8 Strawberry Bank Rd.

Suite 20

Nashua, New Hampshire

Wright-Patterson Air Force Base A Decade Earlier

     Ron jogged around the high fence enclosing the mysterious building at the remote site on the airbase. This has to be where the strange material is kept, he thought. It looked like a small hangar, the large doors in front, but no windows. He ran past what looked like a large climate control unit on a concrete pad, the hum readily discernible. He picked up the pace on rounding the back of the enclosure. He knew he shouldn’t be here, but he just had to see this place. The signs on the electric fence had not been ambiguous: High Security Area. Do Not Approach within 100 feet. Area Alarmed. Deadly Force Authorized. As he rounded the far side of the structure and started back, he saw the Security Force vehicle facing him, blue lights flashing. Then a spotlight was aimed into his eyes, blinding him.

     He stopped. A chill went over his body. Then the spot-light went off. A uniformed security guard stood on each side of the SUV, arms clasped behind him, feet parted. Ron stood and stared at them. His heart beat wildly. He walked slowly toward them and stopped in front of the SUV. The driver walked up to Ron, glanced at his identification tag, and then pulled his arms behind his back as the second guard stood by the vehicle, his hand now on his weapon at his hip.

     “Why are you doing this?” asked Ron, but he knew the answer.

      “You are being arrested for trespass and security violations,” said the guard in a matter-of-fact tone as he fastened handcuffs to Ron’s wrists.

     “Where you taking me?” Sweat beaded on his fore-head.

     "Security Force Headquarters.” The guard opened the rear passenger door and pushed Ron’s head toward the opening for Ron to seat himself.

     Ron’s further questions went unanswered as they drove toward the headquarters building. Still in running clothes, Ron stayed all night in a locked cell. The next morning, he was taken to a meeting room and seated at a table with two unidentified men in suits. An Air Force guard stood by the closed door. The older of the suits looked down at a printed sheet he pulled from a folder, then raised his head to stare at Ron.

“Three trespass violations within the last week at a posted secure site.” He didn’t blink and didn’t wait for a comment from Ron.

     “Three trespass violations in the last week crossing an active tarmac zone.” He glanced at his paper, and then back at Ron.

     “Three trespass violations in the last week entering posted  restricted air-operations zone.

     “Thirteen unauthorized entries into computer files outside your area of responsibility within the last week.” He caught his breath and continued, “And forty-three unsuccessful attempts to gain access to unauthorized computer files outside your area of responsibility within the last month.”

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