to make a guess after looking into your past … I’d say someone built your spaceship.”
“Do you have more than this?” the professor managed, amidst flashbacks to his life in the fifties.
“A little, with more coming in.”
The professor never took his eyes off the photo. To him, it was a picture of his past. “Where’d you get this?”
“It’s a still from a video, taken by a rancher in Nevada.”
“Oh, oh, oh! You have a video?” Any remaining skepticism was overtaken by childlike giddiness. It was typical for the professor to show excitement with ohs . His students often laughed when he interrupted his lectures with a subconscious but verbal oh, oh, oh because a new and enticing thought had entered his mind. As in his classes, his excitement had overwhelmed him in an absentminded style that made him forget he was trying to be stern with Grason. “Why is the FBI interested in the topic?” he asked, more abruptly.
“I’m not working for the Bureau,” Grason said. “This is a special assignment. A task force with congressional sanction, but you’ll find very few in Congress who know anything about it. You’ll never have any contact beyond me.”
After a few seconds of further intense concentration on the photo, the professor mumbled, “I’d prefer to have a better idea of whom I’m working with.”
“Sorry, professor. I don’t trust many people. I’ll tell you only what I feel is relevant.”
The professor snickered at the irony of wanting a government agent to trust him. “Then you can elaborate more on your purpose.”
Grason had rehearsed his pitch: “Control over covert operations has reached a level beyond constitutional oversight. Any scholar of military history can tell you what happens when a military becomes too powerful. And with so many technological secrets, the military is extremely powerful these days. I won’t say that anyone has evil intentions, but to protect national security, we have to be sure.”
“Noble thoughts, but you’re going to piss someone off.”
“Exactly the reason for the secrecy. If you decide to cooperate, we’ll enter a formal contract for your services that includes a confidentiality clause, punishable by law.”
“I don’t like the way that sounds.”
“I didn’t expect you to. But I can’t chance seeing you and that photo on Larry King telling the world that Congress is investigating UFOs.” Grason shrugged, as if his hands were tied. “I’ve got to cover myself.”
“Why are you making a UFO connection?”
“I’m not. But the press sure would if they saw that photo.”
“Yes, they would, Agent Kendricks—”
“Call me Grason.”
The professor smiled for the first time. “Okay, Grason. If everything you say about this task force is true, my exposing it would only help the factions of government I despise.”
“That’s why I came to you. I can also offer you financial assistance with your research,” Grason said, hoping that would be additional incentive to engage the professor.
“I don’t need your money. I work on principle now.”
They spent a few minutes discussing the professor’s past and his ostracization from the military-industrial complex. The professor became so enthralled with the conversation that he never bothered to invite Grason inside. Soon, the conversation segued into a discussion about the FOIA documents the professor had in his possession. It would require a lot of the professor’s time, besides what he was already putting in, to study the documents. Plus he now had to budget time for Grason’s materials. An idea crossed his mind: “I have a former student. He just received his graduate degree in aeronautical engineering. I’ve been toying with the idea of asking him to incorporate my work into a Ph.D. dissertation. Maybe instead of paying me, we could use your money to sponsor his research, and make him my assistant.”
Grason cringed. “I have a tight reign on this operation. It’s
“Do you have more than this?” the professor managed, amidst flashbacks to his life in the fifties.
“A little, with more coming in.”
The professor never took his eyes off the photo. To him, it was a picture of his past. “Where’d you get this?”
“It’s a still from a video, taken by a rancher in Nevada.”
“Oh, oh, oh! You have a video?” Any remaining skepticism was overtaken by childlike giddiness. It was typical for the professor to show excitement with ohs . His students often laughed when he interrupted his lectures with a subconscious but verbal oh, oh, oh because a new and enticing thought had entered his mind. As in his classes, his excitement had overwhelmed him in an absentminded style that made him forget he was trying to be stern with Grason. “Why is the FBI interested in the topic?” he asked, more abruptly.
“I’m not working for the Bureau,” Grason said. “This is a special assignment. A task force with congressional sanction, but you’ll find very few in Congress who know anything about it. You’ll never have any contact beyond me.”
After a few seconds of further intense concentration on the photo, the professor mumbled, “I’d prefer to have a better idea of whom I’m working with.”
“Sorry, professor. I don’t trust many people. I’ll tell you only what I feel is relevant.”
The professor snickered at the irony of wanting a government agent to trust him. “Then you can elaborate more on your purpose.”
Grason had rehearsed his pitch: “Control over covert operations has reached a level beyond constitutional oversight. Any scholar of military history can tell you what happens when a military becomes too powerful. And with so many technological secrets, the military is extremely powerful these days. I won’t say that anyone has evil intentions, but to protect national security, we have to be sure.”
“Noble thoughts, but you’re going to piss someone off.”
“Exactly the reason for the secrecy. If you decide to cooperate, we’ll enter a formal contract for your services that includes a confidentiality clause, punishable by law.”
“I don’t like the way that sounds.”
“I didn’t expect you to. But I can’t chance seeing you and that photo on Larry King telling the world that Congress is investigating UFOs.” Grason shrugged, as if his hands were tied. “I’ve got to cover myself.”
“Why are you making a UFO connection?”
“I’m not. But the press sure would if they saw that photo.”
“Yes, they would, Agent Kendricks—”
“Call me Grason.”
The professor smiled for the first time. “Okay, Grason. If everything you say about this task force is true, my exposing it would only help the factions of government I despise.”
“That’s why I came to you. I can also offer you financial assistance with your research,” Grason said, hoping that would be additional incentive to engage the professor.
“I don’t need your money. I work on principle now.”
They spent a few minutes discussing the professor’s past and his ostracization from the military-industrial complex. The professor became so enthralled with the conversation that he never bothered to invite Grason inside. Soon, the conversation segued into a discussion about the FOIA documents the professor had in his possession. It would require a lot of the professor’s time, besides what he was already putting in, to study the documents. Plus he now had to budget time for Grason’s materials. An idea crossed his mind: “I have a former student. He just received his graduate degree in aeronautical engineering. I’ve been toying with the idea of asking him to incorporate my work into a Ph.D. dissertation. Maybe instead of paying me, we could use your money to sponsor his research, and make him my assistant.”
Grason cringed. “I have a tight reign on this operation. It’s
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