Assuming the call was more of the same, Skinner picked up the phone, gazed at the street lit snowscape outside and absently answered. "Ben Skinner."
A familiar, deep baritone voice on the other end growled. "Ben - it's Steve. Steve Clark."
Skinner sat upright, surprised and pleased to hear the voice of a good friend. They'd bonded during some tough times a few years back, and since then Skinner had always enjoyed hearing from the big man.
"Steve! I should've recognised you. I'm so sorry - I'm a little distracted tonight. How are you doing?"
"Fine, fine Ben. I'm sorry it's been a while since we last talked. I hear you're dazzling all those politicians and bigwigs up there."
Skinner laughed. "Steve - for Santa Clara's best detective, you really have some bad sources. What's up?"
"Ben - I know you're busy, but I need your help with something ... strange. I haven't seen anything like this before, and it's pissing me off."
Skinner was surprised to hear the frustration in his friends voice. Detective Steve Clark was one of the best Skinner had ever worked with. The big, powerful man had an unmistakable physical presence, and yet it was his quiet, relentless persistence that made him so formidable. Skinner knew he didn't often get angry, and when he did there was always something behind it.
"Ok Steve - what have you got?"
Skinner noticed the first sign to Ronald Reagan DCA flash past, as he heard the detective's low voice rumble. "How about a 13-year old girl, not even 100 pounds, attacks and kills a fit young woman with her bare hands. Woman's husband had to crack the kid's skull open to stop her. Blood clean. No prior. Stable family."
Skinner could hear the hesitancy in his friends voice. "There's something else isn't there Steve?"
Clark paused and scanned the empty office. In the distance, he could hear the cleaning crew making their way down the hall. "Yeah Ben, there is something else. The girl tore her eyelids to shreds before attacking the woman. It was like she was trying to gouge her own eyes out. We recovered a video from the victim's phone which shows the attack. Ben - the kids like a wild animal."
Skinner leaned forward. "Steve. Is it like before? Do you think it's happening again?"
Skinner could see the bright lights of the airport looming up ahead. He leaned forward in his seat and waited. Five seconds. Ten. "Steve?"
Detective Steve Clark growled, the frustration and worry clear.
"Yes Ben, it's a lot like the last time."
#
Midnight Tuesday, Reagan Airport Washington D.C (Minus 25 Hours)
Skinner had unfurled his paper-thin flexible tablet computer and was flicking through the files and video Detective Clark had sent from Santa Clara. It was a gruesome case, made much worse by the nagging fear that he'd seen this before.
Skinner's thoughts on the Palo Alto case were interrupted as he felt the gleaming black Lexus glide to a silent halt underneath the canopy covering the entrance to the Executive Centre. The neat, single-level building discretely tucked behind a security gate at the far west end of Ronald Reagan DCA airport catered for the private jet traveller. Some of the nations most powerful businessmen, politicians and celebrities passed through this place. They appreciated the security and anonymity it afforded, and were willing to pay for it.
Rolling the computer back up and replacing it in his travel bag, Skinner stepped out of the car to be met by a tall, square man in a dark blue suit. "Follow me Professor Skinner." Without waiting for a response, the man turned on his heels and briskly walked under the reinforced concrete canopy, through the sliding glass doors and into the main passenger lounge. His canvas travel bag slung over one shoulder, Skinner had a hard time keeping up. Another ex-military guy, what the hell was going on?
The two men quick-stepped through the terminal dotted with small groups of men and women. With all the wealth in this Skinner had expected something different, a little more extravagant, than the leather seats and coffee tables dotted around the small open area. He recognised four young men clustered around a coffee table as the latest in a long line of boy bands. Their ripped jeans and leather jackets a little incongruous, the boys listened attentively to a balding middle aged man while their support crew clustered around the bar.
Skinner turned his attention back to the man ahead of him, and a few seconds later they reached an unmarked door in the far corner nearest the runway. The large man paused briefly to take one last look around the sparsely populated lounge area before pressing his thumb onto a recess under the door handle. Skinner heard a faint click, then watched as the large man pushed the heavy door open. "Have a good trip Professor," the man held the door open and waited. "Yes ... thank you", Skinner said before hitching his bag a little higher up onto his shoulder and moving forward. As soon as he'd passed the doorway, Skinner could feel the door being pulled swiftly shut behind him, and then another faint click as the lock set.
As Skinner entered the small, lavishly furnished private room overlooking the runway, he found Santos and Alex Hill locked deep in conversation. Santos looked up and beamed at Skinner's arrival, Hill said something quickly to Santos, strode toward Skinner and grabbed his hand in an enthusiastic handshake.
"Ben, I'm so pleased you agreed to come along. I know it's all a bit of a rush, but if you're ready I suggest we quickly board and then we can chat further during the journey."
Skinner observed the confident young lawyer. In his early thirties, Hill wore the close-cropped hair and Armani uniform of so many corporate lawyers. When Skinner had first met Hill some 18 months back, he'd read him to be another ambitious ivy-league lawyer. He seemed very... 2-dimensional. However, as Skinner spent more time with the lawyer, visiting WhiteStar's far flung compounds with him, he'd seen another side to Hill. He saw a man increasingly uneasy with the things he did. A man growing uncomfortable with the choices he'd made. A man no longer sure if making rich men richer was how he wanted to spend his life. Skinner saw the doubt growing in Hill, but also knew how much the freshly minted partner enjoyed his work's material rewards. He lived an expansive, expensive life. Skinner doubted if Hill would ever be strong enough to turn his back on power and wealth.
"Sure Alex, if Eva is good to go, then let's get this thing over with." As the men walked toward Santos, a thought suddenly occurred to Skinner. Grabbing Hill by the elbow, Skinner stopped a few steps away from Santos.
"Alex. Did you fly here from San Francisco?"
"Yeah. Travelling in Tanaka's private jet - no better way to fly!"
Skinner stared at the lawyer. "Alex - if you called me from the plane, you were already on your way to pick me up. You must've been pretty damn confident I'd say yes."
Suddenly uncomfortable, Hill adjusted the collar on the fitted silk shirt from his favourite tailor on Geary Street. Looking out at Tanaka's Rolls Royce twin-engined Gulfstream G550, wrapped in a massive WhiteStar logo, Hill replied in a quiet, almost apologetic voice. "Yeah Ben. It's like I said. The investors are very keen for you to take a last look before the new game goes live."
Skinner frowned. "Investors? I thought you said Tanaka was the man driving this."
Hill replied a little too quickly. "Yes, of course Ben. Tanaka too. Everyone's keen to hear what you and Dr Santos have to say."
Skinner nodded hi to Santos as she appeared at the lawyer's side. Skinner leaned forward, staring directly into the flitting eyes of the young man. "Alex. Is there something you need to tell us?"
Sensing the awkward mood between the men, Santos shot a curious glance at Skinner, who returned a raised eyebrow. Hill's eyes darted between Skinner, Santos and Tanaka's gleaming jet on the frosty tarmac outside.
"There's nothing wrong Ben. It's just that there's a lot of money invested in this game. An awful lot. And the people who've put that money in want to be sure Tanaka's got everything ready to go. You know how it is with these online games. If they stumble out of the gates, it can be a disaster, and this is the biggest, most lucrative game series ever created."
Skinner could see Hill was warming to the conversation. Growing more confident. More vehement.
"Hell Ben, they're predicting one in three people on the planet - two and half billion people - will subscribe. That's two and a half billion subscribers to a game that never ends, a game that gets better with every new player. If it works like Tanaka says it will, iSight 3 will be the single most profitable business of all time - and all that profit will be retained by a few, very powerful investors. They don't want anything to get in the way Ben, which is why they want you and Doctor Santos..." Hill nodded to Santos as if acknowledging her in the conversation for the first time, "to take one last look."
Santos shook her head while Skinner stared at Hill. "Look at what? We've travelled to lots of different test centres,we've seen how different cultures play with and respond to the game. We've made suggestions and seen them improve the simulated characters and scenes. There's more fine-tuning to do on the control side, but there's no question. Tanaka's built something truly amazing. So what else is there to see?"
Hill enthused. "Ah yes, we've seen and heard how players react to the game, but none of us have seen how the game is managed. How it's controlled. We haven't visited the hub in Japan, and that's something the investors feel should happen before it goes live."
With a growing sense of frustration, Skinner interrupted. "Alex, we haven't been there because we're not techs. We're experts in the way the mind works - and in particular the criminal mind. We've played a small part in ensuring the game accurately and safely plays out criminal acts. That the virtual characters look, feel and act real. But we are a really small cog in this wheel. Rows and rows of cables and computers will mean nothing to either of us."
Santos continued. "And even if it was worth us visiting the network centre, why now? What's the urgency Alex? "
Hill's eyes flickered, his shoulders hunched tightly together.Skinner made a mental note at how quickly Hill's earlier confidence had dissipated. The lawyer paused for a second before replying. "We need to get there quickly because Tanaka has decided to launch the game in a week's time."
Skinner and Santos glanced at each other, incredulous. Before Skinner could say anything, Santos blurted out. "A week? There's no way it can be ready yet."
Clearly keen to change the topic, and anxious to get on the flight, Hill glanced at his watch before pacing toward the glass door separating the room from the runway.
"Look. I know the launch is a little sooner than we'd all expected, but I'm assured by Tanaka himself that it's all set. He's lined up an enormous ad campaign which rolls out in two days time. Last night we learned that worldwide distribution of the game lenses started weeks ago. This time next week the whole world will be gearing up for a Christmas spent playing 'iSight 3!"
#
A series of coordinated cyber attacks in the fall of 2016 almost crippled the United States. The coordinated attacks created massive disruption to utilities, financial services, travel and social infrastructure. For the first time in history, the attacks also delayed the US election by four weeks while the authorities struggled to contain the impact. While the source of the attacks was never confirmed, the scale and sophistication led most experts to suspect a destabilising effort and show of strength from China.
Several thousand American lives were lost. Many more were financially ruined. The election, which had been lumbering toward a competition between two relatively centrist nominees from the Democratic and Republican parties, took a sharp turn to the right. A nation angry and scared by the silent and unpunished attacks demanded retribution. Extreme positions took hold, and the radical sides of both parties jostled for position. Playing on the nation's terror, the far right was elected in a landslide. The controlled both houses with a mandate to take any measures necessary to protect and defend the United States of America.
Over the next six months, the US government rolled out legislature which gave sweeping powers to track and monitor the online activity of every citizen. The use of armed surveillance drones across all major cities was approved. Thousands of suspected terrorists were covertly sent to be interrogated in countries with questionable track records in their treatment of prisoners, and those accused of cyber-terrorism were legally detained without trial indefinitely. Reports began to emerge of US citizens being taken from their home at night by counter-terrorism forces, and remaining in detention with no charges laid. Some of the more extreme right wing members presented legislation which would treat the online promotion or discussion of same-sex marriages, abortion and atheism as 'counter to US values' and therefore a form of cyber-terrorism. The legislation was narrowly defeated by a coalition of Democrats and less radical Republicans, after which several who had voted against the bill were accused of illegal online activities and were under investigation.
Horrified and outraged by what they perceived as the slide into McCarthyism, a group of hackers, coders and engineers formed an anonymous online group to fight back. Echoing the earlier work of WikiLeaks, ANONet - or Anonymous Netizens - burst into the global consciousness in July 2017 when the group released documents graphically detailing the online behaviour and secret lifestyle preferences of some of the most extreme right wing members. The impact was striking. The humiliated extremists tore into each other and a more centrist political voice emerged which garnered mainstream support. During the 2018 mid-term elections, many of the far right exposed by ANONet were voted out of office.
Emboldened by its success, ANONet announced it would continue to fight wherever they saw abuses of freedom and privacy occurring online. The next 18 months saw several ANONet attacks on Wall Street, oil companies and lobbyists. Early public support for ANONet waned as the group continued to release the personal records of public figures. ANONet had been accused of treason for leaking government and corporate secrets online and economic vandalism for releasing versions of popular games stripped of advertising and tracking systems. ANONet had been named by several governments as a threat to national security, and the renowned CEO of WhiteStar Kaito Tanaka had claimed publicly that the organisations had tried and failed on several occasions to attack WhiteStar Corporations systems. Tanaka had gone on to describe ANONet as a group of deranged cyber-terrorists intent on attacking online consumers around the world.
By 2019, ANONet was considered an organisation that had lost its way, a dark and dangerous group that answered to no one.
Despite a massive concerted effort by law enforcement agencies, no member of ANONet had been identified. The group's members were well aware the noose was tightening, and had decided several months ago to disband after one last, piercing strike for online freedom and privacy; a strike against an organisation that recorded, tracked, measured and sold information on over two billion people. A murky, privately held multi-billion dollar organisation that had operations worldwide, reported to no one government and refused to divulge the information it tracked.
WhiteStar Corporation.
#
11pm Tuesday, Seattle Washington (Minus 23 Hours)
Lewis Dodgson carefully trod up the frost-covered wooden stairs and toward his third floor apartment in Roy Street. Next door to a bar popular with the young and educated, and just two blocks from the Seattle Centre in the lively Lower Queen Anne area of Seattle, Washington, it seemed an odd place for an antisocial man like Dodgson to live.
As with everything in Dodgson's life, this apartment had been selected very carefully.
Its location meant he could walk to work. For a man who had never learnt to drive and spent 14 hours a day - every day - in the office, that was important. But there was another reason why Dodgson chose the apartment, perched at the top of a carefully renovated green weatherboard house.
Privacy.
The building next door to Dodgson's apartment was a single story yuppie bar. Modern and lively, its glamorous staff ensured a constant stream of twenty-somethings. All three floors were fully contained apartments, all accessed from an extern
al wooden staircase hidden from street view. It took Dodgson only minutes to work his way through the real estate and government systems, and find that the other two apartments residents had revealed them to be single, frequent travellers with no family in the State of Washington.
The Sapporo Outbreak Page 6