Nigel reacted by leaning closer and placing his hand on top of Thorne's phone. "You don't want to do that, sir."

  "And why not?"

  "The Chinese have your number, sir, and not only can they triangulate its position, they'll also be listening in. In fact you'll need to hand it over to me," Nigel said, holding his hand out to receive it.

  Thorne realized what he had to do. "Very well."

  Instead of handing the device to him, Throne forcefully thrust the top edge of his phone right at the bridge of Nigel's nose. The smartphone's casing instantly broke, but it had shattered the upper cartilage just below the nasal bone, momentarily stunning the younger man.

  The driver of the BMW tried to stop the vehicle, only for Thorne to reach over and wrap the upper strap of the seatbelt he wore around his neck. Thorne used both feet to brace himself against the back of the driver's seat as he continued to apply pressure, hoping to strangle the man behind the wheel as quickly as possible.

  Nigel tried to shake off the effects of his broken nose but his eyes continued to see nothing but bright flashes ahead of him. He could feel the vehicle pick up speed as the corners of his eyesight began to clear. When he saw that the BMW driver was struggling against the pressure on his throat and swerving the vehicle in a panicked attempt to get Thorne off of him, Nigel instinctively began to pull out the Glock pistol from the shoulder holster beneath his jacket.

  Thorne quickly sensed the incoming danger to his left side and thrust out with his leg, the sole of his wingtips connecting with the top of Nigel's head. The MI5 watcher was momentarily stunned again as Thorne brought his left leg back and continued to pull at the driver's upper seatbelt strap with all of his might.

  The choking off of his windpipe had finally induced panic in the driver. He tried to lean back to give his throat some slack, but inadvertently pressed his foot down on the car's accelerator and lost control of the steering wheel when he finally used both his hands to try and pull the straps around his neck loose. The BMW fishtailed over a divider, caught the side of a freestanding traffic light before careening past the nearby intersection and colliding with a low concrete wall.

  When Thorne opened his eyes he was still stuck inside the backseat of the wrecked BMW. Bit of glass were all over him, and he could see the front airbags had engaged, obscuring the unmoving driver from view. His left arm felt painful and he figured it was broken. Nigel lay on the floor with his eyes closed, the right side of his face bruised and bloodied.

  Hearing anguished cries coming from the outside, Thorne used his right hand to open the door before slipping out onto the sidewalk. He could feel other people's helping hands on his body as he got up on his still wobbly knees.

  A man close to his age wearing a beige jacket and a tweed cap helped to prop him up to a fully upright position. "That was one heck of a nasty crash. Are you alright?"

  Thorne ran his hand along the side of his face and realized he had sustained a nasty cut on his forehead when he saw blood on his palm. "I'm fine, thank you."

  "Your companions, I think they're both hurt badly."

  "I don't know them," Thorne said as he abruptly turned around and began to limp away, ignoring any additional queries while picking up his pace. Spotting a flight of stairs leading into the Warwick Station entrance of the London Underground transit system near the end of the street, he quickly made his way down the steps and out of sight, just as the coming sirens were heard in the distance.

  3 Simi Valley

  EMMA JANDA SMILED AT her mother as they both put away the now dry dishes in the cupboard. "Why don't you let me finish up here?"

  "Okay, dear," her mother said. "I'll see what's going on with your father. It seems Bill just fell asleep right after we finished dinner."

  Emma giggled as she took out the drinking glasses from the dishwasher and placed them on a serving tray by the kitchen counter. "At least he's finally getting some rest. He's been out with his buddies all day—I heard they did some sort of lifting and construction work."

  The portly, sixty-something woman sighed while adjusting her thick eyeglasses. "I told him he would strain his back if he kept at it, but we needed the money."

  Emma gave her a surprised look. "What? I still have some money left over in my savings account. I'll head up to the bank first thing in the morning and withdraw it."

  "It's alright, dear. Keep your savings. We're doing okay, it was just a little short this month since your dad got laid off."

  "He's still collecting unemployment, right?"

  "Not anymore."

  "Huh?"

  "The benefits ran out last month, but don't worry. He's doing some odd jobs with his friends, and with my job at the clothing store we'll be fine."

  "Oh God, I'm so sorry I didn't know. I'll ask around again to see if there's any openings at the mall."

  "It's okay, I know you still have some classes to take before you get that degree, so don't worry, we got this."

  The guilt at not being able to help her parents was eating Emma up inside. "Are you sure?"

  Her mother gave her a reassuring pat on the cheek before turning around and padding back out towards the living room of their three-bedroom bungalow. "Yes, now you have a good night."

  "I love you, Mom," Emma called out as her mother disappeared behind the partly open divider leading out into the living room.

  While placing the utensils into the one of the drawers, she heard a soft thud from the other side of the house. Emma quickly looked up in alarm. "Mom? You okay?"

  The lack of response made her nervous as she quickly made her way into the living room. When Emma saw that her mother was lying on the carpeted floor in front of the TV set she gave a shrill scream and ran over to where she had fallen, going down to one knee as she hurriedly began to examine her mother for any signs of life.

  Once Emma had turned her over, she could tell that her mother was still breathing though her eyes were shut. It looked like the older woman had just fainted. "Mom, speak to me!"

  Another voice, belonging to a man she once knew intimately, spoke from the alcove by the front door. "It's okay, she's just asleep."

  Emma held her mother's head in her arms while staring in wild eyed shock at the tall, thin man with the thick brown beard standing over her. "Mike?"

  Michael Ripley smiled as he helped carry Emma's mother onto the sofa, laying the sleeping old woman gently on the cushions. "How are you, Em?"

  Emma fought back tears as she wrapped her arms around him and they kissed. "Oh my god, Mike! What's happened to you?"

  He sat down with her on the opposite couch while keeping their hands clasped together. "I... had to go away. I'm sorry about that."

  "What did you do to my mom?"

  "It wasn't me, but the ones who are with me sort of... put her to sleep. Don't worry, when I'm gone she'll wake up again as if nothing happened."

  She looked up at the ceiling. "Did you do the same thing to my daddy?"

  "Yes. And the two FBI agents sitting in their car across the street. They're both out like a light too."

  Emma looked down at the floor, her temporary euphoria now replaced by concern. "All I got was a text message from you, like, last year, telling me not to believe what they would say about you."

  Ripley nodded. "Yeah, I'm so sorry I had to stay away for awhile."

  "They said you killed your partner and shot your FBI supervisor too. I-I just couldn't believe it. Those damned reporters even wanted to interview me but I told them to go to hell."

  "Emma, I swear to you that I didn't kill them."

  She placed her right index finger on his lower lip and smiled. "I believe you. I always have."

  He turned away in shame. "I-I couldn't see you. I knew they would arrest me if I tried, so I had to stay away... until I figured out what was really going on."

  "What is going on, Mike? All I know is there's aliens from outer space that are out to kill us. I lost my job, so did my dad when the economy tanked, and I ended up moving back here—to my folks' place. Everybody I know is scared."

  "Yeah, it's happening. The aliens are real, but if I give you specifics they'll probably come after you in order to get to me."

  "We were supposed to get married, Mike. What are we going to do now?"

  "All I can tell you is that the Ether Society is behind all this."

  "The religious organization that worships aliens?"

  Ripley nodded. "I know it sounds crazy, but their agents infiltrated the FBI and framed me for the murders of my partner and the senior special agent in charge."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Find a way to get the truth out," Ripley said softly. "The good news is that I now have some help."

  Emma looked down at the floor. "I'm glad you're still alive and free. Will we ever get back together again?"

  He held on to her hands. "Once this is over, I'll definitely come back for you. It's just that... it's been so long and for a time I thought you went out and started seeing other guys."

  Emma hissed. "Oh, please! You're the only one for me."

  "I'm so glad to hear it. Em, what I'm doing is dangerous, so what I'm saying is... I might not come back alive."

  She looked straight into his eyes. For a short while she said nothing, then the words suddenly came out. "Let's do this together. We're not married yet, but I want to be with you, always and forever."

  Ripley was somewhat surprised to hear her words. "But I'm a fugitive, Em. You wouldn't want to go around the country with me, not until I've cleared my name first."

  "Look at my situation, Mike. I don't want to be a burden to my parents. They're struggling, just like everybody else who isn't insanely rich right now. If we're going to be together, then I'd rather go with you."

  "But... it's dangerous."

  "You did say that they would come after me to get to you, right? Well, they won't be able to do that if I'm by your side now, will they? And you told me you have some help too."

  "Yeah, but I'm still not sure just how powerful they are."

  Emma glanced towards her sleeping mother. "If they can knock out my mom just like that then they must be. Who are they?"

  "Two very special kids."

  "Are they disabled?"

  "No! They have some sort of powers that they use. Something to do with their minds. The Etherians were experimenting with them since they were conceived. I think these cultists were planning to use these children as weapons or something."

  "Wow, just like the shows on TV we used to watch together?"

  "Like you wouldn't believe," Ripley said, pointing to the coffee table in the middle of the room. "Take a look at this."

  The stack of magazines lying on the table suddenly began to float in the air, as if gravity around them had suddenly turned off.

  Emma's eyes widened as she threw her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god!"

  Ripley nodded, and the magazines fell back onto the tabletop with a loud slapping noise.

  Emma stared into his eyes again. "That... was amazing."

  "I didn't think you'd believe me, so I had them do a demonstration for you. I think that if I could get them to the good guys, then our country has a chance."

  "You'll definitely need my help. Give me a few minutes to pack my clothes, and I'll join you."

  "Are you sure about this, Em?"

  "Since the day you asked me to marry you," she said. Then she kissed him gently on his lips.

  4 Tianjin

  THOMAS PERRY GENTLY rubbed the back of his tired neck while sitting in the rear seat of the limousine. The delay with China having to sign the Task Force Zero protocols was taking a toll on his physical body, and he was somewhat thankful that President Jian Qiao had finally agreed to meet with them to discuss the final arrangements.

  Sitting beside him was Reese Fulton, the president's national security advisor and close friend who had gotten Perry out of retirement. "Nice of our president to lend us the Beast, yeah?"

  Despite his fatigue, Perry smiled. The Beast was the nickname of the president's state car, a heavily armored Cadillac, and they both happened to be riding in it. "Doesn't he have like, a half dozen copies of this thing or something?"

  "More like a full dozen."

  "Seems awfully generous of him to allow us to use even just one," Perry said as he glanced out of the tinted windows. They had just arrived from the airport less than an hour ago, and now the motorcade was being driven along the highway to meet the Chinese president. "And the detachment of Secret Service agents guarding us is a nice surprise too."

  "The president considers you as part of his essential inner cabinet now, Tom. As deputy secretary of defense and the director of TFZ, the country—heck, the entire world—can't afford to lose you."

  Perry gave a thin smile. "I appreciate it. If only I had some time off to spend with my wife, this would be an ideal life right now."

  "How is Abby?"

  "She's back on meds, which means she's asleep most of the time nowadays."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Ah, it's alright," Perry said wistfully. "Maybe sleeping for most of the day is better for her. With all these alien attacks happening, the anxiety would be too much for her to cope with if she got off the medication."

  "I understand."

  Perry decided to change the subject. "How's the president doing?"

  "Worried, just like everybody else. The Europeans are totally divided now, and our old allies the British are barely hanging on with regards to their government policies."

  Perry let out a deep breath. A huge surge of advocates who demanded that the EU make peace with the aliens was steadily growing in momentum. The destruction of Antwerp threw the entire political landscape into chaos, even though there were no official contacts with the enemy. Multiple conspiracy theories had grown, with an increasing number of people all over the world believing that their respective governments were in private talks with the aliens, but refusing to divulge this crucial piece of information to the public.

  "Despite our politicians' pleas for patience, I think the majority of world opinion has now swung to capitulation," Fulton said. "We need another victory by Task Force Zero to right this sinking ship, only this time it’s gotta be in the air."

  Perry shook his head. "From what the TFZ research unit told me, we don't have the technology to challenge their UFOs in the sky, at least not yet."

  "The president is absolutely flabbergasted at this. He has said repeatedly that we were winning, and then Antwerp happened. Do we have any effective air defense if, say, one of these UFOs starts bombing an American city?"

  "Not in the air. We can commit ground forces, but whenever we send up fighters to intercept their vessels, their super ECM always knocks our planes out of the sky."

  "So the aliens are now sticking to the air, and we've lost the war. Is that what you're telling me, Tom?"

  "No, my science people have this theory, that to power these ECM systems and the alien technology they need some sort of anchor on the ground, a conduit that extends into some other dimension where they get power from."

  "Like a ground based observer marking a laser guided bomb as it drops down? Do you think the aliens had someone on the ground at Antwerp?"

  "It's one theory we're working on. Our early warning system did detect some background radiation hours before the attack and the Belgian military was alerted to receive and support our assault teams, but we didn't expect an aerial bombardment," Perry said.

  "So it's like the naval war in the Atlantic, when the Germans started using U-boats to attack British shipping, and the Brits responded by organizing into convoys, then the Germans adjusted by using wolf packs, and so on."

  "Yes," Perry said. "The aliens are less out in the open now, striking from the shadows. We need to somehow upgrade our detection systems so we can find them before they attack."

  "How do we do that?"

  "Task Force Zero is working on it. We'll need time though."

  It was Fulton's turn to sigh. "Time is what we don't have."

  The limousine stopped beside the entrance to one of the government buildings at the city center. Groups of US Secret Service agents quickly set up a perimeter as one of them opened the vehicle's rear door and the two men stepped out.

  "I've just noticed something," Perry said to Fulton as they both began walking up the steps, where a small group of Chinese government officials waited by the entrance. "We're not being welcomed at one of their newest buildings."

  "You don't think that's normal?" Fulton asked.

  "When the Chinese meet foreign leaders in their country, they usually welcome them into one of their newly built buildings or factories to show off their recent achievements, not at some old stuffy city hall."

  "Well, maybe this commie president of theirs doesn't want the public humiliation of having to host foreign troops on their home soil," Fulton muttered under his breath as both men finally made it in front of a small delegation of unsmiling junior dignitaries.

  After exchanging formal pleasantries, the contingent of Chinese government representatives began to lead the two men down a mostly deserted hallway. Perry had initially thought that the Secret Service agents accompanying them were an extravagant gesture, but now he felt somewhat more secure having them around.

  The conference room they were led into seemed smaller than expected, and the sparse furnishings consisted of an old wooden table and chairs that should have been cleaned and repaired for such an event. A few paintings of Mao and the country's flag were hung along the nondescript walls, but no other decorations could be seen.

  Perry sat down on a squeaky chair right beside the national security advisor. "Something's up."

  "Oh don't be so pessimistic, Tom," Fulton said as the delegation left them alone in the room. "The fact is President Qiao asked us to come over so he could sign the alliance protocols."

  "Maybe, but did you notice that there were no media people to meet us at the airport? The entire city seems strangely quiet too. Very few people out on the streets."

 

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