Chapter 18
Night had fallen over Eastern Region Tracking Station 25, high on the Siberian Steppes. The icy wind howled through the metal latticework of the radar antennae as their invisible beams swept the airspace over the Eastern Soviet Union, searching for any intruders into Soviet airspace.
Inside the main blockhouse, Dmitri Petrov was tired. His head ached with the effort of staring at the radar screen on his console. He looked at the clock on the wall; He and Anatoly, seated at the console next to him, were overdue relief by nearly two hours. Ivan and Boris were probably drunk again.
He yawned; he'd been looking at the screen for nearly fourteen hours and was thoroughly bored. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, just for a moment's respite… He jerked upright. "Bozhe moi!" Where had that come from? Picking up the telephone handset, He pressed the button to connect him to Voyska PVO, the Soviet Air Defence Force, charged with protecting the Rodina against air attack.
Oblivious to the chaos below, the UFO descended through the stratosphere. The crew had already selected a landing site, deep within a forest. Instruments indicated a small settlement nearby but the crew anticipated no trouble.
Within minutes, a flight of supersonic MiG 25 interceptors had taken off and was homing on the intruder. At the same time, Tu-95 'Bear' strategic nuclear bombers were being placed on alert, ready to launch a retaliatory strike against the imperialist aggressors who had dared to attack the peace-loving people of the Motherland.
The policeman examined the small glass tube he held in his hand. The crystals contained within the breathalyser remained colourless – the driver had not been drinking.
"Right sir," He said to Straker, showing him the tube, "As you can see, there was no reaction. This indicates that you are not under the influence of alcohol. Since you've already given us your address and the young lady is on her way to hospital, I see no reason to detain you further." What he didn't say was that if the young lady died within a year and a day of the accident, the police would arrest Straker on a charge of manslaughter.
He escorted Straker to his car, where Johns had been patiently waiting for him, before closing the door.
"Thank you, Officer" said Straker as he started the car.
Ford tossed and turned; although the camp bed he'd been given was comfortable enough, his mind was reeling with the day's events
A cooling breeze gently stirred the olive trees. He walked towards the village. He was aware of a deep indentation in the sand. He paused in the shade of an olive tree. The breeze had died away. Strangely, the leaves were still moving. He put out a hand to the tree. It seemed to be vibrating. He became aware of a low rumble. He looked upwards. The deep azure sky remained empty. Losing his footing, he fell as the ground opened up beneath him. Looking around, he saw a strange, glowing device. It was clearly alien. The rumbling was deafening now. He became aware of another sound, an all-too–familiar whirring sound. Looking up from the pit, he saw it; the UFO had returned for him. Descending, it filled the sky above him. A beam of light lanced out and touched the device. There was a brilliant flash and darkness engulfed him…
The first night at camp had gone much as expected; there had been the usual little hiccups, like the unfortunate youngster who'd managed to erect his tent inside out and the fool who'd forgotten to pierce the tin of beans before dropping it in the boiling water.
"Remember, boys, " Reynolds had said as he sponged tomato sauce from his shirt, "That's how NOT to do it.
Supper finished, the boys had joined in with the obligatory singsong around the campfire before retiring for the night.
Henderson listened thoughtfully as Straker recalled the day's events.
"That's the only thing she said?"
"Yes sir"
"Your conclusions?"
Straker ticked off the points on his fingers: "One, we have a Jane Doe appearing from nowhere, less than ten miles from a confirmed UFO sighting. Two, she was clean, that suggests she's not a vagrant. Three, the only thing she said refers to a UFO. Conclusion: she had recently been in close contact with a UFO."
Henderson nodded. "I'll see about having her transferred to a private room. If she can give us some answers, we owe her that much."
The pilots had never seen anything like it; The Amerikanski had obviously developed far more advanced aircraft than they had admitted to. Still, no matter how advanced, the aggressors would not go unpunished. Missiles streaked from launch rails under the wings of the interceptors.
A beam of brilliant white light lanced from the Alien craft. The missiles erupted into fireballs.
Undaunted, the pilots pressed home their attack, tracer rounds from the aircraft cannons slicing through the darkness towards their target…
Horror-struck, Petrov watched as the three blips on his screen disappeared. Hands shaking, he picked up the telephone.
The Secretary of State, Henry Kissinger, stood as the Soviet Ambassador was ushered in. "Good Evening Andrei", he smiled, gesturing to the cups arranged on a side table. "Coffee?"
Anatoly F. Dobrynin did not smile. "Mr Secretary, I regret I am not here to exchange pleasantries. I am here on a matter of some urgency.
Oh?
The Secretary of State knew that relations between the United States and the Soviet Union had become strained but even he hadn't realised just how serious things had become.
Reading from a prepared statement, the Ambassador expressed outrage at the continued incursions into Soviet Airspace by the Imperialist aggressors. Outrage turned to incandescent fury as the Ambassador read out the reports from Tracking Station 25, telling of the disappearance of the defensive fighters.
Despite the rage, there was also a hint of pride as the Secretary reported the destruction of the imperialist intruder, by S75 missiles of the Air Defence Forces.
Finally, the Ambassador slid a plain envelope across the desk. "Please convey this to your President without delay."
With that, the Ambassador bustled out of the office to his waiting Zil limousine.
Even without opening the envelope, Kissinger knew its contents. It was an ultimatum; If the imperialist incursions into Soviet airspace did not cease immediately, there would be a state of war between the Warsaw Pact and NATO.
He picked up the telephone receiver: "Get me the White House, I need to see the President. Right now!"
The Russian Bear was growling. If further provoked, it would bite.
Turnbull sighed and reached for his coffee. The day was proving just as bad as yesterday. He could have done without losing Ford for several weeks but that decision had been necessary to scotch the Flying Saucer nonsense. The Telephone on his desk rang for what seemed to have been the fiftieth time that morning. He picked up the receiver:
"Yes? Yes, that's right, Mr Ford does work here but he's away on leave…Oh, I see… Missed an appointment, you say? What did you say your name was? Jackson?. I see…
Lunch? I'm very busy…Well, if you insist… Yes, I know it. OK, The Clarence, Whitehall at 1:45. OK, Thank You."
At that, the phone at the other end was put down and Turnbull was left with the receiver purring quietly. He put the handset down and picked up his jacket. He looked at the clock; he'd have to move quickly if he was to make the appointment.
The next morning had dawned crisp and cold. A fine morning for a hike, Reynolds had decided. He led the pack, with his deputy following up behind to shepherd the stragglers. The woods provided a rich variety of terrain to negotiate. They were just turning for the return leg when they came to a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a beaten-up panel van. As they approached, Reynolds slowed to a halt, the troop joining him. There was something wrong about the vehicle.
"Stay here," he ordered.
Circling round the van, he soon found the problem; slumped beside the vehicle was the corpse of the late, unlamented Bill.
There was no point checking for life signs; scavengers had already started to peck and tear at the exposed and decaying flesh. Despite the Scout motto, there was no way his troop could 'Be Prepared' for this.
"Take the troop back to camp," Ordered Reynolds, as he re-joined the Troop. "I'll be along in a moment"
"What's up?"
"I'll tell you when I get back."
"Right. Troop! Attention!"
The boys snapped to attention.
"Back to Camp, Quick March!"
As the sound of the troop faded into the distance, Reynolds approached the van as close as he dared. He noted the registration and the position of the vehicle, marking it on the map he carried. Then he scoured the map. The nearest telephone box was half a mile away.
Whistling softly, he set off to telephone the Police to inform them of his grisly discovery.