"Whitley Strieber - Majestic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Strieber Whitley)

MAJESTIC
Whitley Strieber

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the kind assistance of Stanton Friedman, William L. Moore, Jaime Shandera,
Walter Haut, Dr Jessie Marcel, Jr., and Anne M. Strieber for their advice in the preparation of this novel.
It is a work of fiction that is based on fact. I have used the names of historical figures, and invented all others.
Newspaper stories quoted are entirely authentic except for the use of this convention. Insofar as it reflects the
truth, this book is the outcome of the patience of those who have helped me. Any errors are my own.

This book is dedicated to the memory of Colonel Jesse Marcel, an unknown hero.

Contents

Introduction 11
Foreword 16
Part One THE FIELD OF BONES 19
Part Two THE LOST SHIP 127
Part Three CONGRESS OF LIES 213
Part Four THE FLOWER 285
Afterword 313

Through official secrecy and ridicule, many citizens are led to believe that unidentified flying objects are
nonsense. To hide the facts the Air Force has silenced its personnel.
- Admiral Hoscok H. Hillenkoetter,
First Director of the Central Intelligence Agency
From the New York Times, February 28, 1960

Introduction

It was my misfortune to have some really good luck.
If I'd had the good sense to go along with it, I would have left this story alone. It's the scoop of the century,
but it has almost certainly ruined my career. And I was about to escape my job with a dreary suburban
weekly and go to work for a semiofficial urban daily. Now I'll never report for the Washington Post. I'll never
enter the fabled halls of the New York Times, unless it is with somebody else's sandwiches in my hands.
So what is this thing that has ruined me?
I won't hide the fact that I was researching an April Fool's piece for my paper - or rather, my former paper - the
Bethesda Express. We were going to get a good laugh out of an obvious absurdity that is believed by at least
half the population.
I wasn't fired because I failed to turn in this story. That wasn't exactly it. What got me canned was that I
found out it was all true. What I wrote struck my editor as being a joke on him.
He did not think this was funny.
Like the whole community of journalists, he was convinced that the subject is nonsense.
I have met the man who did this to us. Insofar as it is about any one person, this book is about that man.
His name is Wilfred Stone and he lives here in Bethesda, along with a few thousand other Washington
retirees. For most of the past year he's been sitting in his backyard quietly dying of lung cancer. During the
last six months he and I have been collaborators. As much as I can stand to be his friend, I am that.