I'm a linguist at one of the top universities in the country.

That means I study languages.

My specific field of expertise is a translation of ancient and dead languages, Greek, Latin,

Cuneiform, that kind of thing.

I will not double specifics, such as my name or the school where I do my research, but

it should suffice to say I hold a place of prestige in my field.

This week I received a call from my old college classmate.

He had gone into aeronautics while I pursued my studies, and he eventually ended up at NASA.

We had been friends in our school days, but after college we had only kept a loose sort

of contact.

But that week he called me with an almost fearful edge in his voice.

Listen, I wouldn't be calling you about this if I thought anyone else could handle it.

But you are one of the top men in your field, so we feel your skills are suited to

the unique situation we face.

When I pressed in for details, he had remained tight-lipped.

He told me that if I accepted the job, then there would be a plane waiting for me at the

nearest airport within six hours.

I admit that accepting this job was out of character for me, but my professional curiosity

had been peaked.

If this was something that demanded my skills, then I'd almost an obligation to investigate.

I had noticed the use of the word we, though.

When I arrived at the airport and saw that I was flying in a private plane with men in

...