“Agent, if you knew anything at all about this facility, you know that no one gets immediate access,” Landow said. “The security requirements in this facility are established by folks very much higher than our pay grades or even our boss’s pay grade, and I’m not allowed to violate them. I faxed your office a copy of the entry procedures—I trust you received them?” The FBI agents nodded. “That is exactly what we’ll do. My time estimate is accurate—no more than fifteen minutes to clear security. Shall we get started?” Willison and the others had no choice but to agree. “But I want no one else to enter or leave this facility,” he said. “That outer gate remains locked. All aircraft movement will cease immediately, all aircraft engines will be shut down, and all external power carts will be detached from all aircraft. If we see one aircraft with even so much as a courtesy light on, we’ll arrest each and every individual in this facility.”

“Your cease-and-desist order and the search warrant spelled out everything, Special Agent,” Landow said, “and our attorneys have told us it’s in our best interest to cooperate. I’ve advised all the labs to comply one hundred percent. Your IDs and firearms go in the turntable there.” Landow had moved a weapon-clearing barrel into the guardhouse, and the agents went about unloading and clearing their weapons by pointing them at the sand inside the barrel, then placing them on a turntable surrounded with bulletproof glass. The guard inside the secure room collected the weapons and placed them in lockers, then turned the locker keys back over to the agents. Meanwhile, another guard began checking IDs and taking digital photos.

As they were waiting for their IDs to be checked and their clearances issued, they were surprised to see a young girl step into the guardhouse, escorted by a security officer. The girl was wearing what looked like the proper identification badges—but it certainly looked strange to see a youngster inside one of the most secure compounds in the United States of America. It was even more surprising when the officer dropped the girl off in the guardhouse without anyone else appearing to be supervising her. The biggest, leanest, most menacing Doberman pinscher that any of them had ever seen accompanied the girl.

The girl walked over to Willison; the Doberman sat right beside her and stared at the FBI agent, “Hi. I’m Kelsey.” She motioned to the dog. “This is my friend Sasha. Who are you?”

“My name is Mr. Willison.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said politely. Willison turned when the officer checking their IDs offered them back. “Oooo,” the girl said when she noticed the badge holders. “Are you a police officer?”

“Yes, we are.”

“How exciting,” she said. She reached for his ID as he was putting it back in his jacket. “Can I see?”