Fatal Error rj-13

by F. Paul Wilson

  Veilleur's eyebrows lifted. "You think it might be this weekend?"

  "If you were the One, would you want to wait any longer than you had to?"

  "Knowing that I would most likely get only one shot at this, I would want to maximize my chances of success. I would want to wait until the virus has spread as far as it can, until this botnet you speak of has reached maximum penetration."

  That made sense, but…

  "Doesn't this go against what you said about his impatience?"

  Veilleur rubbed his beard. "It does, doesn't it. But there might be another reason he'll give it a little more time."

  "Such as?"

  "Remember how I told you that he never forgets a slight, never lets go of a grudge? Well, that's what 'Mister Osala' has been up to during his trips to the South: petty revenge."

  "For what?"

  He waved a hand. "Much too complicated to go into. But that long-haired man upstairs is involved. I've decided to head back to North Carolina with him to see if I can help him stymie the One."

  Something about that sounded a warning note.

  "You think that's wise? What if he sees you?"

  "I'll stay well out of sight."

  Jack shook his head. "I don't like it."

  Veilleur stepped closer and put a big hand on Jack's shoulder.

  "How frustrated are you that you can't strike back at the One?"

  "You know all about that."

  "Exactly. Imagine how I feel. I battled him for millennia. I frustrated his every move and finally trapped him and locked him away for what should have been forever." His eyes flashed. "Damn Nazis." He shook his head. "But now I'm enfeebled and mortal and I keep telling myself I'm out of the fight, that it's somebody else's worry."

  Jack nodded. "So you've said. Most recently on the way to Saint Ann's. You've been pretty convincing."

  "Well, I mean it when I say it, but inaction grinds at me." He balled his other hand into a meaty fist as his lips retreated into a snarl. "I long to lash out at him, crush him, strip his hide, grind his bones to dust."

  Jack watched and listened, amazed. Here was a side of Veilleur he'd never seen. Here was the hidden warrior… Glaeken.

  And just as quickly it faded.

  "Alas, I cannot. So I must take my little victories wherever I can find them. And I believe just such an opportunity has presented itself. It's not pure ego. It has a practical purpose. If he can be frustrated and delayed in his revenge plot, perhaps that will give the computer specialists enough time to come up with a cure for this Jihad virus. And then a small victory will become a major victory, and we'll have bought more time."

  More time for what? Jack thought. More sitting around and waiting for Rasalom's next move?

  But he didn't voice it. They'd been over this ground before.

  "Think it's worth the risk?"

  Veilleur nodded. "I do. I'm going to arrange for round-the-clock nursing for Magda, but would you mind checking in once in a while?"

  "Not at all."

  "Good. The four of us will travel separately-the two men together, and Mrs. Treece with me."

  Jack had a sudden inkling…

  "This Mrs. Treece wouldn't happen to be the One's mother?"

  He smiled. "Very good. Yes, she wants to come along and…" He shrugged. "She might prove useful. We're scheduling flights now. Leaving as soon as possible."

  Didn't seem like he had a chance of changing Veilleur's mind, so…

  "Need a ride to the airport?"

  "Thanks, no. The men have a car."

  "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

  "The longer, the better, wouldn't you say?" He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "I'm really looking forward to this."

  After he left, Jack turned to the Lady.

  "He seems pretty energized. I guess that's good. What do you think? Any gathering possibilities and probabilities about this trip of his?"

  She shrugged. "I wish I could say. As I've told you, there are times I can sense what the One is doing-because he is human-and others when I cannot-because he is something other than human as well. As a result, the possibilities and probabilities do not gather about him as with others."

  "So you think this trip is okay?"

  Her expression and voice remained flat. "No, I do not."

  "Neither do I, damn it. Think we can talk him out of it?"

  She shook her head. "Remember what he told you yesterday about the One?"

  "You mean about how he's still human?"

  "Yes. With all the foibles of a human, driven to certain actions by that human nature."

  "Yeah. So?"

  "He may not have realized it at the time, but he was talking about himself as well."

  6

  Eddie said, "Well, anything's better than that garage, I guess."

  Jack joined him at the window in the rear of the apartment that revealed other windows looking out onto a brick-walled air shaft.

  "Nice view."

  "Hey," Weezy said from behind them. "It's the best I could do on such short notice. Craigslist wasn't exactly crammed with furnished, immediate-occupancy sublets. And I think it's not bad."

  Jack agreed. Not bad at all. A third-floor walk-up in the West Village. Small, yes, but comfortable looking. The owner was connected to NYU in some way and off to Europe for a year.

  "No one's complaining," Eddie said, turning to face her. "It's just…"

  He looked worn and haggard. Well, who wouldn't after spending two days living in a van parked in a drafty garage? But it went deeper than that. He looked lost.

  Jack said, "You miss your stuff."

  He nodded, swallowing hard. "I miss my life." He looked at Jack. "Think I'll ever get it back?"

  As far as Jack could see, the odds were stacked high against that.

  Maybe if Veilleur delayed Rasalom long enough for an anti-Jihad program to be developed and released, Drexler would be demoted or sacked or might even be eliminated-Valez was proof that the Order wasn't shy about deep-sixing members who didn't live up to expectations. If that happened, the pressure on Eddie would lessen.

  If, on the other hand, Veilleur failed and the Lady vanished, well, his old life would be the least of Eddie's worries.

  But Jack looked around and understood how he felt. He couldn't rob him of all hope.

  "Yeah, it's possible. But until it is, you've got to stay away from there. Count on them watching the place twenty-four/seven."

  "Yes, Eddie," Weezy said, stepping closer to him. "If-"

  He leaned back. "Don't get too close. I need a shower something awful."

  "You've got a stall shower here and I bought you a change of clothes."

  Jack said, "Listen, Eddie. If the virus works, or even only partially works, there's going to be one pissed-off world out there, and the Order doesn't want anyone-especially one of its own members-pointing a finger at it. They'll do anything to silence you."

  Eddie nodded. "Okay, okay. I'm not stupid." Then he raised his hands. "All right, maybe I am for mentioning the virus to the wrong person. But I've learned my lesson about underestimating the Order."

  "You've got to put distance between you and your money too," Weezy added.

  "But the rent-"

  "I've got that covered."

  "I've got cash-"

  "Which will set off all sorts of alarms if you try to use it to pay rent. We can straighten all that out later. Meanwhile I'll show you how to use ATMs without being tracked."

  "Where'd you learn that?" He raised a hand as he glanced at Jack. "Never mind."

  Jack's phone rang then. He checked the ID in the window.

  "Hey, Gia. How'd you do?"

  "I got us on the 3:45 out of Des Moines."

  "Great."

  At least he hoped it was great. And hoped Veilleur was right about Rasalom waiting until the botnet was maxed.

  "That's the good news."

  "Uh-oh. What's the bad?"

  "A long layover in Chic
ago. We won't get in till eleven."

  Jack did the math: Subtracting an hour for the time-zone change, that meant more than six hours in transit. Lots of time for things to go wrong.

  "Not sure I like that. Nothing earlier?"

  "Not a thing. Believe me, I tried. Something wrong?"

  "Maybe you should stay."

  "No, Jack. I already switched the flights and we're coming back. It's in my head now-both of our heads: We want to be home."

  "And I want you home, but-"

  "We're coming. Flight three-forty-six, American. You'll pick us up?"

  He could see he wasn't going to talk her out of it. "Of course."

  They chatted a bit longer, then ended the call. He snapped the phone closed with a gnawing foreboding.

  Veilleur, he thought, you'd damn well better delay that virus. At least until tomorrow.

  After that, his ladies would be home where he could watch over them.

  7

  "Looks like they might pull it off," Jack said.

  Abe swallowed a bite of the hot pastrami on rye Jack had brought him. Jack wasn't eating. Not hungry.

  "Pull? Who? What?"

  "The Order. Looks like they may be bringing down the Net. Munir thinks they can do it."

  "When?"

  "Maybe this weekend."

  "Oy. So soon? What can I expect?"

  "According to Munir, a real mess. Business-"

  "Business, schmizzness. What about social order and such?"

  Jack and he had had long discussions about civilization. Abe thought it was a veneer, easily stripped away. Jack disagreed, believing there were lots of civilized people about. Trouble was, those folks had no clue how to handle the wolves among them.

  "Depends on how badly communications are hit, I suppose. I think things will hold together."

  "But not your friend, the Lady."

  Jack felt a wave of sadness. "No, I'm afraid not. She'll be dead."

  "Well, she's not really alive, is she?"

  True, but…

  "She is to me. I first knew her as Mrs. Clevenger, and Mrs. Clevenger was a real person as far as I was concerned. And now that she's been stuck in this grandmotherly mode instead of switching her looks, she's more of a person than ever."

  "I'm sorry for your coming loss."

  Silence settled between them. Finally Abe broke it.

  "So… we should maybe head for the hills?"

  "We? I've got Gia and Vicky coming back from the middle of nowhere tonight."

  "After you gather them to your bosom, then-the hills?"

  The hills… Abe's code name for his hideaway in the wilds of Pennsylvania. He'd been predicting an economic holocaust and subsequent social and civic meltdown for as long as Jack had known him. The economy had crashed, though inflation hadn't achieved the Weimar levels Abe had envisioned. Civilization, such as it was, had managed to remain intact.

  "I don't think that will be necessary… yet."

  " 'Yet'? What's this 'yet' already?"

  "Well, there's the Change."

  "Ah… the Change. This is where you lose me. This is where you start to sound a little farblondjet in the head."

  "You accept the Lady but not the rest?"

  "The Lady, well, I can buy the noosphere-that's rational and makes a certain amount of sense-but this Otherness-Ally business… maybe you're buying into some narishkeit."

  Jack frowned. He'd listened to Abe talk for so many years that he understood most of his expressions. This was a new one.

  "You got me on that one."

  "It means nonsense, foolishness."

  "Yeah, well, a couple of years ago, I'd have said the same. But I've seen too much. I mean even the rakoshi could have a rational explanation-like mutants, or something. But even if I'd had any doubts left, the Fhinntmanchca blew them away."

  "Let me keep my doubts, already. I'll sleep better." He looked around. "Speaking of sleeping, maybe I'll sleep here tonight."

  "Downstairs?"

  "Where else?"

  Jack had seen the bunk Abe kept in the armory downstairs. It looked a little small for him, but he didn't mention that.

  "Yeah, well, short of a fire, I guess you'll be safe down there."

  "Even with a fire, I'll be safe. You want some ammo while you're here? You may need it if things fall apart for a while."

  Jack hesitated, then, "What the hell. Might as well stock up."

  "They say you can have too much of a good thing. They're wrong. Ammo is a good thing and there's no such thing as too much ammo."

  Jack couldn't argue with that.

  8

  Ernst Drexler's caller ID showed nothing but he took the call anyway. You never knew…

  "Hello?"

  "She's dead."

  No greeting was necessary. He recognized the One's voice, and he sounded… happy.

  "Who, sir? The Lady?"

  "If only that were so. No, no one you know. She was what one might call an innocent victim. But those are the best kind, are they not? And after all, no one is really innocent."

  "I don't understand."

  "Of course you don't. No need for you to understand any of this. She died just a little while ago, and it was tasty."

  "Tasty…"

  "But she was merely an aperitif. The main course comes from the effect of her death on those closest to her… especially a certain someone. It will send him spinning out of control again, and just when he thinks life can do no worse to him, the Change will be upon us." The One paused-savoring his anticipation? "This will be wholly delicious."

  "Yes, sir."

  Ernst had no idea what he was talking about.

  "When exactly is it due to begin this evening?"

  He could mean only one thing: the virus.

  "Eight o'clock Eastern Time."

  "Perfect."

  The One broke the connection without another word.

  Ernst noticed that his hand was shaking as he laid his phone on the table.

  Eight o'clock…

  Six hours away… after all this time, all this preparation, the plan-his plan-was about to come to fruition.

  And he was terrified.

  Terrified it would fail.

  Terrified it would work.

  If it failed, the One would be furious. He might vent his murderous rage on Ernst, and he would never see the Change.

  But did he want to see the Change?

  The possibility of success terrified as well.

  If bringing down the Internet diminished the already damaged noosphere to the point where it could no longer support the Lady, she would vanish, and with her, the last obstacle to the Change would be removed.

  The Change… it fascinated and frightened him.

  The end of the world as we know it.

  An old and overused expression, and even the title of a once-popular song. But that was what the Change would mean. And he, among all of humanity, would be most responsible for making it possible. For which he would be rewarded.

  Humanity consisted of the Moved and the Movers. He would ascend to Mover status-Master status.

  But master of what?

  What would the world be like after the Change? A different place, to be sure. But in what way? The Order's lore was vague about that. It did say that those who served the One before the change would become his overseers in the aftermath.

  Overseeing what?

  Those who fought the Otherness swore it would be a place of horror, but who could believe them? They were simply trying to frighten their followers into compliance, just as Christians tried to keep their faithful in line with tales of hell and damnation if they strayed from Church doctrine.

  But could they be right?

  Ernst had never had the nerve to ask the One what he could expect. Could the Otherness be as inimical to humanity as the enemies said? That didn't seem likely. Else why would the One have spent millennia working to usher it in? Some of the Order's lore spoke of the One transforming with
the Change, and his chosen transforming as well so that they could thrive in the new, Otherness-ruled world.

  Ernst wasn't so sure now that he wanted the world or himself changed.

  All fine and good when it was simply lore, something to expect in a nebulous future. But it was nebulous no more. He stood before the door to that future, waiting for it to swing open…

  … terrified of what might step through.

  9

  After settling Eddie in his new digs-which didn't take much since he had little more than the clothes on his back-and letting him shower and change into the sweatshirt and jeans Weezy had bought him this morning, they hit the streets.

  He hadn't been able to empty his bank accounts entirely, but he'd walked away with a load of cash. Jack wanted him to use his remaining credit to confuse anyone who might be tracking him.

  So they all hopped the A train at West 4th and took it to 207th Street in the Bronx-the end of the line. There Eddie used an ATM to withdraw some of the cash he'd left in the account. He did some quick shopping and charged some essential clothing, then trained back to the Village.

  "I get it," Eddie said as they dropped off his purchases. "Next time I train to Brooklyn and buy stuff. And maybe Staten Island after that. Drive them crazy if they're tracking me."

  Jack shook his head. "Maybe so, but they'll know you're somewhere in the five boroughs. You've only got a few hundred left in the accounts, and we can put that to better use."

  "How?"

  "Grab some of your cash and I'll show you."

  They hopped a cab uptown to Ernie's place. The folding sign set on the sidewalk before his narrow storefront said it all. Ernie's I-D All Kinds Passport Taxi Drivers License

  Cheap metal and pewter castings of the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty shared the front window display with snow globes of the Manhattan skyline and other souvenirs. A buzzer sounded as they opened the front door. Jack led the way toward the rear of the tiny store, passing a display of DVDs. Eddie stopped, pointing to one of the titles.

  "Didn't that just open yesterday?"

  Jack didn't bother looking. A Pakistani bootlegger down on 32nd Street kept Ernie supplied with the latest titles.