49
“How did it go?” said Victor when Eduardo Alvarez appeared on his 3-D monitor. Victor needed to know for certain that Altschuler’s implant coordinates were accurate and that their placement within the brain could be done automatically, without need of a surgeon. Or even need of another human being in the room for that matter.
Some of the people to whom this technology would be sold would have a colleague they trusted implicitly, but many others would be unwilling to trust anyone, even within their own organizations. And many would prefer that no one else knew they were harboring implants so they could use them with maximum effectiveness.
“Could not have gone better,” reported Alvarez. “The AutoSurge Four is very user friendly—and very precise, as advertised.”
Victor had sent his second to Switzerland to perform the test on two mercenaries who were paid more than enough to compensate them for the small risk they were taking.
“Did you get the footage I sent over?” asked Alvarez.
“Just got it,” responded Victor. “Maria,” he added, addressing his PDA, “send the video file I just received to the top right quarter of the monitor so Eduardo and I can both view it.”
“Who am I looking at?” said Victor when the video began.
“Our second volunteer, named Craig Rymer. The native English speaker. I assisted the other volunteer, so Rymer is the first man to ever successfully self-install the BrainWeb implants.”
As Alvarez was responding to Victor’s question, the video continued, showing Rymer standing next to the AutoSurge, a stainless steel unit about the size of a refrigerator, with a large touch screen monitor, an elongated steel bench, and a half dozen robot hands, each capable of millionth-of-an-inch precision. The camera zoomed in on Rymer’s hands as he programmed in the precise physical dimensions of the implants, their required orientation, and their positioning coordinates, checking them twice against the printout Alvarez had supplied.
Then Rymer laid on his back on the steel bench and slid his head into an oversized helmet, open at the top to expose his skull. A liquid gel was pumped into a flexible bladder inside the helmet, which contoured precisely to the sides of his head, ears, jaw, and neck. Then a mild electric current was sent through the gel, hardening it, so that Rymer couldn’t have moved his head to save his life. The gel would stay hardened for an hour, far longer than was necessary to place the implants.
“You can’t see what’s happening inside the helmet very well,” noted Victor.
“In the instructional video we’ll dub in an animation from the company showing exactly what’s going on.”
“Good.”
The procedure took approximately twenty minutes after Rymer had been immobilized, the majority of this time devoted to the completion of a detailed brain scan. Once the robot had the data it needed, four of its arms each picked up a tool that resembled a steel bottle cap. Each of these was pressed down onto four precise, dime-sized regions of Rymer’s exposed head, and then another tool within—a sharp one—remove all hair trapped within the circular region. Still another tool was brought to bear to shave these dime-sized spots further until they were perfectly smooth. Finally, antiseptic was applied to these newly created bald spots on Rymer’s head. All of this was done at superhuman speed, the way an ink jet printer could precisely deposit up to two hundred thousand ink droplets in a single second.
The device then located the BrainWeb implants that had been set on a tray near its arms, gripped them, placed them in the proper orientation, drilled through Rymer’s skull, positioned them in his brain, and then retreated, all in mere seconds. Alvarez had spliced in a slow-motion version of these events after the real-time version was completed so each step could be seen more clearly.
After the requisite hour the hard gel immobilizing Rymer’s head became liquid once again and was pumped out of the bladder.
Rymer removed his head from the helmet, stood up, and was filmed doing several fine motor tasks that had been prearranged, as well as brain games to demonstrate that the procedure had not required anesthesia, and that recovery of physical and mental acuity was immediate.
“Well done, Eduardo,” said Victor appreciatively. “This video will win over the most nervous of customers.”
They then discussed how their two guinea pigs had fared using the implants to access the Web. The results were even better than Victor had hoped. Imagines they were seeing were converted into visual data and piped into their visual cortices, but they had also confirmed that, as expected, this same data could be used to digitally transmit all that they were seeing to a computer, as if their eyes were video cameras.
“What about the non-English speaker?” asked Victor.
“I chose a man whose first language is Arabic, since the vast majority of our customers will be speaking this language.”
“Excellent choice.”
Alvarez nodded to acknowledge the compliment. “After four hours of training,” he continued, “this subject can already use the implants, although imperfectly. Still, he was raving about them. Our computer experts say the language training program embedded in the implants is outstanding, and that the great Alex Altschuler has truly outdone himself.”
A triumphant glint appeared in Victor’s eye. “I’ve heard enough, my friend,” he said with an easy smile. “Pack it in. Have the AutoSurge reverse the process and pay these men for their troubles. Then join me here as soon as you can. In the meanwhile, I’m going to have my own set of implants installed.”
“You’ll find it interesting to note that both men offered to give up their fee if they could keep the implants. I told them this was impossible, of course. They knew going in that we were going to reverse it.”
“That is interesting,” said Victor. “Very promising. It shows just how quickly they came to appreciate the value of the technology, and the advantages it provides. After I have BrainWeb up and running we’ll make sure you’re fitted for a set as well, Eduardo. This will make us an even more effective team. Both of us can give personal demonstrations to customers if need be. And your footage of Rymer will make the perfect instructional video. I’ll begin letting it be known that we are in possession of these implants, and that we’re open for business.”
Victor paused. “On another note,” he said, “we need to hand Altschuler off to our temporary partner, as promised.”
“You think he’ll kill him?”
“I do. I’m not sure what he has against Altschuler, but I don’t care. I agreed to deliver Altschuler and I will. After that it will out of my hands.”
“I can set up the transfer. Where do you want to make the handoff?”
“At the ranch. At the northeast runway.”
“You would let him get that close to headquarters?”
“Yes. He’ll just assume I have any number of runways in the middle of nowhere to use as transfer points. If he’s tried to trace my calls, he’ll think I’ve been calling from Switzerland, like everyone else. It will never occur to him that I would be bold enough to bring him this close to me. Believe me, after he’s gone, Oregon will be the last place he’ll ever look for me.”
“I’ll make the arrangements when I get back,” said Alvarez.
“Have a good trip, my friend,” said Victor warmly. “And excellent work.”
50
Several days passed, during which Campbell had come and gone, unable to completely abandon his extensive responsibilities as head of PsyOps, and they had turned the mansion’s library into a war room, adding extra communication equipment, monitors, and computers so the colonel could orchestrate the extensive hunt for Altschuler from this location. The fact that Altschuler’s home actually had a bookshelf-lined room called a library, larger than the largest rooms even in affluent homes, spoke volumes as to the opulence of the estate.
Hall had told Megan the truth about Marc Fisher’s demise, and why he had concluded this was something that had to be done. After almost an hour of further discussio
n, she had come to agree that his actions had been necessary, and they decided never to speak of it again.
On their fourth night in the mansion, Hall was making chicken-and-cheese quesadillas for himself, Megan, and Heather when Campbell returned to the premises and rushed into the kitchen.
“Welcome, Colonel,” said Hall in greeting, standing at one of two large cooking islands in the oversized room. He gestured to the large pan on the burner in front of him, where melted cheese was filling the kitchen with a mouthwatering aroma. “Quesadilla?”
“Sure,” said Campbell, although the look on his face made it clear that food wasn’t the foremost subject on his mind.
The colonel pulled out a quaint, yellow-and-white wooden chair and joined Heather and Megan around the country-style table in the center of the kitchen. Both women were sipping glass goblets of red wine, which they had decided, tongue in cheek, was the perfect choice to accompany a homemade chicken quesadilla.
“We’ve had a breakthrough,” said the colonel without preamble. “We know who Girdler is working with.”
The blood drained from Heather’s face. This could be the information that could lead to Alex’s return. Or it could be the information indicating he would never return. She visibly braced herself for what might come next.
“He’s a Mexican-born arms dealer named Victor.”
“Victor?” said Hall. “Victor who?”
“He only uses one name. His past is murky, and we don’t know his birth name, but this is what he calls himself.”
“And Alex?” whispered Heather.
The colonel hesitated and then said, “I’ll tell you a little more about this in a moment. But the bottom line is that we don’t know anything more about Alex than we did before.”
Heather chewed on her lower lip and nodded.
“How do you know that this Victor is involved?” asked Megan
“Because he’s putting word out around the globe that he has thousands of sets of BrainWeb implants, along with the exact, easy-bake-oven recipe for self-installation.”
Hall slid a finished quesadilla onto a plate and sprayed the pan with a non-stick coating before starting another. “So he’s just announcing he’s ready to take orders?” he said. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. At one million dollars per set.”
Hall whistled. This seemed too steep, but after only a few seconds of thought he realized the man would have any number of takers at this price. Other than Altschuler, also an active BrainWeb user, no one understood the power of this technology better than Hall, or the advantages it would give someone, especially if they had access to this technology and others did not.
“If he’s advertising like this,” said Heather hopefully, “shouldn’t he be easy to find?”
“Unfortunately, no,” said the colonel. “Justin—General Girdler,” he amended, deciding that after his former mentor’s incomprehensible betrayal, a first name was no longer appropriate, “has been after him for years. I’ve been involved on occasion also. And we’ve never even come close. Victor is the best there is. He has the most advanced technology available, and he knows how to use it to keep us off his scent. His people have made modifications and improvements that I’m not sure even we have.”
“Which explains the sleight-of-hand that allowed him to get away with the implants so easily,” noted Hall. “How he could conceal his plane from satellites.”
“Yes. But even he couldn’t have found and taken them in the first place if not for Girdler,” spat the colonel bitterly. “Even so, when word began to come in today that Victor had the implants, it all made perfect sense.”
The colonel’s face hardened. “And it gets worse. Because Victor’s motivation is more than just money. He has a real bug up his ass about the US. He’s the worst guy in the world to get access to this technology. He loathes America. I’m not sure why, but this hatred is so well known it’s almost his calling card.”
“But he isn’t a jihadist,” said Heather, “correct?”
“No. His hatred isn’t based on religious ideology. But whatever it’s based on, he’s the most prolific and dangerous arms dealer there is. No one else comes close. I worried that the implants had fallen into the hands of a dangerous terror group. But Victor is the very worst-case scenario. He sells to all dangerous groups, terrorist or otherwise. He’s been slowly morphing into a technology dealer rather than a traditional arms dealer, making him even harder to catch, since tech is a lot easier to move and hide. He is connected to every miscreant on the planet. He doesn’t discriminate. Anyone in any kind of conflict, including various mafia groups, can acquire his weapons and services. Especially those who target the US.”
“Perfect,” said Megan sarcastically.
“Girdler has delivered BrainWeb to the one enemy he most wanted to track down, the one enemy capable of putting this technology into the hands of every bad actor on the planet, of inflicting the greatest possible damage to the country he devoted his life to protecting. The general’s betrayal is even worse and more unforgivable than if he had done this for money alone.”
“If this Victor has withstood Girdler’s every effort to find him for so many years,” said Hall, cooking up the last of the quesadillas, “how did he find him to propose a partnership?”
“Victor’s contact information is well known,” said Campbell with a deep frown. “At least to those who run in the circles who need to know it. But it’s untraceable. He reroutes communications in such a complex way that not even our best man, Drew Russell, can unravel it. If you want to reach Victor, you call a number and leave a message. If he likes the message, he calls you back.”
“So didn’t the general take advantage of this when he was hunting for this guy?” said Megan, staring deeply into her wine glass. “No one has his genius for deception and planning. Couldn’t he just pretend to be a terrorist or other customer, call Victor, and set a trap?”
“He tried. Believe me, he tried. But Victor investigates the hell out of anyone attempting to forge a relationship with him. And I suspect he’s even more clever than Girdler. Every attempt failed, and some of these were remarkably well crafted, as you would expect.”
Campbell turned to Heather and couldn’t help but wince. “Heather, let me come back to Alex for a moment. When I learned Victor was behind this, about four hours ago, I immediately left a message on his line. I told him we knew he had Alex and were prepared to pay a substantial ransom for him.” He pursed his lips. “I haven’t heard back.”
Knowing how Heather might take this he quickly added, “But this means nothing. Victor probably hasn’t even gotten the message yet. And even if he has, we’ve said from the beginning this wasn’t likely to be a ransom play. I’m almost sure he has Alex, but I’d be very surprised if my call is returned. If he really can get a million dollars a pop for the implants, times ten thousand sets, we’re looking at ten billion dollars. But I’ll remind you again, you don’t kill someone with a mind like Alex’s. He’s too valuable.”
Heather took a deep breath, her eyes moistening, but she didn’t reply.
“We have to retrieve Alex,” said the colonel. “And we have to retrieve the implants. Before Victor disperses them around the world.” He shook his head. “Because we sure as hell aren’t going to contain them. Nothing could be easier to move. He could send them to customers by sticking them in a standard envelope or photo mailer, and no one would be the wiser.”
“But you’ve gone to great lengths to explain how slippery this guy is,” said Hall, as he began transferring four plates, each holding a tortilla packed with melted cheese and chicken, over to the table. “And the general himself couldn’t get close after years of effort. So what are the chances that you can find him now?”
“Actually—a lot better than you would think.”
“Why is that?” asked Megan.
“It’s true our efforts were a total failure,” said the colonel, reaching for a plate. “But we never had a mi
nd reader helping us before, either,” he added with just the hint of a smile.
51
Colonel Mike Campbell landed the helo on the deck of the USS Boxer sailing in international waters, a hundred miles off the coast of San Diego, and cut the power to the rotor. His visit was expected, but no one was there to greet him at his request, since Nick Hall was with him. While Hall had now been the subject of Campbell’s masterful makeup, hair dye, and tattooing artistry, there was no reason for him to take yet another chance that he would be recognized.
The Boxer was one of the Navy’s Wasp-class amphibious assault ships, almost three football fields in length, with a human-carrying capacity of thousands. Seen from above it was a flat seagoing platform of immense square footage, a landing field for as many as forty-two aircraft—mostly bulky V-22 Osprey and CH-53 Sea Stallion helicopters—set atop a boxy multi-storied hull.
For a period of time the Boxer had served as the flagship for the international anti-piracy task force off the coast of Somalia, and it was the ship to which Captain Richard Phillips, famously held captive by pirates, was transported for medical treatment and rest after his ordeal in 2009.
Now, in addition to its officially assigned duties, it served as an interrogation facility for high-value terrorist prisoners held by the US government. Until 2011, high-value prisoners of this type had been sent to Guantanamo Bay or secret CIA Black sites for interrogation, but the Obama administration, having promised to end the Bush administration’s detention policies, instituted a program of questioning terrorists aboard US warships in international waters. This program used legal sleight-of-hand to justify holding prisoners for as long as necessary while still leaving open the option for prosecution in civilian court.
For the past six weeks, the Boxer had been home to Abu al-Ansari, a high-ranking member of the terror group ISIS, still one of the more dangerous of the seemingly never-ending parade of such groups.
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