Fade Out (52 page)

The Soviet Premier shrugged. ‘It's understandable, in the circumstances. We were also worried.' He nodded towards Rudenkov. ‘These military men are sometimes hard to control. I can't even stop this one smoking. However, I don't think we need let these events stand in the way of our future co-operation.'

‘No,' said Connors. ‘That's very important.' He picked up the large manila envelope. ‘You see, we find ourselves in a very difficult position. In breaking our word, we found that you had also broken yours.' He pulled out a sheaf of large black and white photographs, split them roughly into two equal piles and laid them in front of Leonovich and Rudenkov.

Premier Leonovich reached inside his jacket and pulled out a spectacle case. He put on a pair of half-lens reading glasses and examined the photographs that Connors had placed in front of him, then exchanged his pile with Rudenkov.

Rudenkov nodded in admiration. ‘They're sharp. You've got good cameras.' He pointed out something on one of the pictures to Leonovich, then looked at Fraser. “These pictures must have been taken on the thirty-first of August.'

Fraser nodded. ‘And the first of September.'

Rudenkov raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

‘We believe that the circular object in the photographs is the extraterrestrial craft our two countries located in orbit at the beginning of August,' said Connors. ‘And we also believe it is the probable source of the atmospheric interference currently affecting radio communications.'

‘I see,' said Leonovich. ‘What did your President say when he saw these photographs?'

‘He was concerned by your failure to communicate news of the landing of this craft in the Soviet Union, and worried that you might not have fully appreciated the dangers arising from your actions. He asked me to convey an urgent message to you, expressing that concern,' said Connors. ‘I think it would be best if we read you his own words.'

Connors reached down into the briefcase by his chair and pulled out a stiff blue leather folder bearing the seal of the President of the United States. He gave a Xerox copy of the letter to Fraser, then opened the folder and passed it to Dan Chaliapin. The folder contained two mounted sheets of the President's notepaper on which his letter had been typed in both languages. He had signed both copies.

Dan looked at the first few lines, cleared his throat,
wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and began to read in his deep, rich Russian voice. ‘To Soviet Premier Alekseii Vasilievich Leonovich. Dear Friend: Certain evidence has been presented to me which proves, beyond all doubt, that, for the last three weeks at least, units of your Army and Air Force have been aware of, and have concealed, the presence of an extraterrestrial craft in the Kazakhstan Soviet Socialist Republic. A copy of this evidence is presented with this letter.

‘“In view of your past co-operation in forging closer relationships between our two countries I am saddened by the prospect that you and your colleagues in the Soviet government are actively involved in the continuing concealment of this craft – an act which is in direct breach of the verbal agreement concluded in Moscow on August eighth by representatives of our two governments.

‘“You cannot be unaware of the serious, worldwide effects of the second prolonged fade-out, which, since Wednesday of this week, now face us again. The evidence I have, and which must also be shared by the Russian units involved, shows that the fade-out is directly related to the presence of the spacecraft, and that we face the constant threat of further periods of disruption for as long as the spacecraft is allowed to remain in your country. I am sure you would not wish to prolong the present situation.

‘“Every hour that the fade-out is allowed to continue damages the relationship between our two countries, disrupts our economy, and creates an intolerable pressure on our system of law and order. It dangerously upsets the present balance of military power and, due to the breakdown in our command-control systems, inevitably increases the risk of an accidental and indiscriminate nuclear war between us.

‘“In these circumstances, I cannot remain indifferent
to the effects of the fade-out on the rest of the world and I am sure you are also aware of your responsibility to the international community. I therefore urge you to make immediate preparations to remove this threat to world peace and stability by the most appropriate means at your disposal and in consultation with my representatives. Failure to act speedily could precipitate a situation in which we may be forced to take unilateral action to remove the spacecraft. Both of us know that the consequences of such an action would be incalculable. I beg you to act now and save us all – ”'

Yours et cetera, et cetera
…

Chaliapin passed the open folder to the Soviet Premier. He glanced through the Russian text, then shut the folder. He took off his glasses and looked at Connors.

‘As you probably helped write this, would you say this was a threat?'

‘No,' said Connors. ‘It's an appeal to reason, for an end to mistrust, and for a return to honest negotiations.'

‘Well, no one can doubt the sincerity of your President,' said Leonovich. ‘And it would be pointless for us to try and deny this evidence. It's clear that we made several grave errors of judgement.'

‘That's true,' said Connors. He wasn't going to press for a stronger admission of guilt. The Russians were on the hook. That was all that mattered. ‘But that need not stop us from working together again. If you believe this object is the source of the fade-out, we must destroy it before it destroys us.'

Premier Leonovich ran a finger over the embossed seal on the cover of the folder. ‘What would the President like us to do, drop a bomb on it?'

‘If it's feasible,' said Connors. ‘That's one of the things our team has come to discuss. But first, we should like to know more about it. Have either of you seen it?'

‘The Marshal has,' said Leonovich.

‘We've given it the code name Commissar,' said Fraser.

‘Hah! Well chosen.' Rudenkov lit another cigarette and smiled broadly. ‘Like all commissars, he's been making life very difficult.'

Connors was aware that both he and Leonovich appeared quite unabashed at being confronted with proof of their deception, and he couldn't figure out why. It looked as if the double play was going to work, but it all seemed to be going too easily…

‘Is it a spacecraft?' asked Connors. Both he and Fraser had to act as if they knew nothing about it.

‘It's a craft of some kind,' admitted Rudenkov. ‘But it didn't land. It came out of the ground.'

‘You mean you think it landed somewhere else and burrowed its way towards Lake Balkash?'

‘It's a possibility that's been considered,' said Rudenkov. ‘You'll have to talk to someone like Grigorienko for the scientific view. Not that our scientists know all that much. They're as baffled as the rest of us.'

‘So, what is the situation?' asked Connors.

Rudenkov took a long pull on his cigarette. ‘In a large nutshell, it's this: on the twenty-seventh of August, thirty-eight coal miners were trapped five hundred metres underground when a series of mine shafts collapsed – due apparently to a severe earth tremor. Four days later, a circular, incandescent object, twenty-five metres in diameter and five metres tall, surfaced in a deserted area southwest of Lake Balkash. Two days after surfacing, all atmospheric interference had terminated.'

‘How far away was the coal mine?' asked Connors.

‘About six hundred and fifty kilometres, north of the craft's present position.'

Connors looked at Fraser. If the two incidents were related, as the Russians seemed to think, Commissar had
obviously landed in the wrong place and had been burning his way through the earth to his allotted position at about six and a half kilometres an hour.

‘Did you find the craft's original landing point?'

Premier Leonovich shook his head. ‘An aerial search has been made, but, so far, we have found nothing. I'm told it's possible that it may have landed in some other country.' He smiled. ‘It could have been America.'

Connors' heart missed a beat. He looked surprised. ‘America?'

‘Why not?' said Leonovich. ‘If it can travel six hundred kilometres why not six thousand?'

Connors thought it was time to switch back to Rudenkov. ‘What happened after it surfaced?'

‘On cooling,' continued Rudenkov, ‘the object was seen to be made of a semitranslucent black crystal. The shape was like an overturned saucer. The material defied conventional analysis but the tests proved it to be of exceptional hardness. Approximately one metre below the surface, a second layer of material with a moulded surface pattern like the human brain was observed. There were no hatches, panels or protuberances of any kind. All attempts to excavate the object were repulsed by a strong magnetic field, generation of heat, ultrasonic waves, or by generation of a force field that neutralized all electrical apparatus.' Rudenkov smiled. ‘You can see I have memorized the reports quite well. Two days ago, radar transmissions were once again interrupted, and a force field with a diameter of eleven kilometres was generated around the object. In addition to these two problems, there are indications that the object is growing.'

‘Growing?' Connors did his best to look puzzled.

It all sounded depressingly familiar except for two important points. Commissar had no spherical hatch, and thus contained no equivalent of Friday. Connors knew
that Commissar's present position was almost exactly on the same latitude as Crusoe, and on the reciprocal longitude. It hinted at some kind of pattern, a symmetry, but did it mean anything more than a tidy mind, as Wetherby had suggested?

‘Once you knew where it was,' said Connors, ‘why did you conceal it from us?'

‘That was a temporary arrangement,' replied Leonovich. ‘Some of our people thought it might prove technically advantageous to try to find the mechanism by which Commissar, as you call it, impeded radar transmissions.' He smiled. ‘I'm sure, if the situation had been reversed, some of your people would have suggested a similar cover-up.'

‘It's possible,' said Connors. ‘But the fact remains that, wherever it landed, Commissar surfaced inside the borders of the Soviet Union.'

Leonovich pursed his lips and nodded in slow agreement. Marshal Rudenkov leaned over to Tibor and whispered behind his hand. Tibor got up and left the room.

Rudenkov wagged a finger at Fraser. ‘Sending your planes over was not a wise thing to do. Our air and rocket forces were on a full war alert for the whole three weeks. One slip and we would have all been finished.'

‘If we hadn't taken the chance, we would never have known you had double-crossed us,' said Fraser aimiably.

Connors winced, then relaxed as Chaliapin tactfully translated ‘double-crossed' as ‘something to hide'. Tibor returned with a heavy brown briefcase.

Rudenkov unlocked it and pulled out a bulky green file untidily stuffed with papers and tied with blue tape. He began to pick at the knot with blunt fingers. ‘I'm glad we have this chance to speak frankly,' he said. ‘I think it's about time we got this game over with. The truth is this spacecraft has given us a big headache as well. You may
have had problems, but you haven't got the Chinese sitting on your back doorstep. We've already done some thinking on how best to get rid of this thing, but, as you know, that is only half the problem.' Rudenkov finally got the knot undone. He untied the file and removed a large brown envelope.

Connors recognized the colour and felt a chill premonition of disaster.

Premier Leonovich laid his hand on the blue leather folder containing the President's message. ‘My friend, I think you should take this back. We have both broken our word in a patriotic attempt to protect our two countries, but there is no longer anything to be gained by continuing this deception. It's time for a fresh start.' Leonovich pushed the folder across the table to Connors. ‘If you genuinely wish to resume
honest
negotiations, then you could begin by explaining this.' The Soviet Premier took the envelope from Marshal Rudenkov and dropped it on top of the one that Fraser had brought from the Defense Department in Washington. They were identical.

Fraser stared at the two envelopes with stunned disbelief. Connors picked up the top one, read the name and address printed in the top left-hand corner and offered it to Fraser.

‘Since it's from your office, maybe you'd better open it.'

Fraser took it from him and untucked the flap. ‘How did you get hold of this?'

Rudenkov shrugged. ‘Through a friend…'

Inside were a dozen ten-by-twelve-inch black and white photographs. They had all been printed with a US Air Force serial number and the words ‘TOP SECRET' in white in the bottom right-hand corner, and on the back, stamped in red, were the words ‘Department of Defense'.
The pictures included oblique aerial shots of the crater on Crow Ridge, Crusoe, Friday, views of the Rockville buildings and trailer site, and the base camp on Highway 22. Fraser and Connors had both seen some of the photos before. They formed part of a series taken by a special Air Force unit documenting the Crusoe project.

Fraser slid the photographs towards Connors. ‘They even got a picture of you.'

Connors looked down at the photographs but didn't pick them up. He opened his mouth to say something but the words remained locked in his throat. As he sat back helplessly, Rudenkov slapped the table and roared with good-natured laughter.

It was the first time Connors had been caught lying since he'd stolen money from his mother's purse at the age of eight. The lies hadn't stopped, of course, but the shock and humiliation of that first exposure had brought out the secretive side of his character. Over the years, nourished by success, the carefully-planned deceptions and smooth-tongued explanations had grown in complexity, and somewhere along the line, he had begun to lie to himself. The silken yarn of deceit had become so closely interwoven with the raw thread of truth it was impossible to distinguish one from the other.