Three Seconds of Light

THREE SECONDS OF LIGHT

Joe Fonseca

Copyright © 2024 by Joe Fonseca

All rights reserved. Thank you for buying an authorized copy of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it, in any form, without written permission from the author and publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Book Cover Design by ebooklaunch.com

Printed in the United States of America

Paperback ISBN 978-8-9911294-0-4

E-book ISBN 979-8-9911294-1-1

Hardcover ISBN 979-8-9911294-2-8

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024914682

Contents

Glossary of Terms

Prologue

1.Replay That

2.Short Weekend

3.The Engineering Research Facility (ERF)

4.Not So Far Off the Grid

5.Covering Tracks

6.The Good, the Bad, and the Weird

7.Aftermath

8.InCit

9.Time to Fly

10.Friendships are Born

11.Bring on the Budderballs

12.Closer to a Plan

13.Heading to Trellis

14.Diamond-Blackfan Anemia

15.Family Matters

16.I Have a What?

17.Getting a Move On

18.The Cat’s Out of the Bag

19.Unexpected

20.Man’s Best Friend

21.Approaching the Portal

22.What Happened Here?

23.Almost a Great Meal

24.Do You Believe in Miracles?

25.Working Out the Plan

26.The Only Way Out

27.Jafaire, Africa

28.Destiny’s Child

29.The Miracle Worker

30.The Enemy Within

31.Clean Up on Aisle 3

32.No Turning Back

33.Nice to Meet You Doc

34.The Devil is in the Details

35.All Systems Go

36.Blindsided

37.The Unplanned Meeting

38.Born to Command

39.Finding Answers

40.We’re Leaving

41.Tunnel Vision

42.The Demand

43.The Clock Starts

44.Not the Best Cavalry

45.The Mission Changes

46.Another Cleanup, Different Aisle

47.Killing Time

48.How Can I Help?

49.Recovery Room

50.There and Gone

51.Speak to Me

52.Intercepted

53.How’s the Patient?

54.New Orders

55.Safe Travels

56.Set It Up

57.Two Meetings for the Price of One

58.Definitely Not a Chew and Screw

59.Better Training Gets the Job Done

60.Hello, Madame President

61.Let’s Go

62.Surprise, Surprise, Surprise

63.Adios, Mother-Truckers

64.Protecting a Friend

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the author

Glossary of Terms

AD - Assistant Director

ALAT - Assistant Legal Attaché

BDU - Battle Dress Uniform

BuCar - FBI vehicle

BuPhone - FBI cell phone

C4 - Plastic explosive

CARDT - Child Abduction Rapid Deployment Team

CAST - Cellular Analysis Survey Team

CFO - Chief Financial Officer

CHS - Confidential Human Source

CIA - Central Intelligence Agency

CIRG - Critical Incident Response Group

CO2 - Carbon Dioxide

COMMS - Method of sending messages

CQB - Close-Quarters Battle

DEA - Drug Enforcement Agency

DecTube - Decontamination Tube

DSL - DNA Sequencing Lab

DWP - Doctors Without Politics

EAD - Executive Assistant Director

EOD - Entry on Duty

EOP - Eyes Only Personnel

ERF - Engineering Research Facility

ERT - Evidence Response Team

ETA - Estimated Time of Arrival

FBI - Federal Bureau of Investigation

FBI HQ - FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.

FBI Lab - FBI Laboratory

FTU - Firearms Training Unit

GPS - Global Positioning System

GSP - German Shorthaired Pointer

HQ - Headquarters

HRT - The Hostage Rescue Team

IA - InCit Agent

IBM - International Business Machines

InCit - Invisible Citizen

IRS - Internal Revenue Service

LAT/LONG - Latitude/Longitude

LED - Light Emitting Diode

MCB - Marine Corps Base

MIT - Massachusetts Institute of Technology

NASA - National Aeronautics Space Administration

NGO - Non-Governmental Organization

NSA - National Security Agency

Portal - Position of Remote Triage and Layover

RDS - Rounds aka bullets

SA - Special Agent

SAC - Special Agent in Charge of an FBI field office

SACS - Secure Access Control System

ScentDet - Scent Detection

SCH - Seattle Children’s Hospital

SCIF - Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility

SITREP - Situational Report

SORT - Special Operations and Rescue Training

Station - A CIA office in another country

SWAT - Special Weapons and Tactics

TTU - Technical Training Unit

UC - Unit Chief

UFO - Unidentified Flying Object

USUR - Underwater Surveillance

UTL - Underwater Technology Lab

VCMO - Violent Crimes Major Offenders

VPN - Virtual Private Network

WMD - Weapons of Mass Destruction

Prologue

Not long after the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) was created in 1958, basically a renaming of the previous National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, a think-tank of scientists and technicians at NASA pitched a funding idea to President Kennedy. The gist: create a monitoring system to watch for asteroids or meteor showers that may come into contact with Earth. This system would utilize powerful telescopes to explore the galaxy, a long way out into space past the Karman line, an imaginary line some sixty miles up, where the Earth’s atmosphere ends and space begins. They would collect information on the movement of this space matter having a chance of striking Earth, at any time. This included asteroids or meteors coming close in the future. Years out. Like, light-years out. Hundreds of thousands of light-years out.

President Kennedy bought into the notion, and NASA moved forward, creating a government agency within NASA named Flash Point. The background behind the name came from the fact when asteroids and meteors enter the Earth’s atmosphere, they have a flashpoint and then a streak. Idyllically, every asteroid or meteor would burn up on entry. Those flashpoints would be captured, and the trajectory of any possible asteroid or meteor fallout could be relayed to any country impacted by the fallout. Identifying the largest of the space matter and their trajectory would give the human race time to develop a plan to avert our extinction if any asteroid or meteor had even the slimmest of chances of crashing into us. Once identified, Flash Point personnel would categorize the objects by size, their proximity to Earth, the possibility they could hit Earth, and other fun facts. Flash Point would serve as the guardians of Earth’s galaxy.

Chapter 1

Replay That

June 13, 1962

2:13 a.m.

NASA’s Flash Point Command Center

Alexandria, VA

The technician positioned his feet crisscrossed at a perfect twenty-degree angle and propped on a stool. His arms were symmetrically laid across his chest, and his head was tilted just right so he wouldn’t have a stiff neck if he woke up quickly. Ah, the optimal nap.

The type and extent of the high-pitched wail didn’t necessarily register right away in the technician's brain. Startled by the alarm - which he was introduced to and had only heard once during the first week of training - he bolted upright and almost fell off his chair. The stool flew out from under his feet and crashed into a computer table. He jumped up and opened his eyes as wide as he could. As quickly as it sounded, it went away. He settled his gaze on the large screen on the wall facing him. The screen displayed a three-dimensional layout of Earth. As his eyes panned back and forth across the screen, he couldn’t find any anomaly.

While Flash Point provided many different sounding alerts to signal distinctive trajectories of asteroids and meteors, the particular alarm the technician woke up to only went off if an object entered the Earth’s atmosphere. That meant it was super close to Earth. He knew there should have been a different sounding alarm identifying the object much sooner and as far out as millions of miles. Asteroids and meteors don’t just show up. This was a glitch. It had to be.

He studied the screen again. There wasn’t a blinking light indicating a point of atmospheric entry, and there should have been. Nothing. The screen was perfectly still. He darted across the floor to a set of screens on the console. He typed in his password and accessed the database storing the video playback records. He entered the time he wanted and hit enter. The IBM 7094 computer mainframe began to whir. After approximately fifteen seconds, the large screen on the wall split into two sections, the live view on the left-hand side and the playback on the right. Watching the right, the technician gasped and collapsed into the seat behind him.

A streak of light had raced across the screen, entering the Earth’s atmosphere on a downward angle. Almost as quickly as the streak appeared, it disappeared. He guessed the streak lasted four to five seconds. Checking the time, it was exactly three seconds. For this particular atmospheric alarm to be triggered, an object had to be large enough to cause catastrophic damage to Earth. That also meant the possibility of a significant loss of life.

He played the videotape back again. And then a third time. On the fourth go-round, he stopped the playback with the streak at its greatest length. Typing some commands into the computer, the system again whirred to gather the answer. On the small screen on the console in front of him were displayed the latitude and longitude coordinates of 33.950001, -83.383331. Sliding over to the bookcase, he grabbed the Lat/Long Book, as he called it, and quickly flipped through the pages until he found the coordinates displayed on the computer screen. Athens, Georgia. He pushed himself back to the console and printed off the coordinates. Picking up the phone, he called his supervisor and waited for the hailstorm.

During the next several months, Flash Point technicians and astronomers reviewed the data the computer had collected at the time of the streak and worked at trying to identify it. Most worrisome to everyone at Flash Point was no meteor or asteroid had been located by the Flash Point system further out in space before the streak occurred. After all, Flash Point was created to identify and monitor asteroids and their small meteor cousins so we would have advance notice of any possible impacts.

The President wanted to know why their very sophisticated IBM computer system failed to alert them of an asteroid or meteor’s entry if that was what the streak was. Some technicians surmised camera angles from the satellites orbiting the earth, which play a part in identifying asteroids and meteors before they enter our atmosphere, froze up for a time. Others joked the streak was an alien entity moving so fast our technology couldn’t catch up.

After much debate, they found no answer but concluded the streak was a meteor with a very short tail that had entered our atmosphere and quickly and completely burned up on entry.

The Flash Point personnel, however, would laugh whenever they thought about how close Athens, Georgia, came to being a large, gaping hole.

Chapter 2

Short Weekend

September 7, 2012

11:24 p.m.

Marine Corps Base Quantico

Quantico, VA

Elliott Bell exited I-95 at the Marine Corps Base in Quantico, Virginia, also known as MCB Quantico. A sense of this is not just another one of those cases began to cross his mind. Federal Bureau of Investigation Special Agent (SA) Elliott Bell, or Bell, as agents commonly addressed each other by their last names, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, trying to imagine how the calm but serious tone of his supervisor’s phone call should be interpreted. And this late on a Sunday night. He ordered Bell to the FBI’s Engineering Research Facility, located within MCB Quantico on the grounds of the FBI Academy. And get there fast.

As Bell drove, he looked at his watch - 11:24 p.m. It was dark out, and Bell had yet to pass a car within the base. Bell wound through the dark country roads, passing one shadowy building after another and finally driving around a corner where hundreds of 1000-kilowatt-powered lights announced he was no longer invisible in the woods. Cameras in all positions watched his every move as he continued to close in on the FBI Academy.

The previously posted speed limit of twenty-five miles per hour was reduced to five, and only running lights were allowed as Bell approached the entrance and powered down the driver’s side window of his grey 2012 Chevy Tahoe.

Elliott Bell. Washington Field Office. Heading over to ERF, Bell said as the FBI police officer asked to see his creds or credentials.

Thank you, sir, the officer said, returning his identification. You know your way, sir?

Bell raised his eyebrows and leaned out the window enough for the guard to see him more fully. Even though Bell was still in good shape for a man in his late 40s, his true age was certainly made more evident by his brown hair with gray highlights, giving the impression that Bell was nowhere close to being a recent FBI Academy graduate. The officer fumbled, I’m sorry, sir. I’m sure you -

Bell rescued him. Been a while, but I think I can find my way. The first left and then the first right? Bell asked with just enough hesitation to resemble a boy scout who was not an Eagle Scout yet. He could tell the officer felt embarrassed but thankful for Bell’s attempt to move past the faux pas.

Yes, sir. Good luck.

Bell rolled up his window as he headed towards ERF, wondering if the officer’s matter-of-fact good luck was more of a prayer than a figure of speech.

Chapter 3

The Engineering Research Facility (ERF)

Bell was not the most tech-savvy agent. He could turn on his computer and cell phone but couldn’t be trusted to look at a computer server and figure out the internet protocol. Yet here he was, with nominal technical prowess, driving toward the most closely guarded and defended building owned by the U.S. Government - the FBI’s Engineering Research Facility.

The sprawling Engineering Research facility, or ERF, was located on ten acres. It was built some fifteen years or so before Director Hoover died. It was the first building the director built on the land destined to be the home to the FBI Academy, known simply as the Academy.

Hoover never told anyone why ERF was the first building to be erected. But he felt the Bureau, the term Hoover coined for the FBI, needed a scientific workshop to foster creativity from the best minds he could find. And the Academy would be the perfect location. Hoover wanted the FBI to have the most advanced toys. Gadgets that would be state-of-the-art and so secretive no one would know they existed outside of the Eyes Only Personnel (EOP) assigned to each project.

ERF was not easy to get into. Clearance was granted to only one percent of the FBI's employees at any point in time. Once agents entered their code into a Hirsch Pad and completed a hand scan, depending on who they were, they were granted only so much access.

Most personnel, and certainly every visitor, were never allowed to move past the ground floor.

As Bell drove to the front of the massive ERF building, he thought how nice it would be to have just one weekend off. A meeting at ERF wasn’t something Bell had even remotely thought would be on his agenda this evening. Nonetheless, he found a parking spot up close to a side door. Bell locked his Bureau car or BuCar as agents called them and headed towards the ERF side door. Bell pressed his SACS badge to the card reader, punched his eight-digit code, and waited for the hand scan to appear. After his code was accepted, a digital scan pad slid from the wall and rotated downward to a sixty-degree angle. Bell placed his hand over the grid for the scan and waited. After he scanned both his hands, the card reader produced a green light. The door made a loud clicking sound, and the heavy door unlocked. Bell headed inside.

The halls of ERF were brightly lit, not at all like Bell remembered them since he had been there last. Of course, that was during his Academy days, when he was training to be a special agent. The lights hanging from the ceiling produced a soft hum.

Bell moved down the corridor and headed for the ERF wing of conference rooms. Other than the whine of the lights, the only other noticeable sound was that of Bell’s wet sneakers on the floor. Slipping and falling, Bell thought, would ultimately make this night complete.

As Bell walked by several labs, signs on the walls referenced varying sciences, projects, and disciplines - WMD (Weapons of Mass Destruction), USUR (Underwater Surveillance), ScenDet (Scent Detection), CAST (Cellular Analysis Survey Team), Human Growth - pretty self-explanatory Bell thought, then InCit. Bell paused. InCit? He tried to process InCit in his mind but kept walking. What the hell was InCit, Bell asked himself, muttering it out loud.

Don’t give it another thought, Bell, a booming voice shouted from the end of one long corridor, startling Bell just enough to make him seamlessly move for the Glock under his shirt.

And don’t shoot me, you bastard, although I know you would love to get off a few rounds in my direction, the voice continued.

Staring down the corridor in the direction of the voice, the silhouette of a rotund, balding man wearing a suit from the 80s - no, the 70s, had to be - was barely visible as a human being.

Fuzzy bunny, is that you? Bell chuckled.

Yeah, hadn’t heard that one in a while, Unit Chief (UC) Stanlislov Eroyee said. Just get your ass down here. We don’t have time to reminisce, and the director is supposedly five minutes out. This room. Eroyee was pointing to a door next to where he was standing.

Bell continued to walk towards the door UC Eroyee pointed to and subsequently disappeared through. Bell walked approximately ten yards when he was startled by another thunderous voice.

Bell, my man! What the hell have you been doing with yourself lately? SA David Tracey said. Bell whirled around to see his old classmate walking at a fast clip towards him with a grin on his face stretching ear-to-ear. Tracey kept looking around as his pace quickened even more. What the heck was Tracey doing in ERF late on a Sunday? He just suddenly appeared.

Tracey? Bell asked, surprised. What the hell are you doing here?

Tracey caught up to Bell and gave him a huge bear hug. The bear hug was a distraction. Bell didn’t notice as Tracey placed a small, clear piece of tape with a micro-transmitter on the back of Bell’s pullover.

Tracey put Bell back down on the ground. I hear there’s an InCit meeting, and many of my fellow InCit agents are here. I saw you come into the building but couldn’t catch up to you fast enough. I did park next to you in the assistant director’s spot, however, Tracey said with a broad smile and chuckle.

Wait, what is InCit? Bell asked.

Ah, that’s right. You haven’t been read in yet. You’ll get it all explained to you shortly. Another Eyes Only case, bud. It should be fun!

Yeah, I’m heading there now, Bell said with a grunt of annoyance.

He turned and started walking again towards the InCit conference room. Tracey did not; instead, he headed back the way he came.

You coming? Bell asked.

Tracey nodded as he continued walking. I am, but I’ve got to see a friend first. I’ll meet you there.

Okay. See you soon. Bell had only advanced five feet when he saw a red glare bouncing off the walls and traveling toward him. The infrared dot scanners, Red Ladens, were conducting their routine scan of every inch of the hallways in ERF. Bell had seen Red Ladens in training videos and learned a little of their capabilities. But he had never seen them in action before. They were slowly making their way towards Bell along the narrow hallway of ERF. More to the point, they were floating his way.

They were searching for any anomaly that changed the layout of ERF, from a piece of paper that fell on the floor to an open or unlocked door that shouldn’t be to a person who shouldn’t be there. They also conducted DNA searches. Permeating your body and running the collected DNA through the ERF computer system, Red Ladens were a failsafe that you were authorized to be in the exact spot they were standing. If someone happened to wander into a particular area in ERF where they didn’t belong, the Red Ladens would render the person unconscious by deploying anesthesia.

Here comes the Red Ladens, Bell said as he looked down the hall towards Tracey and took a position up against a wall. Tracey was leisurely backpedaling as he stared past Bell towards the Red Ladens. Tracey suddenly started to jog away from the incoming Red Ladens.

Yeah, this happens fairly often here, Tracey said as his voice trailed off. Hopefully, the Red Ladens don’t catch me and knock me out.

That was an odd statement from Tracey. He just said he was an InCit Agent. Why would he think the Red Ladens would knock him out?

Bell turned his attention back to the Red Ladens.

The Red Ladens caught up to Bell, passed through him, and continued down the corridor. Since Bell was still standing, it looked like he was supposed to be there.

Chapter 4

Not So Far Off the Grid

September 4, 2012

11:45 a.m. MST (four days before Bell’s ERF meeting)

Outdoor Equipment, Inc. (OEI)

Trellis, MT

SA David Tracey tried to sip on his coffee as he drove. Long ago, he gave up cream and sugar in his coffee and went cold turkey - black only. Nothing like a piping hot coffee, he thought to himself. He blew through the hole in the lid to cool it down just a bit. He might not get a sip for another ten minutes. It was that hot.

Earlier that morning, he called his wife from his BuPhone and told her he was still on assignment in the mountains. He also warned her the roof at the lake house had been struck by a tree and that no one should stay there until it was fixed. It was a lie, of course, but Tracey needed to be sure no one showed up unexpectedly.

The parking lot of the OEI store was slowly filling up. The town was crawling with tourists and outdoors folk alike, all hoping to get their fill of the clear air and rugged mountainside. They stopped to shop at the OEI store as if OEI had better gear than any other store. Marketing. That’s all it was, Tracey thought to himself. He could buy a pair of waterproof hiking shoes at a discount store for $40, which would do just as good a job as a pair that cost over $200. Marketing. Pure marketing.

Tracey drove into the parking lot and pulled into a spot 100 yards from the front door. For his plan to work, Tracey needed everyone to believe he was in Trellis, Montana, and trying to hide. He slowly walked from his car and through the front door, making sure each store camera had a good angle of his face. While shopping, he even held up items in direct sight of the cameras. The Bureau would know it was him.

Walking over to the camping gear section, he grabbed a tent and some additional camping equipment, including a propane lamp, a few small propane tanks, a shovel, rope, and a sleeping bag, eventually charging over $700. Shuffling out of the OEI store, he again took his time while passing all the cameras on the way to his car. After he loaded the items in the back of his black SUV, he sat in the spot for a minute, sipping on his coffee that had slightly cooled off.

Reaching into his coat, he grabbed his blackhawk, a Bureau communication device similar to a pager assigned to every Eyes Only agent. The blackhawk was simply a device for texting back and forth. Eyes Only agents could also send pictures and documents on their blackhawks, but they couldn’t use it like a phone.

Turning the blackhawk over, he pressed the back panel, slid the cover off, and took both lithium-ion batteries out. He put the blackhawk and the batteries back in his coat pocket and headed out of the parking lot. With his blackhawk disabled, the Bureau wouldn’t be able to track him.

Driving west, Tracey covered eight miles on Rural Route #7, passing acre after acre of pure wilderness. No one on the road except one small RV parked on the opposite side with its flashing lights on. Normally, Tracey would have stopped to see if they needed any help, but he had a schedule and plan he had to stick to.

Another six miles down the road, he slowed at a sign for the Beaverhead Municipal Airport and then turned onto its access road. Thankfully, he was driving an SUV as the road hadn't been plowed since the snowfall a week ago. The few cars that had been down the road made a pretty good path for him to follow, and he stuck to it, speeding along to his destination.

After half a mile, he emerged from the tree-shrouded road and continued towards the small tan building housing the air traffic controller. He parked at the end of a row of several cars that had snow on their roofs and looked like they hadn’t been moved since the recent snowfall. With ten to twelve inches of new snow expected in the next several hours, Tracey knew his SUV would soon enough look like each of the other cars around his - completely covered in snow. He was counting on it.

He stepped out of the SUV and opened the back doors as he looked around. It didn’t seem like anyone was around who would care about his existence. Tracey reached into the back cargo area for his backpack. He opened it to be sure he had what he needed - several strapped bundles of $20 bills, his Secure Access Control System (SACS) badge, some underwear, a collared shirt, a white lab coat, white slip-on shoe coverings, and white hospital scrubs.

Glancing around, Tracey headed towards the hangar at the far end of the runway. Its door was open, and a plane was running with a pilot inside checking his instruments.

Approaching the side door, the pilot noticed Tracey and waved, motioning for him to get on the plane.

Tracey opened the door. Above the noise of the engine, he greeted him. Hey, good afternoon. You Josh? Tracey asked.

I am indeed. You must be Dane?

I am sir, Tracey answered, acknowledging the name he told the pilot to expect.

Okay then, let’s get you to Miami. It will take a few bumps and jumps, but I’ll get you there. Should take about seven hours.

Tracey hopped in next to the pilot and strapped in. Josh handed him a headset, which Tracey put on.

Josh took a few more readings from the instrument panel and slowly pushed the throttle forward as the plane inched onto the runway. The tower gave them the green light, and the little Cessna sped down the runway and into the sky.

For this plan to work, Tracey would now need a little help from family.

Chapter 5

Covering Tracks

September 7, 2012

11:35 p.m. EST

ERF

Tracey didn’t have much time before he would have to explain himself. He also hadn’t thought he'd run into anyone he knew at ERF this evening. Let alone his friend Elliott Bell. Bell would certainly be surprised when he learned of Tracey’s plans. Tracey was trying to put that reality off for a few more hours if he could. And Tracey had some work to do.

Tracey quickened his pace once he turned the corner out of Bell’s sight. The Red Ladens were coming, and he knew he couldn’t be found in ERF or anywhere just yet. And he couldn’t reveal how he got into ERF undetected either. There might be a price someone would pay for that secret, and the person who would pay the price had no idea they were on the hook.

He continued around the corner from where he met