The one in which Megan announced she was leaving him.
Billions of people had loved before. Had thought they couldn’t possibly live without the object of their affection. Love had provoked irrational and self-destructive actions long before this emotion had brought Romeo and Juliet to take their own lives.
But Hall believed his case was fairly unique in the annals of history. Not only was he madly in love with Megan but also totally dependent on her for his sanity. What would he do without her? How truly alone would he be? Shunned by anyone he could read, no matter how much they might otherwise care for him.
And how insidious was the Internet, that he found himself ignoring Megan to attend to it? Perhaps, he had to admit, no more insidious than alcohol to an alcoholic. How many alcoholics couldn’t stop themselves from imbibing, even at the cost of everything they held dear?
Would he lose everything as well? The compulsion to splinter his focus was growing ever greater, and the trend was alarming. Eventually Megan would tire of being with a man who she couldn’t be sure was really there for her. Tire of competing with a limitless network designed to distract and entice. He had to find a way to stay disciplined.
Hall decided he would apply himself like never before to battling this scourge. There had to be any number of writings on the best methods to help the ever-growing ranks of those who were addicted to the Internet, or rapidly becoming so.
He was acutely aware of the irony here. He would be searching the Web for articles about . . . how to stop searching the Web. But this is what he would do. And he wouldn’t rest until he had found a way to get a handle on the situation.
The Megan-leaving-him nightmare was tormenting him much too frequently. And it had become much too real.
Hall shook his head in confusion. Where was the information he needed? He had become so used to whatever he wanted to know appearing in his visual field without him having to consciously call for it, its absence was a shock to his system.
His mind’s eye was blank. He actively ordered the software in his implants to conduct a search, not sure why this was suddenly necessary.
Still nothing. Which was impossible.
His connection was down.
Hall gasped without realizing it. His Web connection had become one of his senses, as indispensable to him as smell, touch, or hearing, and its loss was just as scary.
He didn’t even have any devices he could use to determine if this was an implant problem or if the network was down. The 6G network that had been around now for over a year was highly redundant and very powerful. This was the first time he had lost a connection since before he had faked his death.
But maybe this was a sign. He had wanted to reduce his dependence on the Web, and boom, just like that, the Web had crashed, right on cue. This would allow him to get a feel for the cold-turkey experience. Okay. Good.
He took a deep breath and walked to the large ornate mirror in the master cabin. His brown eyes seemed dead. His jet black hair limp and without its usual vitality. He had a two-day growth of stubble, and his cheeks looked hollow.
In short, he looked like shit. And he felt like it too. He had been battling feelings of depression, struggling to keep them from Megan. He had been relieved when she had opted to get space the past few days.
He was so tired of the cloak and dagger. So tired of the secrets and the isolation and the mind reading. The Eos was truly magnificent, but at the moment it was just a bigger, better appointed version of a space capsule for all of his ability to escape its confines.
But even so, he was better than this. Better than wallowing in self-pity. He needed to shave. To wear something crisp and presentable. And when his connection returned, in addition to embarking on whatever twelve-step program his search provided, he would also look for romantic getaways in New Zealand.
And he would look for jewelers there also, he decided, with a conviction that surprised him.
He and Megan had both been wary of the institution of marriage when they had met, not eager to rush into it the way Heather and Alex were doing. But the truth was they were deeply in love, living together, and joined at the hip. So what was the point of not being engaged?
Two hours passed and the Internet was still not back. Two hours that seemed like two weeks. He had shaved and showered and tidied up the Eos, but he felt like he was losing his mind.
Okay, enough experimentation with cold turkey already. Hall decided it was time for the Web to return.
A thought stream rose above the ever-present white-noise in his head. Nick Hall, it called out, in the same way Megan might have contacted him telepathically. My name is Kent Lombardo. And if you ever want to see Megan Emerson alive again, you’ll do exactly as I tell you.
There was a pause. I have no way to tell if you’re reading me or not, but I’ve been told to assume you are. We’re blocking the network in your vicinity at considerable expense, so you can’t do something stupid that you’ll regret, like calling for help and getting Megan killed. I’m in a car and will be at the Eos in about five minutes. I’m sure you’ll have managed to read my mind before I arrive, so I won’t waste any more time explaining the situation. See you soon.
Hall staggered, and the Eos seemed to spin around him. How had someone gotten to Megan?
He reached out to the man who had broadcast this threat and tore through his mind like a threshing machine. The man’s name was Kent Lombardo, as he had indicated. He had been special forces before joining a private military contractor named Blackwater, carrying out missions in Iraq, Syria, and Afghanistan. And very recently, he had been hired away by an ex-boss at Blackwater, a man who went by the name of Boyd Solomon.
Lombardo had no idea what any of this was about. He was simply following the instructions he had been given by Solomon. He didn’t know anything about Hall other than he was still alive, despite the fact the public had been told otherwise, and could read minds. He didn’t know who had hired Solomon, and he didn’t know this person’s plans for Hall.
Very smart. Knowing Hall would grind down Lombardo’s brain until not even the tiniest speck of deception could hide, they had kept the mercenary in the dark. Lombardo had been instructed to treat Hall with great care as long as he was cooperative. To place a personal Internet dampening field on him. And to drive him to a location that would not be disclosed to Lombardo until they were on their way.
The merc had balked at first, insisting that if Hall really could read his mind he’d be a sitting duck when he approached the Eos. Hall could easily shoot him and go on the run. But Solomon had convinced him that Hall wouldn’t be going anywhere. Assured him that Megan was his weakness and that he would do nothing but cooperate as long as her life hung in the balance.
Hall read that Lombardo had any number of vulnerabilities he could exploit. But he also read that if Lombardo didn’t deliver Hall as instructed, regardless of the reason, Megan Emerson would suffer the consequences. Solomon had made this quite clear to the mercenary just before the man had left, so it would be fresh in his mind for Hall to read.
Try as he might, Hall couldn’t find any way out. Whoever was behind this was very smart, had somehow known he would do anything for Megan, and had orchestrated events with absolute perfection.
But how were they found? Who was the mastermind responsible? And how did he know so much?
Hall briefly considered hiding a weapon in his clothing, but realized this would be useless. What would be the point? The mercs carrying out the op were sure to search him and would simply remove anything he managed to smuggle out.
And even if not, he wasn’t about to try anything. Not when they had Megan. Kent Lombardo could press a gun into his own head, and Hall would struggle with all of his might to prevent the scumbag from pulling the trigger.
He had been complaining of boredom and confinement, but he should have been counting his blessings. He’d give anything to return to boredom once again. But the fates seemed to be choosing a different path.
Splashing cold water on his face, Hall set his jaw in determination, took a deep breath, and exited the Eos to surrender.
It was time to begin to learn why they wanted him. And what, exactly, he was up against.
24
Heather Zambrana rushed into her fiancé’s office and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “What’s going on?” she asked anxiously.
He had asked her to meet him in his office immediately but had not said why. And he should have been traveling to his meeting with the CEO and COO of Apple. The fact that he wasn’t was a bad sign. “Did they cancel the meeting?”
Altschuler shook his head. “No. I did. The general texted me that he wanted to set up a call as soon as possible. Didn’t say what it was about.”
He checked the ever-present clock in his internal visual field. “He’ll be calling in less than a minute.”
He sat in one of the padded black leather chairs that encircled a round conference table in his office and motioned for her to sit next to him. They arranged the two chairs so both were facing the large 3-D monitor on the wall, and seconds later General Girdler and Colonel Campbell joined them virtually.
“I assume you want to wait for Nick and Megan,” said Altschuler after their images had materialized.
Girdler blew out a long breath and looked as though he was in pain. “No. I’m afraid I have bad news. The two of them have disappeared.”
“What do you mean, disappeared?” said Altschuler.
“I mean they’re gone,” said Girdler. “Your boat is empty. Neither one is responding to calls or texts.”
Altschuler shook his head, refusing to believe it was true. “Maybe they went stir crazy,” he suggested, desperate for an innocent explanation, “and snuck off. Maybe they’re at a hotel somewhere having epic sex and don’t want to answer any calls.”
“They disappeared yesterday morning,” said Girdler. “I didn’t call this meeting until I was convinced they were gone and not just going on an unscheduled vacation.”
Heather swallowed hard. “And you’ve searched the Eos?” she said.
“Yes. Very thoroughly.”
“Any sign of, you know . . . foul play? Any blood?” she added, cringing as though afraid of the answer she might get.
Girdler shook his head. “Thankfully, no. Everything is in perfect order. No sign of a struggle of any kind.”
“Doesn’t make any sense,” said Altschuler. “No one is more resourceful than Nick. And how do you capture a mind reader who can read you coming from miles away? One who can, literally, call in the Calvary in the form of Justin Girdler and Mike Campbell and the many thousands you two command. And Nick and I can communicate with our implants in a way that is indistinguishable from telepathy. At any distance. So at minimum, if he were in trouble, he would have contacted me.”
Altschuler held up a hand. “Hold on a minute. I’ll try to connect.”
He reached out through his implants to his missing friend, but instead of sending a text he shouted Hall’s name, a shout that would seem just as real as if Altschuler had been behind him, screaming into his ear.
No response. He tried several more times with the same result.
The other three meeting participants watched his face eagerly, but his darkening expression communicated the result louder than a bullhorn. He was failing to make contact with Hall as well.
“You did have eyes on them, right?” said Heather to the 3-D monitor, breaking the long silence. “Electronics, or bodyguards, or both, right? I mean, Alex and I are more heavily guarded than the president. So what about that?” she finished, unable to completely keep the rising panic from her voice.
This time Mike Campbell answered. “I’m afraid they weren’t under observation. Too conspicuous. Since Nick, supposedly, disappeared from the Palm Springs facility, the military has pulled out all the stops to try to find him. The general and I have been monitoring their efforts. If we had put any eyes on them, this might have backfired, might have advertised that there was something at the Huntington Beach marina worth watching.”
Heather shook her head in frustration and disappointment.
“In hindsight it was obviously a mistake,” admitted the general. “But Mike and I have impeccable sources. And the military was getting nowhere. We thought there was a better chance of the Eos getting hit by a tsunami than Nick being found there. He assured me he was staying below deck at all times. And the military was truly looking in all the wrong places.”
“Until they looked in the right one,” said Altschuler.
“No,” said Campbell. “We’ve worked our sources even harder since they disappeared. We don’t know what happened, but our government or military had nothing to do with it.”
A tear came to Heather’s eye as she thought about the fate of her two friends. “Any chance they began to feel too vulnerable to trust anyone?” she asked. “Including us?” she added, her voice almost pleading for this to be true. “Maybe they decided to finally disappear for good—from everyone.”
“At this point anything is possible,” replied Girdler gently. “But we have to operate under the assumption they’ve been captured, or killed.”
“So we have no idea who might be behind it?” said Altschuler. “Or what they’re after?”
“None,” said Girdler. “But as I’ve said, the list of countries and power players who might want to capture Nick is too long to even bother compiling.”
“We have to find them!” said Heather, both of her eyes now glistening. “No matter what the cost.”
“We’re trying,” said Girdler. “Believe me. One thing that makes this even more difficult is that our military has an active search on for them already, as you know. So now we have to run a hunt within a hunt. For instance, if we fix the facial recognition program we’ve sabotaged so it can now identify Nick once again, the others looking for him can use it as well.”
“So what?” said Heather. “Whoever finds them from our side can’t be as dangerous as whatever they’re facing now.”
Campbell gave her a respectful nod. “Good point,” he said.
“We will find them,” said Girdler, staring at Heather reassuringly. “I promise you. And soon.”
Heather closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but chose not to respond.
“On a different subject,” said Girdler, turning to face Altschuler. “Before we sign off, how’d it go with Congress, Alex? Any luck persuading them that delaying BrianWeb was the right course?”
Altschuler shook his head miserably. “None. They think my reticence is a smoke screen, a petty manipulation. To get them to indemnify Theia against possible future lawsuits if things go south. They basically told me to man up and just be damn sure the technology is water-tight. I’m supposed to be the best, so I need to quit whining and make sure BrainWeb is unbreachable.”
“I’m not all that surprised,” said Girdler with a frown. “But thanks for the effort.”
Altschuler nodded. “Anything else?”
“No,” said the general. “That’s all for now.”
“I assume you’ll tell us the moment you know anything,” said Heather. She gathered herself and added, “Good or bad.”
“We will,” said the general. “And let us know if either of you come up with anything that might help us.”
Altschuler looked over at the woman he had come to love, who was still taking the disappearance of their friends hard, as well she should. Still, he felt compelled to do something to reassure her. “They’ll find them, Heather,” he said softly. “Really. And this is rock bottom. So it’s only going to get better from here,” he added confidently. “Right, General?”
“Yeah,” said Girdler after a few second delay. “Sure. It’s only going to get better from here,” he repeated.
But the smile he wore on his face was forced, and he sounded anything but convinced.
25
Marc Fisher studied his prize in fascination on the monitor in front of him.
About six feet in height, fairly handsome, black hair, brown eyes. Nothing about him that would suggest he possessed supernatural abilities. You could pass him in the street and have no idea you had passed the most uniquely talented man in the history of the world, unless you wanted to include Da Vinci, Newton, or Einstein, which Fisher didn’t.
He was delighted at how well his plan had unfolded. But not surprised. After all, he was the top predator among a species that fancied itself the top predator. As usual, he had been brilliant, cunning, and decisive.
Through Solomon, he had ordered Lombardo to escort Hall to an RV he had purchased for the occasion. A very expensive RV. Spacious and comfortable. It wasn’t the Eos, but it wasn’t too far off. When you caught the goose that laid the golden eggs, you didn’t manhandle it. You didn’t throw it into the trunk of a car. You treated it like it was a delicate painting. He wanted Hall to understand just how much he valued him, and just how well treated he would be if he continued to cooperate.
Lombardo then had Hall lie down on a bed inside the camper and take a drug that would knock him out for a few days. Which actually made Hall the lucky one.
Lombardo, the poor bastard, had then completed the grueling drive from California to just outside of Washington DC in only thirty-seven hours, including brief stops for sleep along the way. Grueling, true, but why hire ex-special forces soldiers and pay them immense sums of money if they couldn’t handle a little sleep deprivation?
Hall had awakened only a few minutes earlier, and the door to his room opened and a freshly showered Lombardo arrived with a cart, on top of which sat a linen napkin, utensils, ice water, a bottle of wine, a bowl of lobster bisque, and an elegant plate covered by filet mignon, caramelized potatoes, and mixed vegetables.
Judging from the speed and enthusiasm with which Hall consumed the meal just after Lombardo closed the door, he must have been starving. A few days in stasis would do that to a man, Fisher allowed, waiting patiently for him to finish.
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