Chapter 10

Sarah was chatty on the way to the airport, but it was more a release of tension than information sharing. Most of what she had to say, I already knew or had guessed. One little tidbit, however, made me sit up and take notice:

" ... more than fifty of our years. It also told me that they were responsible for the formation of a couple of secret societies that have gradually influenced the course of history. You've heard about the Illuminati? As a society, it had actually died out until these aliens came along and convinced some people to resurrect it. I got the idea that the impetus for this genetic manipulation experiment came from them."

"Wait, wait, back up! Are you telling me that these aliens have been on earth for more than fifty years?" I asked.

"Uh huh," Sarah answered. "You've heard of Roswell, New Mexico, and the alien spaceship that crashed there? Well, it was really more of a scout flier from the main ship. It got hushed up by their people in the government, not the military. The reason no technology advances have come from studying it is that once they got it out of the public view, the aliens made it disappear, just like they did that gun thing you had."

"Of course," I mused, "and all of those UFO sightings?"

"Some of them," Sarah laughed. "The aliens were amused that so many of them were explainable phenomena or just people's imagination. They have this stealth technology that's a lot better than ours, but it fails sometimes."

"Apparently, so do their fliers..." I muttered.

"Oh you mean Roswell?" Sarah shook her head. "That one didn't fail. It was shot down."

"Shot down?" I turned to her with arched eyebrows. "By who? Some quail hunter?"

"Nope." Sarah gave me an 'I know something that you don't know' smile. "Near as I could tell from the snatches of their conversation I caught when they didn't realize the translators were on, it was that other group of aliens. My handlers certainly seemed to think so, and it wasn't the first time. There was one in Russia a few decades ago, and a few that got cleaned up before anyone from this planet knew about them."

"I'll be damned!" I said under my breath.

Sarah either heard it or read my lips.

"Of all us, Nils," she said, putting a hand on my arm, "you're the least likely to be damned. At least you've been trying to clean up their mess, and have probably, no, certainly saved a lot of lives and a lot of grief."

"I don't know..."

"I do. They've done this before to other planets, and they explained in some detail the course events would take," Sarah turned to look out the passenger window, a pained expression on her face. "Mass starvation and famine, terrorism, riots, civil wars escalating into global wars, the utter collapse of the global economy, and finally, the descent into barbarism. Even the rich, who think their money will insulate them, will find themselves falling prey to the very people they hire to ensure their security. The quest for food and clean water will consume everyone, until the population returns to pre-technology numbers, living in the shells of ruined buildings, much as we once lived in caves."

"So why did you go along with them?"

"Because I was afraid," she answered softly. "At least that was the stick. The carrot was that I would be able to leave Earth with them and live in the Union of Systems."

"Given what I was told while you were packing, I'm pretty sure that was not going to happen. The Union of Planets considers what they're doing here to be illegal and will revoke their system's membership if they find out about it. I don't know if they depend on the Union as a market, or a supplier, or both, but I gathered that having your membership revoked was a Bad Thing, capital 'B', capital 'T'."

Sarah nodded forlornly. "And having a member of the race of beings that inhabited a once thriving planet around would only serve to point a finger at them as the cause."

"That's the way I see it," I told her. "I don't know what's going to happen now, but with your knowledge, we might just have a chance to throw a monkey wrench in the works. Something has been bothering me, though: If they're that anxious for us to fail as a race, or, more to the point, if all they want from this planet is a ready supply of silicon, why not just kill us all off and be done with it?"

"Because the Union of Systems won't look twice at yet another planet with a failed civilization. That seems to be the norm in the universe, but it's very unusual for entire civilizations to die out, and that they would investigate."

"I see..." I mulled this over as I pulled into the rental car return lot.

Not wanting to be overheard by those around us, we didn't get a chance to resume our conversation until we had landed in L.A. and were in my car headed home.

Back in Los Angeles, I quizzed Sarah on her association with the aliens and their oversight of her life. Apparently, the 'rogue' group was much more hands-on than those who snatched me from them and gave me a different outlook and additional skills. It was by no means certain, but Sarah had the impression that those who created her were a much stronger faction, at least on Earth, than those who modified me. It was quite possible, as well, that the same held true in their own system.

For now, there wasn't much I could do about the Negatoids, as I liked to call them, but with Sarah's political contacts and business acumen, I now had a much broader base for my operations, and a strong ally, as well.

It was a good thing. Not long after Sarah and I returned from Seattle and we had gotten her settled in one of our spare rooms, I got a call on Ned Collins' cell phone. (You remember Ned - the alter ego I used in my dealings with Grace Toller and her 'escorts'.)

"Ned? This is Grace. I have news that you'll want to hear."

"I'll be there in an hour."

"No, better meet me at the restaurant where we last had dinner."

Grace disconnected, and I went in search of Ana.

"Perhaps her establishment has been raided," Anastasia speculated after I told her about the call.

"I don't think so," I shook my head. "I pay the cops good money to stay away from her, and I pay other cops to let me know if there are any raids planned on any such establishments. I'm pretty sure I would have heard about it if such a thing happened, besides, her tone of voice suggested caution but not undue stress."

"Then she must suspect that someone is watching her place of business," Ana said thoughtfully, "in which case, they may be following her, as well. Be careful, Nils. This could be a trap."

"You think Grace would sell me out?"

Ana shook her head vehemently, "No, but she could be bait, or someone might be holding a gun to her head."

"That's possible, but why set the meeting in a public place? If someone wanted to set a trap for me, why not let me come into Grace's house and take me there, out of the public's view? Grace must feel she's being watched, and wants to use the public venue to either throw the watchers off, or make it seem like a chance encounter."

"Nonetheless, please take precautions," Ana said, a worried expression on her lovely features.

"I will go armed, and I will be careful," I told her.

The restaurant was the kind of place where, if you didn't have reservations, you didn't get in. Grace had an 'in' with the owner. One of her 'boys' was a favorite of the woman who owned the place, and Grace, knowing the value of such connections, 'comped' the services she received. The 'boy' (a young man of 27) got tipped generously, so he was happy with the arrangement.

I had been there with Grace enough that my face was known to the maitre d' hotel.

"Ah, Mr. Collins!" he said, on recognizing my face. "Your table is ready, sir. Right this way."

To my surprise, he led me, not to Grace's table, which was different than the one we normally took, but to the one next to it. Grace saw me, but pretended not to know me. The waiter pulled out the chair directly behind hers and waited for me to sit. It would be a bit restrictive, sitting there, but it had the advantage that Grace and I could talk without being overheard, and without anyone but the staff knowing we knew each other.

I played along, and realizing that no man would sit so close to such a striking woman without at least trying to start a conversation, I said, "I apologize madam, I had not realized that accommodations here were so cramped."

Grace could have been an actress. Given that it was L.A., she might have been at one time.

She arched an eyebrow in disdain and replied, "The accommodations here are just fine if the diners mind their own business."

"Again, my apologies," I told her, seating myself with my back to her.

I knew the menu well enough that, when the waiter offered it to me, I waved it away and ordered from memory. When he left, I checked the electronics monitor in my palm. Nothing nearby, but there was a signal from the direction of our usual table.

"I don't think I was followed into the restaurant," Grace said, sotto voce, behind me. "But it's best if you act as though you don't know me, just in case."

"What's going on?" I asked, keeping my eyes straight ahead and my voice low.

"Two things," she replied. "My boys and girls tell me that there are whispers of big goings-on coming out of the Masonic halls. Seems they're getting ready to start a massive campaign to reverse certain trends toward environmental and fiscal responsibility. Since you've had them making suggestions in those areas, I thought you might want to know about this."

"I do," I answered, picking up my napkin and making a show of shaking it out, masking my face from any onlookers in the process. "Thank you. What was the other thing?"

"Two days ago, someone started staking out my places in L.A. and D.C. I don't know who, but I don't think they're local heat."

"I think you're right," I answered, "I'd know if they were local. Did they follow you when you came here?"

"If they did, I couldn't spot the tail."

"Either way, it's not good news," I said. "Cancel any important appointments you've got for the next few days, and let me know about anyone who wants private services but doesn't have proper credentials. Also watch out for service types - telephone company, power, gas, etc. If you didn't call them, they have no business there."

"That's what I told the phone company guy who came by yesterday," Grace replied. "He first tried to persuade me, then he tried the old, 'Well, okay, but my boss... ' routine. When that didn't work either, he tried to force his way in. Gino and Frank discouraged him."

"I'll get someone on it," I told her, "but don't get upset if you see more uniforms than usual around."

"I'd rather have honest cops who will stay bought hanging around than whoever these guys are. They're bad for business."

Grace's manners were usually impeccable, and I know her mother taught her not to talk with her mouth full, but what better way to cover the fact that you're talking than to be chewing food at the same time? Anyone watching, with any luck, would only see her finishing her meal.

"Thank you, Mario," I heard her say. "Superb, as usual. In the future, however, I would appreciate a bit more privacy when I'm dining alone."

"Of course, Madame," the waiter answered suavely. "Shall I put this on your tab?"

"I reserve that for business entertainment," Grace replied. "I will pay cash for this meal. I think this should cover it..."

From the tone of Mario's voice as he accepted her payment, she had been very generous.

"Thank you, Madame," he told her unctuously, keeping to the form. "If you will wait one moment, I will bring you your change."

Grace, however, was already rising. "For such excellent service? I wouldn't think of it, dear boy. Please give my regards to Signora Santorini."

I took my time finishing my meal, then flagged Mario down and asked if I might speak with the Signora. With his accustomed aplomb, Mario hustled off to find his boss.

Elena Santorini was still an attractive woman, though too much stress and too little exercise had added a few premature lines and a couple of extra pounds.

"Is there a problem with your meal, Mr. Collins?" she asked as she seated herself at my table. She was not being presumptuous, just trying to ensure that the conversation stayed quiet.

"Of course not, Elena," I smiled. "As always, the food is superb. The problem, I'm afraid, is that someone on your staff has tried to bug Ms. Toller or myself. Fortunately, whoever planted the bug did not realize we would not be using our regular table this evening."

Elena's face hardened as she heard the news. Her place wasn't exactly spy central, but enough celebrities dined there that she understood the value of her customers' privacy.

"I will take care of it, Mr. Collins."

No disclaimers. No excuses. Just a promise.

"I knew you would, Elena," I smiled. "It is unfortunate that even a staff as professional as yours can be subverted, but that is human nature."

"A nature that has no place in my employ, Mr. Collins. It will not happen again."

"I know, Elena. That is why I chose to bring it to your attention instead of taking my patronage elsewhere. Thanks, once more, for a excellent meal. I shall see you again soon."

It was rumored that Elena had relatives in a certain Sicilian organization. My investigators had confirmed the rumors, but it was not like this particular organization to get involved in something like this. My guess, though, was that Elena would enlist their help to get rid of the problem.

It didn't take long to gain an understanding of what was going on and who was involved. The Masonic lodges played at secret society games, but there were too many of them, and their ideas of what constituted secrecy were antiquated, to say the least. They didn't even bother to encrypt the stuff on their computers, thinking passwords and firewalls were sufficient protection.