“Their names?”

“Hans Beckerman – he was the driver of the tour bus. He lives in Kappel …”

“And the second?”

“Fritz Mandel. He owns his own garage in Bern. He was the mechanic who towed the car of a third witness.”

“The name of that witness?”

“I don’t have it yet. I’m working on it. Would you like me to speak with them about not discussing this UFO business with anyone?”

“Negative. Your assignment is simply to locate the witnesses. After that, we’ll let their respective governments deal with them. Have you learned how many witnesses there are?”

“Yes. Seven passengers plus the driver, the mechanic and a passing motorist.”

“You must locate them all. Each and every one of the ten witnesses who saw the crash. Understood?”

“Yes, General.”

Robert replaced the receiver, his mind in a whirl. UFOs were real. The aliens were enemies. It was a horrifying thought.

Suddenly the uneasy feeling Robert had had earlier returned in full force. General Hilliard had given him this assignment, but they had not told him everything. What else were they holding back?

The Avis rental car company is located at 44 Rue de Lausanne, in the heart of Geneva. Robert stormed into the office and approached a woman behind the desk.

“May I help you?”

Robert slammed down the piece of paper with the licence number of the Renault written on it. “You rented this car out last week. I want the name of the person who rented it.” His voice was angry.

The clerk drew back. “I’m sorry, we are not permitted to give out that information.”

“Well, that’s just too bad,” Robert retorted, “because in that case, I’m going to have to sue your company for a great deal of money.”

“I do not understand. What is the problem?”

“I’ll tell you what the problem is, lady. Last Sunday, this car ran into mine on the highway and did a hell of a lot of damage. I managed to get his licence number but the man drove away before I could stop him.”

“I see.” The clerk studied Robert a moment. “Excuse me, please.” She disappeared into a back room. In a few minutes when she returned, she was carrying a file. “According to our records, there was a problem with the engine of the car, but there was no report of any accident.”

“Well, I’m reporting it now. And I’m holding your company responsible for this. You’re going to have to pay to have my car repaired. It’s a brand new Porsche, and it’s going to cost you a fortune …”

“I’m very sorry, sir, but since the accident was not reported, we cannot take any responsibility for it.”

“Look,” Robert said in a more reasonable tone of voice, “I want to be fair. I don’t want to hold your company responsible. AH I want to do is have that man pay for the damage he did to my car. It was a hit and run. I may even have to bring the police into this. If you give me the man’s name and address, I can talk directly to him, and we can settle it between us and leave your company out of it. Is that fair enough?”

The clerk stood there, making up her mind. “Yes. We would much prefer that.” She looked down at the file in her hand. “The name of the person who rented the car is Leslie Mothershed.”

“And his address?”

“213A Grove Road, Whitechapel, London, East 3.” She looked up. “You are certain our company will not be involved in any litigation?”

“You have my word on it,” Robert assured her. “This is a private matter between Leslie Mothershed and me.”

Commander Robert Bellamy was on the next Swissair flight to London.

He sat in the dark alone, concentrating, meticulously going over every phase of the plan, making certain that there were no loopholes, that nothing could go wrong. His thoughts were interrupted by the soft buzz of the telephone.

“Janus here.”

“Janus. General Hilliard.”

“Proceed.”

“Commander Bellamy has located the first two witnesses.”

“Very good. Have it attended to immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where is the Commander now?”

“On his way to London. He should have number three confirmed shortly.”

“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

Chapter Thirteen

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.

Chapter Fourteen

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.

He was driving past Turler Lake, when ahead of him, at the side of the highway, he saw a woman waving, trying to get a lift. Beckerman slowed down to get a better look at her. She was young and attractive. Hans pulled over to the side of the road. The woman approached the car.

“Guten Tag,” Beckerman said. “Can I help you?” She was even prettier close up.

“Danke.” She had a Swiss accent. “I had a fight with my boyfriend and he dropped me here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Tsk, tsk. That’s terrible.”

“Would you mind giving me a lift into Zurich?”

“Not at all. Get in, get in.”

The hitchhiker opened the door and climbed in beside him. “This is very kind of you,” she said. “My name is Karen.”

“Hans.” He started driving.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along, Hans.”

“Oh, I’m sure someone else would have picked up a pretty woman like you.”

She moved closer to him. “But I’ll bet he wouldn’t have been as good-looking as you.”

He glanced over at her. “Ja?”

“I think you are very handsome.”

He smiled. “You should tell that to my wife.”

“Oh, you’re married.” She sounded disappointed. “Why is it all the wonderful men are married? You look very intelligent, too.”