump into any of them.

The children were speaking loudly, visibly excited to enter the museum. Angelica smiled at one of the teachers at the end of the line of children as they finally passed by her. She thought about how naïve and vulnerable they were and she felt a tinge of sadness deep in her stomach.

While at the curb, watching the last child enter the front doors of the museum, a black Lincoln Town car pulled up behind her. It couldn’t have been more than five feet away and she smelled the fumes from the exhaust, pungent and thick in the heat of the summer day. She heard the car door slam and swung around to see two men in black suits stepping onto the curb as one walked briskly towards her. At first Angelica thought they were going to walk past her but then the tall, muscular man in front, who seemed to be in charge, said three words that made her blood turn cold… “Angelica Marie Bradley?” No one ever spoke her middle name. Her mother had given it to her in honor of her grandmother. Angelica stood there completely frozen and time seemed to stand still. One of the men stayed back by the car and was looking around while the man that spoke her full name stepped right up to her. “Do not publish the story, Ms. Bradley.” Then he nonchalantly handed her a rolled up piece of newspaper. “Open it Ms. Bradley.” Angelica slowly opened up the newspaper as her hands began to tremble. She felt moisture forming in the pit of her arm.

It was an article that she immediately recognized. An investigative journalist was found dead from a robbery gone wrong after an intruder had entered his home. Angelica stood there stunned, with her jaw dropped, holding the newspaper with the photo of the victim. The man stood very close to her and with piercing eyes, looked down at her and simply said, “Have a nice day, Ms. Bradley.” She watched with her mouth open, in a daze, as the man turned and walked away. His partner opened the door for him and he quickly got into the black Lincoln. His partner then walked around and opened the passenger side door, staring directly at Angelica as he got in and slammed the door shut.

Angelica felt her body moving into a trance-like state. She stared, mesmerized by the familiar picture of the murdered journalist. Her voice taut with fear… “I covered this story several years ago,” she thought aloud, as she peered at the picture of the man on the newspaper.

Angelica was familiar with all the details of the crime. Although she had never believed the police report stating it was a random crime, she was never able to gather enough information proving her suspicions that he was murdered for revealing the whereabouts of a former Nazi scientist, still wanted for war crimes. He had been living safely secluded and protected, under an alias in Virginia. The dead journalist had uncovered that the former wartime criminal was employed by Hatcher Pharmaceuticals.

A woman’s voice appeared out of nowhere. Angelica jerked and turned. “The light is red, Miss. You can cross the street.” An elderly lady was standing in front of her smiling, appearing concerned.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Angelica looked around and then quickly ran across the road to where her car was parked.

A
ngelica took the elevator up to her office, passing by the cubicles in the center of the building.

She unlocked her door and turned on the light. Angelica glanced around, suddenly happy to be back. She walked over and sat down at her desk.

“Hey, you’re back! How was it?”

Angelica looked up to see Andrew standing in her doorway. She was careful with her response, feeling it was safer that Andrew not know anything about what had transpired in the last forty eight hours, especially after what had happened to Matthew.

Andrew studied Angelica as he perched on the sleek white lounge chair in front of her desk with easy grace of Gene Kelly. Angelica gripped the arm of her chair and took a deep breath.

“You seem different,” he announced as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Different?” Angelica appeared puzzled. “How so?” she asked, as she shot a quick glance over at him before looking at her computer screen.

“Not sure… Just different,” Andrew pushed the curious thought away. “So how did it go in Montana?” he asked, his voice enthusiastic.

“It is definitely going to be a fascinating story. I can promise you that.”

Andrew nodded. “Well, how about getting a drink after work?”

Angelica appeared worried as she looked away from her laptop and met Andrew’s eyes. “I’m seeing someone.”

Andrew was shocked. “What? Who? When did this happen?” he said almost in a yell.