10
Night had fallen by the time Harvey watched the MQ-45 Casper stealth drone—just like the one he’d refueled last night over the Bering Sea—roll into the Groom Lake hangar designated 33B. There wasn’t a 33 or 33A. In fact, at Groom Lake, where everything was very orderly, the next highest numbered hangar was 24. This building was a complete anomaly in the middle of a base that was known for its anomalies.
Major General Oswald Harrington had asked Harvey to join him to “discuss something”—Air Force parlance for “you really f****d up this time, Harvey.” Lowly boomer-drone pilots never had anything to do with the general other than saluting whenever he happened to pass nearby.
This so didn’t look good.
With no other options, he’d followed where the general led. He’d expected at best the
