Read Online Bright Angel by Isabelle Merlin - Free Book Online Page A

or cloud or storms or meteorites or whatever – other times they can be manmade things: planes and balloons and laser lights and fireworks and satellites. But there’s a fair few – like about a quarter – that are what we call ‘D’ cases – those that can’t be explained at all.’
    â€˜You mean – there are actually alien spaceships?’
    He shrugged. ‘Who knows? We don’t have enough information to know that for sure. More likely than gods or angels, anyway.’
    I thought of Gabriel, and what he’d said to me. I said, ‘But some people see angels.’
    â€˜Then they’re imagining it. Angels are just creatures out of stories. But aliens – well, they’re different.’
    I thought there was something wrong with this argument, but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Instead, I said, ‘But why are you here – right here, I mean? Has there been a UFO sighting in this place?’
    â€˜Exactly. Two nights ago. The police in Toulouse faxed it to GEIPAN. You see, if someone sees one of these phenomena, they’re encouraged to make a proper report to the police who will then pass it on to us. I was their man on the spot, so to speak – I live in Toulouse.’
    â€˜Oh.’ I looked around the clearing, suddenly filled with a strange dread. Could it really be true that some alien craft had hovered above this spot? I’d always thought of such things as fruitcake stuff or at least so far beyond what I could really believe in that I never really wondered whether there was any truth in it. But now it felt different.
    â€˜It wasn’t anything to worry about,’ he said, correctly reading my expression. ‘Just a shape, and some lights, and some suggestion it might have landed briefly in this very spot.’
    â€˜Who saw it?’
    â€˜I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential for the moment. But it was a reliable witness. We always check that very carefully. He wasn’t drunk or stoned or anything like that. And he was a very sensible, practical sort of guy. Not someone who’d make up stories. Besides, there was another witness who saw the lights too – independently. They didn’t know each other, so they hadn’t cooked it up together.’
    I swallowed. ‘So it could be true? I mean that it’s one of your Class D things?’
    â€˜We have no idea yet. It could be an easily explained one. I just have to gather as much evidence as I can from the site as well as from the witnesses, to take back to my bosses.’ He was so matter-of-fact, so sensible about it. But I felt staggered.
    I asked faintly, ‘What sort of evidence?’
    â€˜Disturbance of the ground, scorch marks, that kind of thing,’ he said. He waved a hand ruefully around. ‘Of course, it’s not going to be easy now. That’s the trouble. Conditions aren’t always optimum for investigations.’
    â€˜N – no, I suppose not.’
    â€˜Anyway. Never mind all that. I’m sorry, I’ve been very rude, I forgot to introduce myself.’ He held out a hand. ‘My name’s Michael Stephan. Everyone calls me Mick.’
    We shook hands. ‘And I’m Sylvie,’ I said. ‘Sylvie Mandon.’
    â€˜Good to meet you, Sylvie,’ he said, beaming.
    â€˜And you, Mick.’
    â€˜You’ve got a French name,’ he said.
    â€˜My dad. Well, he’s not French, he’s American, but a Cajun, you know, from–’
    â€˜Yeah. Louisiana. They still speak a bit of French there, right? And they have great food.’
    â€˜It is pretty cool,’ I agreed, feeling a sudden pang for Dad’s gumbo. He made a mean gumbo. Nothing like in a restaurant. Much, much better. Heaps of seafood in the thickest tastiest spiciest soup you could imagine. Really filling.
    â€˜Vampire country too, hein? Interview with a Vampire and all