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site for an
organization that bore the name. Jack felt a chill run down his
spine when he saw the logo on the site’s header: it was the same as
on the paper found in Sheldon’s throat. Richards had just emailed
him a photo of it. The other hits appeared to be links from other
sites back to this one, and he got a sinking feeling as he took a
quick scan through. Almost all of them were about UFOs or alien
abductions and the like.
    As he began to read the EDS “about”
page, he felt his face flush with anger. “You’ve got to be fucking
kidding me,” he cursed, shaking his head in disbelief.
     
    The Earth Defense Society is
dedicated to defending the Earth and all its life forms from a
long-term program undertaken by a non-human intelligence to
transform the planet’s biosphere into one capable of supporting
their form of life. This enemy has secretly occupied key positions
in the government, military, and industries, such as pharmacology
and genetics research. We – all of us, humans and every other
creature on our planet – are in danger of becoming nothing more
than a food source for these invaders...
     
    Jack turned away from the words on
the screen in disgust. Either someone had played an incredibly bad
joke with the paper that had been stuffed down Sheldon’s throat, or
the Earth Defense Society, the EDS, had at least one homicidal
lunatic with the balls or stupidity to murder an FBI special
agent.
    What made him angry was that he
wanted Sheldon to have suffered and died for something important.
The thought that some lunatic who believed in garbage like Area 51
might have killed him for nothing more than some bizarre delusion
turned Jack’s stomach.
    Gritting his teeth, he forced
himself to read the rest of what the site had to say, mostly
elaborating on the ridiculous “aliens are here to eat us” theme.
Over the next three hours, he read every page on the site, taking
notes as he went. He didn’t write down anything having to do with
the alien invasion trash, only the tidbits he thought might be
important to obtain a warrant to go after this “society.” He knew
that Richards would have a dozen people doing the same thing right
now, but that didn’t matter: this was something Jack had to do, and
it was always possible he’d find a tidbit that they might have
missed.
    The big prize was Naomi D. Perrault,
Ph.D., M.D., who seemed to be the leading contributor to the site.
There weren’t any pictures of her, but there was plenty of
impressive-sounding biographic information, presumably to help
legitimize her ridiculous claims. What really caught his eye was
that she was a former senior researcher at New Horizons, who
claimed to have jumped ship after she discovered that little green
men were guiding the development of genetically engineered crops at
New Horizons for their own nefarious purposes.
    Yeah,
right , he thought coldly. Men from Mars are the last thing you should be
worrying about now, lady .
    Since there weren’t any photos of
her on the EDS site, he went digging around on the New Horizons
site, hoping there would still be something left from when she’d
been working for the company. He found a small bio that said
nothing that was different from the EDS site, and a slew of papers
she had written that were so technical he had no idea what they
said. But there were no photos.
    Moving on to FIDS and several state
and federal databases, he found something truly disturbing: every
document that matched her name had a photo of an obese African
American male. Whoever she was, someone had gone to extraordinary
lengths to mask her electronic past.
    His cell phone rang.
    “Dawson,” he said.
    “I hope you’ve been spending your
crying time wisely, Dawson,” he heard Richards say.
    “What the hell is that supposed to
mean?” Jack said, shocked that Richards had bothered to call
him.
    “The EDS site,” Richards answered.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been pawing through every ridiculous
word