Matthew Reilly - Area 7

east of Area 7. There, accompanied by his nine-man Secret

Service Detail, he had been taken on a brief tour of the facility,

to inspect some new aircraft stationed in its hangars.

While he had done so, Schofield and the other thirteen

Marines stationed aboard Marine One and its two escort

choppers had waited outside, twiddling their thumbs underneath

Air Force One, the President's massive Boeing 747.

arguing over why they hadn't been allowed inside the main

hangar of Area 8. The general consensus--based solely on

wild unsubstantiated gossip--had been that it was because

the facility housed some of the Air Force's top-secret new

airplanes.

One soldier, a big-smiling, loud-talking AfricanAmerican

sergeant named Wendall "Elvis" Haynes, said that

he'd heard they had the Aurora in there, the legendary low

orbit spy plane capable of speeds over Mach 9. The current

fastest plane in the world, the SR-71 Blackbird, could only

reach Mach 3.

Others had proffered that a whole squadron of F-44's--

ultra-nimble, wedge-shaped fighters based on the flying

wing shape of the B-2 stealth bomber--were stationed there.

Others still--perhaps inspired by the launch of a Chinese

space shuttle two days previously--suggested that

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Matthew Reilly

Area 8 housed the X-38, a sleek 747-launched offensive

space shuttle. A black project run by the Ak Force in association

with NASA, the X-38 was reputedly the world's first

fight-capable space vehicle, an attack shuttle.

Schofield ignored their speculation.

He didn't have to guess that Area 8 had something to do

with top-secret airplane development, probably space

based. He could tell it from one simple fact.

Although the Ak Force engineers had concealed it well,

the regulation-size black bitumen runway of Area 8 actually extended another thousand yards in both directions--as a

pale concrete landing strip hidden beneath a thin layer of

sand and carefully placed tumbleweeds.

It was an elongated runway, designed to launch and receive

aircraft that needed an extra-long landing strip, which

meant aircraft like space shuttles or--

And then suddenly the President had emerged from the

main hangar and they were on the move again.

Originally, the Boss had intended to fly to Area 7 on Air

Force One. It would be faster than Marine One, even though

the distance was short

But there had been a problem on Air Force One. An unexpected

leak in the left wing's fuel tank.

And so the Boss had taken Marine One--always on

stand-by for precisely this situation.

Which was why Schofield was now gazing at Area 7, lit

up like a Christmas tree in the dim morning light.

As he peered at the distant hangar complex, however,

Schofield had a strange thought. Curiously, none of his colleagues

on HMX-1 knew any stories about Area 7, not even

wild unsubstantiated rumors.

No one, it seemed, knew what went on at Area 7.

LIFE IN THE IMMEDIATE VICINITY OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE

United States was a world unto itself.

It was at the same time both thrilling and frightening,

Schofield thought.

Thrilling because you were so close to one with so

much power, and frightening because that man was surrounded

by a great number of people who claimed his influence

as their own.

Indeed, even in his short time on board Marine One,

Schofield had observed that at any one time, there were at

least three competing power clusters vying for the President's

attention.

First was the President's own staff, those people ... largely self-important Harvard types ...whom the President

had appointed to aid him on a range of matters: from national

security and domestic policy, to the management of

the press corps or the management of his political life.

No matter what their field of expertise, at least insofar

as Schofield could see, each of the President's personal staff

seemed to have one all-encompassing goal: to get the President

outside, onto the streets, and into the public eye.

In direct contrast to this objective—indeed, in direct opposition

to it—was the second group vying for the President's

ear: his protectors, the United States Secret Service.

Led by the stoic, no-nonsense and completely impassive

Special Agent Francis X. Cutler, the Presidential Detail

was constantly at loggerheads with the White House staff.

Cutler—officially known as "Chief of the Detail," but

known to the President merely as Frank—was renowned for

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Matthew Reilly

his coolness under pressure and his complete intransigence

to pleas from political ass-kissers. With his narrow gray eyes

and matching crew-cut hair, Frank Cutler could stare down

any member of the President's staff and rebuff them with a

single word, "No."

The third and last group pressing for presidential attention

was the crew of Marine One itself.

Not only were they also subjected to the inflated egos of

the presidential staff--Schofield would never forget his first

flight on Marine One, when the President's Domestic Policy

Adviser, a pompous twenty-nine-year-old lawyer from New

York, had ordered Schofield to get him a double latte, and to

"make it quick"--they were also often at odds with the Secret

Service.

Securing the President's safety may have been the job

of the Secret Service, but when he was on HMX-1, so the

Marine Corps reasoned, the Boss had at least six United

States Marines on board with him at any given time.

An uneasy truce had been brokered.

While on board Marine One, the President's safety

would be in Marine hands. As such, only key members of

his Secret Service Detail--Frank Cutler and a few others-- would fly with him. The rest of his personal Detail would fly

in the two chase helicopters.

As soon as the President stepped off Marine One, however,

his well-being was once again the exclusive responsibility

of the United States Secret Service.

gunman grier spoke into his helmet mike. "nighthawk

Three, this is Nighthawk One. Go and check on Advance

Team Two for me. This radio sphere is screwing up our long

range comms. I'm picking up their All-Clear beacon, but I

can't get any voice contact. They should be over at the exit

vent. And if you get close enough, see if you can raise Area

8 again. Find out what's happening with Air Force One."

"Copy that, Nighthawk One," a voice replied over the

short-wave. "On our way."

Area 7 27

From his position behind Grier and Dallas, Schofield

saw the Super Stallion to their right peel away from the

group and head off over the desert.

The two remaining choppers of Marine Helicopter

Squadron-1 continued on their way.

IN A DARKENED ROOM SOMEWHERE, A BLUE-UNIFORMED MAN wearing a radio headset and seated in front of an illuminated

computer display spoke quietly into his wraparound

microphone.

"--Initiating primary satellite signal test ... now--"

He pressed a button on his console.

"what the hell--?" dallas said, touching her earpiece.

"What is it?" Gunman Grier asked.

"I don't know," Dallas said, swiveling in her seat. "I just

picked up a spike on the microwave band."

She looked at the microwave display screen--it depicted

a series of jagged spikes and troughs--then shook her

head. "Strange. Looks like an incoming microwave signal

just hit us and then bounced away."

"Antibugging was done this morning," Grier said.