Callsign: King II- Underworld

“Physicist,” King repeated. “Narrow that down for me.”


“He’s published several articles on using phase states of matter as an alternate energy source. I can’t really tell you what any of this stuff means, but it sounds like science-fiction. The real kind though, heavy on the science, and without laser gun battles and green-skinned babes. Bluelight’s mission statement—and I’m quoting here— is ‘pioneering alternative energy sources for the 21st century.’”

“There’s no way a start-up would have the resources to shut down the mine operation,” Nina observed.

There was a brief pause and Nina wondered if she had said the wrong thing. “That’s a very astute observation,” King said, without a trace of insincerity. “Bluelight has some significant financial muscle behind them. Ale, can you follow the money?”

“Easier said, King. They’re not publically traded. I can tell you this though; right now, Bluelight has just one client.”

“The government?” Nina said.

“Ah, a point to the lady. Specifically, Bluelight has a contract with DARPA.”

Nina knew all about DARPA—the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency—the military’s R&D arm. The agency had become something of a bogeyman for paranormal enthusiasts, particularly in the UFO community, who imagined DARPA scientists working feverishly in secret laboratories at Area 51, to reverse engineer alien technology from crashed spacecraft.

“‘Who’ isn’t as important as ‘what,’” King said. “Forget the money trail for now, Ale. See if you can figure out what Copeland is trying to do out here. Go through his published work again; there’s got to be a thread we can pull on to unravel all this. Something tells me Bluelight isn’t just trying to build a better solar panel.”

“Meanwhile, what will you be doing?”

In the glow of the phone, Nina could see the determined grin on King’s face. “I think I’m going to go have a look around.”





22.


Pierce gazed down at the still form and marveled at just how human it looked. There were differences of course, most notably, the heavy brow ridge, similar in many respects to depictions of Neanderthal man, to say nothing of the enormous size and the hard looking bumps covering almost every square inch of the creature’s body. All but the area between the forehead and the end of the strong aquiline nose, were covered in the bumps.

If not for the bumpy skin, Pierce thought, you might not give him a second look walking through the mall.

Oops…make that her.

The archaeologist carefully, almost reverently, extracted the coin from the creature’s mouth and held it up for inspection. It was a silver Mexican peso coin, dated 1977. He was almost disappointed that the beasts, intelligent though they were, had chosen such a common and geographically proximal coin to use as anobol. He put the peso back, exactly as it had been and moved to the next body in line.

He winced as everything in the objective lens grew painfully bright, and lowered the monocular, blinking away the bright spots. De Bord had entered the chamber, using his flashlight to show the way.

“Damn it,” the soldier complained, keeping his voice low in spite of his irritation. “You call this takin’ a look? Those things won’t take kindly to you violatin’ their dead.”

“I don’t know if they’d care.” Pierce slipped the coin from the second corpse’s mouth and checked it.

It was most definitely not a peso.

“Well, I’d just as soon focus on gettin’ outta here. If they ain’t comin’ back, then we should keep movin’ forward. There’s bound to be another opening back to the surface.”

Pierce barely heard him. He showed De Bord the coin. Even without being able to translate the strange pictographic writing, the square hole punched in the center of the bronze circle was enough of a clue to identify the coin’s country of origin.

“Holy…is that Chinese?”

Pierce nodded. “It’s a banliang coin, from the Qin Dynasty. This coin is more than two thousand years old.”

“How in God’s name did it get here?”

Pierce grimaced. “You were right about there being another way out.” Pierce said, unable to keep the awe from his voice. “I just hope we don’t have to walk that far.”





23.


King had done more than his share of covert infiltrations, some more successful than others. Luck played a role, but what really made the difference between an effective sneak-and-peek and a clusterfuck of epic proportions was advanced planning based on reliable intel. With Deep Blue guiding them remotely, updating them with real time satellite imagery or infrared surveillance from an unmanned drone, Chess Team had become masters of stealthy insertion into potentially hostile environments.