THE ENEMY WITHIN

THE ENEMY WITHIN Chapter 6

6.

Moonlight spilled across the array of radio telescope dishes. Shiri glanced out the window at them trying to contain her excitement. At any given moment, she could state precisely how many satellites orbited earth. Which was why she felt a rush of adrenaline now discovering one more than there should be.

Studying her bank of computer screens, Shiri began by moving backward in time to gauge the satellite's orbit. Three hours earlier, the satellite appeared to be in the same position in relation to earth. The images from six hours earlier gave similar results. Most surprising was the discovery that twelve hours ago, there was no sign of the satellite at all. There had to be some evidence of its launch and positioning. But it was as if the satellite had manifested exactly eleven hours and thirteen minutes ago. "Simon, anyone launch today?" Shiri said.

Simon Keyes, the only man in America who actually liked RC Cola, came over. He rubbed his thick beard, which did little to disguise the double chins beneath the fuzzy surface. "Don't think so," he said, peering over her shoulder.

"2271, that should be the count. But I get one more," Shiri said, enjoying the first rush of excitement in ages.

Simon went to another computer bank, scanning the data at inhuman speed. "Nothing from China or Japan. Europe hasn't launched anything in weeks."

"There's something else," Shiri called. "The satellite's in a geosynchronous orbit over the Pacific Northwest – and it's emitting an intermittent infrared flare."

Simon glanced up and blinked twice like an owl. "Move our nearest sat over to get a better look."

Everyone stared back as if this were a joke. Moving a satellite into a new orbit took time, logistics, careful study of what a change in trajectory might mean. One miscalculation and millions of dollars in technology could be lost. "What are you waiting for?" Simon turned back to Shiri. "Hell of a catch. Now figure out if there's any data in that infrared flare."

*

Lieutenant Kitamura hated gospel music. Sadly, Colonel Jasper, who sat beside him in the Taurus, felt differently. So gospel it was. Such was the life of a lieutenant.

He'd been working for Colonel Jasper, the NASA liaison, for nearly a year. He didn't like the man, but he couldn't question the Colonel's brilliance. He practically channeled Sun Tzu. Worse still, he beat Kitamura consistently in chess, which never ceased to amaze Minnesota's formerly third ranked junior champion.

Colonel Jasper would never make general. He preferred life looking for weaknesses out in the field, not weakness in the enemy but in the homeland. They had just come from a top-secret missile system capable of taking out North Korea in a pre-emptive strike should the time come. Or as Jasper put it – when the time came. Most people in the community never knew the weapons were hidden in the middle of a Kansas cornfield.

After spitting chewing tobacco into a Styrofoam cup, which disgusted Kitamura to no end, Colonel Jasper rubbed his red mustache. "I sense you have an issue with God's music."

Kitamura drove down the long stretch of road. Nothing but tall cornstalks as far as the eye could see. "What if it isn't God's music? What if they got it wrong and God finds it positively discordant?" He laughed, amused.

Colonel Jasper merely spit in his cup once more, and then picked up his cell phone the moment it buzzed. "Jasper ... I'll be there." He always said the same thing. "Plane's waiting. Wake me when we get there." In moments, the Colonel was snoring. They could be on the verge of WW III, but Jasper's expression wouldn't change.