The Project

by I C Cosmos

A middle-aged woman sitting a couple of tables to their right looked at them disapprovingly. Do we look too serious for a couple on vacation? Helen rubbed her fingers on a branch of the potted rosemary plant sitting on their table and inhaled the herbaceous scent, watching Nic’s frown morph into a grin.

  “Fabulous. You have to smell this, darling.” Helen put her fingers under Nic’s nose.

  “Mmm…” Nic kissed Helen’s hand. “This is what I want in my bubble bath today.” A hint of mischief warmed his eyes. Helen laughed and Nic joined her.

  “We better get going,” he said quietly, signaling the waiter. “Have to be in Bosa in ninety minutes.”

  They walked back to their car, holding hands, Helen pointing out interesting old buildings and Nic nodding as if he were interested. The happy couple… Helen was still amazed how well both of them played it.

  “We deserve an Oscar,” Nic said when they settled in the Mercedes.

  The woman from the restaurant was watching them from across the street.

  Bosa, Sardinia

  Helen squeezed into a tight spot by the river running through Bosa, feeling lucky because a local festival was in a full swing and almost all parking places were taken. She got out of the car and took in the pastel-colored houses, the regal palm trees lining the river, the fishing boats bobbing on the water. A wave of happy vacation feeling swept through her, putting a smile on her face.

  The narrow streets were filled with locals in colorful costumes, dancing, drinking, celebrating. Helen scanned the people around her and listened to snippets of conversations, pleased that it had become second nature to her.

  “Try our wine, miss.” A short, stocky man wearing round glasses making him look like an owl lifted a glass filled with an amber-colored substance. “It’s the best Malvasia wine in Bosa.”

  “And try our formaggio. Delizioso!” A merchant with a belly like a balloon stepped from behind his stand and offered a plank with cheese samples to Nic.

  “No. Thank you.” Nic attempted a smile.

  The merchant shrugged and switched his attention to a group of Germans, sailing toward them as if the belly led and he merely followed behind.

  “Bitte sehr!”

  “Mmm…köstlich!” The Germans accepted the cheese and wine without hesitation.

  Nic sped up. Their session was about to start. Helen activated her apps and started to record the communication while walking toward Piazza IV Novembre. A few minutes into the testing, a strange signal appeared on Helen’s screen. ID unknown. The signal disappeared before screen recording could kick in.

  Helen stopped in front of a deli shop and tried to figure out what had happened.

  “What are you doing?” Nic asked irritably.

  “Sending a text.” Their code for “something’s wrong.” Helen stared at her screen. Everything looked normal. She looked up to tell Nic what had happened and caught a reflection in the shop window. No aviators, but the large hands gave him away. Helen turned around, mumbling “eight o’clock.” Her eyes zoomed in on black pants and heavy boots disappearing onto a side street. Shivers ran up her spine.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Nic grabbed her shoulder. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “My job,” she said coldly, despising how Nic dismissed her. Biting her lip, she checked that her apps were running as they should be and replayed the screen recording. The shop window reflection showed a fuzzy yet clearly recognizable image. Black polo, black pants, large hands, a frown.

  Helen showed it to Nic.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” he snapped, eyes ice cold. “Make sure you’ve got the complete session.”

  They walked back to the car in silence, Helen feeding the new data to the artificial intelligence. She drove through the traffic jam out of Bosa, the vacation feel gone.

  As she turned onto Viale Mediterraneo, the fastest way to their next destination, the anger that had been brewing in her for the last half an hour rose to the surface and cleared her mind. I’ve done nothing wrong!

  She looked at Nic briefly, but he was staring at the road, rubbing his elbow, jaw tight. Sulking’s not gonna fix the problem, mister, Helen thought.

  For the rogue signal was definitely a problem, whether it had something to do with their heavy-booted “friend” or not.

  It meant that their system was breached.

  Strada Statale 292, Sardinia

  (State highway 292)

  Helen drove in silence, digesting what had happened. Their system had been compromised before they’d had a chance to launch it properly. Disappointment constricted her chest. All their work for nothing. She felt like someone had opened a valve and drained all her energy. But she wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  If someone breached our system, we should breach them back. She straightened up in her seat and took a firmer hold of the steering wheel. If this were a serious sabotage, the rogue signals would appear again. And this time she’d find a way to latch on to them and find the offender.

  They were getting closer to the location of their next test, Tharros, an archaeological site on the Sinis Peninsula. The roads became narrower, and Helen focused on where she was going, remembering the last time she had been here. It was before everyone had smartphones, and Grandpa had gotten lost on the small provincial lanes. Nonetheless, they’d had a fabulous day exploring the site.

  The warm images of Grandpa, Grandma, and Josh shielded Helen against the cold, disapproving silence coming from Nic’s side of the car. She parked the Mercedes and led them to the remains of the ancient city.

  The bare hill was scorched by the unrelenting sun, and Nic was compulsively wiping sweat off his face. Helen focused on readying her bots, determined to fight for the Project.

  Their session started at four forty-five, exactly as scheduled. At five fifteen, when Helen was wrapping up, one of her devices lit up. A rogue signal similar to the one in Bosa appeared on her screen, ID unknown.

  “What the—” Helen exclaimed, studying her network analyzer and activating her bots. This time she was prepared. “It’s coming from Capo San Marco.”

  Nic studied his device, shocked. “Someone broke into our system.”

  “And we will break into theirs,” Helen said confidently. “I’ve thought about this all the way from Bosa. The signals must be coming from one of our units. Otherwise they wouldn’t show up. But the IDs are stripped.”

  Nic rubbed his forehead. “Right. So you’ve got a plan,” he said.

  Helen didn’t miss the sarcasm in his voice but decided to let it go.

  “Yes. Do the same as we do with our regular units. Listen, record, disturb. The question is, How do we get in without failing the invisibility test?”

  Nic came back to life. “I may have a way to get us in.” His fingers pounded the screen. “I anticipated that the ID ports could fail or get jammed or whatnot. So I created another entry to the units. No one knows about it.”

  “How does it work?” Helen asked.

  “It’s like the universal key that allows TSA to bypass the code on your travel trolley and open it up.”

  “I always hated that.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Nic chuckled. “But you’ll love this one.”

  Helen turned toward Nic and almost gave him a hug but stopped herself, unsure how he would react. She didn’t want to risk a temper tantrum at this point. Hacking into the rogue units was far more important.

  “So, let’s get in and take a snapshot of their system,” she said crisply.

  “And test how stealthy we are?”

  “Exactly. And figure out what else we can do to rain on their parade.”

  “Do you have bots ready that can copy and download fast?” Nic asked.

  “You bet.”

  “Let’s go.” Nic gave Helen the secret “key” and watched the rogue conversation while she dispatched her bots.

  “Wow!” Helen grinned. “The bot latched on like a hummingbird drinking nectar out of a flower.”

  �
�Wait. They stopped talking.”

  Helen sucked her breath in, eyes glued to the screen, heart thumping in her chest. The bot kept going. “Well, let’s see how far we can get. The bot is still alive and kicking.”

  “’K.”

  They sat for a few minutes in silence, barely moving, as if not wanting to cause any disturbance that would abort their bot.

  “Who do you think they are?” Helen asked quietly.

  “No idea.”

  “Could it be someone from the factory in China?”

  “Don’t think so. Hey…they are chatting again.”

  “Good.” Helen observed the signals.

  Nic looked over her shoulder.

  “See, everything works exactly the same as in the regular units,” Helen said, and recorded the chat. “Why do you think the Chinese aren’t involved?”

  “Oh, they are involved one way or another. But I don’t think they are the brains behind it.”

  “Who then?”

  “I don’t know.” Nic shook his head.

  “How are we going to report this?” It was an emergency, but they had strict orders not to initiate contact unless requested to do so.

  Nic rubbed his jaw. “If we report it. For now it’s better if no one knows that we know.”

  “You think it’s the Consortium.”

  Nic lowered and raised his head slowly, almost imperceptibly.

  “Jeez.” Helen bit her lip. Doom scenarios flooded her mind. “All of them or just one?”

  “No idea.” Nic shrugged.

  “It could also be the undercover agents who sell the units. Trying to make an extra buck.” This was the most probable scenario, Helen thought. And the most manageable one.

  “True. But the factory is guarded better than Fort Knox.”

  “But it’s in China.”

  “You mean anything’s possible for the right price?”

  “Yeah. But not only that. Their government has all kinds of powers.”

  “And an elite group of state-sponsored hackers. Still…not so sure in this case. Too many checks and balances.”

  “Hm… Yes!” The “snapshot” of the rogue system was finished, giving Helen a surge of fresh energy. “Look, at least we’ve got their system. And we are recording their chat.”

  “Let’s keep recording because—”

  An explosion silenced Nic’s words.

  Tharros, Sardinia

  “Oh no!”

  “Oh my God!”

  “It’s over there. Look at the smoke.”

  “Andiamo, andiamo!”

  Visitors were emerging from the remains of temples and other ancient structures and rushing out of the site.

  “Are you still recording?” Nic asked, working furiously on his device.

  “Yes.” Helen looked in the direction of the smoke. It was coming from the other side of the Sinis Peninsula, not far away from their position. “But we have to get out of here soon.”

  “I need a few more minutes. Tagging their units.”

  “A live tag?”

  “Yup.”

  “OK! I’ll pretend I am taking pics of the smoke.” Helen bit her lip, hoping Nic’s ninja skills would get them through and his tag wouldn’t be discovered.

  It was worth the risk. Tagging the units could uncover and record criminal activities. And they had to find out what they were dealing with. She “photographed” the smoke while setting up a battery of tests to unleash on the rogue system she’d downloaded.

  “Done. Let’s keep our fingers crossed.” Nic took Helen’s hand and led them out of the ancient city. They blended with visitors streaming to the main path leading to the exit, rattled by the explosion but still the happy couple. For the first time not completely faking it. The rogues united them.

  They walked to the parking lot, Helen replaying the events of the afternoon in her mind, the enormity of their discovery shaking her to the core. Who? Are we in danger?

  She froze as they were approaching their car. A teenage boy crawled from behind the trunk, brushed his knees, then shaded his eyes with one hand to see what was inside and tried to open the driver’s door with the other. Helen gasped. Nic sped up.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled. The boy ran away.

  Helen looked around. There were still quite a few cars in the parking lot. Pretending that she dropped the key fob, she kneeled and checked the underbelly of the Mercedes. She couldn’t see anything irregular, but would she be able to spot a bomb? She didn’t know. She picked up the fob, her hands shaking.

  Nic helped her to her feet, gently taking the fob from her hand.

  “I’ll drive,” he said. “The car looks clean. I have an app for that.”

  Helen lowered herself into the passenger seat and closed her eyes, half expecting that the Mercedes would blow up as soon as Nic pressed the key fob.

  Strada Statale 131, Sardinia

  One day later

  Nic stretched his legs and peeked at Helen. She looked fresh and radiant, as if she had just woken up from a blissful eight-hour sleep. But he knew she hadn’t closed her eyes for more than two hours, spending the night testing the rogue system and figuring out undetectable strategies to take it over. He had never met anyone as dedicated as Helen.

  And so unrelenting in her fight against terrorism. It was her idea to take on the rogues. For a while he had panicked in Tharros and had almost thrown in the towel.

  “Our tags still alive?” Helen asked, her eyes on the autostrada.

  “Yes. But they aren’t active.” Nic monitored his devices nonstop, wondering whether, or rather when, the rogues would show up again. They had been involved in the explosion, and Nic had the evidence to prove it.

  Were they testing something? What’s their next move? Nic would have liked to stay close to the rogues and observe their actions, but he and Helen were heading to Sant’Antioco, an island off the southwestern tip of Sardinia, home of the region’s most unspoiled beaches, wild nature, and the next test scheduled by the Consortium.

  “So what got you so fired up to go after terrorists?” Nic asked, observing Helen closely. She rolled her lips in, eyes not leaving the road, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Was that a tear glistening in the corner of her eye?

  “They ruin lives. No one deserves that,” she said.

  “There are many evils that ruin lives. Why terrorism?” Nic suspected why but wanted to hear it from her.

  Helen was silent. Nic understood. Personal details weren’t shared in their line of business.

  “I lost my mom in an accident. I know how it feels.” Nic broke the unspoken tradition.

  “I am sorry. I didn’t know.” The tenderness in Helen’s voice hugged Nic’s heart.

  “You couldn’t have known. But I read your file. The bomb that blew up your parents’ car made its way into it,” Nic said gently.

  Helen’s knuckles were getting whiter, eyes trained on the road, jaw set. She’s never gotten over it, Nic thought. Just as I haven’t.

  “What was the worst thing about it for you?” Nic asked.

  Helen’s chest rose as she took a deep breath. She passed several cars, staring ahead. Nic waited.

  “That it was my fault.” Her voice was barely audible.

  Nic turned toward her. This wasn’t what he expected.

  “What?”

  “My dad was stationed in Damascus, and Josh, my brother, and I were going to spend our spring break there. But I postponed my flight.” Helen swallowed hard. “Because I was hell-bent on attending a workshop on writing, you see.” She sighed. “I’d heard about the workshop too late, and it was fully booked. But I kept bugging them until I got in.”

  Tears flowed down Helen’s cheeks, but her voice didn’t waver.

  “The workshop was about Paulo Coelho. Being part of it was like the most important thing in the world for me. I flew to Damascus two days later than planned…and the bomb exploded when they were leaving to pick me up at the airport…wouldn’t have hap
pened if it weren’t for the workshop.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault. If they wanted to kill your dad, they would have done it anyhow.”

  “No. They said that it was random. Just one of many minor incidents as the unrest started to escalate… They said my parents and Josh were merely collateral damage.”

  “Who said that?”

  “Uncle Andreas.”

  “Andreas?” Nic drew his breath in. “What was he doing there?”

  “I don’t know. He was at the airport when I arrived.”

  Nic rubbed his elbow. Uncle Andreas.

  “Was it planned? That Andreas would be in Damascus?”

  “No.” Helen shook her head.

  “So he just showed up…and you trust he wasn’t involved in the incident?”

  Helen gasped. “I didn’t… Oh man… Just so you know—I never trusted Andreas. Not then. And not now.” Her face hardened.

  “That’s good to know,” Nic said, and meant it. The way he saw it, Andreas Gerschwiller was as bad as the terrorists.

  “What happened to your mom?” Helen asked.

  Her question surprised Nic. But he had started the soul sharing…

  “Car accident.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Seven.”

  “Oh God!” Helen’s hand flew to her mouth. “That must have been hard.”

  “As if the sun stopped shining,” Nic heard himself saying.

  “I know what you mean… We’d lived in Damascus once before, when I was very little. The place was magic. I still remember the fragrant, colorful, enchanted garden. The parties my parents organized, the delicacies Josh and I were allowed to feast on before the guests came. The happiness we all had together… And then the nuclear darkness.”

  “It was like that for me too. From love and laughter to cold gloom. But I guess love and laughter didn’t work for Mom. When the accident happened, she was in the car with her lover, running away from us.”

  “I am so sorry. I… I don’t know what to say.” Helen looked briefly at Nic, her eyes filled with compassion.