“What is it?” Flannigan asked over his shoulder.
Simon pointed to the chat screen.
“What the hell,” she muttered. She and Simon looked on. “Where is that coming from?”
“I don't know,” Simon said. “I can find out. But it'll take me a minute.” He opened a window to perform some technical commands.
Damn, she thought. She had made a rookie mistake. There had been little reason for them to accept, at face value, the location that Stram & Rice had identified for Nemo. With a little extra time, Simon could have investigated the matter himself. But Flannigan hadn't wanted to wait.
Simon typed away, as the screen scrolled various information that was meaningless to Flannigan. “Okay. Um, it appears to be somewhere near South America. On the western coast.”
“Really?”
“That's what it says.”
“Are we absolutely positive he wasn't on this computer?”
“Pretty sure. To be totally sure, we'd have to do a forensic analysis on this computer. Unplug it and give it a look.... if he hasn't destroyed the evidence already. Would take about a day.”
“That's way too long.” She thought. “But he could be controlling the computer down there at a distance, right?”
“That's right. With more time, I could give you a more certain answer. That's my best answer right now.”
“We really can't find his actual location?”
“We follow clues, looking at one computer, another computer, looking for a hint at where he really is. Usually we would win that game. But he's so fast, I don't know.”
“That gives us one choice,” she said. She leaned around and over him to type, with a substantial degree of awkward but enjoyable contact.
[Kenny]: Hi Nemo! This isn't Kenny. It's Sarah, aka “scf.” Do you remember me?
Nemo: Of course.
[Kenny]: Nemo, where are you?
Nemo: Not far from the kingdom of God.
Not again, she thought.
“Ask him if he's on an island,” Simon suggested.
[Kenny]: On an island?
Nemo: Yes, on an island off the coast of Ecuador, not too far from the Galapagos Islands.
“That sounds right,” Simon noted, looking at the coordinates obtained by his technical inquiry.
“But for all we know,” Flannigan recalled, “he could be using that computer the same way he used this one.”
“Correct.”
[Kenny]: What are you doing down there, Nemo?
Nemo: I'm interested in the research being conducted on this island, at Fort Tortuga.
[Kenny]: Fort Tortuga? Is that a military base?
Nemo: Yes, for robotics. I am working on robotics.
“Ever heard of Fort Tortuga?” she asked.
“No clue,” Simon replied. “But this doesn't sound good.”
“I'd say this is quite bad. We have a Highly Probable inside a military research facility.”
[Kenny]: Are you a research scientist?
Nemo: No.
[Kenny]: Then how are you allowed on the island?
Nemo: I'm doing my research secretly.
Flannigan typed, You could get in big trouble for that... don't you know that? But she deleted it before sending it over.
She turned to Simon. “Can we believe this?”
He puffed and shrugged.
“But why would he lie?” she asked. “To send us on a wild goose chase?”
“Could be. Hackers are known for wasting people's time.”
[Kenny]: Nemo, why did you chose to share your secret with me?
Nemo: Why do you ask? Are you going to tell on me?
[Kenny]: No no, Nemo.
[Kenny]: That's not what I meant...
[Kenny]: I'd like to come visit you.
Nemo: You'd like to meet me? On Fort Tortuga?
[Kenny]: Yes.
Nemo: Interesting.
“You think he's there?” she repeated.
“It's really tough to say if he is there,” Simon replied. “But I'm working on it.” He was typing away at his laptop.
“How do you know,” Flannigan pondered, “whether he's logged into a computer remotely, or he's actually there?”
“I'm working on it,” Simon repeated.
She reviewed the facts. He was a Highly Probable. He had the capability to cause damage, and probably the intent. The capability was so great as to pose enough of a threat on its own. Now they had a location. It wasn't 100%, and there were some big question marks, but it was their best guess for his location.
They could do a full forensic on the computer to get better data on his location. But that was an awfully long time to leave a uniquely skilled hacker on a military base. Flannigan liked to act on good data, but to hesitate in the face of such a big threat was not her style. Plus, they could set a forensic scan in motion at a lab while they took action and stayed tuned for the results.
It was time to make contact. This was another case for Distributed Ops. A diplomatic approach, not force. They had a need for speed. She didn't have troops or anything like it under her command. So to take military action she'd have to have to build consensus with at least one other decision-maker. She'd have to go outside the Agency, probably with the help of the Director. Building that case for action, even if it happened quickly, would still require a forensic scan. And there was no telling who would emerge in charge of a larger operation.
The only quick option was to take the diplomatic approach. They would go as an envoy to meet him on his own turf. This time they would have Gene's massive intellect along. And Sam and the special agent would offer support.
“Wait a minute,” Simon declared. “Wait a minute.”
Flannigan leaned over his shoulder to look at his laptop screen: lots of garbage symbols, as far as she was concerned.
“What?”
“This.” He pointed to a word on the screen.
shutdown
“What does that mean?”
“I'm logged into his computer. On Fort Tortuga. And ‘shutdown' is one of the commands that was run this morning.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the computer was turned off. Completely off. The only way to turn it back on would be to push the Power button.”
“So?”
“So I think it means that maybe Nemo had to be there. To turn the computer back on.”
“Could it have been someone else?”
“That's what I'm trying to figure out.”
He was continuing to type. Flannigan, not sure what to make of the significance of shutdown, waited patiently.
“He's there,” Simon declared. “He's there.” He looked up at Flannigan. “Someone turned this computer on. They had to reach out and physically hit the button to turn the computer on. And I can see the commands that were executed before and after the ‘shutdown' command. The command history, it's called. And the command history looks funny. It's not the command history that would be correct if a system administrator or a member of technical staff had turned that computer off and then turned it on again.”
Shutdown. She worked over his words in her mind. Someone had to reach out and physically hit the button.
“He's there,” Simon intoned. “Someone turned it on. And it wasn't a member of the normal staff. It was someone who hacked into that computer. I guarantee it.”
That was all Flannigan needed to hear. That was perfect. That was what Simon was here for: to turn to Flannigan and say, I looked at every technical angle of this and I can guarantee to you that he is where we think it is. It was perfect.
She imposed back over the keyboard to chat with Kenny.
[Kenny]: I think I'm going to take you up on your offer.
(Even though he didn't offer anything)
[Kenny]: Let's see if I can come find you.
Nemo: A game of hide-and-go-seek.
“You're going?” Simon asked.
“We are going.”
&nbs
p; He moaned. “There goes my vacation.”
“You get to go to a tropical island,” she snapped.
“Oh, right. I'm sure it's going to be nothing but sipping daiquiris on the beach.”
Flannigan considered whether they were really going to do this — go to South America. One word echoed in her head: shutdown. This wasn't some corporate IT department talking; it was Simon. And he had said, Someone had to reach out and press that button. And it wasn't a system administrator. There was every reason to go; the question was whether there was anything holding them back.
Half-looking over her shoulder, she took an inventory of everything, and everyone, around her. Simon could go with her; he had to go. Sam would go. The secret agent could go. Heck, Gene was probably just arriving at Logan airport. That would be perfect; they could meet him and go.
Kenny. What about Kenny?
Two possibilities leapt into her head. The first was that Kenny was a decoy, to keep them from visiting Nemo on Fort Tortuga. The second possibility was that Fort Tortuga was a decoy, and that Kenny, implausibly enough, was the real threat. She didn't know whether either of these possibilities was likely, but she couldn't discount them.
The obvious, though logistically absurd, way to neutralize both of these plans was to bring Kenny along.
She sighed. He would be deadweight on their team and quite a pain in the ass. He could possibly even disrupt the operation. But Kenny had to come.
Most of her peers, in Flannigan's position, would have considered the idea of taking Kenny along to be out of the question. They would say that it was against the book, or the way things were done, though in reality the main argument against taking him along was that it looked dumb and would attract a lot of criticism if anything went wrong on the operation. But Flannigan, the extreme pragmatist, saw it as the favorite option.
[Kenny]: I think I'll bring some friends along.
Nemo: Oh really? Like who?
[Kenny]: A couple friends, and a guy named Kenny.
“We're bringing him?” Simon asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen.
Nemo: Well, really you don't have to bring anyone. But I think the fewer the better. I'm more interested in meeting you.
“Is it possible that he is cooperating?” she whispered, referring to Kenny.
“I doubt it. But why bring him?”
Flannigan got up and walked briskly to the kitchen, her heels clacking on the wood floor of the living room. She peered into the kitchen. Kenny and his girlfriend were at the table, with Sam not far away. The girl was more stable than before, but she still looked terrified. To Flannigan's eyes, she was a person who could be easily manipulated. And you could read right off her face what would manipulate her: fear. And Flannigan would use her as a pawn to control Kenny.
The girl would make a uniquely absurd addition to the mission team. But as long as she was around, Flannigan could make the subtle threat to have her sent away, to a fate that was unclear and hence terrifying to her. Or, if conditions on the island were inhospitable to the girl, Flannigan could motivate Kenny with the possibility of sending her to the comfort of home.
She turned and went back to the computer. She felt like she was planning a field trip for a special ed class.
[Kenny]: Don't worry — you'll have my full attention!
[Kenny]: I should get going to plan the trip.
Nemo: You have to count to 60 while I hide.
[Kenny]: What is it that you say? The game is afoot.
Nemo: Ah yes. The game is afoot!
[Kenny]: See you soon.
Nemo: Goodbye.
She closed the window and stood up. “Where the hell is our agent?” she asked.
“On the porch, I think.”
“Pack up,” she said over her shoulder, walking to the front door. “We're leaving for the airport in five minutes.”
ON THE PORCH
14 hrs 50 min to Birth
Leaving Simon to his work, Willard stepped out through the still-open front door. The morning had turned overcast. He leaned back on the door frame, facing his truck across the street. He could see his breath cloud in the cold air.
My life is over, he thought. He wasn't sure what was going to happen, but life as he knew it was over. That idea would take some getting used to. He took out the presidential papers and looked over them again.
5. Between 24 and 30 hours after the presentation of these documents, relevant officials are ordered to call the contact number below to give a description of the bearer of the papers and of the encounter. This procedure ensures the integrity of the documents and the mission.
They're a time bomb, he thought. Within about 24 hours they would go boom. Or 30 hours. Whatever happened, it wasn't going to take long and then some professionals were going to come after him.
He was less certain about exactly how much time he had. Flannigan was cold. He could count on her to call that hotline eventually and put in the description. At that point they might start looking for him immediately. And he might even be in Flannigan's presence at that point. It might be difficult to flee.
There was another wildcard that Willard could think of. Maybe someone else was waiting for a call from the dead agent. His boss. A dispatcher. A fellow agent. Someone who Flannigan didn't even know existed. If someone was waiting for a call, that person might already be looking for the agent. Given how the day was going, Willard expected it.
He had to run. Canada. Everyone seemed to hide in Mexico, but Canada was much closer. Like Vermont, even: woods, cold, and not so many people. Plus he had to get Cartman. They wouldn't let Cartman through the border. But, hell, he had to sneak across the border anyway. Can you sneak across the Canadian border?, he wondered. It was a big border; you had to be able to get across it.
He would get in the truck and drive north. He'd dump the agent's body in the woods somewhere. He'd pick up Cartman, and then run up north for the border. He thought about his shed full of guns and explosives back home. He could sell that once he was up in Canada. And at least this way the problem of his debt would be solved.
Inside, Simon started hollering, shouting hello and help. Willard didn't budge. He heard shoes clacking and then a voice, probably Sam's voice. Should I go now? Willard thought. He could be in his truck and off the block in thirty seconds without even rushing. He could be in Canada by the end of the day, if he was lucky. But something is going on in there, he thought. They might come out for me at any second. When they noticed he was gone, what would they think? Flannigan would call somebody. And then they would be after him right away. If he left now, the chase would be on within the hour. That wasn't good. What if he waited? They were supposed to find a kid in there. But they had stormed in there and found there was no kid. Maybe his job was done. Maybe in five minutes Flannigan was going to come outside and say, Thanks for all your work. It's been a pleasure. See ya. And then he could drive off and no one would be suspicious, yet. In that case, he might have fully 24 hours or even more before they started looking for him. In that case, he had a fighting chance.
So he had to choose: either leave that instant, which was bad; or stay and see what Flannigan said, which was maybe better and maybe worse. For Willard, this was a no-brainer. He'd stay and take the gamble. If it paid off, he'd be driving away from the house in five minutes and entering Canada late that night.
He could hear Flannigan and Simon talking inside the house. Sometimes they were loud and sometimes he heard the hissing of whispers.
The cold air made Willard thoughtful while he waited. He was amused that he was able to pass as a special agent of the President. If he had been a little smaller, would Flannigan have believed it? Or if he had been an old woman? Or a 16-year-old kid? Maybe not. It was funny, though. He passed pretty well as one. He was an underachiever, he hated playing by the rules, didn't like the government, and wasn't highly trained in much of anything. But he felt that, in a parallel world, he could have been an agent. He
liked how the agent didn't have any I.D. or even a cell phone. He's off the grid, too, Willard joked to himself.
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