The Intruder

by Greg Krehbiel

  To Lenzke. Urgent. Net spies seen in central computer area. Recommend immediate evacuation.

  He made a quick visual sweep of the room as he sent the message, then systematically searched every square foot.

  "Everybody out," the supervisor called a moment later. "Move it. Move it," he yelled to his astonished staff.

  * * *

  After Jeremy was convinced the area was free of net spies he left the main computer room and reported to Lenzke. The formerly quiet and well-ordered halls were now abuzz with activity. Workers were tearing the place down, almost recklessly. In a matter of minutes it seemed that hundreds of technicians were packing up the electronic equipment. Movers were dismantling desks. Cleaners were vacuuming and picking up discarded paraphernalia. Men in white suits followed with sophisticated scanning equipment, ensuring that not the smallest particle was left behind. When Jeremy arrived at Lenzke's office, the two of them were standing alone in a bare room. Only the carpet was left.

  Lenzke questioned him carefully and at length about the event. Jeremy took offense at his brusque and somewhat prosecutorial manner, but when Lenzke was done with his questions he smiled and assured Jeremy that he had done the right thing.

  "The bad news is that this will set us back a couple days at the least," Lenzke said, "and we've got some important operations going on." Jeremy could hardly believe the time estimate. Could they really move an entire office in a couple days?

  "But the good news, for you at least, is that you're at liberty until further notice. There'll be no office for you to watch for a little while, so go have some fun." Lenzke smiled at him -- an odd smile, Jeremy thought. He was trying to be friendly, but the strain between them showed.

  Then the words sunk in. A couple days off? He hadn't expected that, but he shrugged his shoulders and headed for the door, beginning to like the idea that he could pick up and go anywhere he wanted without worrying about luggage, money or advance plans. And, despite his best efforts, he was almost beginning to like Lenzke.

  * * *

  It was about 6:00 when Jeremy arrived at the Capitol University campus. Hanna and MacKenzie liked to eat dinner together in the dorm cafeteria, and, although he wasn't thrilled at the prospect of dormitory food after the gourmet meals he'd eaten for the last week, he really wanted to see them.

  Getting into the cafeteria turned out to be easier than he thought. It was a woman's dorm, but the cafeteria was open to the public and there were quite a few men there. He didn't see Hanna or MacKenzie, but he needed to eat anyway. He ordered a plate of food, picked up a self-service cup of coffee, and took a seat.

  After a couple minutes -- far shorter time than he expected for a chicken pot pie -- he received the signal that his meal was done and he started toward the food dispensers. As he reached for his plate he felt someone brush against his shoulder, and then heard a sharp hiss. Before he had time to wonder about it, he began to feel dizzy. He turned to see what was going on and noticed a nurse beside him with a concerned expression. "Are you feeling okay, Mr. Mitchell," she said, and then he blacked out.

  * * *

  Jeremy awoke, and before he even opened his eyes he realized he had a splitting headache. He groaned as he sat up and looked around the room. He was in an office, sitting in a comfortable, padded chair, and Hanna and MacKenzie were sitting opposite him on the other side of a large desk. They were both wearing eye patches. And then he noticed that he was as well.

  "Hanna?" he said, and then grabbed his head and groaned again.

  "Drink this." She offered him a small cup of bluish liquid. "It'll help your head." He took it and swallowed it in one gulp. "I'm sorry they had to do this to you, but we had to be safe. Listen to me, Jeremy, and trust me, okay? Don't send any messages to anyone for a little while. Not until you've heard what we have to say. Promise?"

  Jeremy nodded and tried to sit up straight. Whatever she had just given him was sickeningly sweet and made him very thirsty. "Can I have some water?" he asked.

  MacKenzie poured him a glass from a pitcher that was behind her on an inexpensive lamp stand. Jeremy realized that the headache and the thirst were an aftereffect of whatever his kidnappers had used to knock him out in the cafeteria. What was harder to understand was how Hanna and MacKenzie were involved.

  "I'm really sorry, Jeremy," Hanna said again.

  "So what's the deal?" he asked, trying to reconcile himself to the fact that his life was going to be complicated from now on. And perhaps that was fitting, he thought -- that trouble should pursue a man fleeing from justice.

  Hanna shook her head. "It's a long story, but the bottom line is that you've fallen in with the bad guys."

  Hanna and MacKenzie took it in turns to explain the VR tanks, the suits, and their trip with Duncan to the agency office. They were convinced now that Duncan was telling the truth: the hole had never been safe. The government had been using it to keep an eye on everybody, sometimes using the information their intruders discovered to manipulate public opinion, sometimes for the crass political goals of those in power, but most of their effort was directed toward keeping an eye on anyone who might be on to them, or who might try to disrupt the political situation.

  Hanna told him about the incident in the control room, and she told him what she saw. One of the terminals was monitoring Daniel McMillan, a U.S. Congressman from the state of Illinois. He was the most likely man to run against the powerful senator from Illinois, Wanda Powell. Powell's ratings were dropping, but McMillan was a rising star. Powell was also the chairwoman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, and she was hawkish towards China.

  Jeremy vaguely recalled reading something about China. There had been growing tension with the United States, and many analysts believed that stability in the domestic political landscape was the best way to mollify the fears of some of the more radical Chinese factions. If Powell had her way, there would probably be a trade war with China, if not a shooting war, within months.

  "So what does this have to do with anything?" Jeremy asked, still a little disoriented from the drugs.

  "McMillan died of a stroke about an hour ago," she said.

  "And you think the ...," he was about to say "the agency," but he caught himself. "You think the people in that room had something to do with it?"

  "It would be a pretty fantastic coincidence otherwise, don't you think?" MacKenzie asked.

  Jeremy was beginning to doubt coincidences.

  Hanna explained that after they left the computer area, Duncan took them on a VR tour of some of his previous trips, which had been stored electronically to be used as evidence against the government.

  What they saw was horrifying. Nearly all of the 23 people murdered in the District of Columbia over the last two years had been under surveillance. Duncan suspected that some of them were members of other underground organizations like the Millerites. Scores of other people had met untimely deaths from sudden heart attacks or strokes.

  Jeremy hoped he would be offended at the suggestion, but he found such cold-blooded and ruthless tactics all too easy to believe, not only from his lessons at the agency, which spoke casually about neutralizing targets and eliminating security risks, but because it was what he had been raised to believe about Society anyway.

  "So why don't you just go public with all of this?" he asked. "Broadcast it on the hole."

  Hanna shook her head. "Duncan says that's the last resort. He's actually quite sensible about this thing. At first I thought he was a nut, but I'm growing to respect him a lot." Jeremy felt a flush of jealousy, but tried to suppress it.

  "He says most people are being left alone," Hanna continued. "It's not as if things are that bad. We don't want to start a riot or anything. It's just that the government has assumed the role of the invisible hand, manipulating things -- by coercion, murder, whatever it takes -- to keep order."

  "And now it seems that they're manipulating pretty serious stuff. If they want to keep Powell in power, that's not good news," Ma
cKenzie added. After a few rocky decades of experimentation in the early parts of the century, with radical growth followed by equally radical contraction and isolation, China had finally found its own path to prosperity and had begun to assert itself throughout the western Pacific Rim and eastern Europe. There was some fear that Australia might be in jeopardy, and India was showing signs of sympathy with China's goals. The United States wasn't directly threatened, but U.S. interests in central Europe, the Middle East and Northern Africa could be at stake.

  "If Duncan were to go public with what he knows," Hanna continued, "there would be Pandemonium. Duncan thinks that would be a greater evil, and he's not willing to do it. Not yet, at least."

  Jeremy brooded in silence. His headache made thinking painful, and he resented this guy Duncan's interference in Hanna's life. But he also had a keen sense of responsibility. He knew there were bigger issues involved. Like it or not, he was in the middle of it now, and he would have to do what was necessary.

  "I'm not completely convinced," he said at last. "I'm not saying I doubt you," he continued, looking up and giving them both a serious look, "but I can't jump to conclusions about this. I've been wrong too many times in the last few weeks to make any hasty conclusions. I'm willing to keep an eye on things," he continued, "and I might even let you know what I find out, but don't count on it."

  "That would be good," MacKenzie said. "Would it be too much to ask you to look the other way if you see us again?"

  Jeremy nodded. "Until I've got a better handle on things, yes, it would be too much to ask. But if I find anything, or make up my mind, how should I contact you? If the hole is compromised, it's likely they're watching me as well: if not out of suspicion, just as a general security procedure." In fact, he knew that they were, but he didn't feel the need to disclose that.

  "Write letters," Hanna said. "We still have a postal service, you know."

  "Just remember to keep your left eye closed when you write, or turn off your implant," MacKenzie added. "They can only monitor what somebody with an implant sees. Understand?"

  "Yeah, I think so," Jeremy said, and then noticed something else on Hanna's face. "Is there anything else I need to know."

  "Dr. Berry's involved with this somehow," she said. "Duncan's been keeping an eye on her. It seems incredible, after what she put you through, but he thinks she might be working for you -- I mean, for the group you're in."

  Jeremy tried not to show his reaction to that comment.

  "Yeah, we know," MacKenzie said. "You can't say anything. She's not directly involved with the intruders at all. Or that's the way it seems. Duncan does computer work for her, and he's been snooping through her files. He can't find anything to link her to the intruders. She's involved somehow, but he's not sure how. Keep an eye out for her."

  "I have a question," Jeremy said. "Why did Duncan want to kidnap me at the hospital?" he asked. "Was he trying to recruit me?"

  "It wasn't Duncan who did that," Hanna said quickly, and somewhat defensively. "But it was someone ... connected with him." She looked up apologetically. "I can't tell you everything."

  Jeremy studied her face in silence. "I've got to think about that some more," he said, "but right now I'm starving. You had your goons interrupt my dinner, you know." Hanna smiled.

  "Okay, let's eat. But don't forget this," MacKenzie said, holding out a small, metallic box.

  "What is it?" Jeremy asked.

  "This is a dark box. It blocks communications to the bug you were wearing when we caught you, which is inside."

  Jeremy didn't understand, but it was clear that Hanna and MacKenzie were watching his face carefully to see how he would react.

  "Oh, I see," he said after a minute. "You weren't sure if I knew I was wearing that thing?"

  "Did you?" Hanna asked.

  "No. Or, ... I suppose I should have guessed," he said. It was standard procedure for the agency to monitor its agents in the field. "Certainly you don't believe I came here to spy on you," he protested. "I was trying to meet you in the cafeteria."

  Hanna shook her head. "No, Jeremy, we don't. But you have to remember that you're on the other side now. We have to be cautious. And so do you."

  "Yeah," MacKenzie added. "They're sure to notice that your bug went black. You'd better have a good cover story for them."

  "Once you're out of here," Hanna added, "you'll need to put it back. We found it under your collar, right here." She indicated the spot on the back of his neck where the bug had been located, and Jeremy realized that Lenzke wasn't just giving him a fatherly pat when he let him go that afternoon.

  * * *

  "So did it work?" Duncan asked. "I took a big risk letting you girls try this." MacKenzie bristled slightly at being called a girl, but it was better than "lasses."

  "I think so," MacKenzie answered. "But relax, Duncan. We didn't tell him anything the agency doesn't know already. Even if he talks, we haven't lost anything."

  "Not true. If he talks, it's likely that I'll lose a promising young computer scientist." He smiled at MacKenzie, but she didn't like the idea of anybody owning her.

  As Duncan was speaking, his administrative assistant, Levi, came into the room and whispered something to him. Duncan's usually stern demeanor turned positively grave. He nodded to Levi, who immediately left the room. Duncan remained silent for a minute.

  "It seems my computer work for the doctor has been a little too comprehensive," he said, looking up. "We keep an eye on your friend Dr. Berry from time to time, to make sure our cover is safe," he explained. "She and her staff have been re-evaluating all the data on Jeremy ever since he disappeared. It looks as if she's beginning to suspect what's really going on." He shook his head. "She's not stupid, you know," he said with a wry grin. "In fact, she's a very good scientist. And her assistant, Dr. Jenkins -- he's even better. He's almost at your level, MacKenzie."

  Duncan shook his head again. "This really messes up my time-table."

  * * *

  Half way through dinner, Jeremy got a call from the agency and had to excuse himself. Hanna and MacKenzie ate in silence, then had a de-briefing session with Duncan. He expressed concern about Jeremy. Could they trust him to keep quiet? Did their security hold up, or might he have learned things they couldn't afford to let out?

  He seemed even more nervous when Hanna and MacKenzie said they had to go back to their dorm room and take care of odds and ends at the university.

  "Duncan, you're getting paranoid. We're not spies, but we do have clothes and things we need to get, and we have classes, and all that."

  He tried to smile, but the stress on his face turned it into a grin.

  "Of course. And I won't keep you here. You have to make up your own minds. Go ahead, and borrow one of my hovercars if you like."

  When they left, none of them were sure they'd see each other again.

  * * *

  Did they hide the thing to keep it from me, or so that I couldn't reveal where it was to anyone who captured me, Jeremy wondered as he took the pin-sized listening device from the "black box" and stuck it back in his collar. At the same time he realized that this kind of suspicion was a part of agency work. You never knew who to trust, or whether you were really serving the purpose you thought you were. Agents were cards in Peter's hand, and the cards didn't know what part they were playing.

  Jeremy checked the readout on the hovercar's status board. He would arrive at the address Lenzke had given him in ten minutes. He used that time to perfect his alibi for the last few hours. He also wondered if he wanted to tell Peter what Hanna and MacKenzie had told him. But that was a big decision. He had to think it through.

  The hovercar made its final approach to the pre-programmed coordinates as Jeremy did a few breathing exercises to relax. He was under orders to come with the windows darkened, so he had no idea what to expect when the doors opened. When they did, his initial reaction was confusion. He seemed to be in exactly the same reception area of the agency office that had
been torn down just several hours before. The same man in the same concierge-like uniform greeted him and asked if he needed anything, in almost the same voice.

  "Nothing, thanks," he said, just to be certain that something was different.

  "This way, sir," the man replied. Jeremy followed him out of the reception area and saw the first hints that this was actually a new location. Teams of workers scrambled down the unfinished hallways, pulling optical cable, touching up the paint or arranging the flowers on a walnut desk. Jeremy glanced through open doors on the right and left and saw workers spraying carpet on concrete slab floors. This office was being put together as quickly as the other had been taken apart.

  "This way, sir," his guide instructed him. They slipped behind a wall of plastic sheeting and the noise and dust of construction was gone. Everything was immaculate on this side of the barrier, but there was a faint hum. The ventilation system was running at full strength to get rid of the smell of paint, wood stain, carpet, and wall-paper glue.

  "Come in, Mr. Mitchell," Lenzke said as soon as they arrived at the door. The hallway, the door, and, Jeremy saw when he went inside, the office itself, were almost exactly the way they were in the other office.

  "It's SOP, Mr. Mitchell," Lenzke said. He saw that Jeremy was still looking around, comparing what he saw with how he remembered things. "We have regional offices all over the globe. It makes no sense to have to learn a new office layout each time you move, or each time we have to move an office. This way, every worker always knows where his office is and what it's going to look like."

  Jeremy nodded, and then noticed that there were two technicians in the room with Lenzke. Both of them had "sweepers," which is what the technicians called their all-purpose scanning devices. A sweeper consisted of a series of broad-range, powerful transceivers that could detect and locate any communications device.

  The technicians scanned Jeremy, quickly discovered the bug, removed it and placed it in a small, silver box, similar to the "dark box" MacKenzie had used.