“What are you doing there?”
“Justin sent me. He wanted me to help comfort Dr. Altschuler’s fiancée and help in the investigation.”
“What the fuck are you talking about!” snapped Sobol. “What investigation?”
Campbell felt a knot in his stomach. “The investigation of Altschuler’s kidnapping.”
“Altschuler has been kidnapped?” bellowed Sobol, the veins popping on the side of his neck.
Campbell shot a glance at Heather, who couldn’t have looked more confused. He quickly filled Sobol in on the op that had resulted in Altschuler being taken. “Justin must have been too busy setting up the dragnet to contact you,” he added, suspecting that Girdler knew this was his last day in power and hadn’t cared about a gross dereliction of protocol.
“I’ll call you back in five,” said Sobol, ending the connection. Not exactly the response Campbell had expected.
Eight minutes later he was back on the screen. “Colonel, you’ve been lied to. Other than you and the bodyguards who have just regained consciousness, no one knows about the kidnapping.” His expression had now hardened to the point he could use his face to break diamonds. “There is no dragnet of any kind. No investigation. Girdler hasn’t made any attempt to find Altschuler. And no one has seen Girdler, or been able to reach him, in hours. He’s disappeared.”
“Maybe he’s just in transit somewhere,” said Campbell, but he didn’t believe it himself.
“He was about to be informed of a court martial. Since his hours as head of Black Ops were numbered, we kept close tabs on him, in case he was a flight risk. So he’s not just out of touch. He disappeared on purpose.”
The knot in Campbell’s stomach grew to the size of a cantaloupe and he had to fight to take a breath. If Girdler hadn’t done anything to find Alex, then he had to be in on it, after all. They had stretched the benefit of the doubt as far as it would go. Girdler’s guilt was now certain.
“When did you speak with him last?” asked Sobol.
“About three or four hours ago,” replied the colonel. “Just before I left Bragg.” He paused. “Can I ask why you called me in the first place? You didn’t know about Altschuler. So why were you so eager to reach the general?”
To his credit, Sobol didn’t hesitate. “Theia’s pilot manufacturing plant was just hit. The one whose security Girdler is also in charge of. The one whose very existence was supposed to have been as classified as the plans for our missile defense system. The one protected by state-of-the-art security and enough manpower to win a war.”
Campbell just stared at the screen with his mouth open, unable to respond.
“They got all ten thousand sets of implants,” continued Sobol. “All of them.”
The implants were tiny, all four able to fit in a case the size of a quarter, although the final product packaging would make their footprint quite a bit larger. But all ten thousand sets made for the clinical trial could fit nicely into two large suitcases.
“The raid was immaculate,” said Sobol. “Just like the one on Altschuler. They had perfect inside knowledge. Codes. Guard movements and shift changes. They knew where to find the hidden safe in which the finished implants were stored. I could go on. But it was an inside job, through and through.”
Heather looked ill, but managed to remain silent and out of sight.
“Any leads at all?” asked Campbell.
“None. A private jet landed on a secluded stretch of road nearby and took off with the men responsible, and the implants. The jet was stealth enabled. As advanced as anything in our own arsenal. And the satellites covering the area went down.” He paused. “Just to rub salt in the wound, as soon as these fuckers were airborne they triggered explosives that turned the pilot manufacturing plant into slag.”
“How many casualties?”
“None,” said Sobol, shaking his head as if not even believing this himself. “Just like you described when they were collecting Altschuler. They took everyone out with gas or darts. Then they took five minutes extra, in the middle of a hit-and-run operation, to stack all the sleeping bodies into the back of a truck and move them far enough from the blast zone so no one was hurt.”
Sobol frowned deeply. “You probably know I haven’t been a big fan of Girdler for a while now,” he said. “But I never thought he had it in him to do something like this. So now he has Theia’s human brain trust and ten thousand sets of implants. The combination is worth a fortune. When I catch that bastard, I’m going to kill him myself.”
Campbell had distanced himself from Girdler publicly, at the general’s own insistence, for some time now, so Sobol thought he had grown estranged from Girdler just as Sobol had. Which is the only thing that kept him off the hot seat now.
“I’ll issue a warrant for Girdler’s arrest as soon as I end this call,” continued Sobol. “And set up a manhunt. We’ll find him. And when we do, we’ll find the implants.” Sobol paused. “Why do you think you were the only one he told about the kidnapping?”
“I have no idea,” replied Campbell. “But I’m going to find out.”
“Good. You take point on finding Altschuler and keeping his fiancée safe. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”
“Roger that,” said Campbell as the call ended.
***
Heather stumbled closer to Campbell like she was one of the living dead. “Girdler orchestrated everything,” she whispered, horrified. “Maybe he has gone crazy. But it’s hard to believe someone who is delusional could execute a plan like this so well.”
Campbell considered. The fact that the assault teams had made sure there were zero casualties at either attack sounded like the doings of the man he knew. But would a man suffering from paranoid delusions go to this much trouble to spare lives? Think this clearly?
“If he isn’t delusional,” said Campbell finally, “then he had to have done this for the money. Which I find even harder to believe. In all the time I’ve known him, wealth has never been a motivation.”
“People change,” said Heather.
They both fell silent and continued to ponder the inexplicable.
Heather’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. With Alex and the implants both gone, and the factory destroyed, it’s game over for BrainWeb. With Alex out of the picture, only Girdler can access the required specs. The copy Alex gave to the board of directors is garbage. So Girdler not only controls Alex and the clinical trial supply of implants, he is now the only person alive with access to the knowledge of what makes BrainWeb work. Do you think he’s doing this so he can prevent the technology from ever being used?”
“An interesting thought,” said Campbell. If this were true, the audacity of the plan was astonishing, even for Girdler. But his genius at devising this sort of strategy was unparalleled. Only he was skilled enough, and bold enough, to attempt a plan so daring and complex.
Girdler had been the most vocal against the technology. So was this his way of accomplishing by force what they had failed to accomplish by fiat? By destroying the implants, the pilot factory, and taking Alex out of commission, the BrainWeb technology wouldn’t reemerge for decades. Theia Labs could still restore sight and hearing to the impaired, but mind-controlled Web surfing would go the way of the albatross.
So was this his end game? Had he become the front man of an anti-technology group that would stop at nothing to make sure BrainWeb never saw the light of day?
Heather took a deep breath and stared into Campbell’s eyes. “And then there were two,” she whispered.
He forced a weary smile. Apparently, being in their exclusive six-member group wasn’t the best way to ensure a long and dull life.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “The erosion of the group stops now. And I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight.”
Heather nodded, but even he knew this wasn’t comforting given what had gone before. And she was a lot less worried about her own safety than she was about getting Alex back.
As head of PsyOps, Campbell had considerable resources at his disposal. But Justin Girdler was a brilliant strategist who knew very well how to counter his every move.
Campbell was confident of his own abilities, but under the circumstances, it was hard to like his chances.
35
Nick Hall counted the minutes until his daily call with Megan. It was the only thing keeping him going.
Nothing like forcibly being kept separated for an extended period of time to put everything into perspective. He had been feeling sorry for himself on the Eos. Sure. Too much time with the woman he loved. Too much sex.
He had been an idiot.
He would give anything to be able to hold her again. To joke with her. To see her incandescent smile and hear her unselfconscious laughter, which brightened a room like a starburst.
At least he had gotten through the worst of his Internet withdrawal, which had been brutal. But he vowed that once he got back together with Megan—he wouldn’t allow himself to consider a scenario in which this didn’t happen—he would get a dampening bracelet of his own, with an indicator light. So when they were together he could turn off wireless coverage around him and she would know he was paying attention. That he was there for her. When he wanted to use the Web, he could switch off the bracelet—but she would know that he had, just as a woman in a normal situation would know that a man was sneaking a look at a cell phone.
Frank Earnest was allowing them a single five-minute video call a day, with no restrictions on what they could say, although they did know their captor was eavesdropping, so any discussions of escape, if Hall could ever come up with a plan, would have to be very creative. Megan continued to be treated well, as promised. She had mentioned she was in the desert in the Southwest, beyond sight of other homes or civilization, but that is all she knew.
For his part, Hall had relayed to her what he had been doing and why. She had listened but hadn’t commented much, knowing the walls had ears.
He had read the minds of several other politicians and Democratic Party power players during the past week and had never failed to come away disgusted. While Frank Earnest had never failed to come away delighted.
But his mood had reached its lowest point. His captor hadn’t made the slightest mistake, and he showed no signs he was about to.
And although he continued to claim he would let both his prisoners go when he had what he needed, Hall couldn’t imagine him taking this risk. Not a man as careful as Earnest.
No, a man this careful would make sure he and Megan became the kind of skeletons that only a future mind reader could ever find.
36
Altschuler stared deeply into Victor’s eyes and recited the placement coordinates for the implants slowly and carefully, trying to stay calm so the polygraph wouldn’t pick up on his stress. He knew this was irrational, because the system accounted for the stress of being tested and he was telling the truth. But it would have been a nightmare if the polygraph glitched and indicated he was lying.
He held his breath while Victor and Eduardo studied the results. After a few minutes, Victor nodded. “Thank you, Alex. This has been helpful.” He paused. “As I’m sure you’re aware, two new surgical robots have come out over the past few months. Which were you planning to use for your clinical trials?”
Altschuler couldn’t help but be impressed by the extent of Victor’s knowledge. About a year earlier, when Gray was performing experiments on Hall and others, he had used a programmable robotic surgery device, since the implants were very small and needed to be placed with inhuman precision. At this time, a human surgeon was required to make the initial incision and guide the procedure, which Heather had done for him, but newer robots had since come out that had eliminated even this requirement. They were perfect for Theia’s needs.
“The AutoSurge Four,” said Altschuler. “The one made by Hayashi Incorporated. It’s the most expensive, but its brain scans are the highest resolution and most precise. We don’t think we’ll need as much precision as it can give, but we plan to be as conservative as possible until we’re certain.”
“Thank you. This was my thinking also, but I wanted to be sure I hadn’t missed anything.”
Altschuler considered warning him that these coordinates would never work for different hardware and software, and that he was certain whatever attempts at designing implants Victor’s scientific friends were making were doomed to failure, but decided against it. Why give the man any reason to hold him longer?
“Okay,” said Altschuler. “I’ve given you what you want. So please release me as you promised.”
Victor frowned. “Well, I did tell you I’d release you, but it wasn’t so much a promise. And I’m afraid I was misleading you. But only a little. We need to keep you a little longer, just to be certain everything works right.”
Altschuler’s heart raced. He had known this was too good to be true. Too easy. His face reflected bitterness and disgust at Victor’s betrayal. “What works right?” he asked angrily.
“Theia’s implants. We need to get an AutoSurge Four. And then we need to perform the surgery on a few volunteers.” Victor smiled. “Just to be sure everything is working as advertised. If everything checks out with our volunteers, then I’ll undergo the procedure myself. Once I’m satisfied BrainWeb is working in my own head, we’ll let you go. Won’t be longer than another week or two, at most.”
“If you’re planning to use our implants,” said Altschuler, “it will be a hell of a lot longer than that. As we’ve already discussed, none will be available for at least another year.”
Victor raised his eyebrows. “That’s funny,” he said. “Because I acquired ten thousand sets just last night.”
An icy chill raced up Altschuler’s spine. Victor couldn’t possibly have known these implants had just been manufactured, let along managed to steal them, but Altschuler didn’t doubt it for a moment. The number ten thousand was too specific, and too accurate, and the smug look on the arms dealer’s face too genuine.
Altschuler had been played for a fool. He should have known Victor was too smart to go to this much trouble for information that would be useless to him.
So now his captor had everything he needed to get BrainWeb working perfectly.
What, exactly, was going on? And what in the world was he up against?
37
Nick Hall paced in his room like a caged lion. A few more weeks of this and he would lose his mind. It was a wonder he hadn’t already.
It wasn’t just the confinement and boredom. It was the stress as well. The worry. For himself and Megan.
And things had gotten worse than ever. When he had been escorted a day earlier to Virginia to read the mind of Senator Bob Sirrine—known to have his sights on the White House and considered by many to be the Democratic Party’s frontrunner—he had read devastating news in the minds of dozens of people he passed.
Alex Altschuler was missing. It was an International story. His whereabouts were unknown. The identities of the kidnappers were unknown. And whether Theia’s CEO was alive or dead was unknown.
The cable channels were running it constantly, hosting experts who conjectured as to why someone might take him. Many blamed anti-technology groups. But Hall knew better. Unless the Luddites had upped their game considerably—unlikely due to their disdain for technology—Altschuler could only have been captured by a group that was exceptionally sophisticated.
Hall still had twenty minutes before his daily call with Megan and was desperate to take his mind off of their current situation. He decided he had plenty of time to read Lombardo and Hogan, which he did twice a day. Just in case. He knew as much about these men now as they knew about themselves, but he religiously scanned them in case a conversation with Earnest, each other, or some outside interaction revealed a mistake. Something he could work with.
So far it had been fruitless. Neither had been told where Megan was being kept, or anything else that would have helped Hall. The man call
ing himself Frank Earnest was too careful.
Still, Hall would keep at it. If he could find just the tiniest loose thread to hold onto, he could unravel the entire sweater. He knew exactly how formidable he could be.
As he was reading Lombardo his eyes widened in shock. There it was! Just when he was at his very lowest, a ray of light had found its way through a crack in his cave.
And he suddenly had a lot of thinking and planning to do.
38
“How are you today, Nick?” said Marc Fisher, three hours after Hall’s call with Megan. “Ready for tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” said Hall. “About that.” He hesitated. “After I read Bob Sirrine yesterday, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. The more I do this, the more I’ve come around to your point of view.”
Fisher beamed. He had hoped this would be the case. Why wouldn’t it? Hall was a reasonably ethical man, who could only read so much corruption in the minds of politicians before he would become utterly sickened. It was the weakness of those cursed with a conscience.
Not that it mattered if Hall came around. He had him by the balls anyway. And Hall’s information always checked out, and was never anything short of spectacular.
“That’s great,” said Fisher, faking enthusiasm. “I had a feeling you might.”
“You did say you’d let me and Megan get on with our lives once you have enough to ensure your guy gets in, right?”
“Absolutely,” said Fisher. “I’ll never trouble the two of you again.”
The truth was that when he had what he needed, Nick Hall and Megan Emerson would each be rewarded with a bullet to the brain, but he needed to continue the facade so Hall would continue to cooperate.
“Great,” said Hall, but a guilty expression crept over his face. “So now that I’m sort of a convert, I’m going to level with you.” He paused for a long moment, as if reluctant to continue. Finally he blew out a long breath and added, “I’m afraid I’ve been . . . misleading you.”
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