by LC Champlin
Double Meaning
Open Your Eyes - Bea Miller
“Everyone, I believe I found something.” Nathan pointed to the dot and star on the two stories.
Ken and the engineers looked up. (Josephine had wandered off earlier, leaving the men to their search. Her loss.)
“What’s it mean?” Badal asked, tilting his head as he leaned over the pages.
Nathan called up the search box for Birk’s files, then entered Corio. A .jpg file popped up. The image showed Birk grinning at the camera as he sat next to a slim, smiling brunette at a restaurant. She wore business casual attire, while he wore a bowling shirt.
“That’s it?” Mikhail asked, despair in his voice.
Muttering curses in Hindi, Badal punched his fist into his palm. “This is nuts! What, are there hidden words in the pictures, like on the restaurant wall or something?”
“Hidden words . . .” Nathan leaned forward. “It’s a long shot, but maybe he’s paranoid enough to use steganography.”
Start Notepad, open corio.jpg. The file contained a block of nonsense—symbols, letters, and numbers—that represented the image’s code. Below that ran a string of random letters and numbers. After saving the file to the desktop, he entered William Dyer. Another .jpg appeared. He didn’t bother opening it in the image viewer. Another line of nonsense appeared in Notepad.
The excitement and satisfaction one felt after conquering a particularly difficult coding problem filled Nathan. Scaling a mountain probably produced the same feeling in other people.
Badal let out his breath. “Those lines of junk text at the bottom are the encryption keys. I’ll bet you lunch they are! He hid ’em in the images, just like you thought. Wow, stego’, pretty slick. Good job, buddy.” He slapped Nathan on the back, producing a wince.
Nathan nodded to his engineer. “Go get it, tiger.”
++++++++++++
Albin rested his elbows on the bridge rail to support the weight that rode on his shoulders. The darkness below cradled his thoughts and blended with the desert night of his mind.
“Quite the special effects around here, huh?” Bridges commented as the dragons intertwined overhead.
“Kenichi-san enjoys displaying his achievements.”
“Albin, what are we doing here?” Bridges murmured as he scratched behind Judge’s ears.
Taking a breath to reply, Albin released it as exhaustion overcame him. “Mr. Serebus.” It seemed all explanations nowadays began with the name. “He has a plan.”
Bridges ceased petting Judge in favor of rubbing his temples. “I know that. But . . .”
“Are you inquiring if we should trust a man who only this morning awoke from twenty-four hours of being unconscious from sedation and the effects of physical and psychological trauma, and who is still under the influence of various narcotics?”
Bridges tapped the railing with his thumb as he contemplated the glowing fish below. “Are you?”
“Never underestimate him.”
Judge trotted off, abandoning the men.
“Serebus.” Bridges stroked his chin. “It’s Greek. I think I’ve heard it somewhere else.”
“Erebus is the primordial god of darkness, the son of Chaos. He married Nyx and produced Thanatos, god of death, among others.”
“Cheery. He was in the dark, so darkness he became.” Ah, Bridges belonged to the Song Lyrics for Every Occasion Club, in which Mr. Serebus also held membership.
“Arete Technologies’s motto is: adapt, advance, achieve. Victory is his perpetual goal. If his methods seem ruthless, it is because the situation requires it.”
Footsteps sounded from down the path, causing Albin and Bridges to aim torches in that direction. “I’m sure he appreciates his adviser, then.” Behrmann shielded her eyes as she joined them on the bridge. Judge accompanied her.
“Did they kick you out already?” Bridges asked with a snicker.
“They were posturing and BS-ing.” She leaned against the rail on Albin’s left. “Is that what his name really means? God of darkness?”
Albin raised a brow. “How long were you eavesdropping?”
Her smile dismissed the question. “Marvin, didn’t you say that Faithful Dark game had gods of darkness inside the castle?”
“In addition to shinigami, gods of death. Why?”
She shrugged. “Just curious. These special effects are wonderful, though.” A green serpentine dragon slithered across the hidden sheet of glass above, whiskers floating from its muzzle as if in water.
The giddiness of adrenaline charged her voice as she continued, “It’s been one heck of a weekend, huh.”
“You’re enjoying this, Jo?” Bridges asked, his tone flat.
Confidence turned to confusion on her face at the mention of reality. “Of course not. I’m just . . . making the most of the situation, like everyone else.”
Albin turned to lean, elbows locked, against the opposite and less-populated rail. “It is perfectly acceptable to enjoy certain aspects of our situation.”
“Pray tell, what aspects do you enjoy, Albin?” Her raised eyebrow manifested in her tone.
“I will enjoy seeing the end of all this.” He turned and departed.
Chapter 34
Germs and Steel
Monsters - Matchbook Romance
With the two keys, the documents and PDFs opened without a problem.
“Yes!” Badal punched the air as he jumped from his chair.
But when he tried the trick on the next zip file, nothing happened. His mood dropped from the heights of Everest to the depths of Marianas in 0.75 seconds. He slumped forward, head on his arms. “We were so close.”
Nathan backhanded Badal’s side. “Less drama, more research.”
The men settled in to read at their respective terminals.
One of the files looked familiar. Aha, copies of several files Nathan’s algorithms had selected from Doorway’s servers and transmitted to him last week. File snooping and corporate espionage at its finest, even if it made Albin surly and uneasy. At the time, Nathan had barely glanced at most of them, devoting his attention to the research on neural regrowth that might offer hope for his ailing father-in-law. Neil Crevan’s degenerating nervous system had taken a turn for the worse after a skirmish between his company and Arete Technologies. He alleged that Arete manipulated his company’s stock prices, causing him to lose the bid to provide Doorway Pharmaceuticals’s servers. Losing the ensuing legal action he filed against Arete did his health no favors either. The old man simply took business too personally.
The further decline in his condition unsettled Janine despite her charade that his condition mattered little to her. Davie didn’t understand why his grandfather didn’t feel like seeing his grandson. As for Crevan’s view of Nathan, the angry Irishman could hardly loathe his son-in-law more than he already did. Hence the extreme gratification that would come from having the old bastard in debt to Nathan for helping develop a treatment for the condition. The profits and power Arete would reap for investing in neurological therapies was also mouthwatering. But most importantly, Janine and David would have more time with a man they valued.
Shaking thoughts of family from his mind, Nathan scanned the document, which dealt with graphene. “Wait.” He grabbed the newspaper clipping. “Ken, what company is this article on graphene and neural stimulators talking about?”
“It could be any number of companies,” Ken replied, leaning his head back on his seat. “Graphene is thought to be the gateway into a new, glorious era of technology.” He spread his hands for the last sentence and kicked into a slow office-chair spin.
“I’m aware.” One of the tech websites had run an article about the metal. As Earth’s most conductive material at room temperature, the single layer of carbon atoms could revolutionize processors—and all other electronics. Before the disaster, Nathan had been considering appointing some of the R&D team to form a research g
roup on the topic.
Speaking of R&D, Mikhail rolled over. “Graphene? What a beautiful material!” He would have headed the group. “They say it will be in common use by 2030, but I think that’s an overestimation. I think 2020. It’s a fitting year for a light-year leap in technology. Its prospective uses in everything from clothing to computers to biological engineering—”
“That one.” Nathan pointed to the air in front of Mikhail as if the word floated before him. “I’ve done a bit of research on the material.” He’d plowed through several studies on the biological uses for graphene films. “Antibiotic uses, monitoring devices, and my personal favorite”—he raised a hand for effect—“tissue regeneration. The possibilities are impressive.”
“It’s still cost prohibitive.” The Russian looked as if a friend had died. “And there are years of safety testing required even after graphene components have been optimized for stable biofunctionalization in the human body.”
“Sadly,” Ken sighed. “In addition to what you mentioned, it can also function as a sensor for molecules such as ATP, amino acids, and dopamine. Plus, it can serve as a delivery system for anticancer drugs. Its use in the neural conduction system of the brain is in my opinion the most significant application.”
An admission of ONI’s involvement with Doorway and Birk? Smirking, Nathan sat back. “No need for smartphone screens when networks can directly interface with your brain’s synapses. But even hardcore gamers and phone users will likely draw the line at undergoing a craniotomy for the sake of feeding their digital addiction.”
“Mr. Serebus,” Mikhail ventured, “there are other ways to establish a neural interface. Maybe using the cerebrospinal fluid circulation system to introduce molecules that could then be guided through chemical means?”
Ken’s gaze flicked to Mikhail. “My goodness, Mr. Kuznetsov, I do miss your mind being on my team.”
Flushing under his pallor, which cast his face in a livid hue, Mikhail cleared his throat. “Well no, Mr. Oshiro, we-we’re all on the same team now, yes?”
“Of course!” Ken grinned back.
They would see.
“The question is”—even beyond Ken’s involvement with Birk and Doorway—“what does this data have to do with the cannibals, if anything?”
Badal shrugged at his employer’s question. “Could be there was just some extra files in there. Or maybe there’s a super-secret advance in your graphene stuff that allows it to mess with people’s nervous systems and turns them into zombies.”
Folding his arms, Nathan regarded the screen. “It may not help us at all without the remote that Red Chief was after at the St. Regis.”
“Remote?” Mikhail asked.
“According to the terrorist chief Cheel, it might pave the way to controlling the cannibals.”
“How?”
“That’s the question of the millennium.”
The group returned to reading. Rather, Ken, Badal, and Mikhail did. Nathan fished a miniature thumb drive from his wallet. Finding a USB port, he slid the drive into the tower. Open KeyJack, his custom keystroke logger. And . . . Installation complete. It imitated normal, benign programs, evading detection by most virus and malware protection programs. The tactic worked several years ago when he’d breached Ken’s security.
Nathan stroked his goatee, hiding a smile. Carpe jugulum.
++++++++++++
Mikhail waved for attention. “I think I found something.”
When Nathan, Ken, and Badal gathered, the engineer brought several other images to the fore. These showed worm-like objects. At one end, each worm twisted into three loops, a smaller one at each end of a larger. Perhaps the exhaustion took its toll, but it looked like the outline of a grizzly’s head. Other images depicted worms, but their curved ends resembled a shepherd's hook or an eye bolt. Why did they look familiar?
Growing paler with a shade of green, Mikhail grated, “Viruses.”
“That’s it!” Nathan snapped his fingers. “The snakes are the Ebola virus. I saw a documentary on it.” Oh shit.
“But,” Mikhail put in, “the files say this is the Reston strain. It’s not dangerous to humans. The research notes aren’t very detailed, so we can only guess what the Ebola virus is for. It might not be related to the affected at all.”
Nathan blinked. “The what?”
“The . . . cannibals. That’s what they’re called in the news.”
“I might have guessed.” Nathan waved for him to continue.
Exaggerated shrug from Ken. “Maybe Mikhail’s right. You said Birk was researching cancer treatments, some of which involve using viruses to fight tumor cells.”
Giving Mikhail a pat on the shoulder, Nathan headed to his own terminal. “Good work. Keep hunting.”
Back to the graphene research. He read the document and its accompanying PDFs, then, shaking his head, he re-read them. Only after the third time through did his brain grasp the information.
“Gentlemen, read this and tell me what you understand.”
As they obliged, Nathan watched their expressions. Interest, wariness, confusion, and disbelief shifted over the engineers’ faces. But Ken’s features remained in a state of mild interest.
Chapter 35
Glorious Purpose
Sound of Madness - Shinedown
Besides food, water, and shelter, the Yomi-no-Kuni Oshiro supplied life’s fourth necessity: Internet access. Satellite Internet, to be precise. Reality tempered elation, however, for if the terrorists possessed any tactical sense, they would have also sabotaged the “pipelines” that carried Internet’s transmissions across the country. Most ISPs, servers, and hosts did not use satellite as a backup. Fortunately, the Serebus homestead did.
Or not.
Unable to connect.
No . . . Nathan’s vision tunneled on the screen’s error message.
Retry—for the tenth time.
Unable to connect.
Instead of slamming his fist in the nearest solid object, he settled for grinding his knuckles into the tabletop.
His heart thudded in his ears. One, two, three—Why hadn’t Janine switched the system to the satellite Internet connection? The New York attacks focused on the city, not the upstate region that hosted the Serebus compound. Thus, Janine and Davie were safe. “Safe, damn it,” Nathan muttered, clicking Retry again. God wouldn’t let His conqueror’s family suffer while Nathan fulfilled His mission.
“Janine and Davie are fine.” Please, God!
“Problems?” Half smile in place, Ken cocked his head at Nathan.
A few. “Do you have a satellite phone?”
“Going to phone home? I have you covered.” Holding his hand up for pause, Ken headed for one of the anterooms. Apparently he realized when to mind his manners.
He returned a few minutes later with a cordless phone. “It uses the Oshiro network’s satellite access.”
“Thank you.” Turning to hide his shaking fingers, Nathan dialed the family sat phone.
Calling . . .
His heart rate climbed with every ring. Finally—“Please leave a message after the beep.”
Damn it, not again! “Janine, it’s me. We’re safe at Ken’s fortress.” She’d understand the reference. “I . . .” He what? “I love you both. Stay safe.”
Call ended.
Taking a deep breath, he looked to Heaven. Please . . .
++++++++++++
The words onscreen blurred, then vanished behind Nathan’s eyelids. He jerked awake again—and grunted in pain at the movement. Time . . . 01:48. Pushing from his chair, he closed his teeth on a yawn—to protect his ribs, not hide his exhaustion. “I’ll see you in the morning, gentlemen.”
Ken stepped back from his work area. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
“I’m quite capable.”
“Ah-ah.” Finger wag. “I’m the host.” Ken wanted to yap at him. Fantastic.
They trudged in
to the hall, the door sliding closed behind them.
“You have a unique little squad, sir.” The inventor grinned as they headed toward the guest quarters. Damn, the glint in his eyes, the assurance in his amble—he could double for a raccoon. “Unless I’m picking flowers in left field, I’m going to say none of you are trained for this. But maybe you’re all ninjas in disguise! Three of your group are your employees.” He stopped at a panel on the hall’s left. “But how strong is their loyalty?”
“Albin—”
“He’s a consultant, not an employee. I know.” Hand flap.
Nathan let out a breath through his nose. If not for the fact that the little bastard controlled the Oshiro and its assets . . .
The panel slid aside at Ken’s touch to reveal a standard Japanese bedroom with tatami mats on the floor and a low bed. He stepped in and continued across to the panel in the far wall. “I’m sure you think he’d take a bullet for you.”
“He shouldn’t.” If anyone took a bullet for anyone, by rights Nathan would take one for his friend.
“Albin aside, what if your engineers break?”
“They’re not tea cups.”
Eye roll from Ken as he rolled the slider open. His terrarium sprawled beyond, half jungle, half Japanese garden. What a mess. “The reporter and economist, what sway do you really have over them?” Motioning for Nathan to follow, the antagonizing bastard sauntered into the umbrage. “The reporter wants a story. The economist wants to survive.”
An emerald dragon floated past, three yards above Ken. It snapped its jaws at a passing will o’ the wisp. Gaudy yard ornaments.
“I don’t ‘hold sway.’ I lead.”
Ken snorted as he shook his head. “Of course you believe you lead; you have the biggest gravitational pull in your little solar system.”
Nathan tensed. Sick aches blossomed across his ribs. “I’ve seen my people through Hell this weekend.”