Free Alien Hunter: Underworld by Whitley Strieber Page A

possible?”
    â€œIt was purged from the carrier’s system.”
    â€œThat’s unusual.”
    â€œAlso illegal. They’re frantic about it. You have any idea what it was all about?”
    Flynn did, but if he was right about why he was being messaged like this, he had no intention of telling anybody. It might be dangerous even to think about it. “Not a clue,” he said.
    â€œI know when you’re lying, but never why.”
    They drank in silence. The medical team had retired to the press section, so the two of them were alone. She glanced back to be sure the door was closed.
    â€œYou know, Flynn, I’m not being very fair to you.”
    â€œWhat’s new about that?”
    She laughed a little, but said no more. He was curious, of course, but he didn’t press her. If somebody wanted silence, that was fine with him.
    He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, and suddenly the plane was landing. He recognized that he had come to the point where he was desperate for sleep.
    â€œListen,” he said as they lined up on the runway, “if I’m supposed to talk to these people, you better tell me what I need to say.”
    â€œNo talking necessary.”
    â€œIt’s a dog and pony show, then. They’re going to try to convince me that there’s something good going on here, which is and always will be utter horseshit. Diana, I could be needed somewhere right now.”
    â€œThere’s no dog and pony show. In fact, no scientists at all. It’s past their bedtimes, anyway—you should know that.”
    As they touched down, he stared out into the glare of the runway lights. Beyond them was blackness.
    Very little of Area 51 was actually devoted to the legendary secret of the aliens. For the most part, the place was exactly what it was claimed to be: a test bed for future aircraft, including new designs that utilized the earth’s magnetic field for propulsion and lift. There were space planes here and, Flynn suspected, some devices that were of alien construction and defied gravity.
    â€œLeave your guns, take your jacket,” Diana said as a steward cracked the door.
    â€œMy guns?”
    â€œLeave them.”
    â€œNo.”
    She sighed. “Flynn, just please cooperate for once.”
    â€œI don’t go out on lonely desert airstrips at night without my guns.”
    â€œDo you think you’re being handed over?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œTrust me.”
    â€œNo.”
    She glanced at her watch. “Take them, then.” She marched down the steps and into the shadows.
    Flynn followed her into the cold of the desert night. As the wind whipped across the tarmac, he zipped his jacket. Yet again, his tongue touched his cyanide capsule. Would it be now? If he was about to be given to some creeps in a flying saucer, then yes, it would.
    The plane’s door was pulled closed, and its engines whined as it taxied slowly away.
    â€œHey, we’re not anywhere!”
    â€œNo, this is the right place.”
    Once the plane was gone, they were left standing on a strip of concrete surrounded on three sides by desert. Now and again, a tumbleweed went bounding across, a gray shadow in the thin light of a sickle moon. His right hand slid down to the butt of his pistol. She held tight to him, and he couldn’t tell if she was trying to control him or holding on for dear life.
    The sound that came then was not something you heard, but rather something you felt. It vibrated your teeth; it made your skin crawl.
    â€œLook,” Diana whispered. Flynn followed her gaze upward and saw the hazy outline of a descending shape, perfectly round. It quickly grew larger, blotting out more and more stars.
    Flynn’s finger went to his trigger. He tongued his cyanide capsule until it was between his teeth.
    Now the object was hanging in the air before them. It did not move. It was not affected by the wind. Flynn didn’t try to