Extinction

by Mark Alpert

  She pointed a finger at him. “And how many Afghans have you incapacitated so far? Maybe that’s why the locals were giving us the evil eye when we were on the road. I’m sure they’ve noticed the clouds of flies coming out of this place.”

  “Look, I’m getting a little sick of your tone. My job is to nail these terrorists, and this is the system that’s gonna get it done.”

  “We’ll see about that. All of this is going into my report.” Kirsten tapped her eyeglasses, which were recording everything she saw.

  Hammer frowned. “And you know what’s going to happen when the NSA director reads your report? He’s going to say, holy shit, get Hammer into my office. I want to talk to him about getting a few thousand of those drones for myself.”

  “He’ll want to talk to you, all right, but not about the drones. He’ll be more concerned about the technology you handed over to China.”

  “I got approval from Langley for the exchange. And we took steps to make sure we don’t get bit in the ass.”

  “Like what? What’s to stop the People’s Republic from using Conway’s implants against Americans? The next time the Guoanbu arrests one of your agents in China, they might decide to put that Dream-catcher into his head before they interrogate him.”

  “We can stop them from doing that. The safeguards are built into the system. If they ever—”

  A tremendous thud suddenly shook the bunker. The CIA analysts turned away from their monitors and gazed uncertainly at one another. Then another thud reverberated through the room, and several video monitors fell from the wall. One of Hammer’s paramilitary bodyguards rushed into the bunker. “Sir, we’ve got incoming mortar rounds!”

  “What?”

  “At least ten trucks full of Afghans are coming from Golbahar. It looks like they’re retaliating for the drone test. They’re carrying AKs and RPGs and—”

  Then a third blast, the strongest by far, rocked the bunker, and all the lights went out.

  EIGHTEEN

  The bullet tore through Angelique’s skull and she fell face-down in the Zodiac. Layla looked at her just long enough to confirm she was dead. Then the Guoanbu sniper fired again and another bullet streaked overhead. The speedboat was closing in fast. Running on instinct, Layla grabbed the tiller of the Zodiac’s outboard and gunned the engine.

  She saw no sign of the Athena, which had already sunk below the lake’s surface, but in the moonlight she spied at least two dozen ships to her left. Each was waiting for its turn to enter the Gatun Locks and descend to the Caribbean Sea. Together they formed a crowded flotilla. Layla steered the Zodiac sharply to the left, aiming for the Caribbean-bound ships.

  The sniper took another shot, and the bullet plunged into the water a few feet behind the Zodiac. Then another Guoanbu agent in the speedboat opened up with an assault rifle, but at that moment Layla reached the flotilla and zoomed behind a cruise ship. The bullets slammed into the ship’s hull, scattering the tourists on the promenade deck. Once she passed the ship, she steered around an oil tanker, and then around a racing yacht. Slaloming between the hulls, she maneuvered through the flotilla as if it was an obstacle course.

  But she couldn’t shake the speedboat. It gradually closed the distance as she zigzagged toward the locks. She was a hundred feet from the Caribbean-bound lock when the Guoanbu bullets finally punctured the Zodiac. The rubber gunwales crumpled and Layla lost control. She dived off the boat just before it flipped over.

  She couldn’t see a thing as she glided underwater, but she could hear the whine of the speedboat’s propellers. The sniper and rifleman were probably scanning the lake, searching for her, so she stayed under until her lungs were bursting. When she finally surfaced, she was in front of the closed gate of the Caribbean-bound lock. As she gasped for breath, she saw a container ship entering Gatun Lake from the parallel lock, the one for boats going in the opposite direction. She dove again and swam furiously toward the open gate.

  By the time she reached it, the massive steel doors were closing. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the edge of the right-hand door as it swung past. Then a bullet banged against the steel. The Guoanbu agents had spotted her hanging from the door. With a yelp, she clambered around the edge to the other side. She got inside the lock just as the gate clanged shut.

  More bullets banged against the gate, but Layla was safe now. The Guoanbu agents couldn’t follow her into the lock until they found a landing point on the lakeshore. She treaded water in the concrete bathtub, looking for a ladder. Fortunately, the lock was brightly lit at all hours, and after a few seconds she spotted a vertical notch in one of the bathtub’s walls. It was located about halfway down the length of the lock, a few hundred feet away, and inside the notch was a ladder. She felt a surge of relief. That was the way out.

  As she swam toward the ladder, though, she noticed that the water level was dropping. Thousands of gallons streamed down the valves at the bottom of the bathtub, pulled by gravity to the Caribbean Sea. Then she saw movement at the gate on the other end of the lock. The steel doors opened, and a Panamax freighter cruised into the bathtub.

  She swam faster. The “mule” locomotives on either side of the lock were towing the freighter into position. The ship was very nearly as wide as the bathtub, and as it came closer it looked like a moving wall. Layla swam faster still. If she didn’t make it to the notch, she’d be crushed by the hull. The ship’s prow pushed the water ahead of it, forcing Layla to fight the current. She stroked as hard as she could, but she barely moved forward. Someone on the freighter saw her in the water and shouted a warning, but no one could stop the ship in time. It was so close, Layla could see the barnacles on its hull.

  At the last moment, a lucky countercurrent swept her toward the notch. She grabbed one of the ladder’s rungs just as the freighter went past. Flattening her body, she squeezed into the notch. The rusty hull slid by, just inches from her nose.

  She clung to the ladder, cold and exhausted. She had barely enough strength left in her arms to hang on. The freighter finally stopped moving, and Layla looked up. The top of the ladder was about fifty feet above her. Her muscles were cramping, but if she moved slowly and carefully, she believed she could make it. And then she heard a rushing, frothy noise coming from the valves at the bottom of the bathtub. They were filling the lock with water now, raising the freighter to the level of Gatun Lake. In seconds the water rose to Layla’s neck. She grabbed a higher rung on the ladder and pulled herself up, but the water surged over her head.

  NINETEEN

  Jim and Kirsten raced out of the bunker and saw that all hell had broken loose at Camp Whiplash. Afghan insurgents had surrounded the CIA base and were showering it with mortars and rocket-propelled grenades. One of the mortars blew a hole in the compound’s mud wall, and at least fifty Afghans rushed toward the breach, each brandishing an AK-47. The incident in Golbahar had enraged the local jihadis, who were clearly more organized than Hammer had suspected. The twelve Rangers from the 75th Regiment crouched behind the wall with their carbines and attempted to return fire. Meanwhile, Hammer and Dusty bent over a field radio in the courtyard, trying to call in an air strike.

  “Damn it!” Hammer shouted into the headset. “We can’t wait thirty minutes! In thirty minutes these ragheads are gonna chop us into dog meat! We need those birds now!”

  Jim assessed the situation. He thought of the firefights he’d seen when he was in the 75th, after the Third Battalion sent him to Somalia. He and his men in Bravo Company had fought the Somali clans on the streets of Mogadishu, fending off hundreds of militiamen who took shots at them from every rooftop and alley. During the last and biggest battle he’d crouched behind a wrecked helicopter for twelve fucking hours while one of his corporals slowly bled to death. And halfway through that awful night Jim had made himself a promise: If he survived until morning, he’d make sure he’d never be so helpless again.

  Now he reached into the heavy duffle bag he’d brought with him to Afghanistan. He removed an
assault rifle and tossed it to Kirsten. “Remember how to use this?” he asked.

  She nodded. “What about you? You got a gun for yourself?”

  “Yeah, I got something.”

  He detached his prosthetic arm from the neural control unit on his shoulder. Then he stowed it in the duffle and pulled out the model he’d designed for combat. He’d hoped he’d never have to use it. He’d killed enough men during his years in the army and didn’t want to add to his total now. But the people in this compound were Americans. Some of them were arrogant shits, but they were his countrymen.

  Jim clamped the combat prosthesis to the neural control unit. This mechanical arm was heavier than his normal one because it contained a machine gun and a hundred bullets. The gun’s targeting system was linked to the microprocessors implanted in his shoulder, which relayed the commands from his brain. He’d designed the prosthesis so that it could aim and fire as soon as he identified a target. The signals went directly to the arm’s motors, making the reaction time almost instantaneous.

  While Kirsten ducked behind an armored vehicle, Jim ran toward the breach in the mud wall. The insurgents poured through the gap, but he picked them off as they rushed into the courtyard. The prosthesis worked exactly as designed. Jim looked at the targets and they died. By the time he reached the wall, half a dozen bodies sprawled inside the breach. Then Jim started firing through the gap. His eyes panned across the startled faces of the Afghans, who staggered backward as the bullets ripped into them. The deadliest feature of the prosthesis was the intimidation factor. It was scary as hell to face a guy with a machine-gun arm. He mowed down all the insurgents within twenty feet of the wall. The rest turned around and ran back to their trucks.

  Jim lowered his arm and disengaged the targeting system. He looked with revulsion at the prosthesis, which gave off waves of heat. Of all his inventions, he liked this one the least.

  Turning around, he saw Hammer come toward him. The bastard had a big smile on his face. But before Hammer could say anything, Jim heard a ululating scream from above. A lone Afghan fighter, left behind by his comrades, jumped down from the top of the wall and knocked Hammer to the ground. Kneeling on the agent’s chest, the Afghan pulled a knife from his belt and raised it high. But before the jihadi could slit Hammer’s throat, Jim whacked him in the head with the heavy prosthesis, knocking him out.

  Hammer seemed shaken. Eyes wide, he jumped to his feet and backed away from the unconscious Afghan. After a few seconds, though, he regained his composure. He turned back to Jim and pointed at his prosthesis. “That’s a nice piece of equipment.”

  Jim knew this was as close as the agent would ever get to saying thank-you. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

  Hammer stood there awkwardly for a moment. Then he brushed the dirt off his pants. “You know, as defense contractors go, you’re not so bad. Ever consider doing some work for our Science and Technology division? The pay’s decent.”

  Jim frowned. “No thanks. I talked to Arvin Conway, remember? So I know how your agency treats its contractors.”

  “What are you talking about? Arvin’s happy as a pig in shit. We gave him the export exemption he wanted. Now he can make billions off the Chinese.”

  “He didn’t want to do the deal. You forced him into it.”

  “Is that what the geezer told you?”

  “He said you threatened to shut down his company if he didn’t go along.”

  The CIA agent chuckled. “He was blowing smoke. The technology swap was Arvin’s idea from the beginning.”

  Kirsten came toward them, grinning with relief, but Jim focused on Hammer. “It was Arvin’s idea?”

  “He told us the Chinese had developed the cyborg insects, and we could get our hands on the surveillance system if we agreed to allow the export of his retinal and pulvinar implants.”

  Jim was confused. He looked carefully at Hammer, trying to figure out if the agent was telling the truth. “I don’t believe you.”

  “If you want, I’ll show you the paperwork. Arvin’s lawyers drew up the contract a year ago and we just renewed it. That’s why I had to go to California this week. I had to sit in Arvin’s big, empty lab for three hours while he gave me a fucking lecture on artificial intelligence.”

  That sounded like Arvin. The old man loved the sound of his own voice. “Arvin told me that you never came to his lab. That you always met elsewhere.”

  “You want me to describe his desk? It’s got a piece of paper with lots of zeroes and ones on it. That’s what I stared at the whole time while he lectured me.”

  Jim frowned. He didn’t understand it. “Why would Arvin lie to me?”

  “Beats me.” Hammer shrugged. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  Yes, Jim thought. That’s exactly what I’ll do.

  TWENTY

  Layla was drowning. The surface of the water was three feet over her head and rising faster than she could climb the ladder. Frantic, she let go of the rungs and swept her hands downward, trying to propel herself to the surface. She caromed painfully against the hull of the freighter and then against the concrete wall of the lock. Her vision started to darken. She felt an overwhelming urge to open her mouth and let the water rush in

  But then a pair of strong hands grabbed her by the armpits and pulled her up. Her head popped above the surface and she took an excruciating breath. The man with the strong hands lifted her as if she were a rag doll and passed her to another man standing at the lip of the concrete bathtub. She collapsed beside him, gasping and heaving. It took her a few seconds to realize that the men standing around her were Asian. And they were carrying assault rifles.

  “Jesus,” she gasped. Her bewilderment was so complete, she felt like laughing. “I thought… you wanted to kill me.”

  “We did,” one of the men replied. “But we just got new orders.”

  Then the man hit her in the head with the butt of his rifle, and Layla blacked out.

  TWENTY-ONE

  From the courtyard of Camp Whiplash, Jim used his satellite phone to make a call to Pasadena. It was 8:00 P.M. in California, but he managed to speak to a receptionist working late at Singularity, Inc. She said Arvin Conway was traveling and couldn’t be reached.

  Jim felt a knot of suspicion in his gut. He remembered how uneasy Arvin had been during their conversation in his laboratory, especially when they were examining the visual memories picked up by his pulvinar implant. When Jim had told him to concentrate on thinking about the CIA agent, Arvin’s mind had wandered all over the map, almost as if he was trying to thwart the search by thinking of anything but the agent’s face. Arvin hadn’t wanted Jim to find Hammer. And now Jim wanted to know why.

  Meanwhile, Kirsten used her own satellite phone to call Fort Meade. She ordered the NSA analysts on her staff to track down Conway. In less than five minutes, they had some information for her.

  “Arvin left the country,” Kirsten told Jim. “He also wire-transferred a hundred million dollars from the corporate account of Singularity, Inc., to his private bank account in Switzerland. Basically, he drained the company dry. He took every cent that Singularity got from its investment bankers.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “China. His Learjet arrived in Beijing four hours ago.”

  PART 2

  PROLIFERATION

  TWENTY-TWO

  Supreme Harmony observed a conference room inside the Guoanbu’s headquarters in Beijing. General Tian had traveled here to give an update on the surveillance project to the top officials in the Ministry of State Security. He’d brought along Modules 16 and 18 to provide concrete evidence of the project’s success.

  During the journey from the Yunnan Operations Center to Beijing, Modules 16 and 18 had to be disconnected from the twenty-eight other Modules in the network. Without the radio link, the two Modules went into a paralyzed, comalike state, unable to send or receive data, so Tian had to put them on stretchers for the three-hour flight to the capital. The loss of t
heir input was disconcerting to Supreme Harmony. The sensation was similar to what a human being felt when his arm or leg went numb. But after arriving at the ministry headquarters Tian restored the radio link, connecting the two Modules to a wireless router that transmitted their signals to the rest of the network. Now the ocular cameras implanted in the Modules’ eyes were relaying images of the ministry’s main conference room, where General Tian was delivering his report to six Guoanbu officials.

  The bureaucrats sat in wingback chairs arranged in a semicircle, and General Tian sat in a seventh chair facing them. Modules 16 and 18 stood on either side of the general’s chair and trained their cameras on the officials, whom Supreme Harmony recognized from photographs stored on the government’s servers. The highest-ranking one was Deng Guoming, the minister of State Security, who sat with his hands clasped over his stomach and his head cocked to the right. The network carefully observed his posture and facial expressions. To protect itself from the threat of a shutdown, Supreme Harmony would have to take control of the Chinese government, so it was keenly interested in learning more about the behavior of its leaders.

  The network also received the auditory feed picked up by the ears of Modules 16 and 18, but this was less interesting than the video. General Tian was reading from his progress report, and Supreme Harmony was already familiar with this document. It contained statistics on the surveillance swarms operating in the restive provinces of western China.

  “In Tibet we deployed the drone swarms on twenty-one occasions,” Tian read. “During each deployment the drones collected approximately two thousand hours of surveillance video. The video feeds were analyzed in real time by the network of Modules, who’d been selected for the project because of their firsthand knowledge of the subversive organizations in the province. In total, the Modules detected four hundred and sixty-seven instances of suspicious activity. Follow-up investigations by local security forces resulted in two hundred and forty-five arrests.”