The Wellspring, Part 4
Berube’s house – May 12, 1994, 8:30 AM
Anders unlocked the front door and walked inside. He looked around and heard a thump from somewhere upstairs. He drew his gun and walked up the stairs, waiting cautiously before turning each corner. Another thump came from the attic. He pulled open the door and climbed up, looking around the dark room.
“Dr. Sigurd?” he asked.
He started walking to the back of the attic, where Sigurd jumped out from behind him and tackled him to the wall, knocking his gun out of his hand.
“Wait!” Anders shouted. “I’m here to protect you!”
Sigurd didn’t get that. He punched him again, sending him literally flying across the room into a pile of boxes. He ran over and grabbed Anders by his trench coat. A shot rang out, and Sigurd’s head jerked back. He fell to the floor, releasing Anders. Anders saw the crew-cut man, the man from his picture, standing in the doorway, a gun in his hand and a gas mask on. He looked down at Sigurd’s body, seeing that he had been shot in the back of the neck, from where a green substance oozed out. He gasped in pain and coughed.
Sometime later, Anders woke up, finding himself lying on the floor, hands and feet tied. His phone was ringing incessantly. Two men in trench coats and wearing gas masks carried the doctor's body down the stairs. The crew-cut man walked over, knelt next to Anders, and took off his gas mask. Anders’ entire face felt like it was on fire.
“Your cellular phone's been ringing off the hook,” the crew-cut man said.
“I'm a popular guy,” Anders said, “Why don't you answer it for me? Might be those guys over at the Sentinel project or whatever it’s called these days.”
“Oh, I don't like talking on the phone,” the crew-cut man said, “I have this thing about unsecured lines. When you feel like talking, let me know, though.”
Anders’ apartment – May 13, 1994, 6:10 AM
Angela parked in front of Anders’ apartment and got out of her car. She walked over to the door and pressed the buzzer for Anders’ apartment. She got no response.
“He’s not home,” Hans said, walking around the corner.
“Grandpa, what are you doing here?” Angela asked. “I bet Dad’s worried about you.”
“He’s not,” Hans said, “He hasn’t since Siam.”
“Where is Anders?” Angela asked. “He's been gone all night.”
“I wish I knew,” Hans said.
“Something's happened to him,” Angela said.
“They won't kill him,” Hans said.
“How do you know that?” Angela said.
“He's become too high-profile and you've got evidence that could expose them,” Hans said.
“I don't have any evidence,” Angela said, “They took the evidence and they may have killed in order to get it.”
“Angie, listen to me,” Hans said, “Evidence still exists.”
“You’re kidding me, Grandpa,” Angela said, “I don’t know what you told Anders, but I can’t go down your path. Go home or something, before more people get hurt.”
“I can handle myself,” Hans said, “But Anders is still in danger. I can’t do anything about it. You can, though.”
Angela sighed. “Alright, where is this evidence?”
“It might be difficult to obtain but with your medical background, I might be able to get you inside,” Hans said.
“Inside where?”
“The high containment facility in Nicomedia,” Hans said.
“What do they have there?” Angela asked.
“The wellspring, Angie,” Hans said, “The original tissue from Agadir. If they've got Anders, they might be willing to make a deal. It could save his life.”
Bureau of Defense High Containment Facility, [REDACTED], Nicomedia – 8:42 PM
“Here goes nothing,” Angela thought as she got out of her car.
She walked up to the checkpoint, carrying a briefcase. An I.D. was attached to her trench coat, which Hans had generously loaned to her. Ahead, two doctors walked up to a guard in front of a door. The guard checked one of their credentials and pushed a button, opening the door. The first doctor walked into the facility. Angela looked up at the video camera positioned above the door. There weren’t as many here as had been in the Eurisko building, which was a little relieving. The second doctor entered the building, and Angela walked up to the guard. She showed him the I.D. Hans had called in some favors to get the ID, and it looked much better than what the Lone Gunmen had did back in Treviso. But she could not shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong.
"Angela Hansen, MD 26-38-90 Class A Biomedical Division"
The guard looked at the badge and then waved her through, pushing the button. “Clear.”
The door opened. Not wanting to stay there any longer, Angela walked through and immediately turned right. A man closed a filing cabinet and walked past her, watching her for a few seconds. Angela looked back at him, fearing she had been discovered, and shifted her briefcase to the other hand. She walked past several more doctors until she reached the elevator. The board next to it read:
"Level 7 Cryology
Level 6 Virology
Level 5 Oncology
Level 4 Radiology
Level 3 Immunology
Level 2 Toxicology
Level 1 Admin
Level G Security"
She ran her ID through the keycard sensor. The machine beeped once, and the doors opened. She walked in and pushed the button for the 7th floor. The doors closed. Elevator music played, which felt completely out of place in this high security Bureau of Defense facility. Sweat ran down her neck. What was going on here? Why had her own grandfather sent her to infiltrate this facility with nothing more than a fake nametag? Surely the government had better countermeasures for fake nametags. Why hadn’t they found out about her yet? And what was she supposed to find? For that matter, why did she agree to this mission? It was like Vienna all over again. She always agreed to do something extremely dangerous and didn’t realize it was dangerous until she was actually doing it.
On the seventh floor, she walked out of the elevator, past a room labeled “Sentinel,” and to a door that said "Cryology." She ran her I.D. through the keycard sensor again, which beeped. She entered closed the door behind her. She ran her I.D. through the next keycard sensor, but it buzzed and didn’t turn green. She heard someone speaking through a speaker and noticed a guard sitting in a nearby booth.
“Name?” the guard said.
“Uh, Angela Hansen,” Angela said.
“Company or institution?” the guard asked.
“Imperial government,” Angela said.
“Project password?” the guard said.
He took a pen and prepared to write something down. Angela’s face paled. Her eyes settled on the alarm bell. She had not expected this. Hans hadn’t either. Of course the government would have redundant layers of security in this facility, if Hans was right about what they had. She trembled where she stood, and her eyes darted around, trying to figure out how quickly she could run to the elevator. She found herself in that hospital room again, with the Russian assassin and a dead Colonel Glienke. She felt trapped.
Then she thought harder and remembered something. It could be the password, but she wasn’t completely sure. But it was better than nothing. Did security guards in Bureau of Defense high containment facilities arrest or kill people for giving a wrong password? It was worth a try.
“Purity control,” she said.
The guard pushed a button, and the door unlocked. As she walked through, she sighed. That was a close call. She was going to need a lot of coffee or beer when she got home. Perhaps she could invite Dad and Grandpa over for a late-night family dinner.
She entered a room filled with a number of canisters filled with liquid nitrogen. Putting on rubber gloves, she opened a door marked “Purity Control” and took out a canister. Reaching in, she pulled out a glass container containing what looked like a small fetus-like creature. It looked like an alien.
What had she gotten herself into?
Bosporus freeway overpass – 11:58 PM
Angela parked her car on the side of the otherwise empty bridge and waited for her contact. After a few minutes, another car drove up behind her. She got out, carrying the box with the fetus inside. Walking to the door, Hans rolled down the window.
“You’re late, Grandpa,” Angela said.
“Do you have it?” Hans asked.
Angela nodded.
“Good,” Hans said, “They're willing to make the exchange.”
“You spoke to them?” Angela asked.
“Yes,” Hans said, reaching out the window, “I’ll take the parcel.”
“No, Grandpa,” Angela said, “I'll make the exchange.”
Hans sighed. “I made the deal, Angie, and they're expecting me.”
“I don’t trust you,” Angela said.
“If you can’t trust me or your own dad, you’ve got no one else to trust,” Hans said.
“You almost got us killed multiple times,” Angela said.
“Oh, for God's sake, don't frak this up!” Hans said. “Let me tell you something you should know. In 1985, during the war, a group of children from a Länder in Illyria were given what their parents thought was a routine smallpox inoculation. We actually injected them with clone DNA from the contents of that package you're holding as a test. That's the kind of people you're dealing with! You do not mess with them!”
“So why give it back to them?” Angela said.
“To save Anders’ life,” Hans said.
“At the risk of so many other lives?” Angela said.
“Oh, it's the tip of the iceberg,” Hans said, “You and Anders are the only ones who can bring it to light. So many before you, myself included, have tried and failed. You are different. Now, give me the bloody parcel, Angie.”
Angela stared at Hans, not knowing what to do. What was Hans doing? Why was her own grandfather involved in all of this shady stuff? And what would happen if she handed over the fetus now? Would more kids be injected with the alien DNA? Would more people die like Gisela and her family did? And what would be her role in that? But what would happen to Anders if she didn’t hand it over now?
A white van pulled up in front of Angela’s car.
“Give me the parcel, Angie,” Hans said, “Please. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Angela reluctantly handed Hans the package and ran back to her car. As the van passed, she looked at the driver, recognizing him as the crew-cut man from the photograph. He stared at her as he drove by. She quickly got in her car, almost hyperventilating. The van pulled up next to Hans' older car. The two men stepped out of their cars as Angela breathed deeply, watching in her rear-view mirrors. Hand handed the crew-cut man the package with the fetus. Angela turned around and watched through her back window. The crew-cut man walked over to his open door and put the package inside. He turned around to face Hans, pulled out his gun, and then shot him once in the stomach.
"NOOOO!" Angela screamed.
Hans fell to the ground, clutching his stomach wound. The van’s back doors opened, and Anders was pushed out onto the pavement. Angela drew her gun, left her car, and ran as fast as she could towards Hans and Anders. The crew-cut man calmly got into his van and sped away, disappearing into the streets of Constantinople.
"Grandpa!” she shouted. “GRANDPA!”
She checked Anders for a pulse and found one. Then she ran over to Hans, also checking for a pulse on his neck. It was there, but it was also weak. She opened his jacket, revealing the gunshot wound. The bullets had burrowed deep into Hans’ body, just under his heart. He was rapidly losing blood. Using her medical knowledge, she tore off part of Hans’ shirt and wrapped it around the wound, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding. Hans grunted and weakly waved with his hand.
“No…use…” he muttered.
Angela looked down at Hans, and she saw Colonel Glienke lying in the hospital room in Vienna, eight years ago. She continued applying pressure and lifted up his head.
“Nonsense, Grandpa,” Angela said, “I’m not losing you too. We are not losing you!”
“Angie…” Hans groaned. “Leave…it…”
“I can’t,” Angela said, wiping away tears with her bloodstained hands, “I can’t just let you die!”
“Too…late…” Hans said. “Already…gone…save me now…they will…kill me again.”
“Then what should I do?!” Angela said.
Hans used the last of his strength to lock eyes with Angela. “Trust…trust…no one.”
He exhaled sharply, and his body went limp.
“Grandpa?” Angela cried, shaking Hans’ body, “Grandpa! GRANDPA!”
Angela’s apartment, Deuteron District – May 26, 1994, 11:21 PM
Vienna, 1985
Angela’s pager buzzed, and she took it out of her pocket. It was the lobby summoning her, probably to wheel in another wounded soldier…or wheel out a dead one. She’d done enough of both already yesterday, but nobody cared. She quickly made her way down the hallway, past dozens of doctors and nurses, and emerged in the library. At the reception, she saw Colonel Glienke waiting for her, a worried expression on his dust-covered face.
Horst shook her hand. “Thank you for coming,” he rapidly fired off, “I paged the first person to show up as available on the list, so my apologies.”
“What’s the rush?” asked Angela.
“The high-profile patients we have,” said Horst, “We have to evacuate them ASAP. The enemy’s coming, and we have to move them to a safehouse before—”
Machine gun fire suddenly interrupted their conversation, and the few windows that were still intact were promptly shredded, with dozens of doctors and nurses being cut down instantly. Horst tackled Angela just as bullets zipped through the space where they had just been standing a few seconds ago. The foundations of the hospital shook as rockets slammed into the upper floors with impunity.
Angela shot awake, sweating profusely. Looking at the clock, which read 11:21 PM, she took several deep breaths, telling herself Vienna was over. But Hans was still dead. She still couldn’t shake that image out of her head, of the crew-cut man assassinating her own grandfather.
The phone rang, and she picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hey, Angie,” Anders said, “It's me.”
“What is it?” Angela snapped. “I need my sleep.”
Anders paused and sighed. “They're shutting us down, Angie.”
Angela could not believe his words. “What?”
“They called me in tonight and said they're going to reassign us to other sections,” Anders said.
“Who said that?” Angela asked.
“Your dad,” Anders said, “And Schulz. Uncle Erich said he feared for your life after what happened to your grandfather. He put in the recommendation. The orders came down from the chancellor himself.”
“Anders…” Angela began
Anders remained remarkably calm through this conversation. “It's over, Angie. We’ll never know what happened to Annie. Or Uncle Hans, for that matter.”
Angela, though, was shocked. “Well, you have to lodge a protest. They can't just...”
“Yes, they can,” Anders said, “They just did.”
Angela sat in silence for a few seconds. “What are you going to do?”
“I'm... not going to give up,” Anders said, “I can't give up. Not as long as the truth is out there. Not as long as Annie’s still out there. Not as long as Uncle Hans’ killer is still out there.”
“Are you going to the funeral?” Angela asked. “You didn’t show for Gisela’s or Joey's.”
Anders hung up.
Pentagon basement – [REDACTED]
The smoking man turned a corner and walked through a narrow row of shelves in the large warehouse basement he and his colleagues used to hide their most classified information. He walked over to the cabinet with the evidence from the major UFO incidents in the last century, from Agadir in 1947 to Normandy in 1992. He pulled open a drawer underneath the Normandy drawer simply labeled “Evidence, 16604.” He had run out of archangel names to use as codenames, so he’d have to do with numbers. He held up the container holding the alien fetus in it and tossed it in the drawer. He closed the drawer and locked it again. His job here done, he walked out and closed the door. Nobody would ever know of its existence.