She pursed her lips as she contemplated the same question she had asked herself several times over the last hour. “The CAG assured me it was an isolated incident caused by a rogue pilot.”
Again, he discerned her thoughts with ease. “But you don’t believe it.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“Do you think it’s somehow tied to the lights?”
She glanced down at the report on her desk where she had openly expressed that same concern to the admiral. It was a little too coincidental in her mind that a fifth-generation fighter had tried ramming her ship only moments after a swarm of lights appeared out of nowhere. “I really don’t know. The evidence the SNOOPIE team collected was pretty inconclusive.”
Ben nodded. He had already seen the photographs and video, but unlike most of the crew who thought the orbs were piloted by little green men, he thought it more likely the culprit was closer to home. “And the way they just disappeared…”
“The timing is suspect, for sure,” Beth agreed. “Why did they disappear right after the jet broke off and climbed away?”
“I’m not a pilot, but isn’t there a black box or something that records the whole flight?”
Beth bit her bottom lip and recalled asking the CAG the same question. “They reviewed the data and saw nothing out of the ordinary.”
Ben shook his head. “Well, like I said, I’m just a simple ship driver, but I’d say trying to ram a multimillion dollar jet into a warship is pretty out of the ordinary.”
“Either way, the test is going as scheduled. So, let’s go over this plan so we can catch a few winks before it begins.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
Early the next morning, Chen exited Highway 101 onto California Boulevard in San Luis Obispo and drove between towering palm trees onto the campus of California Polytechnic State University. It wasn’t her first time visiting the campus, but it was her first time doing it under such urgent circumstances. Normally, she would have had more time to conduct a thorough surveillance of the area before making the drop. But that just wasn’t in the cards.
She reached a three-way stop bordered by green crosswalks and the words “CAL POLY” painted in white, and she steered the Jeep to the right onto Campus Way. The sun was still hidden behind the nearby Santa Lucia range, and the early morning fog had yet to burn off. Between the weather and most of the student body being gone, the college campus was eerily quiet at that hour, making her task all the more difficult.
Cresting the hill on Campus Way, Chen saw the University House shrouded by trees in the distance and turned left to park in a spot reserved for staff at the bottom of the hill. Before exiting her Jeep, she opened the calculator app on her smart phone and again entered the passkey. She tapped on “Receive” and waited for the device to connect with the satellite network overhead. When she read the resulting message, she sighed with relief.
Maybe he had gotten the hint. She returned to the main menu and tapped out the reply she had been formulating all night. It would put the Marine at risk, but if what he had said was true, she would rather risk compromising her asset than allow the Americans to learn their newest fighter aircraft had been exploited. When she finished composing the message, she reviewed it and tapped on “Send,” waiting for the progress bar to fill before slipping the phone in her pocket.
Climbing down from the Jeep’s driver’s seat, Chen took a moment to stretch her road-weary frame, then crossed Perimeter Road to pass between the natatorium and an abandoned structure in Mission Revival style known as the Powerhouse. With her head held high, she scanned the road and continued past Crandall Gymnasium and the Engineering West building to reach the southwestern corner of Dexter Lawn.
Chen paused and examined the green space for hidden observers, ensuring she was alone before she exposed herself. Seeing nothing out of place, she stepped out and strolled onto a wide, red brick walkway on the near side of the lawn. She moved with deliberate nonchalance, but her eyes never stopped scanning. Trash can. Bench. Tree. She glanced briefly at each location, searching for the signal.
When she saw it, she forced herself to continue walking at the same pace. Six inches into the grass on the left side of the path was a plastic fork stuck into the ground with its tines facing upward. Had the prongs been buried into the dirt, she would have known the primary dead drop location had been compromised and would have made a lap around the campus looking for an alternate signal site. Had it been any utensil other than a fork, she would have turned around, returned to her Jeep, and abandoned the drop.
But the signal was what she had expected.
