Tim Lebbon - Kong - Skull Island

“The nineteen fifty-four Castle Bravo nuclear tests weren’t tests,” he said. “They were trying to kill something on Bikini. I firmly believe that, and I think you do too, Al. I think you know it.”

Willis glanced up, still smiling. Giving nothing away.

“To co-exist with these creatures, we need to know where they are. And where they are, we believe…” He glanced at Brooks. “ I believe… is this island.”

The room fell silent. Willis looked back and forth between them, as if expecting something more. Then he laughed, slid the photo back across the desk, and clicked his briefcase shut.

“Point one, Bill. That ‘creature’ has never been proven to be anything other than a whale blown up by the blast. It’s a fairytale.”

“Harry Truman didn’t think these creatures were fairytales when he funded Monarch in nineteen forty-six.” Randa held his briefcase up and tapped the Monarch design on its front.

Willis ignored his comment and did not even glance at the design before continuing.

“Point two, even if it was something unknown, we haven’t seen it since. In terms of sheer waste, Monarch ranks right up there with the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence.”

“Yeah, now those guys are nuts,” Randa said.

“The answer is no.” The senator picked up his briefcase and strode from the office, leaving the door wide open and never once looking back.

Brooks raised his eyebrows. “Good try,” he said.

Ignoring him, Randa stood and hurried from the room after Willis. He felt opportunity slipping away, and he couldn’t help remembering those other times he’d been here with the same pictures, the same requests. He was certain that Willis knew more than he let on, and almost certain that he believed some of it, too. But how to get past the senator’s shield of disinterest and scepticism was something he had yet to work out.

With Brooks behind him he paused by the reception desk, looking left and right. A few people were milling in the wide lobby or walking across it, but none of them were Willis. Randa’s heart sank. He really had just shunned them and left them sitting there sucking their thumbs.

Old times’ sake , he thought, and he remembered a couple of those old times that Al Willis would never want brought up again in private, let alone in public.

But Bill Randa wasn’t that man. He’d never do anything to ruin the senator’s career. Thing was, Willis knew that. In believing he was playing the senator at his own game, Randa was being played right back.

“Bill?” Brooks said. He was standing close to the assistant’s desk. She was looking down at a blank sheet of paper in front of her, pen poised, fingers of her other hand drumming on the desk. Brooks nodded once towards a door tucked back in an alcove just a dozen feet from the office door. “Thank you,” he said to the woman, then he headed off and Randa followed.

Through the door, into the wide corridor beyond, and he could see Willis walking ahead. He must have thought he’d shaken them, because he was hardly hurrying. It seemed his meeting wasn’t that urgent after all.

They caught up quickly, and Willis only noticed when they were level with him. He cursed softly and shook his head.

“This is an opportunity that won’t exist in a week,” Randa said.

“You can quit chasing me, Randa. You’re not getting any money for this.”

“Who says I’m asking for money?” Randa said. It was a calculated response, designed to surprise the senator into stopping. It worked. They had his attention. “Well, maybe some, but—”

Willis started walking again.

“I got this,” Brooks said, shoving past Randa and grabbing the big man’s arm.

Willis spun around, glaring down at where Brooks held his jacket. But the young guy wasn’t easily fazed.

“Listen, Senator Willis. NASA is sending a Landsat mission to this island. They’re geo-marking the area for further imaging. We can piggyback on their mission, cutting the cost and sharing some of the burden. With your permission, of course.”

“And just what do you expect to find there?”

“Resources,” Brooks said. He caught Willis’s attention with that one , Randa thought. Every instinct told him to shut Brooks up and take over again, but he stopped himself. His young intern continued. “Who knows? Medicines, the cure for cancer, geological riches, possible alternate fuels, a new, strategically located outpost claimed by the USA…”

Willis was nodding slowly, and when Brooks trailed off he prompted him to continue.

“To be honest, Senator, we don’t know for sure what’s there. What we do know is the Russian NOVSAT is passing over this sector tomorrow night. In three days, they’ll have the same images we have.”

“And why haven’t these images been available to either country before now?”

“Storm front,” Brooks said. “The island’s surrounded and covered by an almost permanent storm system, and as far as we can make out this is the first time it’s cleared and broken. At least, first time since we’ve had satellites up there mapping the Earth’s surface.”

“So the Russians can see it too,” he mused, almost to himself.

“Whatever’s there, I’d prefer that we find it first,” Brooks said.

Willis glanced at his watch, rubbed his chin. He’s thinking about it , Randa thought, trying to withhold his excitement. He knew that once Willis started thinking about it, the cogs would begin turning and the idea would grow in his own mind. All he’d needed was one little nudge. Brooks had given it.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” the senator said, “but that almost makes sense.” He looked at Randa. “Next time don’t lead with the monsters, and let Yale here do the talking. I’ll get you the piggyback, but this is it, Randa. Last favour.”

Randa nodded. He was still nodding when the senator turned to leave.

“Oh, Senator, one more thing,” Randa said.

Exasperated, the senator stopped and turned. His face looked like thunder… but Randa knew they had him.

“What is it, Randa?”

“I’m going to need a military escort.”

“In case of monsters, right?” Willis asked, but neither man replied. He laughed. But Randa didn’t think it was quite as heartfelt, or as honest as before. “Yeah, okay,” Senator Willis said. “In case of monsters.”

Warrant Officer Glenn Mills thought that his buddies might just love him and want to have his children. It wasn’t that they hadn’t already had enough beer. It’s that they hadn’t yet had this beer. Brewed by one of the 3rd Assault Helicopter Company (Sky Devils)’s most talented ground crew, using the finest ingredients and a filtration system ripped from the guts of an old Huey, this stuff might well be used as a substitute for napalm. If the war was still on, that was.

But it wasn’t.

I’m going home! Mills thought again, the idea sitting uncomfortably in his own beer-addled brain. Home had been a calming concept for all three of his combat tours, but the longer he’d spent out here, the more alien a place home became. His last time back he’d spent pacing the neighbourhood and looking forward to his next tour. He knew that was twisted, and he’d never intended to become one of those guys, the sort who became entrenched in war and the camaraderie it entailed. He still didn’t think he was. I’m going home , he thought again, and this time he pictured the good things—his mother’s cooking; Jane Broderick’s soft lips; sunset on the hill above town, where as a teen he’d gone to make out. I’m going home, and I’ll make it home again .