Chapter One
The hearing room in the United States House of Representatives was standing room only, because the American public wanted to know if flying saucers and little green men from another planet were the real deal.
United States representative Thomas Horan was one of the few people in the room who didn’t care if an alien invasion were imminent.
He was only interested in making the six o’clock news.
The congressman was barely five foot, three inches tall.
Even though he was only in his midthirties, he had lost a majority of his hair and his belly overlapped his belt.
Horan had gone through life with a massive chip on his shoulder as a result of being bullied in every stage of his public school education.
The congressman was very intelligent and had found success in high school on the chess team, but he’d had little success with girls. It wasn’t until he got involved in campus politics in college that he got laid for the first time and found his calling.
Margo Sparks, an ex-CIA agent, was leading a crusade to prove that the government was covering up the fact that aliens in flying saucers had visited the earth.
Horan had been champing at the bit for his chance to question Sparks.
He was facing a tough opponent in the next election, and he would be the recipient of publicity that money could not buy if he could perform a star turn when his chance to examine Sparks arrived.
“Mrs. Sparks,” Horan said when the committee chairman called his name, “you have claimed that there are numerous credible sightings of flying objects with abilities that no earthly aircraft can duplicate.”
“There are, in fact, countless reports by reputable individuals—air force pilots, pilots in commercial aircrafts—of flying objects whose mechanical abilities can only be ascribed to alien technology.”
“You also claim that your investigations have led you to conclude that one or more of these UFOs have crashed on Earth and that our government is hiding these crafts and the biological remains of their alien pilots.”
“Yes. That’s true.”
Horan smiled at the ex–intelligence officer. “I must admit that you’ve got me all excited. Can you tell this committee and the American people what these aliens look like? Are they little green men?”
“I have not seen the wreckage or the alien remains personally.”
“Do you have photos?”
“No. I haven’t seen any of the alien crafts that the government has in storage, but more than three dozen reputable witnesses, who have seen the crafts, have assured me that they do exist.”
“Great. Can you make me a list of these witnesses so I can subpoena them?”
“That information is classified.”
“I see. Has our government talked to aliens?”
“I really can’t discuss that. The information is classified.”
“So, you have never seen an alien body?”
“No, but people who have assure me that they have been recovered at crash sites.”
“If there are so many witnesses who have actually seen aliens and their crafts, why haven’t you brought any of them to this hearing?”
“These people are threatened with retaliation if they go public.”
“What type of retaliation?”
“Loss of jobs, public humiliation, and physical threats.”
“You’re saying that you know people who have been injured physically to cover up the existence of UFOs?”
“Yes.”
“Has anyone ever been murdered as part of this cover-up?”
“I can’t comment on that.”
Horan sighed and shook his head. “Mrs. Sparks, you’ve made a lot of outrageous claims, but am I right in concluding that you have not supplied one single piece of concrete evidence to this committee—like a photo or a person who has seen these aliens and their crafts—that proves that our government is hiding alien spacecrafts and alien corpses? ”
“I can’t supply this information in a public forum.”
“That’s because you don’t have any evidence to supply.
Quite frankly, Mrs. Sparks, you are full of hot air, and the reason you can’t prove your assertion is that alien abductions, UFOs from other planets, and the existence of little green men are science fiction and not science fact.
I have no further questions, Mr. Chairman. ”
When Thomas Horan deplaned at Portland International Airport, Julie Sunderland, his campaign manager, was waiting with crews from the television networks and reporters from several Oregon newspapers.
Standing with Julie was Francine Horan, Thomas’s wife, who had handled PR for the congressman before marrying him and knew just what to do when her husband walked toward the reporters.
Francine left Sunderland’s side and walked into her husband’s waiting arms.
“How did I do, honey?” Thomas asked as the cameras recorded the conquering hero being welcomed by his adoring wife.
“You knocked the ball out of the park,” Francine said, loudly enough for the reporters to hear her.
“That’s what I want to hear,” Horan said before pivoting and smiling for the cameras.
For the next fifteen minutes, Horan answered questions. Then Julie stepped in.
“The congressman is exhausted from his cross-country flight. So, why don’t we get one more question and call it a day?”
Julie pointed at a reporter from The Oregonian. “Lacey?”
“Do you think that the hearing uncovered any evidence that ETs have visited Earth in flying saucers?”
“I think that the witnesses who testified that they have were misguided, and I can’t think of one piece of concrete evidence that supports a conclusion that we have been visited by aliens from other planets.”
Horan started walking toward the exit.
“Thank you for coming out, but, as Julie said, these cross-country flights are exhausting, and I have to get home for my first home-cooked meal in several weeks.”
Horan thanked Sunderland for rounding up the reporters and told her he’d see her in the morning. As soon as he and Francine were in the car, Horan closed his eyes and put his head back.
“You were great, Tom,” Francine said as she drove out of the lot and onto the highway.
“Yeah, I thought I nailed it.”
“I bought a steak and a great pinot to celebrate.”
Horan opened his eyes and smiled. “You’re the best. I’ll take a quick shower. Then we’ll eat, and later…” He winked.
Francine laughed. “What would the voters say if they knew I was married to a sex maniac?”
“Anyone married to you wouldn’t be able to think about anything all day but making love.”
The steak was great and the wine was superb, and Thomas was almost finished with his meal when his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID and stood up.
“I’ve got to take this,” he apologized.
“Go ahead. I’ll clear the table.”
Horan went into the living room, and Francine couldn’t hear what he was saying. A few minutes later, when he walked back to the dining room, Horan looked upset.
“I’ve got to go out.”
“Do you have to? You just got home.”
“Sorry. It’s important. I should be back soon.”
Francine looked disappointed. Horan kissed her. Then he grabbed his jacket and walked out of the house.