Midnight Zone: a Cade Rearden Thriller

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Midnight Zone: a Cade Rearden Thriller Page 11

by JK Franks


  Margaret nodded. “How does that help us?”

  Jimmy continued, “That level of confidence in a currency system that is totally digital is remarkable. Luckily, Bitcoin, the credit card companies, and PayPal made virtual money an easy thing to accept. It was painless, and so the step to an even tighter, encrypted form was a no-brainer.” The display now showed a familiar object, one of many the quantum servers used at The Cove. “What has changed is these.”

  He smiled. “What may have seemed impossible to crack yesterday, today…not so much. With the right quantum computer, which can process information at speeds exponentially faster than today’s best binary computers, suddenly, what might seem uncrackable becomes mere child’s play. Crypto blockchain encryption can now be broken in under ten minutes with a quantum system. Ten minutes is, coincidentally, the same amount of time most transactions take to complete.”

  “So, they can potentially intercept every crypto trade in the country?” Margaret asked, eyes wide in amazement.

  “In the world, to be honest. But since the U.S. seems to be the main target right now, and since all trades and owners are private, they can set up a never-ending funnel to route money out of the U.S. for good. The biggest issue for them may well be where to store it all.”

  “Can we plug the drain—stop the flow?” Margaret asked.

  “I’m not sure we can, not in time,” Jimmy answered. “The big cryptocurrency banks have fought hard to avoid government scrutiny and any official oversight. This is where it’s going to bite them in the proverbial butt. You see, most of their transactions are blind even to them, one of the beautiful aspects of the blockchain currency system. Also, most governments want these guys to fail. They have been a pain in the public coffers since they got started. Once Washington figures out that the bulk of American wealth is in bitcoin, and it’s all draining away—well, it will be too late.”

  “Surely, the Bitcoin guys have expected this and have automatic stop limits in place,” the director said in frustration. Janus had nearly wrecked the country, and she, more than most, knew it was hanging on by just a thread.

  “Yes, to part of that. They have indeed anticipated it, but by all accounts, it is a problem for fifteen, maybe twenty years from now. Not today—no one besides us should have a quantum computer system that is capable of such a thing.”

  Margaret looked away from the screen, trying to gather her thoughts. She recalled tracking Quantum computer shipments when they were looking for Janus. They weren’t the only ones to have them. “Jimmy, tell me, how much money are we looking at?”

  The young boy rotated his chair to face her and recited from memory, “Five years ago, well before Janus, cryptocurrency globally held around a hundred billion dollars. Today that number is closer to sixty trillion dollars with almost forty trillion of that directly tied to America.”

  “And someone is cleaning out our bitcoins.”

  “Oh, yeah. Not yet at any wholesale level, but significantly. Obviously, if anyone thought their bitcoin was vulnerable to theft, the confidence in the system would evaporate. Overnight, the valuation would plummet, so whoever is doing this is staying just below the radar.”

  “So, you have no idea who’s behind it?” she asked.

  “I didn’t say that,” Jimmy said with a grin. He clicked a few keys, and a cartoon avatar of a battered knight in armor showed on the screen with a cryptic name underneath.

  “Hex?” Margaret said quizzically. “His name is Hex?”

  “Her name,” Doris said. “Jimmy and I are relatively sure Hex is a female.”

  “Hex was her hacker name back in the day, pretty much dropped off the grid a little over three years ago,” Jimmy clarified.

  “Do you know who she is? Why do you think this is her work?”

  “We are not certain, but some of the programming hacks have a certain pattern that is distinctive, very much like her previous work,” Doris said. “It is my assumption she has moved from the JV to the pro levels. As for how we know it is a she…well, Jimmy has had a crush on her for years.”

  The avatar was replaced by a picture of a beautiful, but very young girl, of about fifteen. “Ruslana Kilma. Czech authorities arrested her for an online extortion scheme of an Italian shipping company back in 2004. This picture was the only one ever taken. Somehow, the evidence disappeared before formal charges could be drafted, and the girl was released. She hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Okay,” Margaret said. “We know what is happening. We know at least one of the people behind it. How do we find her, and how can we stop it?”

  21

  South America

  Hey, ummm…

  The annoying buzzing sound of Ace’s internal monologue roused Cade from a restless sleep. The internal humming, mumbling sound of Ace speaking reminded him of a cat attempting to wake from a long nap.

  Glancing at the wall display, he saw that the Gulfstream G650 was somewhere over the eastern coast of South America. “Yeah, hot shot, what did you find?” Cade spoke the words aloud as he found himself doing more often. Others listening would assume he was talking to someone back at The Cove.

  Well, a lot, but actually not much. Cade grimaced in aggravation with the genius’s total lack of adult communication skills.

  A lot of what we have on the oddities of the continent are more like a bad sci-fi movie script than fact, but based on everything Doris provided, here is my best guess: First, the Nazis did not put a secret base in Antarctica, although they did explore it. Mainly the coastal regions. As did the U.S., particularly in the 1940s. Operation Highjump was the largest and was billed as a military training exercise, presumably to get troops ready to fight in Siberia if needed. What we learned after the Soviet Union fell is more telling. They claim that the man behind Operation HighJump was Admiral Byrd. Claimed that his subs were attacked by UFOs launching from beneath the water. I have to file that under doubtful, but the source was highly credible. A few other facts are that a significant gravitational mass is beneath one portion of the continent, an area known as the Wilkes Land. It is very likely a meteor, or possibly volcanic, but seems out of place, and it exerts a very high gravitational field.

  So far, no hard scientific evidence of aliens, UFO bases, or missing scientists, but there are some corollaries between what Samuel said and the known facts. First, there are a lot of restricted areas on the continent. Far more than would seem reasonable, even with the number of nations involved in ongoing research there.

  Second, the melt holes all over Antarctica are a fact. Some quite large and all without a truly good scientific reason. The temperature is well below freezing, yet these areas can be nearly free of ice. Lastly, is his mention of the monster of Lake Vostok. This is the part that he labeled as ‘Fake News.’

  The lake is an enormous freshwater lake, 160 miles long and 30 miles wide. It is buried under two-and-a-half miles of ice, and a team of scientists did drill down in 2012. They also stopped communicating with the base for almost five days. While that seems to mesh with some of the other more outlandish portions, no bizarre creatures or alien bases were down on the lake. They did, however, discover thousands of new species. Creatures that were completely alien to scientists up to that point.

  “Alien as in alien or…something extraterrestrial?” Cade asked his analyst persona.

  Um, no, no, nothing like that. Creatures that are familiar, or at least somewhat familiar to us. Some descendants from very ancient evolutionary lines. That lake has been isolated for eons.

  “So, going through that massive data dump, you don’t think we’ll find anything at those coordinates?”

  Didn’t say that. In fact, quite the opposite. I believe we will. I just wouldn’t put money on it being anything inhuman.

  Somehow, that possibility disturbed Cade more than the alternative.

  22

  The Punta Arenas International Airport in Chile looked to Cade like lots of others he’d been in. The team pilot, Brenda ‘Chap
s’ Morgan, helped McTee toss the gear bags onto the trailer, then followed the team to the awaiting aircraft. The temperature here was already near freezing. The transition from the mild sub-tropical to here was already having an effect. Several members were already digging through packs for coats and gloves. “That one is ours,” Chaps said, motioning at an ancient looking jet.

  “We’re parking the Nighthawk for that?” Cade asked, bewildered.

  She laughed, “Yeah, our birds aren’t rated for the cold or violent wind gusts. Wouldn’t be safe. That’s a British Aerospace 146. She’s old, but handles this flight every day. I will sit second seat.”

  Cade knew that meant co-pilot. Chaps made the calls in air travel. That was her specialty, and she was rated on nearly every kind of bird there was. But if she wanted an experienced Antarctic pilot at the controls, he was in full agreement.

  “We will go over the Drake Passage,” she added. “Only about a two-hour flight to the coast of Antarctica, but some of…scratch that.” She drew in a breath. “It is the worst, most unpredictable weather and air currents on the planet. They will land on the Shetland Islands; we have arranged for a large Soviet transport chopper to ferry us as close to the no-fly zone as possible.”

  “Cade?” He signaled Chaps to carry on while he took the incoming call from The Cove.

  Tapping his CommDot as he began looking for his own bag of warm weather gear, he said, “Go ahead, Riley, what’s up?”

  “The director wanted you to know Bravo Team will be on location by 1100 hours local.”

  Cade mentally adjusted the time in his head and pictured his friend, Charlie, going through the procedures. Deuces team was being split around the Caribbean to investigate numerous attacks and fish kills to hopefully pinpoint where the missing space probe landed. “Thanks, Riley,” he said, now looking around the almost vacant airport. Something had gotten his attention, but he was unsure what. “Keep me posted on their progress, please. Thanks for all the goodies you sent us, too. Not sure what we may need, but I think you probably sent it, regardless. Anything else?” Cade noticed a slim figure near one hangar. Someone who seemed to be paying way too much attention to them, so he began walking in that direction.

  “Yes, I followed up on the Sinolean gang member you were asking about. I think it’s safe to say he cracked pretty quickly under some rather intense interrogation. I have the full transcripts and can send them to your SmartCom.“

  Cade paused mid-step and thought for a moment; he had to stay focused on his current op, going through all that would be an unnecessary distraction. “No, Riley, just scan it quickly. Does it mention anything related to this mission?” Ace seemed to feel that there was a connection.

  “He said they were being funded by someone local to disrupt the locals, make raids along the border. Not drug money, but someone else. Someone they only referred to as Leon. So, is that why you thought it might be connected to what all is going on?” she asked.

  Their comms system was so clear he could hear her mouthing words as she silently read. He began walking toward the hangar again only to realize whoever he had been looking at was, in fact, not a person, just some machinery half hidden in the dim shadows. Still, his instincts had registered a threat, something here was off.

  “Search is complete,” Riley continued. “Nothing else seems relevant. His group was originally part of La Lineas, which was taken over by the Sinaloa, who have been gaining ground for years. Apparently, many of the gangs are working together now and have a network all over South and Central America. The push into the U.S. is part of a coordinated move to keep our enforcement occupied and to take advantage of us. They want to ‘keep the U.S. on its knees,’ in his words. He implied several times they have some serious power backing them but has yet to say who it is. The interrogation team seems to think it may be a foreign power, so they are pursuing that angle. If the cartel can open up that southern border, then every terrorist in the world could waltz right in.”

  Cade was about to log off when he, or more accurately, Ace considered something. “Riley does Leon mean anything in Spanish, I mean you know…other than a name?”

  She had to look it up as she wasn’t immediately sure. “Yes, Nomad. It means Lion.”

  Something was there, maybe a connection. He told her thanks.

  Before signing off, she asked him a favor. “Keep an eye on Alan for me, okay?”

  Cade looked over at the boy, no longer a kid really, as he finished loading equipment onto the old plane. “He’ll be fine, don’t worry. Riley, do one other thing; Cochise is heading back your way. I figured the South Pole wasn’t a destination he’d be pleased with. See if Jaz can keep an eye on him til I get back.” His growing attachment to the dog was beginning to border on more than just Cade’s reliance on him in the field. The dog was tough as nails but also made Cade feel more human, more…normal.

  “Roger that, Cap.”

  Cade slid into a seat near the rear of the plane. Alan was leaning up against the window, staring out at the rocky terrain beyond the airport. The boy had a terrible crush on Riley, and Cade was pretty sure her feelings for Alan went well beyond the simple bonds of friendship. Still, neither seemed to be able or willing to cross whatever invisible boundary lay between them.

  “Hey, Nomad.”

  Cade smiled as he attempted to get comfortable in the well-worn seats. “Hey, dude, having fun yet?” Alan was one of Cade’s favorite people from The Cove, innocent and yet, somehow wise at the same time.

  “Just working through some stuff in my head.”

  Cade laughed, “Yeah, we do that all the time.” He patted the boy’s arm. “Mission stuff?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Nah.” Alan’s head shook as he sighed. “Me and Riles, I mean…you know,” Alan said, a slight, rosy blush crossing his cheek.

  The always blossoming, but never quite maturing, romance between Alan and Riley was one of the more pleasant activities among the staff. Pleasant for Cade, an outsider, but no doubt, it was causing a great deal of angst for the two of them. These kids had sacrificed their childhoods to the machine buried in the depths of the old listening station back in Georgia. While a part of him cared deeply for Doris, another couldn’t quite forgive her for some of the choices she’d made along the way.

  “Women…huh?” Cade responded with a grin. “Look, man, it’ll work out. Don’t sweat every little detail.”

  “But what if this is just an adolescent crush, you know? Because of the ReLoad process, none of us went through puberty until really late,” Alan said.

  Cade held up his hand, ”Whoa, too much detail there, amigo. Kid, I know nothing about relationships. Never had a serious one, not even that many casual ones. My emotional compass tends to run more to the rage side of the spectrum, but my gut says you guys are right for each other. You are already best friends, she adores you, and obviously you, her. Don’t force it.”

  “So, I shouldn’t ask her out? What if she dates someone else?”

  “If it’s destiny, then it’s not a race. Ask her out,“ Cade said as he began slowly flipping the pages on the briefing documents on his phone. “Or don’t.” He paused briefly, then added, “Maybe.” He paused and turned to face Alan. “Maybe just ask her what she wants. For now, though, get your head in the game, where we are going will need your total focus.”

  Cade looked away and whispered under his breath, “Thanks, Gus.”

  23

  Caribbean

  The boat made a scraping sound as Kissa pulled it high onto the sandy beach. His life up to now had been anything but easy. Growing up in Isla El Tigre, one of the poorest sections of Honduras, like many of the village children, he’d never known his parents. They had left him, maybe even sold him, to someone when he was an infant. He’d battled his way through school, first with his fist, later with his brain, only to be drafted into the military. There, he’d seen brutality beyond his worst nightmares. It had taken determination and some determined frie
nds to finally get him into college. Even there, he struggled, but had finally excelled. Today, though, was undoubtedly the worst one of his tormented life. Today he lost Thera….today he met a monster.

  He sat on the beach looking out at the dark water. The gentle sound of the waves hitting the reef a hundred yards out would normally be a comfort, but not tonight. His head fell to his chest, and he wept. The tears wouldn’t stop, his body racked with the sobs of loss. His mind roiled at the thoughts of what had happened. Could he have done more, could he have saved her, and what was that thing? He was not an ignorant man; he was not a fearful person. He’d spent his entire life around the ocean, but he knew that thing was evil; it was death, and it had taken his love.

  Like him, Thera had no family, no one who would miss her return. A few long-time friends from school, but they were used to not seeing them for months as their work regularly took them to remote spots. He should tell someone, file a missing person report, but even that was a questionable move. The police here were some of the most corrupt anywhere. Most were simply paid security for the MS13 and Barrio18 gangs. They would simply arrest and convict him of her death or turn him over to the gangs to be used as a fighter. No one would investigate, no one would care.

  His fingers dug deep into the wet sand, the frustration and rage building inside. Who could he trust? Who could he turn to?

  As the incoming tide began lapping at his feet, Kissa opened a single puffy eye. The eastern sky was lightening, dawn less than an hour away. The night had been restless. Twice he thought he saw the underwater light far off in the distance. At some point during the night, a plan had formed. Not a great one, but a plan, nevertheless. He’d been a soldier, a good one. He’d even fought against the rebels’ forces, alongside some of the most capable the U.S. could covertly provide. His squad and the Rangers had battled the so-called Neuvo Contras for weeks, pushing them deep into the jungle. Many of those rebels were now running the local gangs. He’d made some friends back then. Perhaps they would be able to help. First, he had to get somewhere his phone would work. Guanaja was too remote. He needed to get back near the village on El Tigre, or even the mainland.

 

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