The Martian Pendant (28 page)

TWENTY-ONE

Destruction

It was a Sunday, most of the native workers in their villages spending the day with their families. A few herdsmen were tending cattle in the low hills surrounding the park. Not a breath of air was stirring when alarms, triggered by a sudden venting of volcanic gas in the declivity, sounded. The dozen Chinese workers who were busily trying to cut into the hull dropped their tools and equipment and began running for high ground. Clawing wildly, attempting to surmount the steep piles of tailings from the excavation, none of the twelve made it out. If they didn't suffocate in the oxygen-displacing CO
2,
they were overcome by the mix of poisonous gases.

H
orrified Maasai herdsmen almost a mile away saw the hapless workers die. Then, unbelievably, their hair was singed by the heat of the ignition of a monstrous accumulation of methane, probably released as a result of the previous drilling for oil, coupled with seismic activity along the fault. Next, a flickering blue flame could briefly be seen, spreading from a point at the nose of the ship, at the entry to the control deck, where work had progressed in unbolting and removing panels of gauges and switches, exposing much intricate circuitry.

The few tribesmen who hadn’t fled, perhaps rooted to their position by the paralytic effect of the shocking event, saw an almost unbelievable lighting up of the control deck and nose which seemed, in the perspective of the d
istance, almost identical to a flame at the tip of a cigar. It continued burning along the length of the ship, consuming the ship in less than ten minutes. An English farmer who had been inspecting his own cattle in the distance was reminded of a burning thermite incendiary bomb, of the type the Nazis had dropped on London in World War II during the Blitz in 1941 and 1942.

The
fire then spread to the grass in concentric rings, finally engulfing the tent camp of the dead Chinese. The entire plain might have continued to burn, were it not for a combination of a soaking rain the night before, and a lack of wind.

When the authorities arrived from Dodoma to assess the damage, the remnants of the great spaceship consisted only of an elongated pile of carbon-like ash.
Nothing else remained. No melted metal or other fragments were found anywhere. How the marvelous craft had been so easily destroyed when so much effort had failed to do anything but cut into it was never clear to the investigators invited from Buell and Caltech. The best guess was that the dismantling in the control room had triggered a self-destruction device, which had been placed in the nose of the craft for some reason, leading the ship to consume itself like a giant firebomb.

It didn’t take long for the news of the spaceship’s loss to be disseminated internationally. The nascent TANU government pointed the finger of blame at the British, ignoring the fact that it was they who had given the Chinese the responsibility for the
National Parks. The world’s academic community was in a state of disbelief at the loss of such a rich trove. It was only a short time before, as a result of Diana’s and Max’s paper, that an awareness of the discovery had become widespread. All academia shared in the shock. Needless to say, Diana and her coworkers at the U. of C. were devastated, still recovering from the loss at sea of the
American Traveler
. They did find some comfort knowing that at least the material they had shipped home earlier was still available for study on the West Coast.

The academic world was not alone in their disappointment. In the Kremlin, a shakeup high in the government led to the MVD being stripped of its role. The entire task of bringing whatever remnants there were of the Martian landing back to the USSR was given instead to the GRU, the Red Army Intelligence organization.

*    *    *

Cardinal Angelo Roncalli was elected to succeed Pius XII as Pope John XXIII on January 25, 1959. Cardinal Tisserant, Pius’ Camerlengo, manager
of the deceased Pope’s secular affairs, was no longer in the picture. For a time, as a liberal, the new Pontiff attempted an overhaul of the tenets his predecessor had established. He especially wanted to liberalize the centuries-old authoritarian structure of the Catholic hierarchy. Collegiality--democratically allowing the bishops more say in governance, use of local languages in the liturgy, and attempts at an ecumenical renewal of Christian unity--was one of his main goals. He failed in all but dropping the use of Latin during Mass.

While
Pope John XXIII was attempting to bring religion into the 20
th
century, forces in America were going in the opposite direction. The revolution in belief, long incubating in prayer meetings in the rural South, had been greatly facilitated by radio. And when television burst on the scene, what has been called “Charismatic Evangelism” began to flower. There were also many Catholic fundamentalists who believed in the literal translation of the Bible. And, for many Protestants, an innate suspicion of Catholic dogma precluded any meaningful dialogue.

But while the new Pope believed that humankind was not ready for Martian technology, he felt that any real evidence of extraterrestrial beings was further proof of the universal glory of God. Unlike his predecessor, he didn’t believe that debunking Genesis would further divide the monotheistic religions. Rather, the realization that humans had existed on both planets would, in his estimation,
tend to promote brotherhood even more strongly than ancient scripture. John XXIII was alone in this thinking, and it was not long before most of his progressive ideas were sidetracked.

It was decided that the discoveries in East Africa would be so upsetting to the status quo that many Catholics would question their f
aith, and it would probably not be long before the more insightful ones would leave in droves. The solution had to be the eradication of all evidence of the discovery.

Ce
lestre was again summoned to the office of Vatican Security. Somehow, the information that he also served the Mafia had been lost, a testimonial to the secrecy that obsessed the previous Pope. After the usual formalities, the grotesque Sicilian was ushered into the office of the new Captain of that department.

“Father Celestre,” he said, “
you’ve been summoned here on a matter of the utmost importance to the Holy Office. I’ve been briefed on the knowledge you brought back from Tanganyika, and I believe you are best qualified to fulfill the mission now before us. Before explaining further, I must insist on absolute secrecy. All communication from Africa, or wherever your mission takes you, shall be encrypted, and if somehow your activities become known to the press, you will deny any connection whatsoever to us. Do I make myself clear?”

“Of course, Captain,” he replied, recalling the previous Pope’s implying excommunication. “But my previous orders were merely to observe and report. Nothing ever came of that
, to my knowledge.”

“Quite so,” the Captain observed, “but the problem this time is much more complex. Your mission now is to fi
nd and destroy any evidence of aliens ever landing here.”

“But sir, my duties then were those of any priest, to administer the sacraments. This will require illegal activities, breaking and entering, destruction of official files and archival material. How
long can I avoid being caught and imprisoned?”

The Captain
regarded the Sicilian with a benign smile. “Did any true servant of God worry so about his own skin? And speaking of skin, you are to disguise yourself as an Indian, which won’t be difficult for you. The transition to the new government, we’re told, has created much confusion, and much more graft. Nowadays, being taken for non-white is an advantage, and will serve as an entrée. The funds that the Vatican will make available to you will allow you to grease the proper palms. Money will furnish access to anything you want. Once you are alone in the archives, whether governmental, at the university or those belonging to the press, it will be a simple matter to remove and destroy the material.”

Celestre
was thinking he might end up with that estate of his own after all, if the Mafia didn't catch up with him first. “I see it all now, Captain. I’m at your command.”

“Excellent.
We will be contacting you with the details.” Handing Celestre a small packet, he added, “Here is your new passport--the Italian one is no longer welcome--and your reservations for passage and accommodations in Dar-es-Salaam.”

The
deformed Jesuit then said, with a knowing smirk, “What about the source of my ‘spending money’? That will be the most important factor in our succeeding.”

“First things first,
Father,” he replied, dismissing him with the usual imperious wave of his hand. “This battle is different. You have to get into position first, and then your ammunition will be delivered. We have bankers all over the world for that purpose. Wait for one to contact you there.”  

*    *    *

It was for other reasons that the U.S. government took the same stance as the Vatican.

A
t the beginning of the space race, it became important for the U.S. government to minimize any news or information about the Martian landing in Africa. Its space program, lagging behind the Soviet effort, and puny compared to the Martians, was just getting started, and the public’s enthusiasm was all-important in funding it. News of the momentous African discovery had already been disseminated, but minimizing it would help keep American efforts in space from being upstaged.

While the news was already in the popular press, thanks to the publication of Diana’s paper, as usual, more than half the American public would never get
the message. Attention was diverted elsewhere by the government’s emphasis on ICBMs, the nuclear race, and the idea of mutually assured destruction. That chilling concept, blared constantly via the press and the broadcast media, created a near- panic. Some Americans even went so far as to build live-in fallout shelters in their back yards. By playing on the majority’s fears, the national focus was shifted to the struggle with the Soviet Union. Americans’ insecurities were diverted to the Cold War and away from the space aliens.                                                                         

The Heist

The windows in the room at the Drake Hotel on North Michigan Avenue looked out on an expansive view of the Lake and the Near North Side. The water was calm and green that day, and the sun, well to the south, lighted the sky in a lovely luminescence seldom seen.

N
obody in that suite was in the least bit interested in that rare display, intent as they were on another prize far to the west. Two men stood as guards at the entry to the room. Two large Chippendale chairs, one occupied, faced the burning log in the fireplace. The
Consiglieri
, dark, hulking, and clad in black, didn’t get up to meet his guest, merely motioning to the empty chair.

“So, Manzone, it is good to see you. I trust your long journey was a pleasant one?” The question was rhetorical, and turning to the newcomer, he offered his hand, or rather his ring. “Will you have some refreshment? Coffee, Arab style, with
cardamom, I believe it is. Yes?” Clapping his hands twice, and giving directions to a fawning servant, he turned to his fellow
Mafioso
. “Now tell me again of your proposal for our Chicago Family. You know that we deal in things lucrative, not scientific or military.”

Rubbing his hands together over the fire, Manzone began, telling the story of the discovery in Africa and the advanced technology it revealed. “Until today, we had no clue as to the whereabouts of this priceless material here in America. Now we know, and
we have devised a scheme to take it for ourselves. The secrets of this alien technology, when unlocked, will prove of immense scientific and military value, which translates into untold riches for us. The Soviet Union or China will pay millions for it, especially if it can be delivered without implicating them in the operation.”

The Don took no more than a second to recognize the value of the prize, and the role his men would be asked to play. “Our Family here is happy to work with our Sicilian brothers in this operation. What percentage do you offer?”

Wringing his hands, then taking a sip of his coffee, his guest replied, “The usual. We don’t know how much we will be paid, but our Family’s head in Catania offers an even division.”

“Even!” The Don indignan
tly snorted, his eyes narrowing. “We do the all the work over here, and you collect all the money overseas. The danger of our being exposed, apprehended, incarcerated, and even then never seeing one dollar demands at least seventy percent. Tell your Don that. We are reasonable men here in Chicago, but as we have most of the risk, we must have most of the reward.”

Manzone grimaced a little at that, but said, “Thank you Don Gasparri. My Family is headed by a reasonable man also. I will communicate your answer tonight, and contact you in the morning.”

Don Gasparri finally agreed to a 60-40 split when the word came from Sicily that if that weren’t enough, Las Vegas would be brought in to do the job. For Chicago, that was an arrangement that had to be averted at all costs, and was the reason that the deal was sealed without further negotiation. The Don wasn’t happy, not only because of the money, but also because those Nevada punks weren’t even remotely Sicilian.