Tarizon, Conquest Earth, Tarizon Trilogy Vol 3

  Chapter 30

  The Mole

  Before Hamilton took Peter to the chopper, they stopped at the Secret Service office on the ground floor of the West Wing. Hamilton explained the situation to the agent in charge.

  “That’s a bunch of garbage,” the agent said. “Nobody can look into a man’s eyes and tell if he’s telling the truth or not.”

  Hamilton shrugged. “I know it sounds bizarre, but can it hurt anything?”

  “So, if he thinks one of my men is an alien, I’m supposed to believe him?”

  “No. You don’t have to believe him. Just give the agent a few days off until we can sort this all out.”

  After the men quit arguing, Hamilton showed Peter into a small room. “We have three special agents here whom you can check out.”

  Peter nodded. “Fine,” he said and took a seat.

  After a minute an agent stepped in and looked curiously at Peter then stepped back out. Finally he walked in and sat down. He didn’t look pleased.

  “Okay. Let’s get this over with,” he said.

  Peter smiled and looked into the agent’s eyes. “Agent Roberto Ramirez, born August 11, 1956 in San Antonio, Texas. Married Sandra L. Lorenzo on June 3, 1978 in St. Michael’s Catholic Church. You were twenty minutes late for your wedding and your wife hasn’t ever forgiven you.”

  Agent Ramirez just looked at Peter in shock. “Did Hamilton give you my file?”

  “No,” Peter replied. “He didn’t even tell me your name. . . . Have you ever heard of Tarizon?”

  “Not until a few minutes ago.”

  “Do you know anything about the kidnaping of the President?”

  “Nothing more than what I learned in the briefing a few minutes ago.”

  “Good. It was nice meeting you, Agent Ramirez. Looking forward to working with you. Send in the next man.”

  Ramirez nodded and got up. “Me too,” he said meekly.

  A woman with dark brown hair and green eyes walked in and flashed Peter a sardonic smile.

  Peter raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. “Sorry, Miss Walker, but you will have to cancel your date with Roger tonight. But you knew that deep down, didn’t you?”

  Walker’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you about Roger?”

  “You did. It’s the most important thing on your mind right now—even a notch above finding the President.”

  Agent Walker frowned. “That’s not true.”

  “When did you see Commander Kulchz last?” Peter asked.

  “What? Who’s Commander Kulchz?”

  “You know, they briefed you about him earlier.”

  She nodded. “Right. The leader of the alien invasion.”

  “You should really tell Roger you’ve been married before. It’s the right thing to do.”

  Walker sighed. “How do you do that?”

  “I don’t know the physics of it. I was taught by a master. It’s a matter of focus, directing your mind and believing you can connect with someone. It’s fairly common on Tarizon, but apparently not so much on Earth. I don’t know why. . . . You’re clear. Send in the last agent.”

  The last agent was tall, thin, pale skinned, and had a crew cut. He avoided eye contact. Peter immediately had a bad feeling about him.

  “So, to check you out I need to look into your eyes,” Peter said evenly.

  The agent squirmed in his chair and took a deep breath but didn’t look up.

  “Is there something you don’t want me to see?”

  The agent stood up, drew his Glock 17, and pointed it at Peter. “Take a look at this, you—”

  Before the man could either finish the sentence or pull the trigger, Peter ripped the gun out of his hand with his mind. It fell harmlessly to the ground. The other agents, who’d been watching from outside, came running in. They grabbed the man and wrestled him to the ground.

  “Are you all right?” Hamilton asked.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. He’s been giving intel to Kulchz. If you check his right shoulder I think you’ll find a tracking sensor embedded under the skin. It allows Kulchz to keep track of where his men are at all times. That’s why it’s so easy for them to infiltrate the government. They don’t have to do anything other than be there. The tracking device also allows them to hear any conversations within earshot of the person with the implanted device.”

  “Jesus!” Hamilton snorted. “This Kulchz jackass has been listening to everything we’ve been saying?”

  “Quite possibly.”

  “How can we figure out if someone has an implant? X-ray? Metal detector?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to experiment on the agent you just took into custody. What’s his name?”

  “Robbins—Samuel Robbins.”

  “You should interrogate him about the abductions. He might know something.”

  “Can’t you look him the eyes and read his mind?”

  “Not if he’s resisting. He’s been trained to keep his mind closed. Mind reading on Tarizon is pretty common, so everyone in the military is trained how to defend themselves against it. You’d have to convince him to cooperate or give him truth serum.”

  “Truth serum?”

  “Right. I think Mo might know where to get a particularly effective variety. He gave my father some one time. Get some of that and I’ll have a go at him.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “And while you’re at it you need to get all your agents some super-dark sunglasses and make them wear them at all times. If the aliens use their memory guns on them it might not be as effective if the blue light is filtered.”

  “I’ll order some custom glasses. In the meantime I’ll have everybody use what they have or pick some up at the drugstore.”

  “Good. In the meantime, we better get to the funeral before all our witnesses disappear.”

  “Right. The chopper should be arriving any minute. I’ll check on it. Wait right here.”

  While Peter was waiting he got out his GC and hailed Captain Shilling. Realizing how important instantaneous communications would be on Earth, Captain Shilling had set six communications satellites in orbit around Earth before ES 26 landed. Peter was glad she’d had the foresight to do that as he wanted to update her on the situation and ask her to send someone to find his mother and sister and make sure they were safe.

  “Sure, I’ll send a squad to Dallas immediately,” Captain Shilling said.

  Peter gave her the name of the motel where his dad had been living. “Jodie has the Mercury Grand Marquis. Have her take it to my mother. If she has to drive anywhere I want her to be as safe as possible.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Good.”

  “Before you sign off, Commander, I’ve got some bad news you need to hear,” Captain Shilling said.

  “What?” Peter said reluctantly.

  “Invincible attacked ES 52. Red took the T-79 out and blasted it with the plasma cannon. Unfortunately, he got hit with debris from the blast and his fighter was disabled. A couple of enemy fighters took advantage of that and finished him off.”

  Peter closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Tears welled in his eyes. It was all he could do to keep his composure.

  “I was worried about that when they told me how close you had to get to use the plasma cannon,” he finally said. “Red was worried about it, too. He mentioned it to me.”

  “I’m sorry. I know how close you two were.”

  “How’s Lora taking it? From what I’ve heard, they were very much in love.”

  “She’s wrapping herself in her work, trying not to dwell on it. She’s a tough woman.”

  “But she must be devastated.”

  “Uh-huh. . . . Oh, one more thing: watch out for National Guard Troops. There are two hundred or so Purist soldiers masquerading as soldiers from the Maryland National Guard. They’ve been specifically sent to kill you, your family, and anybody helping you.”

  “Wonderful,” Peter moaned.

&nb
sp; “ES 52 will be coming down to help in any way it can. They’ll land somewhere near Washington, DC. Captain Sparten will contact you by GC when they land. Threebeard said you could use the help and it was safer for ES 52 to be ‘dirtside,’ as he put it.”

  “Good. We’ll take all the help we can get.”

  They talked a little longer and then Peter hung up. A minute later, Hamilton came in to tell him the chopper was ready. Peter followed him outside and saw a helicopter waiting for them. They rushed over to it and climbed aboard. Walker and Ramirez were already on board.

  “There’s been a change of plans,” Hamilton said. “We’re going to Andrews Air Force Base. Our team has been reassigned to protect Senator Rubio now that he’s likely to be sworn in as president.”

  Peter winced. “How long until that happens?”

  “Not long,” Hamilton said. “The country can’t be without a president.”

  When they arrived at Andrews, they were driven to a building that stood above a deep underground bunker.

  “Has the new security team arrived yet?” Hamilton asked the agent sitting inside the building’s security station. His name tag read Special Agent Martin Scott.

  “Not yet,” Scott advised. “Senator Rubio just arrived. The Chief of Staff just called. You’re supposed to bring the Senator to the White House. They may have to swear him in right away.”

  Peter looked at Hamilton. Hamilton sighed. “Can I talk to the Senator?” Peter asked.

  “Who are you?” Scott asked.

  “Ah. He’s a consultant working with the CIA and the FBI. It probably wouldn’t hurt to let him chat with the Senator a moment.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Peter Turner.”

  “So, why do you want to talk to him?”

  “Ah. There’s some question as to whether he’s a natural born citizen. That’s got to be sorted out before he can be sworn in.”

  Scott frowned. “So, you’re an immigration consultant.”

  “Sort of,” Peter replied.

  “You can clear it with the President’s chief of staff,” Hamilton said.

  “He knows about this?”

  Hamilton nodded.

  “Okay, no weapons and Hamilton, you go in with him. If anything happens, it’s your ass.”

  “Right,” Hamilton said. “No problem.”

  Peter turned and handed Hamilton his laser pistol so Scott couldn’t see it. Hamilton gave it a hard look and then shoved it in his coat pocket. Another agent frisked Peter before he was allowed into the room where Senator Rubio was waiting nervously. Agent Hamilton accompanied him.

  “Senator Rubio. I’m Special Agent Jason Hamilton of the Secret Service.”

  The Senator nodded and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, although I wish it were on different circumstances.”

  “Yes. Ah. This is Peter Turner. He’s a consultant for the FBI and the CIA. He needs to ask you a few questions in case you have to be sworn in as president.”

  “What kind of questions?” the Senator asked.

  “Just routine,” Hamilton assured him.

  The Senator looked at Peter and smiled. Peter tried to penetrate his eyes, but there was a strong barrier preventing access. He knew immediately the Senator had strong telepathic abilities. That would help explain his rapid rise through the ranks in the Senate, he thought. Knowing what others were thinking would be a tremendous advantage.

  “So, you don’t think I’m a natural born citizen of the United States?” the Senator chuckled. “I assure you I am. I can show you my birth certificate if you like.”

  “You may be, but I’ve got to be sure,” Peter said. “Where were you born?”

  “Sherman, Texas. Not too far from where President Eisenhower was born.”

  “Dennison?”

  “Right,” Senator Rubio replied. “So, isn’t that good enough? If you’re born in the USA that makes you a citizen no matter if your parents are citizens or not.”

  “Where was your father born?”

  “Ah. Hungary, I think. He’s been dead for twenty years.”

  “Was he a citizen?”

  “No. He was a political refugee and never got properly documented.”

  “Whereabouts in Hungary did he live?”

  “I’m not sure. He didn’t talk about the old country too much.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She was born in Texas, too—Waco.”

  “Is she still alive?”

  “Uh-huh,” the Senator said. “I haven’t been home to see her, though, in a long time. We were never close.”

  “Does she think you’re dead?” Peter asked.

  The Senator hesitated. “I said we weren’t close, but I give her a call now and again. She knows I’m alive.”

  “All right, then. I’ve got what I need,” Peter said and stood up.

  Hamilton nodded. “Thank you, sir. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

  Peter and Hamilton left the room and wandered over to a corner where they could talk. Hamilton gave Peter his laser back but inspected it carefully before doing so. “Interesting firearm.”

  “Yes, very powerful, yet quiet.”

  Hamilton raised his eyebrows. “So, is he an alien?”

  “I think so. I couldn’t actually get into his mind. It was well guarded, but only someone with significant telepathic abilities could block his mind the way he did.”

  “So, we have nothing against him. Nothing to prove he’s not qualified to be president.”

  “No. He technically is a naturally born U.S. citizen. His father was from Tarizon but his mother was a citizen. That’s how the program worked. I don’t know why they tell people they are from Hungary, but that seems to be the story many of them give to explain their heritage. I guess they figure it would be hard for someone to check them out because of the distance and language barrier.”

  “So, where do we go from here?”

  “Check out his mother. She may think he’s dead. If so, she might have figured out her husband was from another planet. You can also check to see if there is any record that his father was born on this planet. I doubt you’ll find anything.”

  “Still. None of that does us any good.”

  Peter sighed. “You’re right. But I think my father has the right idea. We’ve got to find the President. That’s the only way we’ll be able to thwart Kulchz’ plan.”

  “Or by finding the VP or speaker. Why don’t we go see how that investigation is going?”

  “Suits me,” Peter said.

  Their helicopter took them back to a parking garage near the church where the funeral had taken place and the VP, speaker, and two agents had gone missing. Dozens of policemen and FBI and Secret Service agents were at the crime scene, scratching their heads. Hamilton asked one of them for an update.

  “They were last seen going into the garage elevator,” the man said. “It’s believed the agents had their car parked on the second deck.”

  “Any witnesses up on the second floor see anything?”

  “We only found one and he can’t remember anything.”

  “Let me talk to him,” Peter said.

  “Okay, he’s in one of the Metro police squad cars. I’ll take you to him.”

  Peter followed the agent to a squad car. A Hispanic male was seated in the back seat. Peter climbed in next to him.

  “Hi. I’m Peter Turner. I’m working with the Secret Service to try to figure out what happened here.”

  “I told them I don’t remember anything.”

  “Right. You feel kind of sick and disoriented.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Well, that’s because they flashed a light in your face that causes those symptoms. It makes your conscious mind forget but not your subconscious mind.”

  “Really? I’ve never heard of that.”

  “It’s a new technology. Top secret, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention it to anybody—national security and all
.”

  “Sure, I understand.”

  “But there is a way we can find out what you saw. We just need to get into your subconscious mind.”

  “You mean by hypnosis?”

  “Exactly, except we don’t have time for that. The kidnapers are getting away. If we don’t get a lead right now, it may be too late.”

  “So, what can we do?”

  “I need to probe your mind.”

  “What? I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “It’s painless. All you have to do is open your eyes and relax. I’ll look into your eyes and extract the information we need.”

  “That’s impossible. Nobody can do that.”

  “Oh, I can. I’ve had special training from the CIA. Trust me, I can do it.”

  “It won’t hurt or cause me injury?” he asked hesitantly.

  “No. Not at all. Just look at me and relax.”

  The man took a deep breath and looked at Peter. Peter probed his mind and he immediately found what he wanted.

  “Thanks,” Peter said and got out of the squad car.

  “That’s it?” the man said.

  “Yes, thank you. Remember, don’t mention any of this to anyone. Ultra top secret, okay?”

  “Right,” the man said, looking rather bewildered.

  Peter rushed over to where Hamilton was talking to a DC police officer. “Okay, they left in one of those Parr Heating & Air vans with a DC license plate number: 077 2TZ. He didn’t see what direction they went, but there were seven abductors wearing janitorial uniforms. The two agents, the VP, and the speaker were unconscious, so they had to be carried to the van.”

  “I’ll put out an APB for the van,” Hamilton said, pulling out his cell phone and starting to dial.

  Peter nodded and looked around the crime scene, trying to think where the kidnapers would take the hostages, and why they hadn’t just killed them.

  “Okay, the Metro police have been alerted to be on the lookout for that van,” Hamilton said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “I hope so. We need a little luck right now,” Peter said. “Do you have any theory as to why they just didn’t kill the President and the others?”

  “We don’t know they didn’t kill them.”

  “There would be bodies if they killed them,” Peter reasoned.

  “They could have dumped them and the bodies haven’t been found yet.”

  “True.”

  “They may be keeping them alive just to maximize confusion and chaos,” Hamilton suggested. “If they were all dead our course of action would be simpler.”

  Peter nodded. Just then, the special agent they’d talked to earlier rushed up. “We just got word that IJA is claiming responsibility for the kidnapings.”

  “IJA?” Peter said. “Who’s that?”

  “A terrorist organization—International Justice Alliance,” Hamilton explained. “They believe the United States is responsible for everything that goes wrong in the world—particularly in the Middle East.”

  “I bet Kulchz is behind this,” Peter said. “It’s pretty clever actually, to give people a more believable explanation for the kidnapings and thus distract them from the truth.”

  “A lot of people will believe the IJA claim,” Hamilton said. “They’ve been linked to some pretty horrific things in the past, like letter bombs, train derailments, bribery, you name it.”

  “Oh,” the agent added, “they found the escape van over by the mall. It’s been abandoned.”

  Peter looked at Hamilton. “They probably transferred them to a copter. That would be a good place to do it. We need to get over there.”

  “You go,” Hamilton said. “I’ve got to check on this IJA claim. I’ll catch up with you. Give me twenty minutes.”

  Peter frowned. “How do I get there?”

  “I’ll get you a ride. It’s only about a three blocks from here. Shouldn’t take you ten minutes. Hang on.”

  Peter shook his head. “No. That’s all right. I’ll walk. I could use the time to think.”

  “Okay,” Hamilton said and took out his cell phone.

  Peter began walking briskly in the general direction of the Capitol Mall. It was a pleasant spring day and he couldn’t help but admire the cherry blossoms in bloom. As he emerged from a cross street he saw the mall in the distance and could see the lights from the officers who’d come to the crime scene. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw three soldiers coming at him fast. He heard more footsteps to his left and saw two more soldiers with their rifles pointed at him like they were about to shoot.

  Peter, bending low to the ground, ran as fast as he could for the cover of two vehicles parked on the curb. Bullets began sailing past him, hitting the pavement and a nearby building. A large plate glass window shattered, and broken glass came raining down on him.

  When he made it to one of the cars, he took out his laser and returned fire. One soldier fell, and then another. More bullets flew past him and he was forced to duck down again. His cell phone rang but he didn’t dare answer it, as any distraction would likely prove fatal. Then he heard the sound of rotor blades. He looked up and saw a copter bearing down on him and a sharpshooter taking aim.