David Golemon - Primeval

Jack raised his right hand and placed it on the acrylic enclosure. Collins found that he was comforted somehow by being here with Amelia since his trip to Virginia.

The remains of Earhart were due to be shipped out in three days. The body would be placed back in the sands of Howland Island, three thousand yards from the beach, and then a prearranged new finding of her corpse would be perpetrated by the Event Group and the Archaeology Department of Colorado State University. Amelia would finally be given the hero's welcome home she so richly deserved. And that little fact was what was disturbing Jack and why he came down here every day. She would not be recognized for doing what she was ordered by the president of the United States to do: She would not be honored for being an intelligence-gathering agent during the most turbulent time in world history.

There was something strange lying just beneath Jack's irritation at the situation, something he understood and was the basis for what he was about to do. He knew why he was doing it, he just couldn't think of any reason it would make the situation in Langley, Virginia, any easier.

The withered and dried corpse of one of the most famous Americans in history lay silently, unable to explain to the world the predicament of her demise. Collins knew he had that power, but to deliver it to the amazing woman before him, he had to betray a confidence, not only to the Group he worked for, but himself as well, all because there was a situation in his personal life he couldn't control since his visit out east.

Jack reached into his overall pocket and removed a plastic covered piece of paper. By using his Event Group security clearance, and since Department 5656 was an unofficial section of the National Archives, Jack had done some digging, and using his military experience and realizing the propensity of the armed forces of the United States for placing everything in writing, no matter how mundane or top secret, he had recovered a piece of bread crumb in the National Archives. The paper was part of the trail that was left behind when President Franklin Roosevelt had asked that Amelia Earhart purposefully overfly Japanese-held islands in the Pacific under the cover of her around-the-world flight. The letter was from a lowly signals officer in the U.S. navy, and it was an acknowledgment that certain maps were secretly passed to Amelia in Australia moments before her departure for her leg to Hawaii. With her body soon to be placed back for discovery by legitimate sources, the receipt would be found, and with the reporting of today's journalists, the lost adventurer would finally be given her due as an American patriot. This was a situation that was being repeated at this very moment, only in the present times it was with someone he loved very much. That was why he would help Amelia come back home a hero like she should have been hailed all those years ago.

As Collins looked the paper over, he gently removed the yellow flimsy from its protecting plastic. Jack knew it had to be done this way, because the director, Niles Compton, was a stickler for the department not changing, altering, or correcting history in any way through the auspices of the Event Group. He would not have signed on for it.

Just as Jack stood and looked at the mummified remains of Earhart, the hiss of the vault door sounded and he quickly placed the paper back into his pocket. He slowly turned and saw Sarah McIntire standing at the threshold of the thick steel door.

"I think I'm beginning to become jealous," she said as she took in the dark form of Jack who stood motionless under the spotlights of the vault.

"Nah, she's a bit too old for me," he said as he turned back to look at the corpse in the acrylic chamber.

"Yeah, but she's your type. Pushing the envelope like she did, I guess you could say she had balls."

Collins smiled and then turned back to face Sarah.

"I guess you could say she's like someone else I know, actually two someones."

"Jack, what in the hell are you doing here?" Sarah asked, not catching the plural meaning to Jack's strange statement.

Collins didn't answer. He just smiled at the small geologist and shrugged.

"How did you know where I was?" he asked instead of answering her question.

"The director, Jack. He's right outside the vault door, he wants a moment with you. He knows you've been down here nearly every day and he said something about a clandestine trip you made to Langley and then a quick stop at the National Archives in Washington. Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"It's something I have to work out on my own, so you have to sit this one out. Now tell Niles he can come in. He deserves a crack at me."

Sarah swallowed, and then with one last look back at Jack, turned away and stepped from the dimly illuminated vault.

Collins hated not being able to explain something he didn't understand himself. Sarah needed to know all there was about him and his personal life if they were to continue growing closer. His eyes looked up as Niles Compton stepped over the frame of the vault's door. He still had the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows and his hands were now in his pants pockets. As usual, Niles looked tired and worn. The spotlights dimly reflected off of his balding head.

"Hello, Colonel."

"Mr. Director," Jack said as he stepped forward.

"Col—" Compton started and then stopped. They had worked together for over three years now, and he knew the formalities between them had to end. "Jack, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"You have as much tact as a battleship in a pond, Niles."

"I believe you should come right out and say what's on your mind, wouldn't you agree?"

"The world would be a better place. And in answer to your question, I don't know if I can tell you. One side of it is a personal matter, the other professional."

"We" — Niles paused, rethinking his statement—" I need you here, Jack. The world's in a mess, the country's not far behind, and to be frank with you, this department's seen better days. Without you the past three years, we would have lost it all here. You have something that's taking your mind off your duties here; I think after all of this time you've earned the right to be trusted."

"Thank you, Niles."

Compton walked up to the acrylic chamber and looked inside. He, like Jack did a few moments ago, placed his hand on the lid and smiled.

"I'm going to miss her when she's gone," Niles said as he looked up and into Jack's blue eyes. "Obviously you will, too."

Collins didn't respond, he just held the eyes of his director. Then he slowly reached into his pocket and brought out the navy department signals receipt and, closing his eyes, he slowly reached out and handed the paper to Niles.

"Ah, the missing signals message from the Archives, I was wondering when you were going to tell me about it."

"You knew?" Jack asked, not really surprised. Then he quickly understood, "Ah, Pete and Europa."

"That damn computer knows more about what the National Archives has in its files than the people who catalog its items. Yes, Pete knew two hours after you left Washington." Niles held the paper out and then looked at it. "We could have talked about this, Jack."

"I don't even know why I did it." It looked like Collins was going to continue, but stopped and just shook his head.

Compton smiled. "I'm not as by-the-book as people think. I've done some pretty stupid things here myself. You know, once, back when we had the intact crypt of Genghis Khan — I think I was a computer room supervisor then — long before Senator Lee gave me the entire department, I cut all surveillance to his vault, put on his hat, and swung his sword around to beat all hell."

Jack had to smile at the picture Compton's memory described. The little balding computer nerd wearing a fur hat and chopping at the air with the sword of a man that came close to conquering three quarters of the globe.