I stopped and turned to face him. “We’re colleagues of Tim. TimJay666 to you. He informed us that you might be in a bit of trouble and gave us an address.”

  Eyebrow up. “Huh. And how did he know this?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” I replied. “Need to know, and all.”

  Patrick snorted without looking directly at Phil, but otherwise didn’t contribute.

  Phil pulled the cloaking detector out of an inside pocket and held it out. I glanced quickly back at the administration office, but they’d need to have a system worthy of an astronomical observatory to pick up anything at this distance.

  “This thing is supposed to detect invisible objects,” he continued. “It vibrated when I was in the field, and it vibrated when the slimy guy in the suit came into the room. He didn’t look invisible, though. Just slimy.” He waved the detector at me. “You know anything about this device?”

  “Classified. Sorry.”

  Other eyebrow up. “My ass. This is alien technology. Are you aliens? Are you the same aliens as the one in the freezer? Do you work for TimJay666?”

  “No, Mr. Ross, we are not any of those things. We’re locals, born and raised.”

  “Especially not that last item,” Patrick interjected.

  Phil frowned. “Uh huh. Who are you with, then?”

  “What makes you think we’re with anyone?” I said.

  “Well, for starters, if your gadgets are classified, someone has to have classified them.”

  Damn. Good point, I thought. Oh well, let’s roll with it. I put on my best confident smile and said, “A good catch, Mr. Ross. But you’ll never have heard of us. We’re from MOBIUS.”

  Patrick almost lost it. He turned and resumed walking toward the parking lot, and Phil and I followed automatically.

  “MOBIUS.”

  “Uh-huh. Like I said … ”

  “I’ve never heard of it. Right.” Phil pointed at the Duster. “So tell me, Men from Glad, is that an agency vehicle, or did you rescue me in your own car? If the latter, you’d better hope they don’t get your license plate.”

  “Good luck with that,” Patrick replied.

  I grinned, remembering how much effort Patrick had put into making his license plates unreadable without actually stepping over the line, legally. He’d even, at one point, bought one of those plastic covers that was supposed to be opaque to traffic-camera flashes. If a blurry frame from a distant webcam at a bad angle could extract a license number from the small part of his plate that was actually visible, I’d eat it.

  I decided it couldn’t hurt to give Phil a little more to go on. Or a little more rope. “The device you’re holding is designed to detect a cloaking field, Phil. The cloaking field can create a disguise as well as produce invisibility. Very probably the guy in the suit was disguising himself. As human.”

  Phil’s eyes registered shock for the briefest fraction of a second, then he got it under control. That was surprising for someone who, let’s be blunt, walked around literally wearing a tinfoil hat most of the time.

  “You guys know a lot, it seems,” Phil said. “So what are you going to do when an alien hit squad comes and busts down the door to your barn and trashes the place looking for an alien corpse?”

  Now it was my turn to be shocked. Our passenger had apparently put a few things together. “Seems you know a thing or two as well. For what it’s worth, they won’t find anything.” I decided to play a little hardball. I gestured to the Duster. “So where can we drop you off, Phil?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover. Maybe some trading of information. For instance, I found something in that field. Something amazing.”

  “An invisible spaceship?” I turned and smiled at Phil. “Or at least a landing strut. Most of their ship is above head height. Even for me.”

  This time, Phil’s surprised expression lasted longer. “That’s … you knew about—wait, their ship? I thought you weren’t aliens. Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  “Our side, Phil. Earth’s side. Humanity’s side, to be blunt. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen Men In Black, but I can tell you it’s not as fictional as you might think.”

  Phil looked from me to Patrick, then back. He paused and looked down at the detector in his hand with a thoughtful expression. “Are you familiar with the word Lorann?”

  I turned in surprise. “The guy in the suit was Lorann, Phil. The corpse in the freezer was Gen. Seems you do know more than a thing or two. Why is that?”

  Phil managed to look slightly embarrassed for a moment, then got his poker face back. “Ah, it’s come up here and there on Reddit groups. I think it’s usually attributed to the ‘shape-changing lizards’ theory. I have to admit, I always thought that one was a bit out there, but after today … ”

  I stared at Phil, impressed despite myself. If they’d gotten that right, what else might be getting dismissed as nutbar narrative? I thought for a moment. Phil might have some good information, but I didn’t want to get in the position of giving far more than I got.

  “This has all been very interesting, Phil, but it’s time to go,” I said. “Want that ride?”

  Phil glared at me, his face still stony. “Thanks, no. I have a car parked up the road. And I don’t know or trust you enough to get into a car with you.” He paused. “I think you boys have stumbled into something that’s over your heads and are just winging it. You might want to reconsider your strategy. I can help. More than you might think.”

  I shook my head. “I think we’re going to go with our plan, Mr. Ross. Fewer moving parts.”

  “Right. Well, I have a feeling we’ll be talking again.”

  “Use the front door next time,” I replied. “We’ve reinforced the walls of the barn.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Chase

  Day 16. Saturday

  We decided to break for lunch. Since we’d had McD for breakfast, everyone wanted something different. So, pizza. We piled into Patrick’s car and headed out to Pizza Hut. It would be a longer drive, since the Hut was at the other end of town, but it would give us a chance to discuss the situation.

  We were about halfway to our destination, cutting through the greenbelt area, when Patrick looked in his mirror and said, “Shit!” I turned my head to see a set of flashing red lights.

  Nat also turned, squinted, and said, “We’re still within Dunnville city limits, right? That’s not Dunnville cops.”

  Patrick looked more closely in the rearview, then switched to the side mirror. “You’re right. Not highway patrol, either.”

  Nat chuckled. “And you’d know highway patrol. But I don’t think we have any options. Cops is cops until proven otherwise.”

  Patrick pulled over to the side of the road, and the patrol car pulled in behind him. However, instead of leaving his car, the driver used the PA. “Occupants of vehicle. Turn off your engine. Step out of the vehicle with your hands clearly in view.”

  “Nope. That is not normal,” I said.

  “Right,” Patrick replied, and reached under his dash. There was a click as he threw a switch and the timbre of the engine changed. “Hold onto your favorite body parts. You may feel some pressure … ”

  Patrick stomped on the gas and the Duster almost leaped into the air. Tires squealing and back end fishtailing slightly, the Plymouth left the ersatz law enforcement vehicle in the dust as it accelerated to warp factor one.

  “Mary mother of God!” Nat yelled, attempting to keep her head from draping over the seat back. “Did Sheldon give you some new car parts?”

  Patrick laughed. “No, a little more traditional. Modified 340 V-8 with a nitrous oxide boost. Zero to sixty in just under four. I don’t think you’ve ever been on board when I’ve opened it up.” He glanced in his rear-view mirror. “That’s no highway patrol. Their vehicles may not be boosted, but they’re sure as hell better equipped than that jalopy. My grandpa’s car has more oomph.”

  Patrick’s comment made me feel a little better. Still, we were being chased by someone who was imitating a cop, which wasn’t something you did lightly. Or something you did if you were going to leave witnesses. Then I had an idea.

  “Turn left here,” I yelled, pointing. “And stop as soon as you’re around the bend.”

  Patrick hammered the brakes, fishtailed a little, but made the turn. He immediately slowed and started to pull over.

  “Don’t pull off on the right. Move into the oncoming lane. Left side of the road.” I pulled my disruptor out of my pocket and rolled down the passenger window.

  A few seconds later, the supposed patrol car came whipping around the corner, to find a stationary quarry sitting in the oncoming lane. The driver hit the brakes, but with even less warning than Patrick, the patrol car slid past the Duster, the sound of his ABS system’s desperate thrumming loud in the air. I watched the scene in slow motion as the driver swiveled his head, his mouth forming an O. I had time to think that he looked more gangster than cop, unless dress codes had loosened drastically.

  As he came even, I used the disruptor. The driver slumped, his foot still on the brake, and the car rolled to a stop. I threw open the door, ran to the patrol car, reached in, and turned off the engine.

  Patrick and Nat got out of the Duster and came over to help. Patrick leaned past the driver and began searching him.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “Weapons. ID. Anything to indicate who he might really be.”

  “And again,” Nat said with a smirk, “you’d be familiar with the cops.”

  “Bite me. But also, yes.” Patrick straightened up, a wallet in his hand. He rifled through it. “Not highway patrol, from the looks of things.”

  I stepped past Patrick and touched the unconscious man’s face. “Human.”

  Patrick frowned. “Really? Can you tell?”

  “Remember what Sheldon said? Their skin should feel different. I’ve no idea exactly how, though.”

  “Huh,” Patrick grunted. Then he waved the wallet. “This is total bullshit, even at a quick glance. I’ll take a picture of the guy’s ID, but it’s a safe bet it’ll lead nowhere, even if we get the real cops involved.”

  “Should we interrogate him?” I asked, gesturing to the unconscious driver.

  “Do you know how to do that? Because I don’t,” Patrick replied. He fished around a little more and came up with the car fob. Grinning, he tossed it into the bushes. “Just because.”

  The pizza—a large Super Supreme—was a fading memory, represented only by a few stray pieces of topping still on the tray. We all sat back, slumped in the cheap Naugahyde booth seats, waiting for our food to digest to the point where we could again bend at the waist. Even Nat had dug in with enthusiasm, actually doing rock-paper-scissors with Patrick for the last piece.

  I put my hand on my stomach, suppressed an incipient belch, and said, “So, can we talk about our latest adventure? Any thoughts?”

  “I just figured the Loranna were on to us,” Patrick replied. “I can’t think of anyone else we’ve pissed off lately.”

  “Sure, but why send a single human operative in a poor man’s version of the cops?” Nat said. “Even if the Lorannic presence is small, they should have the resources to hire, I dunno, mercenaries or something.”

  I thought for a moment, then subvocalized, “Sheldon, any indication that the Loranna are mobilizing against us? Any other activity at the barn?”

  “No, Jack,” Sheldon replied in our cling-ons. “No one has gone to the office at all. It is, after all, a weekend. Perhaps the Loranna only work weekdays.”

  “What if the fake cop thing wasn’t set up by the Loranna?” Nat asked.

  Patrick gave her a quizzical look. “Okay. Who, then?”

  “I’m thinking Phil Ross.”

  Patrick and I both laughed out loud.

  “C’mon,” Patrick said. “He’s a kook. Even if he’s mad enough at us to want to do something like that, where would he get the contacts? Or the money?”

  “Well, that’s the thing, Patrick. After the break-ins, I did enough research to ID Mr. Ross, but some stuff didn’t smell right, and I’ve done a little more digging. Phil Ross has no discernable source of income, and no employment history to suggest a pension. In fact, he doesn’t seem to have much history at all. Or social media presence, other than his obsession. And before about four years ago, there are no, and I mean zero, pictures of him on the net anywhere. He’s a cypher.”

  “Do you think he’s Lorann?” Patrick asked.

  Nat shook her head. “That wouldn’t make sense. Why would he investigate their landing site?”

  “Or not set off the detector himself,” I added. “Or not recognize a disruptor. No, he’s human. Just … ”

  “There’s more to him than we can see,” Nat finished for me.

  “Which brings us back to the eternal question.” Patrick looked from one of us to the other. “What do we do now? Can we go to the cops to report this? Should we?”

  “Uh-uh,” Nat said. “At some point they’d ask us why we think someone would want to do this to us. Do you have a good answer for that?” Without waiting for a response, she buried her face in her hands. “I think we’re past the point where we can hand this off and just walk away. Even if we wanted to.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Spies R Us

  Day 18. Monday

  After much discussion, we’d decided to try to act as normal as we could. While disappearing completely would certainly be possible with the Halo, it would leave us with zero options for hitting back. Instead, we would turn up the pressure with some moves of our own, now that we knew where to look.

  The afternoon at work was interminable. Every time I thought of the whole scene with Phil, I started vibrating with excitement. We’d actually, finally, made some progress on the Loranna thing. It was odd, but having a solid lead on their base of operations made things somehow more real than, say, owning a flying saucer. I decided I wouldn’t mention that to Nat; she would mock me mercilessly for the illogic.

  It took several centuries, but finally the clock hit five. I had my apron off and was heading for the front of the store within seconds. It would still take Patrick five minutes to get there, but somehow the waiting was easier to take on my own time.

  Patrick pulled up and Nat scooted over to make room as I climbed in. “Let’s get this party started,” Nat said to me. “We have some planning to do.”

  “And about damned time,” I said. Bravado notwithstanding though, I was fighting an uneasy feeling that we’d just stepped in over our heads.

  With Patrick’s usual driving, we arrived at the barn in short order. We plunked down in our favorite chairs, I pulled out my phone and pressed the walkie-talkie app to bring Sheldon in, and we were ready.

  “So,” Patrick said. “What’s the plan?”

  I opened my mouth to reply and stopped. After a moment, I glanced at Nat.

  “Jesus,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Look, the Tate Industrial Park administration office is too small to be the whole Lorannic presence. It’s like a half dozen people. So we have to scan the whole park and try to figure out where all the Loranna are. And we need to do it in less than forever.”

  I held up a finger. “Hold on a moment. Sheldon, do you have anything like a small drone in your inventory?”

  “Drone? As in small flying device? No. The drive system cannot be miniaturized to anywhere near that level.”

  “Okay, fine. Can you duplicate one off the internet?”

  “Certainly. Do you want me to start?”

  “Just an additional item or two. Add a cloaking device, a detector, and a subwave connection. Oh, and a directional mike.”

  “Acknowledged. I will have your toy ready tomorrow morning.”

  “We can’t just fly a drone around the park without attracting attention,” Patrick said.

  “We can if it’s invisible,” I replied. “And if we detect cloaking fields, they’re probably Loranna.”

  “Unless there’s a third alien species roaming around,” Nat added.

  “There is no evidence of that, Natalie,” said Sheldon. “Nor did Alaric suggest it. Jack’s assumption is high enough probability to qualify as de facto proof of Lorannic presence.”

  “Okay fine. But we all have to be at work, so you’ll have to handle the surveillance.” Nat glanced in the direction of the invisible spaceship. “And just as important, we all have to act normal all day.”

  “So, terminally bored and resigned to our fate,” I replied. “And impatient for the day to be over. Like every other day.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Surveillance

  Day 19. Tuesday

  I got up early, rushed through breakfast, then hurried out to the barn. It wasn’t just a question of excitement. I had to get the preparations done before my father was ready to leave. He’d wait if I was late, but explanations would be required, and the less I had to lie to my dad, the better.

  I was surprised to see Patrick drive up, Nat in the passenger side. “Hey, Jack,” he said, leaning out the window. “We decided to give you a ride. And get a look at the drone, but that’s just coincidence.”

  “Sure.” I pulled out my phone and tapped a quick text to my father. A reply came in almost immediately. Saw Patrick drive by. Figured as much.

  Well, the pressure was off, anyway. I gestured with my head and turned toward the barn.

  Sheldon lowered an airlock ramp as we approached and directed us to the fabrication shop. When we got there, I saw a brand-new drone sitting in one of the output trays. I picked it up and examined it. Four propellers in a square pattern sat above a squat body festooned with a camera, small parabolic microphone, and other, less-identifiable items.

  “What’s the range, Sheldon?”

  “If you mean connectivity, subwave will allow me to cover the planet. If you mean power, I did not limit myself to Terran technology; I merely used the item I found online as a visual template. This unit will operate continuously for hundreds of hours before needing a recharge. And the possibility of an antimatter explosion is extremely remote.”