X war infiltration, p.10
X WAR: Infiltration, page 10
Spanos was stunned. "What? That was real? Didn't the Brazilians say that was all a hoax?"
"Yes, they did," Mitchell said. "But this latest one appeared in broad daylight for over an hour before it too disappeared. The Brazilian government tried to suppress this incident in order to prevent panic, but everyone has a camera on their phones these days, and it's all over the internet now."
"Could it have been the same type of UFO that showed up above Los Angeles?"
"Based on visual evidence that we've looked at, it would seem to be a very possible conclusion."
"So no leads at all? Maybe these things are some sort of Chinese or Russian aircraft that we don't yet know about?" Spanos asked.
"No official word from the Chinese or the Russians, but footage coming from people living in those countries also show instances of UFO sightings and other strange events too," Mitchell said.
"I personally don't believe the Chinese or the Russians could be capable of building and deploying an aerial craft that could behave like what these UFOs did," Fulton said. "Our latest intel analysis on all our possible adversaries and allies claims that no country on this planet has the capability of deploying such a craft, assuming it is a vessel of some kind."
Senator Quinn shook his head slowly. "So what are we looking at here? Aliens from another world?"
"The bottom line is we don't know," Fulton said. "All we can do is react every time something like this happens. I wish I could tell you more, but until one of these things lands or crashes and we get to examine what makes them tick, then all we've got is speculation."
Spanos frowned. "The conspiracy theorists are all saying we in the government know all about these things, but we're keeping it from the general public. Are there any secret projects on UFOs that we're doing?"
"We did have the Advanced Aerospace Threat Identification Program, but that was dissolved quite a few years back," Mitchell said. "Their findings were reported as inconclusive, although there remained a lot of unanswered questions based on footage and observations of these objects."
"What about that other study, Project Blue Book or something?" Senator Quinn asked.
"That project was terminated back in the seventies, Senator. Their findings determined that UFOs were not deemed as a threat to national security at that time, and no evidence indicated that these sightings were extraterrestrial vehicles. It was all a whitewash, I admit."
"Are you sure we don't have some sort of experimental planes that could be mistaken for a UFO, like from say, the Area 51 site that everyone's talking about?" Spanos asked.
"Area 51 is where we test our experimental military aircraft, but I can assure you that we have nothing of the sort that appeared over Los Angeles," Fulton said.
"Alright," Quinn said. "Let's discuss the things that we can deal with. I read a report on a number of these UFO cults, and it seems they are proliferating, and some of them have even turned violent. Is this correct?"
Tarrant nodded. "That's correct, Senator. Just hours after the UFO incident in Los Angeles, a group of assailants, all young men of various ethnicities, attacked a hospital in one of the suburbs there. The police initially thought it was gang-related, but after the FBI was sent in to investigate, we now think these suspects might have been part of a cult."
"What is this cult about? Any details?" Spanos asked.
"We're still collating information via background checks and forensics, though it seems that the deceased gunmen were all formerly disaffected young men who frequently accessed a hidden website called Heaven's Path," Mitchell said.
"Who are the leaders of that cult?"
"We don't know as of yet, ma'am. That website can only be accessed through the dark web, an area of the internet which is not indexed by search engines and can only be accessed by specialized software or modified computer configurations," Mitchell explained.
"A lot of that stuff is run anonymously through proxies, fake accounts, and is heavily encrypted, so it will be hard to find the ones behind it all, unless they make an announcement or a mistake," Tarrant added.
Quinn let out a deep breath. "So we've still got nothing."
"What about our ambassador in the Philippines? Isn't he being held hostage by a cult right now?" Spanos asked.
Mitchell nodded. "That's correct, ma'am. We believe it's a different cult, but along the same lines. They call themselves the Overcomers, and their website is public. Based on their manifesto, their members believe that aliens from another world genetically engineered humans, and they want to be reunited with them."
"Bunch of sickos," Spanos hissed. "Are they a Philippine UFO cult?"
"Although many of their members are Filipinos, it seems their leader and founder is an American," Mitchell said. "He legally changed his name to Rem Tau before leaving the US and went into hiding in the Philippines to avoid being arrested here on a number of criminal charges."
"Have they made any demands?" Quinn asked.
"They have not yet made any," Mitchell said. "A number of similar UFO cults within the Philippines and from other countries are attempting to head over to the island where they are holed up with their captives in order to join the Overcomers. The local authorities are trying to block access to that island, but their resources are limited."
Fulton pursed his lips. "I've had a meeting with the president about this, and I can tell you he doesn't want to end up like the previous administration with another dead ambassador on his watch. He wants this taken care of, and right away."
"So the Philippine government is attempting a rescue operation?" Spanos asked.
"The Filipinos admit they lack the training and personnel for this kind of delicate operation," Fulton explained. "Since the US military already has assets in their country, we will be conducting the operation, though we will publicly credit to the Philippine Armed Forces if this is successful."
"And if it doesn't succeed?" Spanos asked.
"Then we'll take the fall," Fulton said softly.
18 Philippines
CLOSE TO A DOZEN SHADOWS moved along the deserted compound. Free-standing lights had been placed at various intervals to illuminate most of the area, and so the men wearing black stuck close to the dark places in order to conceal themselves from any possible sentries.
In addition to their helmets and body armor, each man had night vision goggles that enabled them to see without difficulty in the twilit night. Being part of an elite unit meant that most of them could choose their own weapons, though most preferred the Heckler & Koch HK416 carbines. The snipers that were stationed at the higher vantage points wielded either semi-automatic SR-25s or bolt-action AX308s.
Master Chief Petty Officer Trent Gossard silently led his team down the first route, a darkened alleyway in between two buildings. The other SEALs called him "Goose," for his surname was similar to a famous baseball player's. They were all so tight that everyone knew each other's most intimate secrets, and they viewed themselves as more of a family than a military unit.
Using hand signals, Gossard silently told the others behind him to stop and wait. He had committed the map of the compound to memory, but the route up ahead seemed different somehow. What was supposed to be a path heading north now seemed to turn westwards, leading out into a well-lit plaza.
Feeling a light tap on his shoulder, he turned and glanced at Chief Petty Officer David Suhey, who signaled that they should go on by tapping at his wristwatch. We're out of time and we need to move, he could imagine him saying. They had trained together for so long that they could practically read each other's minds.
Ah, screw it, he thought. Signaling the others behind him to follow, Gossard charged ahead, his carbine at the ready as they all made the turn and dashed out into the lights.
Just as he stepped forward and faced the glaring illumination, Gossard nearly collided with another black clad operator coming in from a northerly direction. Both men reacted in time and just managed to avoid slamming into each other.
The other man was Les Bingham. He had led his own team down the opposite way and now both of them had just come out into the open at the same time. "Goddamn it, Goose, what in the hell are you doing at this juncture? My guys are the ones who are supposed to be covering this part of the area."
Commander Joshua Otis had been sitting on a lawn chair just behind a low concrete divider in the middle of the lighted square, but now he stood up and shook his head in disappointment. "Gentlemen, this operation has just failed, and now you've got a dead US ambassador lying in front of you. Get your butts back in gear and do it again."
Gossard would have none of it. Waving the others away, he strode closer to the unit's commanding officer. "Sir, this whole compound we're training in doesn't match up with the map of that resort."
Otis placed his hands on his hips and sighed. "What are you talking about, Goose? The local authorities assured us that this place is exactly alike with that resort on Olango Island," he said, pointing towards the southeast.
"I'm telling you, sir, it's not," Gossard said as he pulled out the map from beneath his armored chest plate and unfolded it. Running his gloved index finger along their pre-planned route, he shifted sideways so that his commanding officer could see it. "The directions of these alleys we're going through are completely different. Look."
Otis studied the printed map for a few minutes before looking up into the night sky and cursing. "Goddamn it. We'll be coming into a completely different area and both squads just got tangled up out in the open."
"I would suggest we use another compound to train in, sir. The placement of the buildings in this area is totally different."
Otis shook his head. "We don't have the time to set something else up. Our orders are to go in by tomorrow night."
"If I could make a suggestion, sir."
"Go ahead, Goose."
"We've got demolition charges. Why don't we blow few holes until this place conforms with the map of the resort?"
"Oh no, that is not gonna happen, Goose. This place is another resort that's under construction here in Cebu Island, so if we start blowing things just to clear up some pathways, then we'll be in for some political hell."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll coordinate with the rest of the platoon and see if we can just bypass the obstacles that are not supposed to be here. Head back to your team and see if you can sort out your entry point."
"Yes, sir."
When Gossard made his way back to the seven men in his squad, the others had already returned to their starting point. Standing in front of the men, he shrugged his shoulders. "I was right. This whole training compound is not the same as our target."
"So what do we do? If we use the same route we're gonna end up bumping right into Bingham's squad all over again," Suhey said.
Gossard pointed towards a four story building half a kilometer away. "That is supposed to be our insertion point."
The others in the eight-man squad gave each other incredulous stares.
"You're kidding, right?" one of the other SEAL team members said.
"Nope," Gossard said. "We're gonna climb up and over it, then climb over some more buildings until we reach the target area using proper orientation."
Several members of the squad began to grumble, but they didn't slack off as they readied their ropes and ran back towards their new starting positions. These men were master competitors in the most extreme sport ever devised by humankind—war.
19 Berlin
INGRID HUBER SNAPPED her eyes open when she felt a hand on her left shoulder. Turning sideways, she locked eyes with Kurt, who had just parked the weather-beaten Opel Astra in what seemed to be an old, abandoned industrial estate. The morning sun had just begun to rise above the haze-filled horizon, and it was clear that he had driven all night.
"Where are we?" she asked.
Kurt reached sideways and opened the driver's side door. "Berlin."
Climbing out of the car, Ingrid yawned while stretching her arms and back. The last several days had been spent sneaking around at night while mostly hiding during the day. Kurt seemed to be the paranoid type, and he insisted that they sleep only in abandoned buildings and eat out of trash bins like a homeless person.
Ingrid had resisted the urge to just give up and return to her apartment, since a gnawing fear of the strange looking man in the trenchcoat outside her place somehow kept her from calling up either the institute or the university, though all things came to a head when Kurt actually took the phone from her hands before throwing it over a bridge and into the river as they slowly journeyed out of Munich.
She had nearly decided to leave him right then and there, yet she abruptly changed her mind when Kurt told her the pale men would be coming after Monika next if Ingrid ever tried to contact her again.
Now Kurt beckoned for her to follow him as he started moving towards the entrance of a closed factory. "Come on. We'll be safe here."
Rubbing her temples to fight off the headache and exhaustion that had been plaguing her for the past few days, Ingrid walked after him. She wasn't even sure if he had stolen the car that they have been riding in, and figured it was better to know less.
The factory's dilapidated interior made her guess that they were in the old eastern part of the city. Peeling paint on the gray walls and assorted bits of trash littered the desolate floor. Spray painted graffiti adorned several sides of the main work area, while several blocks of rusting machinery at the center afforded numerous hiding places for anyone willing to call it home.
Ingrid let out a tired sigh. "Look, I will not sleep in a place like this anymore. I am cold, tired, and hungry, and I need a bath. I can't keep going on like this until you tell me what we are supposed to do."
An eastern accented voice came from somewhere close by. "I am sorry that you had to live like an animal for the past several days, but when they are after you then the only sane choice is to hide and become less civilized."
Ingrid turned. A thin, pasty faced man with a long black beard wearing a clerical jacket appeared beside one of the rusting machines. Within a few seconds, he was joined by various people in ordinary garb until the small group numbered close to a dozen men and women of varying ages.
Kurt stood a few meters to her left, and he pointed at the man wearing the worn-out clerical outfit. "Ingrid, meet Father Wojciech, the leader of our cell."
"Welcome, Ingrid," Wojciech said before gesturing at a middle-aged woman carrying a small paper bag. "Go ahead."
The woman smiled as she approached Ingrid and held out the bag in front of her. "I am Sofia. Here, you must be hungry."
Ingrid took the paper bag from Sofia and opened it. Inside was a sandwich wrapped in clear plastic and a bottle of water. "Thank you."
Sofia continued to smile at her. "You look just like my daughter," she said, before walking away to rejoin the group.
Taking out the plastic bottle, Ingrid opened it and took a long sip before returning her attention to the people standing in front of her. "Who are you people?"
"Like you, we have all experienced a strange event that changed our lives forever," Wojciech said. "We call ourselves the Resistance. Our numbers are small, and we don't have much, but we are motivated, and that is our one true strength that cannot be overcome by the enemy."
"Who is this enemy you keep talking about?"
"The Cabal, and their overlords."
She glanced sideways. "Kurt here told me that this so-called Cabal controls everything. How is that possible?"
"It is true," Wojciech said. "The Cabal's reach is worldwide. The richest and most powerful men and women of the world are either members or have been forced to do their bidding."
"You mean this Cabal controls the politicians, the police, all of it?"
"Yes, all of them. The governments of the most powerful countries of the world, the media, entertainment, business, and our scientific advancements are carefully monitored and guided so as to keep us at a technological level where it is easy for them to control humankind."
"Where's your proof that one group can do all this?"
Wojciech spread his arms and gestured at the other people standing beside him. "We are your proof."
Sofia stepped forward. It seemed she was trying hard to stop herself from crying. "My husband was a journalist. One day he told me he had uncovered a big conspiracy in the EU government, and he spent days and nights without sleep in order to investigate it. After a few weeks, he just never came home."
Ingrid bit her lip. She sounds like a nice lady, but she could also just be crazy.
"Then some strange men started knocking on the door of my house, demanding that I hand over the materials my husband told me to safeguard, and when I didn't do that they... they." Sofia stopped talking as she placed her hands over her eyes and began to weep.
Wojciech moved closer to the crying woman and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Sofia's children, her two beloved daughters—disappeared as well. The authorities tried to pin it on her that she had either hidden them or killed them, but she would never do that."
"I... I was thinking of suicide until Father Wojciech found me," Sofia said, wiping away the tears using her wrist. "Now, I am determined to find my family."
Wojciech wrapped his arms around Sofia, and she started crying on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Ingrid said. "But how did this Cabal get started?"
Wojciech stood back as two other women led Sofia towards the bathrooms. He turned to look at Ingrid once again. "The origins of the Cabal are shrouded in mystery. Many of us believe that beings from another world have been observing and manipulating the events on this planet for a long time. Have you heard of the Vril Society?"
"No."
"It is said that this was a small band of occultists that existed in pre-Nazi Berlin, and that they controlled the Thule Society, another esoteric group that was later reorganized into the National Socialist Workers Party."
