I〃 it sounded like 〃Ah〃…How can ah help you？
Cameron said； 〃Yes； hi。 I'm looking for a Mr。 Andrew Wilcox。〃 Cameron held up the business card。 〃My name is Peter Cameron。 I'm a writer for the Washington Post。 Mr。 Wilcox sent me his card。〃
The smile on the young man's face vanished instantly。
His eyes swept Cameron's body as if evaluating him。 Then they swept the street outside as if to see whether anyone was watching the house。
And then suddenly the man's attention returned to Cameron。
〃Mr。 Cameron；〃 he said； opening the screen door。 〃Please； e inside。 I was hoping you'd e； but I didn't expect to see you so soon。 Please； please； e inside。〃
Cameron stepped through the doorway。
It didn't occur to him until he was fully inside the house that the man's Southern accent had pletely disappeared。
〃Mr。 Cameron； my real name is not Andrew Wilcox；〃 the young man now sitting opposite him said。 The drawl was gone； replaced by a voice that was clear and precise； educated。 East Coast。
Pete Cameron had his pad and pen out。 〃Can you tell me your real name？〃 he asked gently。
The young man seemed to think about that for a moment； and as he did so； Cameron got a better look at him。 He was a tall man； handsome； too； with blond hair and a square jaw。 He had broad shoulders and he looked physically fit。 But there was something wrong about him。
It was the eyes； Cameron realized。
They were tinged with red。 Heavy black sacks hung beneath both of them。 He looked like a man on the edge； a man who hadn't slept in days。
And then； at last； the man spoke。 〃My real name；〃 he said； 〃is Andrew Trent。〃
〃I used to be a First Lieutenant in the Marines；〃 Andrew Trent explained； 〃in mand of an Atlantic…based Reconnaissance unit。 But if you examine the official USMC records； you'll find that I died in an accident in Peru in March 1997。〃
Trent spoke in a low； even voice； a voice tinged with bitterness。
〃So； you're a dead man；〃 Pete Cameron said。 〃Nice； very nice。 OK； first question： why me？ Why did you contact me？〃
〃I've seen your work；〃 Trent said。 〃I like it。 Mother Jones。 The Post。 You tell it straight。 You also don't just write down the first thing you hear。 You check things out and because of that； people believe you。 I need people to believe what I'm going to tell you。〃
〃If it's worth telling in the first place；〃 Cameron said。 〃All right； then； how is it that according to the United States Government you are officially dead？〃
Trent offered Cameron a half…smile； a smile totally devoid of humor。 〃If it's worth telling in the first place；〃 he repeated。 〃Mr。 Cameron； what if I were to tell you that the government of the United States of America ordered that my whole unit be killed？〃
Cameron was silent。
〃What if I were to tell you that our government…yours and mine…planted men inside my unit for the sole purpose of killing me and my men in the event that we found something of immense technological value during a mission？
〃What if I were to tell you that that was exactly what happened in Peru in March 1997？ What would you think then； Mr。 Cameron？ If I told you all that； then do you think my story would be worth telling？〃
Trent then told Cameron about what had happened inside the ruins of the Incan temple high in the mountains of Peru in March of 1997。
A team of university researchers who had been working inside the temple had apparently discovered a series of frescoes chiseled into its stone walls。 Magnificent coloured frescoes that depicted scenes from Incan history。
One of the frescoes in particular had captured their attention。
It depicted a scene not unlike the famous painting of the Incan king； Atahuallpa； meeting the Spanish conquistadors。
On the left…hand side of the fresco stood the Incan king； in full ceremonial dress； surrounded by his people。 He was holding a golden chalice in his outstretched hands。 A gift。
On the right…hand side of the fresco stood four strange…looking men。 Unlike the olive…skinned Incans； their skin was bone white。 And they were thin； unnaturally thin…tall； emaciated。 They had large black eyes and round…domed foreheads。 They also had pointed； narrow chins and…bizarrely… no mouths。
In the carved stone picture； the leader of this delegation of tall white 〃men〃 was holding a silver box in his outstretched hands； reciprocating the gesture of the Incan king in front of him。
It was an exchange of gifts。
〃How long did it take them to find it？〃 Cameron asked dryly。
〃Not long；〃 Trent said。
As Trent explained； they found the object of their search mounted on a pedestal not far from the fresco itself； a small stone pedestal sunken into the wall of the temple。
It just sat there。 All on its own。 It was about the size of a shoe box and the color of chrome。
It was the silver box from the fresco。
〃Those scientists couldn't believe their luck；〃 Trent said。 〃They called their university back in the States right away and told them what they'd found。 Told them that they may have discovered a gift from an alien civilization。〃
Trent shook his head。 〃Stupid bastards。 They did it over a telephone line。 An open goddamn telephone line。 Hell； anyone could have heard them。 My unit was sent in to protect mem from anyone who did。〃
Trent leaned forward in his chair。
〃The problem was； it wasn't really my unit。〃
Trent went on to tell Cameron about what had happened after his unit's arrival at the temple…in particular； how several of his own men had turned on him when the SEAL team had arrived at the temple。
〃Mr。 Cameron。 The order to plant men in my unit came from a government mittee called the Intelligence Convergence Group；〃 Trent said。 〃It's a joint mittee made up of members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the National Reconnaissance Office。 Put simply； its primary objective is to secure for America technological superiority over the rest of the world。
〃They killed my unit； Mr。 Cameron。 My whole unit。 And then they hunted me。 For twelve days； they scoured that temple looking for me。 American soldiers； hunting me。 I stood squeezed into a small fissure in a wall； being dripped on by stinking seepage； for twelve days before they gave up and left。〃
Cameron said； 〃What happened to the university researchers？〃
Trent shook his head。 〃The SEALs took them away。 They were never heard from again。〃
Cameron fell silent。
Trent went on。 〃Eventually； I got out of that temple and made it back to the States。 It took a while； but I got there in the end。 The first place I went was my parents' house。 But when I got there I saw two guys sitting in a van across the street； watching the house。 They had people there； waiting for me to e back。〃
Trent's face went cold。 〃That was when I decided to find out who'd been behind it all。 It didn't take me long to find a trail； and at the end of that trail。 I found the ICG。〃
Cameron found that he was staring at Trent。 He blinked out of it。
〃OK。 Right；〃 he said； regaining his posure。 〃This ICG； you say it's a joint mittee； right？ Made up of members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the National Reconnaissance Office； right？〃
〃That's correct；〃 Trent said。
〃OK。〃 Cameron knew about the Joint Chiefs of Staff； but he knew little about the National Reconnaissance Office。 It was the intelligence agency charged with procuring； launching； and operating all of America's spy satellites。 Its secrecy was legendary； it was one of the few agencies that was allowed to operate under a 〃black〃 budget…a budget that； because of the sensitivity of its subject matter； did not have to be disclosed to Senate Finance mittees。 Throughout the Cold War； the U。S。 Government had consistently refused to acknowledge the NRO's existence。 It was only in 1991； in the face of mounting evidence； that the government finally caved in and acknowledged that it did exist。
Trent said； 〃The ICG is a marriage of two of the most powerful agencies in this country…the supreme manding body of all of our armed forces and the most secret arm of our intelligence munity。〃
〃And its job is…what did you say？…'to secure technological superiority' for America？〃
〃Its job；〃 Trent said； 〃is