David Golemon - Event

As if on cue, Compton opened the large file folder and then walked over to a fax machine. He entered his security code and started the pages through the machine.

When Lee was satisfied the fax was being sent, he turned to Alice. "Make the call now, please." Then he looked at Niles. "Dr. Compton, with your permission..."

Niles nodded and sat down after he had completed the faxing of the papers from the thick folder.

Alice pushed a small button on the tabletop and a lid popped up, and slowly, as if driven by small hydraulics, a red phone raised flush with the table. She then picked up the red handset and punched the only button on the instrument. She gestured to Compton, who went behind the camera and made a final adjustment, then went to the wall and pulled open a set of doors, revealing a hidden high-definition plasma television screen.

"Yes, sir, we're ready on this end," Alice said into the mouthpiece of the handset. Then she took it from her ear, placed it in a small cradle, and pushed it firmly down until it clicked into place.

"We set?" Lee asked.

"Yes, sir."

On the screen there was a flash of blue, and then it stabilized into a solid picture. An image flashed on: the seal of the president of the United States. Then another image appeared: a man this time, sitting on a sofa. He was wearing a denim work shirt and was leaning forward with his arms placed on his knees, his fingers intertwined in front of him.

"Mr. President," Niles said, standing and looking into the camera.

"Good evening, Dr. Compton, what have my favorite people got for me today?"

"Sir, may I first apologize for disturbing you at Camp David. We know you like privacy when you're away from your office."

"Nonsense, Doctor, actually you saved me from some burnt hot dogs and underdone burgers." The president looked around conspiratorially. "My daughters are grilling." The people gathered in Nevada chuckled in politeness at the remark.

"Well, this may put off your appetite slightly, sir," Senator Lee interjected.

"Senator Lee, this is a pleasant surprise, how are you today?"

"I'm fine, sir, but we do have disturbing news to bring to you."

"I'm listening."

"Undoubtedly you've had the incident in the Pacific brought to your attention?" Lee asked.

"Yes, I have, a terrible tragedy."

"Has the navy provided you with details as of this time, Mr. President?"

"Not yet. The Navy Department said the preliminary results of their investigation will be forwarded by tomorrow morning," the president answered, leaning back on the sofa.

"The Event Group will send you some information the navy may not provide you, sir, not that they could. We came upon it purely by accident."

"What information is that, and why not forward the intelligence on through the NSA or the CIA? That shouldn't compromise the Group."

"We think this should be kept pretty close to the vest at this point, sir. Plus we have some conjecture we think is relevant that you may be interested in."

The president looked thoughtful for a moment, then looked into the camera. "You've got my attention, Mr. Lee, but I'm not comfortable with the fact you're not bringing the navy in on this. After all, we can say this information came through NSA to protect the source."

"I think you'll see why in a moment, sir." The old man hesitated briefly. "And we have made queries through and of the navy, sir, as Director Compton here can attest to, after having the door slammed on his ample nose."

"I'm used to handling territorial disputes, Senator."

"Mr. President, we... or I should say I, have a problem at the moment with the navy handling this situation."

The president looked down at his hands. "You know I give the Group a lot of leeway, Senator, but if the information you're sending me isn't compelling enough, I'm going to have to side with the navy on this issue. It was their aircraft and lost air crews. I see no reason why a sister agency of the navy should handle anything in this purely naval affair, outside of offering any intelligence they may have in their possession." The president was showing a little more color than he had just a moment before.

"Director Compton will get you up to speed on what we know, sir, then we can go into what we"--again Lee caught himself--"I suspect."

The president pursed his lips and gave a shake of his head. "As I said, the only things you are keeping me from are my daughters and their version of a barbecue. Continue, Dr. Compton, by all means."

Compton asked for Collins and Everett to help slide the easel to a position where the man at Camp David could get the best possible view.

Collins noticed that Lee walked over to a seat lining the wall where he could still see the presentation, but placed himself well out of the way. Alice sat in the chair next to him, and it looked as if she was admonishing him for something. He seemed to growl at her as she straightened and fell silent.

After Niles had finished briefing the president on the saucer incident, Collins looked at the screen as he sat in his seat. The others settled in their chairs and looked at the new folders that had been placed in front of each place by one of Niles's assistants.

As they looked at the screen, the president had disappeared.

"Maybe we scared him off," commented the senator, to break the silence in the room.

Everyone chuckled. Within a few seconds the president walked back into the frame. He sat down at the couch with his reading glasses perched on his nose. Without looking up he said, "Admiral Raleigh at CINCPAC headquarters concurs with your pictures. They have a survivor of one of the two Tomcats, and according to the admiral, he tells a pretty amazing story. A story that fits with the evidence you produced." The president looked up from the file he had just received from the Event Group via fax.

"What about the survivor, Mr. President? Does commander in chief Pacific plan on holding him?" Compton asked.

"He's being quarantined and flown to Miramar."

Niles Compton looked toward the camera and the large image of the president behind it. "Sir, we may want to interview that officer at the earliest possible time."

"That's impossible, at least at this time, Niles. I appreciate the Group's help in this matter, but it's their show. Do you understand?"

Once again, Lee stood and smiled disarmingly. "Mr. President, you know I wouldn't ask without good reason, and you also know I'm not a frivolous man. You have that file in your hand and you know we're going to amaze and astound you. And in the end you will bow to what the Group wants to do. Why? Because you know we won't screw it up, number one, and number two, you love the hell out of us."

The president of the United States shook his head and laughed out loud. He tossed the file that had been sent him on the coffee table beside where his feet were propped and sat back into the cushions of his couch. He looked at the screen over his bifocals.

"Goddamn it! I was afraid of this. You look like a stalking tiger. Well, this time I'm apt to say no, you old fool," the president said, trying to sound convincing. "Niles, I gave you the job as director to keep him away from me; you're not doing too well."

"He's my mouthpiece, Mr. President."

Lee just stared into the camera; he pursed his lips and leaned heavily on his cane.

The president of the United States looked indignant. "Bastard" he jokingly hissed, "you know damn good and well I spoil you people too much."

The group around the table was settled and on the large screen the president of the United States was seated and ready. No one in the conference room, save for Niles and Alice, knew this would be Senator Garrison Lee's last actionable request to a sitting president; win or lose this last argument, he was done. The discoverer of numerous priceless historical treasures and rewriter of much of the world's history, Lee would end it all with a pitch to the president about going after a flying saucer.