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miles north of San Diego County, and witnessing training activities in the area wasn’t uncommon. The base prevented Southern California from becoming a giant megalopolis of construction beginning at the Tijuana border and stretching to the northern reaches of Los Angeles County. Seeing the helicopters and thinking about Camp Pendleton amused Grason, who was typically humorless; he smirked at the irony that the expansive military base was responsible for stopping industrial growth and urban sprawl. San Diego’s modern economy, like so many other military towns, spawned from defense spending. The Navy was a key ingredient in the original growth of San Diego. In some sense Grason also attributed that growth to his relationship with the congressman.
    In the sixties, Grason had been an officer with the Air Force’s Project Blue Book—a long defunct division that specialized in UFO investigations. On several occasions, Grason investigated UFO sightings reported by Navy personnel stationed in San Diego, and dealt with the congressman, who worked in Naval Intelligence at the time. They developed a friendship, even shared a bachelor pad for several months while Grason made his transition from the Air Force to the FBI.
    Grason was saddened by the thought that so many years had passed. His friendship with the congressman was still strong, but not what it once was. Destiny had divided their lifestyles. The congressman became a wealthy man before capturing his seat, while Grason kept busy with the FBI.
    The congressman’s Mercedes sped across the lot and pulled into an adjacent spot. Grason gave a small wave to his old friend, who was masked by a pair of designer sunglasses and looking debonair in his expensive clothes. The two were of similar age, but the congressman looked years younger thanks to pricey cosmetic work.
    The congressman had retired from Navy Intelligence in 1985, after a quarter century of service. Realizing the growing need for computers and related products in the military, he went into sales and called on his former military brethren as customers, aspiring to a fat income. Anticipating the proliferation of laptop computers gave him a vision for the future of military technology. Using proceeds from his sales career, he bankrolled a software company that developed wartime applications for use by troops in the field. His financial coup d’état came in 1990, when he sold his company to a conglomerate in an eight-figure deal. After months of jet setting and enjoying his financial independence, he had a new vision for his future: he wanted knowledge. And not just any knowledge; he wanted specific information. Information he could smell but never see during his stint in the intelligence arena. Information he believed he could touch only via a political road map.
    Pouring all his energy—and a considerable amount of his personal resources—into politics, he bought his way into the California Republican Party and claimed a congressional seat in the heart of San Diego.
    The congressman’s Mercedes was still in drive when Grason whipped open the door and plopped in the passenger seat. “A lot has happened since we last met,” Grason said.
    “Enlighten me.”
    “First off, Professor Eldred said yes, but he threw a kink in the deal. He wants to involve his assistant. He agreed not to tell the kid about the operation, but that’s not good enough for me. I won’t give him a full briefing.”
    “That’s fine for now, but when he starts combining the results of his research with the information we’ll be providing him, he’ll be asking questions.”
    “We’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now, I’m running a check on the kid.”
    “Do whatever’s necessary to bring Eldred on board. He’s a perfect choice for that position.”
    Grason nodded, then proceeded to the next issue. “Val saw a craft in the Papoose Valley. Vertical landing. No runway. He thinks it landed in the mountain range between Groom