THE FOREVER GENE (THE SCIONS OF EARTH Book 1) by Warren Dean

squadrons of Chinese and Russian hover-copters have entered Mongolian airspace.  I must leave for the city at once.  I have already made some preparations in anticipation of such an eventuality and I shall do everything in my power to safeguard you and your people.  Once the crisis has been dealt with I shall return and look forward to completing the tour of your facility."
    "Do not worry about us, Mr President," responded the ambassador.  "No-one will be able to discover our facility while it is cloaked."
    The president and his companions hurried out of the facility and raced through the trees.  They boarded the waiting 'copters, which rose into the clear blue sky.  After a few moments the ancient forests of Tsetseegun Uul were silent and empty once more.

 
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
     
    David crossed Tremont Street and strolled across Boston Common towards the Frog Pond Cafe. His next patient interview was not until one o'clock and he could afford to spend an hour relaxing with a coffee in the warm autumn sun.  He crossed the crowded common, picking his way between the mid-morning picnickers and idle MIT students competing for space on the neatly cut lawns.  To the right, along the tree-lined Freedom Trail, a group of grubby looking individuals was conducting a peaceful, if noisy, protest.  He watched as they pressed colourful leaflets into the hands of reluctant pedestrians hurrying or strolling along the walkway.
    Ignoring the commotion, he activated his 'link and checked that his pulp-download of the Boston Morning Tribune had arrived.  Most people were content to watch the news on their screens or 'specs, but he preferred reading it himself rather than having it hurled at him in the sensational tones affected by Personet news anchors.  At the cafe he found a recently vacated table and selected his order from its touchscreen interface.  He projected a holographic screen from his 'link, positioned the projection at a comfortable height above the table, and called up the front page of the Tribune.
    As usual, the main headline featured the Faerie Folk.  In the six weeks since their emergence from the steppes of Mongolia they had dominated the media.  The latest news was that their pilot building programme, near Bangkok in Thailand, was nearing completion.  It was the culmination of a fascinating series of events, which began with ominous reports of Chinese and Russian hover-copter gunships criss-crossing Mongolia, searching for the Faerie Folk's facility. Both powers announced that they merely wanted to satisfy themselves that it contained no threats to world security.
    No-one believed this, of course, and it was obvious that each wanted the Faerie Folk's technology for itself.  It seemed inevitable that there would be conflict, either between Mongolia and the intruding powers, or between the intruders themselves.  Sensibly, Mongolia did not launch a military response, although its government protested strongly at the presence of foreign forces within its borders.
    Initially the rival 'copter squadrons searched the Bogdkhan National Park, occasionally putting troops on the ground to comb dense areas of forest, but they found nothing.  Then, suspecting that the Mongolians had somehow misdirected them as to the location of their target, they extended their search over a much larger area.
    For ten days the tension simmered and the world held its breath as it waited to see who would find the facility first, and what the response of the other would be. Nothing happened, however, because they were simply unable to find anything.  The facility seemed to have vanished from the face of the Earth.
    While the search was taking place, the intruding powers were deftly outmanoeuvred by the quick-witted young president of Mongolia.  Before embarking on his initial visit to the facility, he had ordered his parliament to prepare a proclamation declaring it a foreign embassy.  Upon his return, he ratified the proclamation