AMERICA ONE (11 page)

They left at midday, the Audi rested and ready to go anywhere, even on dirt roads.

Jonesy seemed back into the adventure, especially after asking his first question as VIN headed out of Las Vegas on I-95 towards Tonopah, Nevada. “So, kid, how much did we lose in Vegas last week?”

“Nothing,” VIN replied. “You lost, or spent seven grand, I won ten grand, the room cost us three grand and we are leaving up, with seventy-three dollars, and that will fill the tank at the next gas station.”

Jonesy said nothing but smiled. “You are all right, kid!” he added.

After stopping for gas, coffee, sandwiches, a couple of large bottles of water for the desert, and a case of beers, just in case, they headed northwest along the Veterans Memorial Highway towards the turnoff which would take them up to Groom Lake, where the secret base was situated.

It wasn’t long before they left 95 and headed due north into the old Nevada Test Range, where over 900 atomic bombs had been detonated during the last century. Jonesy had never flown into Area 51. Only certain pilots on certain missions did, but he had flown into Creech Air Force Base just north of Las Vegas many times.

They passed the growing air base and headed on. VIN found the turnoff he was looking for and turned right onto Mercury Highway. It seemed that the road names were pretty close to describing the area.

For twenty miles there wasn’t much to see. The desert temperature was rising and even in fall, it felt like it was in the nineties. Finally they spotted Groom Lake Road and a few miles further, the expected security gate appeared over the brow of a hill.

Neither had said a word since they turned off 95; they cautiously approached the armed detail at the gate.

“You can take this bullet and turn it around, guys. This is forbidden territory for you,” ordered the well-armed sergeant peering in through the passenger window.

“Colonel John Jones, United States Air Force, retired, and Lieutenant VIN Noble, Marine Force Recon, retired. Are you sure we can’t creep in and have a quick look around, Sarge?”

“He looked at the dog tags being shown to him and smiled. “Shit, guys, you know full well I can’t do that; otherwise I would be quickly retired just like you. But I’ll tell you something I’m not supposed to. There is a new civilian air base northwest of us, been there almost a year now, just south of Tonopah. The flyboys say that it has grown non-stop since it was started. Some civilian rich guy owns it. Head back down to 95, turn right and head for Lida Air Strip, the only marker I know of, about 100 miles from the start of Mercury Highway. I went past the turnoff driving up to Reno last year, about 20 miles south of Tonopah. When you see a dirt airstrip on the left hand side of the road, take the road to the left. Stay on it, and the new base is about five miles down that way. Honestly, guys, you have more chance of mooching around there than here. If you don’t turn around, one of us will have to shoot up this fancy car of yours, unless you are James Bond, and if you are, the kid doesn’t look like Moneypenny to me. Also Felix Leiter hasn’t been around here for quite a while.”

“What’s happening there?” Jonesy asked.

“All I heard was that this rich guy had purchased an old World War Two runway and is trying to go to space. The guy has big bucks. His trucks have caused havoc with traffic along both directions of the Veterans Highway for nine whole months, carting stuff into there. You will still see trucks on the highway. Just follow one and it will take you there. Now, buzz off, soldiers, before us real military guys get mad,” he ended smiling, thumping the car door and returning to the gate.

Without much more to say, VIN turned the dusty car around and headed back. The sergeant had been correct, as soon as they got back on the highway; they ended up behind a truck going up a long incline with thick double yellow lines.

The same happened an hour later as they began searching for the airstrip. VIN had to quickly slow from 100 miles an hour the car was travelling to just 45. The truck in front of them was heavy and lumbered up another incline. They managed to overtake it and saw the dusty small airstrip ahead. VIN used a lot of brakes to slow down and then turned the car left. He watched in his rear view mirror as the truck also turned left, now a mile behind them.

Much like Area 51 they reached a high wired gate on which hung large signs that told visitors that the whole fence was electrified and deadly.

“Felix Leiter to see James Bond,” stated Jonesy to the khaki-clad guard as he approached, automatic weapon in hand.

“Sorry, sir, I thought you were the boss. Have you any reason to be here?”

“Now, why would you think that we could be your boss? And yes, we could have a reason to be here,” replied Jonesy with his usual attitude.

“The boss drives this type of car, an Audi. Is this new car for him?” the guard replied.

“Why don’t you call up the boss and say that his replacement silver bullet is here, and we are thirsty,” Jonesy replied. The guard returned to the well-manned guard house and got on a phone while the truck they had passed drove up behind them.

Nothing happened for nearly thirty minutes; the guard didn’t return, the truck behind them, its engine running just waited like them.

“I see the road is tarred on the other side of the gate, fresh asphalt,” stated VIN, as he thought he saw a mirage. Coming down a rise in the road towards the gate on the fresh asphalt, was the same car as his.

“Gee, kid,” laughed Jonesy. “It looks like the rich dude has the same amount of money as you have. He has the exact same car.”

They both watched as the R8 approached the inside of the gate, stopped and a tall, thin man wearing khaki pants, a white shirt and dark glasses got out and went into the guard house to talk to the guards. After a minute the man was escorted out of the gate by two security guards.

“Nice car, boys. What do you want?”

For once Jonesy couldn’t figure out what to say.

“Newer model than mine?” asked VIN looking across Jonesy at the man peering in.

“Last year’s model. Yours is three, maybe four years old. At least you got the eight-cylinder and not the ten. I didn’t like the ten much and downgraded back to the eight. Now, can I help you? I’m a busy man, and the truck driver behind you is about to turn your car into scrap metal.”

“Colonel John Jones, United States Air Force, retired; Lieutenant VIN Noble, Marine Force Recon unit, retired. Interested in what you have here, Mr…?” Jonesy finally found his mouth as the truck driver hooted his loud horn behind them.

“Richmond is the name. Guard!” he shouted to the men at the gate. “Let these guys in so that the truck can pass. Make sure they don’t go any further.” The gate opened, VIN started the engine, and they drove in and were directed behind the guard house and next to the other Audi.

“Now, just because you have a fancy car, young man, why come and harass me and my airfield?” the tall man stated as he walked up. They got out, and the truck drove in, passed them and disappeared over the brow of the hill.

“Hell, I don’t know!” VIN responded and was interrupted by his partner.

“This is a graded hill so nobody can see inside from the gate.” Jonesy added.

“Correct, Mr. Jones. This 50-foot brow surrounds my entire airfield inside the electrified fence I erected. Any more questions?”

“OK, we were just inquisitive. Let us see what is over the brow, and we will leave you in peace. Is that a deal?”

“That is a deal, Mr. Jones. There is a second brow and just after that, a second gate, so you won’t see much. I needed a walk so I will join you.” The three men began walking up the steep rise. VIN was slow and the other two had to wait halfway up for him.

“Unfit, Mr. Noble, I believe your name was?” asked Mr. Richmond.

“No, a tough marine, Mr. Richmond; just slow due to crappy off-the-shelf military leg prosthetics,” replied Jonesy protecting his friend.

“Afghanistan?” asked Richmond.

“No, Iraq during the pull out,” replied VIN catching up to them.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you, young man,” replied the owner and carried on to the top of the incline. They reached the top and saw the second gate, a second incline, several large one-story warehouses where the truck was unloading and, over the top of the incline, they could just see a few hangar roofs and the tall vertical tail of a military aircraft.

“Do I see a C-5 Galaxy over there?” asked Jonesy, his face showing interest.

“I believe you do,” was the reply. “You can only see the top half of the tail, and you know it’s a C-5? Pretty observant, but then you stated you were ex-Air Force?”

“Yes, I was a test pilot and flew those birds for hundreds of hours,” Jonesy replied standing on tip-toe trying to see more.

“Ever fly one with an enlarged rear door?” Ryan Richmond asked out of the blue. He didn’t know why he had asked that question, but it just slipped out.

“The ‘
Dead Chicken
’, sure. We had a C-5 with a large door. I tested her for two years when they put in that door and tried to pressurize it, and even when they added her new engine upgrades. Don’t tell the Air Force, but I got her up to 52,000 feet one time with her new engines, empty though, and their flight plan and instruction only cleared me to 47,000 feet.”

“Why the ‘
Dead Chicken
’?” asked Ryan, smiling.

“Well, the guys who flew her reckoned that if ever a chicken used a butt that size to lay an egg, the chicken would certainly be dead after laying that sized egg!” Jonesy replied smiling.

“Mr. Jones, do you have any plans for the next couple of years?”

“Nope, nothing a bit of flying and a $100 grand a year wouldn’t beat.”

“Mr. Noble, what about you? You aren’t a pilot, I believe, and I would assume you two are together?”

“I could be the side-gunner. Nothing a bit of side-gunning and a $100 grand a year wouldn’t beat!”

Ryan smiled. “OK, follow me and I’ll get you to the second gate. There is a lot of paperwork to get through, a two-year contract to sign stating you will not leave this base without authorization, and then I can show you your
Dead Chicken
, Mr. Jones.”

“Is that the
Dead Chicken
? Crap! I should have asked for $200 grand!” he replied loudly.

Do we have a job?

Both men were quite surprised at the amount of paperwork they had to complete. Jonesy stated several times that it was easier giving one’s life away to the U.S. military, than getting employed with this company, Astermine Co., and what did Astermine mean anyway?

After two hours of detailing their full life histories, nearly up to the baby food brand their parents had used, they were left alone in an office while Ryan Richmond went through the paperwork in the office next door and made several phone calls.

Then, a man dressed in a white coat arrived and gave them the same physicals any pilot would have received. A second man, also in a white coat, arrived and looked carefully at VIN’s limbs and prosthetic legs. He took measurements of the leg connections and then the rest of VIN’s body.

“Measuring me up for a suit, or a coffin?” VIN asked.

“Neither,” stated the bespectacled man in a foreign accent and left.

Slowly the day wore on and an hour before nightfall, both men, now extremely bored, watched as the owner, two men in suits and a pretty, young, blonde-haired girl in a wheelchair met in the glassed office next door and, trying not to look at the men next door, discussed them for a full twenty minutes.

“I think we have entered the lair of the unknown,” suggested Jonesy watching the proceedings.

“You got me into this,” replied VIN studying the girl in the wheelchair. “At least I’m not the only cripple in this institution. It seems they take cripples and half-humans, as well as totally mad ex-Air Force pilots, hopefully not for experiments. Jonesy, know how to lip read? I can’t.”

“No. Maybe they will take us up in the Galaxy, throw us all out and see who hits the ground first,” added Jonesy as the meeting broke up. “I’m starting to think maybe it’s time to leave Dr. Jekyll, and Mr. Hyde, and Ms. Wheelchair. I’m sure that guy checking you out for a body suit of armor was Russian.”

Ryan entered the room as the rest left the office. “Well done, gentlemen. Your attorney friend, Joe, back in Fayetteville North Carolina, filled me in on your history. Mr. Noble, it all fits and you passed muster. As for you Mr. Jones, your former base commander at Hill Air Force Base, after speaking to the Pentagon to allow him to answer my questions, gave you the worst report I have ever heard for a former Air Force pilot. He certainly doesn’t like you and for your information, I spoke to him as a civilian. He retired five years ago. Your Air Force Academy glider instructor from the 1970s, who is still alive, sort of sends his regards, and his report, although also pretty bad, stated that you would have been one of the best pilots the United States Air Force ever trained. ”

“Do we have a job?” VIN asked.

“Read and sign this last contract, gentlemen, and yes, you both have jobs.” They read the contracts.

“It states here $200,000 per year for two years. Is that right?” asked Jonesy first.

“That’s what you loudly suggested and, after my research into your background, I agree that it is a reasonable amount for what I’m getting; the best pilot the Air Force ever had.”

“Mine only says a hundred grand?” stated VIN.

“You aren’t the best pilot in the country, and also a decade or so younger, Mr. Noble. I think my offer is more than the United States Marine Corps ever paid you, plus I’m only getting half a body!”

Hearing it put that way, VIN nodded slightly, seemed to agree with the owner and without further questions both men signed.

“Welcome, men, now we can get you to work to earn your pay,” Ryan Richmond stated collecting the contracts. “From now you call me Ryan.” Both men nodded. “We have a little daylight left, let’s check out your
Dead Chicken
, Mr. Jones, and then I’ll give you a full tour of the airfield. You guys haven’t eaten for a while, so I’ve had the kitchen “brown bag” us some sandwiches so that we can eat while we tour the aircraft. Mr. Noble, I will have a second carport built next to mine, and you can keep your R8 out of the sun. Give me a day and it will be done….and don’t try to take mine by mistake!” VIN and Ryan each gave their car keys to security.