Independence Day: Silent Zone by Stephen Molstad

they took off at 11:45. This
is
neato. I can see inside the plane. Let's call the airport and find out
if I'm
right."
    Kepnik phoned the
Hartford Air arrivals desk and discovered there was indeed an 11:45
from
Denver. He confirmed that the pilot's name was Mark Cassella and the
copilot
was Peter Tanashian. He didn't ask about the potato chips.
----
    Accompanied by her
mother and Agent Kepnik, Bridget was flown to Arlington, Virginia, and
taken to
the offices of Project Aquarius. Aquarius, its critics said, was proof
that the
Army had too much money and free time on its hands. It brought together
psychics, astrologers, mediums, and other practitioners of the
paranormal arts
and tried to channel their talents toward military goals.
Twelve-year-old
Bridget was what the people in the office complex referred to as an RV.
This
was not a reference to her weight. RV stood for Remote Visualizer, and
the Army
had six people with this special talent under full-time contract.
    The
first
step was to test her powers. She was introduced to one of the project's
researchers, a forty-year-old woman with huge blue eyes, Dr. Joan
Sachville-West, who did everything she could to put the girl at ease.
    "We're going to
try a simple experiment with these cards," she explained. "They're
called Zener cards, and each one has a design on it. There are five
different
designs," she said, showing the icons to the girl, "and I would like
for you to concentrate and try to guess which design is on the back of
the card
I hold up. Simple?"
    "Wavy
lines!" the girl shouted the second Sachville-West lifted the first
card off
the deck.
    "Very good.
You're right."
    "Star."
    "Right
again."
    "Circle."
    "Excellent."
    When Bridget had gone
fifteen for fifteen, the woman took her hands away and asked what the
next card
was.
    "I can't see it
until you pick it up."
    "Guess."
    "That's not how
it works," she whined. "I have to be able to see it."
    "Give it a try.
Just for fun."
    Unhappily, Bridget
guessed. "Another wavy lines card?"
    Sachville-West turned
it over: star.
    "See! I told
you!" Angry that the researcher's insistence had ruined her perfect
streak, she retaliated by telling everyone what color underwear the
scientist
was wearing.
    The woman only
crossed her legs under the table and smiled. "You've got quite a
gift."
----
    The rest of the
afternoon was devoted to giving the girl a crash course in geography.
When her
attention waned, and she refused to cooperate, her mother came to the
rescue by
opening her purse and pulling out a bag of candy bars. "My emergency
kit," she explained with an embarrassed smile.
    When Bridget had
mastered the names of the seven continents and several bodies of water,
the
real work of Project Aquarius began. She was shown an aerial photograph
of a
Soviet Wolf-class submarine.
    "Young
lady," a man in an Army uniform began, "there are two submarines like
this one in the water right now. Let's see if you can tell me where
they
are." The USSR had a total of four of these nuclear-powered subs. Two
of
them were in dry dock at that moment for repairs. One had been picked
up on
radar overnight off the Oregon coast and one was unaccounted for.
    Bridget, working over
a wad of chocolate, studied the globe sitting on the desk beside her.
This
whole thing was starting to bore her. She plunked one finger down in
the
Pacific Ocean near the Oregon coastline, then pointed to the waters off
Cuba's
southern shore. "Cienfuegos," she read the tiny print on the globe
through a buildup of chocolate saliva.
    "That's
amazing," said the man in the uniform.
    "Don't speak
with your mouth full," said her mother.
----
    For the next six
days, Bridget Jones was the most powerful weapon in the United States
military's arsenal. She located and described dozens of enemy positions
around
the world, many of them previously unknown. The girl loved being the
center of
attention, and she worked for peanuts—literally. Because of her
penchant for
prevaricating, each morning