The Grid

by Carlton Winnfield

  In its place in the scheme of these events, the Device continued to watch over Soares’ every waking and sleeping hour and reported back to the Grid. Mendoza had yet to provide an update that reported indications of any concern. Mendoza had yet to wake his master during the night – no matter the hour.

  As part of normal operations during a direct intervention, the Grid continued to monitor and collate all communications that could provide any indications of concern not dissimilar to those that troubled Soares. But while Soares focused on Mexico, the Grid’s focus was global. While Soares relied on the brains of a few loyal men to monitor and collate; the Grid relied on a bank of nearly artificially intelligent quantum Machines watched over by Grid Actual and her superbly trained staff. While Soares was concerned about an opponent learning of his intentions to employ a weapon of mass destruction in one of the most populous cities in the world, the Grid was concerned ultimately about anyone learning of its existence. All of the Grid’s focused attention had yet to reveal anything of concern. Even the Chinese appeared to have given up on finding who had murdered their agent in Al Hodeidah. They had run into a wall that held no other doors through which to pursue anyone.

  The Grid was pleased with the lack of interest in Soares and his weapon site. This gave it freer movement of action as it entered the end phase of the intervention. It was even more pleased with the continued absence of any apparent knowledge on the part of anyone of its existence. Anonymity was key to the Grid’s raison d’être.

  After turning right onto the side street leading to the weapon site, I walked on the left side, much nearer the buildings. The same homeless person with his bicycle in the same filthy clothing, walking the same nocturnal route through this same, dark part of the city. No one to be concerned about. No one who could cause problems – certainly not for the combined forces of dozens of drug cartel enforcers and a group of radical terrorists.

  You put your money down and you take your chances.

  “Miguel’s men have seen you and are reporting to him the presence of apparently the same homeless person pushing the same bicycle along the same road at the same hour. Miguel is telling them to take no action, but to remain alert. All Devices continue to be active, in place, and monitoring. I have excellent connectivity with all of them -excellent audio and visual input. All the Devices, you, your armor and your PDs are all registered. I have excellent situational awareness of you and out to a distance of 80 kilometers. I do not expect any degradation after you enter the building. I’ve got your back. Good luck.”

  I smiled slightly at these last words – you really must wonder – took a deep breath, exhaled, turned to my left and began walking toward the entrance to the parking area beneath the weapon site, pushing my squeaking bicycle alongside me.

  “Miguel is being advised that you are turning off the street and toward the underground parking area – a deviation from your past route. Miguel is asking all lookouts if you are alone, if they see anyone other than you anywhere near the building. There was a brief silence. All answers are negative – you are alone. Miguel is telling his men to remain out of sight in the underground parking area and let you come to them; unless an apparent threat you are not to be harmed, but directed away from the building – very low key – very normal – simply not a place for a bum to sleep away the night – go somewhere else. Acknowledgments.”

  A bit of kindness, I thought. A little humanity being offered, perhaps. Though not really.

  As I walked into the dimmer light of the entranceway to the underground parking area, I took off my hat and placed it in the basket sitting in front of the bicycle’s handlebars above the front wheel.

  “There are two forward guards 26 meters down the entrance ramp to your right and six more standing near the elevator and stairs 54 meters behind them.”

  Two PDs lifted from my clothing and the hat and formed a mobile perimeter around me. The heads-up display embedded in my body armor just over and around my eyes lit up, giving me thermal and infrared imaging. Instantly, I clearly saw two men standing 23 meters inside the entranceway to the right and slightly below me, in the direction in which it turned downward. They stood there, watching me. Behind and below them, I saw six more men standing in a lighted area on the first underground parking level near the elevator and stairway doors that could take people and things up into the building. The armor adjusted the imaging for the background light around the men near the lower doors, when I looked in that direction.

  All as anticipated. I lumbered slowly toward the two guards nearest me - very tired after another long and tedious day on the streets of Mexico City, now looking for somewhere to rest my weary head. I angled my approach to the right, near the wall, moving out of the line of sight between the two guards and the entranceway now behind me that would be silhouetted by the street lamps outside. All they would be seeing of me now was the dark form of a man with a bicycle.

  “All eyes are on you – for the moment. The guard to your right is keeping Miguel informed of your progress.”

  As I came within five meters of the two guards, the one on my left held up his right hand and said in Spanish, “Halt, my friend.”

  I stopped.

  He began walking toward me. The guard on my right stayed where he was. The six other guards farther back watched the action.

  “Friend, you cannot rest your smelly and tired old body here. Go and find somewhere else to sleep.” The guard continued to approach me. I did not move.

  “Now, my friend.” He held his right hand out, pointing toward the entranceway behind me.

  I did not move and rested the bicycle against the wall.

  The guard came closer.

  “My friend. Now!” His voice firmer.

  In Spanish, I mumbled some words that included, tired, afraid and must sleep.

  “Not here, my friend. You must leave.” A note of compassion entered his voice, I thought, as he moved closer. He gestured with both arms outstretched toward the entranceway. He was very near to me.

  I tapped, “Now.”

  All of the wall and overhead lamps in the underground parking area went out. I knew as well – according to the plan – that all electricity and lighting in the rest of the building – except in the weapon room, where Miguel had installed a generator and auxiliary lighting - had also been cut. I also knew that all communications within the weapon site and from anyone inside to the outside world and vice versa had been severed. My body armor morphed from transparent to a very low-reflective matte black. My outer garments were made of dark colors. No metallic reflecting surfaces. In darkness, I became much harder to see, even with visual aids.

  As I started my rotating movement toward and between the outstretched arms of the guard, I momentarily heard voices sounding surprise and, from some, worry. In the pitch blackness farther down the entranceway, I caught sight of a series of flashes – nearly simultaneous - of what appeared to be pinpricks of light, like fireflies.

  With the sudden absence of light, the two guards near me were blind. But this would last only several seconds – until their pupils dilated as their eyes automatically adjusted to the darkness, gathering in all of the very small amount of available light. The guard who had become my dancing partner sensed my presence very near to him and started to react, beginning to retract his arms in a protective manner. He was startled and disoriented. I watched his upper torso and head as I completed my hip rotation, propelling the movement not so much with brute force as with speed, generated by the thrust of the muscles of my left leg, as I shifted my weight to my left side and brought up my left arm and hand to chest height and thrust my hand forward, through and upward, striking the blow with tremendous velocity. My thrust pushed him backward and upward onto the heels of his feet. He died instantly. The thermal imaging input in my heads-up-display that represented his body was already changing hues, as I reached out and grabbed the butt of his handgun, letting his falling body take the shoulder holster from around it.


  The other guard had moved instinctively in the direction of his colleague when the lights had been extinguished. There is always comfort and – sometimes – safety in numbers. As he moved toward us, I thought I had heard him speaking more loudly, as if trying to get someone’s attention. In the following one or two seconds, he would have heard my movement and the sound of the impact of my strike, but he could see very little and could not know what had happened. He was just a few feet distant from his friend’s body when it dropped to the floor. Instinctively, he bent down to it, calling out his friend’s name, uncertain - no answer – as he swiveled his head upward, looking at the dark form in front of and above him. As he started to reach across and under his jacket, I moved forward very quickly, shoved the handgun I now held hard against his body, over his heart, and pulled the trigger twice. The sounds of the shots were muffled. He fell backward and lay still. I placed the gun down beside him, stepped over his lifeless body and walked farther into the darkness.

  Do unto them before … etc.

  During this short period of activity, my PDs had maintained their distance and protective perimeter. Through them, the Machine watched, ready to hurl them into action should it interpret that I was in imminent danger of grievous bodily harm or capture. Neither of these conditions had come to be. All was well.

  “35 seconds from entrance. 38.” The Machine was giving me a time hack from the moment I walked through the entranceway into the underground parking area until it said those words – a sort of performance report – and it was telling me the number of remaining Devices (not including my PDs). “On plan. Miguel suspects that you are the cause of or related to the electricity and his communication failure. He has left two of his men to watch Khan’s group and he is leading the rest of his men in an expansion of the perimeter around the weapon in an effort to identify and eliminate the threat. He intends to bring the fight to you. He has told one of his men to go and instruct the guards on the lower levels to remain in place until he arrives at their positions. None of them have night vision capability and are using flashlights. This should go well. He has instructed two of his men to go by any means and personally inform Soares of what has happened. Once they are out of sight of the others, I will deal with them.”

  “Start from the outer perimeter and work in. Push Miguel back to the weapon room. Do not kill Miguel. Keep me informed,” I said.

  “Acknowledged. 36.” The two messengers.

  As I approached the door to the stairway, I looked at the bodies of the other six guards, as I walked past and over them. No movement - completely still. The heads-up display of my body armor showed the thermal heat of their bodies already well below normal parameters. They never had a chance to defend themselves. They never knew there was mortal danger all around them, just a few meters away. This was the way the Grid confronted the most threatening of its adversaries. Like ancient Rome in such circumstances, it did not play fair. It did not take prisoners.

  =========================================================

  The fax machine was left on twenty-four hours a day, every day. It was serviced three times more frequently than the manufacturer’s recommended maintenance schedule. It was replaced three times more frequently. Its predecessors had not been dumped at the local refuse yard. They went somewhere entirely different. It was positioned in a location inaccessible to nearly everyone on the planet. Its telecommunications number was very tightly controlled. No one outside very highly cleared individuals and a very short list of organizations knew it. It was intended to be used only for matters of the utmost urgency. This occasion fell into that category. At 4:45 AM, local time, the fax machine rang and began the sequence to accept an incoming communication. The alarm noting the reception startup sequence was transmitted to the adjoining room. A few seconds later, the door to that room opened and a communication specialist walked to the machine. Her expression was one of curiosity. The fax was hardly ever used and most everyone today preferred secure e-mail. She waited.

  The machine’s console display showed, “Receiving incoming fax. Stand by.” The specialist picked up a three-ring binder from a nearby table and opened it. She manipulated the console to display the sending fax number, ready to compare it to the list in the binder in her hand. In response to her request, the console display showed, “Sender unknown. Sending fax number unknown.” The specialist raised her eyebrows. An unknown sender to this fax was unheard of – it had never happened before. She became more interested and leaned over the machine, waiting for it to divulge its message.

  A few moments later, paper was ingested into the machine and then quickly stuttered out – one sheet. It read: THERE IS A PAKISTANI AIR-DELIVERABLE THERMONUCLEAR WEAPON – SERIAL NUMBER HM56X9/MY02 – IN MEXICO CITY IN A BUILDING CONSTRUCTION SITE LOCATED AT 35 CASA DO HUELVA, 10TH FLOOR, ROOM # 1011. LEFT OFF OF MAIN ELEVATOR BANK AND STAIRWAY, ON THE LEFT, 35 METERS. THE WEAPON IS IN THE HANDS OF THE EL CENTRO DRUG CARTEL SUPPORTED BY ELEMENTS OF THE RADICAL TERRORIST GROUP LED BY THE INDIVIDUAL KNOWN AS KHAN. ACT PROMPTLY. RECOVER AND SECURE THE WEAPON.

  The specialist’s mouth dropped open; her eyes widened in uncertainty. Following her instructions, drilled into her before each work shift, she lifted the sheet of paper and raced from the Situation Room in the White House in Washington, DC.

  ========================================================

  When I entered the stairwell and started the climb to the tenth floor, I heard gunshots distantly above me and the faint sounds of men yelling. I couldn’t make out the words, but their rhythm and tone sounded confused and alarmed. I could imagine.

  The stairwell was in complete darkness. Only my heads-up display enabled me to proceed up the stairs at the pace I was making. Soon I was at the stairway landing of the third floor. During my ascent, I had passed by or over the bodies of six more cartel guards. Each had been struck in the head or neck – very precise targeting – and was as motionless as those in the underground garage.

  “14. Miguel is retreating back to the weapon room. He had descended as far as the 6th floor, but the sudden deaths of so many of his men in the darkness altered his perspective. He has told his remaining men to fall back to the weapon room, where he hopes to have a better chance in the light – to see what they are fighting. He appears frightened by what he does not understand, but still determined. I am in pursuit.” Poor bastards, I thought. I could see it in my mind: beams from their flashlights lancing about into the darkness, like searchlights, looking for what was killing them. Then, brilliant flashes and the loud sound of gunfire as men shot blindly into the space near where a comrade had just been physically struck by something – perhaps the sight of some blood spewing from the head or neck – and then collapsed to the floor.

  On the fourth and fifth floors, there were four more guards lying in a stairway landing or awkwardly on the stairs. Like their colleagues in the stairway below, they had had their handguns out. There were expended cartridges around some of them. Like trying to hit a moving fly in the air in the dark.

  “Zero. I have expended all of the Devices except for your PDs and those providing surveillance in the weapon room and of the perimeter. Miguel and 1 of his men have just returned to the weapon room. In addition to Miguel and his 3 men, there are Khan and his 8 men. A total of 13. Should I expend your PDs and all of the surveillance drones, you would be left with 4 adversaries to engage. Within your capabilities. Wait.”

  Several seconds passed. I continued my ascent through the darkness, listening intently for the Machine.

  “There is an argument in the weapon room between Khan and Miguel. As Miguel entered the room, Khan instructed Salim to begin to arm the nuclear weapon. Miguel asked Khan what Salim is doing. Khan told him that the weapon must be detonated now, before it is too late. Miguel has yelled at Khan to stop, saying that he must be crazy, that they will all die – he, Soares, and all their men and many of their families. Khan has shrugged and simply said it must be done for the Caliphate. He is tell
ing Salim to continue.”

  I was now at the seventh floor stairwell landing, turning and racing upward.

  “Miguel has aimed a handgun at Salim and ordered him to stop. Each side is now aiming guns at the other. Miguel has told Khan that he will kill Salim if he does not stop – his last chance.”

  Many bodies now in the stairwell between the seventh and ninth floors. Like a last stand. Carnage.

  The sound of many guns being discharged rapidly above me. The sound of men yelling and screaming. More carnage.

  “Khan has shot Miguel numerous times. No discussion. All of Miguel’s men are dead. 2 of Khan’s men have perished as well. Khan is yelling at Salim to continue. He is pointing a gun at his head. Salim is yelling that he will not do it – will not detonate the weapon. Khan has struck him across the head with the butt of his rifle and is now continuing the arming sequence himself. As we suspected, he did not leave the ability to detonate the weapon solely in Salim’s hands. All of the remaining guards are inside the weapon room. They are afraid to venture into the darkness outside. They are all nervously watching the door to the hallway, weapons ready. One is asking the others what it is that is approaching. Some of them are praying.”

  I went quietly through the doors on the tenth floor landing into the darkened hallway and turned left, walking toward the weapon room, thirty-five meters ahead on the left. A bright light emanated from the room. Some shadows of the men inside were cast into the hallway. My heads-up display adjusted. I stepped over three more lifeless bodies in the hallway. The rear guard.

  “Stop.”

  I stopped - immediately.

  “The American Director of National Intelligence is communicating with his Station Chief at the US Embassy in Mexico City in reaction to our fax. The US Secretary of State is contacting his Ambassador there. The US Special Operations Command has alerted DELTA to coordinate with the Station Chief to investigate the allegations stated in our fax. The Station Chief has said that he can work with the Mexican authorities to have an initial response team at the building within 20 minutes.”