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The Doomsday Conspiracy :: Sheldon Sidney
Страница: 44 из 213”
“I will alert the committee as to his progress. Continue to keep me informed. The condition of this operation must remain Nova Red.”
“Understood, sir. I would suggest …”
The line was dead.
FLASH MESSAGE
TOP SECRET ULTRA
NSA TO DEPUTY DIRECTOR BUNDESAN
-WALTSCHAFT
EYES ONLY
COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES
SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY
1. HANS BECKERMAN – KAPPEL
2. FRITZ MANDEL – BERN
END OF MESSAGE
At midnight in a small farmhouse fifteen miles from Uetendorf, the Lagenfeld family was disturbed by a series of strange events. The older child was awakened by a shimmering yellow light shining through his bedroom window. When he got up to investigate, the light had disappeared.
In the yard, Tozzi, their German shepherd, began barking furiously, awakening old man Lagenfeld. Reluctantly, the farmer got out of bed to quiet the animal, and when he stepped outside he heard the sound of frightened sheep crashing against their pen, trying to escape. As Lagenfeld passed the trough, which had been filled to the brim by the recent rainfall, he noticed that it was bone dry.
Tozzi came running to his side, whimpering. Lagenfeld absently patted the animal on the head. “It’s all right, boy. It’s all right.”
And at that moment, every light in the house went out. When the farmer returned to the house and picked up the telephone to call the power company, the phone was dead.
If the lights had remained on a moment longer, the farmer might have seen a strangely beautiful woman walk out of his barnyard and into the field beyond.
The Bundesanwaltschaft – Geneva, 1300 Hours
The government minister seated in the inner sanctum of the headquarters of the Swiss Intelligence Agency watched the Deputy Director finish reading the message. He put the message in a folder marked Top Secret, placed the folder in the desk drawer and locked the drawer.
“Hans Beckerman und Fritz Mandel.”
“Ja.”
“No problem, Herr Minister. It shall be taken care of.”
“Gut.”
“Wann?”
“Sofort. Immediately.”
The following morning on his way to work, Hans Beckerman’s ulcers were bothering him. I should have pushed that reporter fellow to pay me for that thing I found on the ground. These magazines are all rich. I probably could have got a few hundred marks. Then I could have gone to a decent doctor and had my ulcers treated.
“I will alert the committee as to his progress. Continue to keep me informed. The condition of this operation must remain Nova Red.”
“Understood, sir. I would suggest …”
The line was dead.
FLASH MESSAGE
TOP SECRET ULTRA
NSA TO DEPUTY DIRECTOR BUNDESAN
-WALTSCHAFT
EYES ONLY
COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES
SUBJECT: OPERATION DOOMSDAY
1. HANS BECKERMAN – KAPPEL
2. FRITZ MANDEL – BERN
END OF MESSAGE
At midnight in a small farmhouse fifteen miles from Uetendorf, the Lagenfeld family was disturbed by a series of strange events. The older child was awakened by a shimmering yellow light shining through his bedroom window. When he got up to investigate, the light had disappeared.
In the yard, Tozzi, their German shepherd, began barking furiously, awakening old man Lagenfeld. Reluctantly, the farmer got out of bed to quiet the animal, and when he stepped outside he heard the sound of frightened sheep crashing against their pen, trying to escape. As Lagenfeld passed the trough, which had been filled to the brim by the recent rainfall, he noticed that it was bone dry.
Tozzi came running to his side, whimpering. Lagenfeld absently patted the animal on the head. “It’s all right, boy. It’s all right.”
And at that moment, every light in the house went out. When the farmer returned to the house and picked up the telephone to call the power company, the phone was dead.
If the lights had remained on a moment longer, the farmer might have seen a strangely beautiful woman walk out of his barnyard and into the field beyond.
The Bundesanwaltschaft – Geneva, 1300 Hours
The government minister seated in the inner sanctum of the headquarters of the Swiss Intelligence Agency watched the Deputy Director finish reading the message. He put the message in a folder marked Top Secret, placed the folder in the desk drawer and locked the drawer.
“Hans Beckerman und Fritz Mandel.”
“Ja.”
“No problem, Herr Minister. It shall be taken care of.”
“Gut.”
“Wann?”
“Sofort. Immediately.”
The following morning on his way to work, Hans Beckerman’s ulcers were bothering him. I should have pushed that reporter fellow to pay me for that thing I found on the ground. These magazines are all rich. I probably could have got a few hundred marks. Then I could have gone to a decent doctor and had my ulcers treated.