Cyrus Twelve: Leona Foxx Suspense Thriller #2

by Ted Peters

  I suspect this geek’s been to an English language university, Leona told herself. Perhaps America, given the accent.

  “I believe we suspected this,” added Bernie. “What else?”

  “I haven’t found the thought trigger yet; but I expect I will. The memory is finite, as one would expect in a device this small. Yet, it has the capacity of an encyclopedia. What will be both necessary and desirable, of course, is to update it constantly. That way the recipient can have access to the best data.”

  “How will they update the memory?” asked Leona.

  The geek smiled. Bernie smiled. “Now, Lee, we’re getting to what our concern is. Tell her, Boo Wah.”

  “What Bernie suspected and what I have just verified is this: the implanted chip will be wirelessly connected to an orbiting satellite. The satellite can send signals that will be received directly by the person’s brain.”

  “That sounds efficient to me,” added Leona.

  “Now, Leona,” said Bernie, “let’s think this one through. What are the implications?”

  “What I have confirmed and Bernie had predicted,” Boo Wah said looking at Leona, “is that the receiver and transmitter will have multiple functions. The satellite can send signals that will erase portions of the artificial memory and substitute new material. In principle, this exchange and alteration could take place at any time, perhaps even many times per day. On the one hand, it could mean that the human person on the ground would have uncanny access to mountains of information that could make him or her function like a genius in relevant situations. On the other hand, the entire set up is ripe for abuse.”

  Bernie was shaking his head acknowledging what Boo Wah was saying. His smile had that I-told-you-so expression. He turned to look straight at Boo Wah. “What about tracking? Do you think the chip will enable the satellite listener to discern what the recipient is thinking? Will mental eave dropping be possible?”

  “To me, the chip looks like it will have this capacity,” said Boo Wah.

  Bernie turned toward Leona. “Now, consider this. Once the chip has been implanted in an individual, the satellite beam will track that person everywhere, twenty-four seven. The eave dropper could sit by a monitor and track this person’s location and—now get this—and even read the target’s thoughts. Read the target’s thoughts!”

  “Wow!” exclaimed Leona. “Every thought?”

  “No, only those thoughts connected to the chip. But, there’s more,” added Bernie. “By manipulating the content of the memory card, the tracker could introduce material that would contribute to the very thinking of the recipient. The recipient might even confuse what’s been sited in the memory with his or her own thoughts. This positions the tracker on the verge of thought-influence, almost at the point of thought-control. With this system in the hands of our enemy, each person with a chip implant would become a Trojan Horse, or even a guided missile.”

  Chapter 19

  Taipei

  “I can imagine,” said Leona, “that a diabolical plot would unfold with an implant recipient among a security force being suddenly told to assassinate a prime minister, or a president, or even the Queen. But, I can think of something even worse!”

  “What’s that?” asked the two men.

  “What would be worse would be to go commercial. Sell the chip on the open market. Millions of people would purchase implants and then, and then, and then, the guy you call the tracker would put advertising directly into everybody’s brains. We couldn’t even bury our head in a pillow to escape advertising.”

  The three chuckled together. Then, Leona added, “I’d really like to see this thing work. I would love to be the guinea pig.”

  “You’ll never get the chance,” said Dr. Lee.

  Chapter 20

  Taipei

  Boo Wah rose from his chair and disappeared back into the lab, “I’ll see how the copying is going,” he said while the door was closing.

  “So, what’s our plan?” asked Leona, turning toward her new partner.

  Bernie’s smile seemed to be engraved on his distinctive face. “After Boo Wah is satisfied with his copy, he will alter the original. This will cause it to malfunction. Then, you will replace it at TaiCom. At some point in the future, when TaiCom is about to activate it, a surprise will interrupt them. They won’t know what’s wrong. This should set them behind a few months in their clinical trials. This will provide us with the time we need to formulate a counter-strategy.”

  “But, why are you suspecting anything sinister at all with TaiCom? Maybe TaiCom simply wants to sell a new product that could have great commercial value.”

  “Even if that were the case, we would still need to monitor what’s going on. Actually, the situation is a bit more ominous. This week TaiCom is holding meetings with technical people and investors who represent the Transhumanist movement. Transhumanism is an ideology that seeks to improve the human race through a technological increase in the speed of evolution. To date, Transhumanism is not political, even though strong endorsement of global capitalism is at the center of its belief system. There was a candidate for the presidency of your country in a recent election, but he did not gain much in the way of votes. As soon as the movement becomes political, it could turn fascist. Not necessarily, of course; but with this technology the temptation might be just too great to resist.”

  “Are they really bad guys?”

  “Oh, no. They’re not bad guys at all. Just idealists, as far as I can tell. What we’re trying to do here is anticipate the future. Look at the possibilities. We want to head them off at the pass, as you used to say in the old Western movies.”

  “Not bad guys, eh. What happened while you were eating snake the other night? What happened to Katia? For the sake of Bremerton, Bernie, the storm clouds are already on the horizon.”

  “We don’t know who’s responsible for this violence. But, we’ll find out.”

  Chapter 21

  Taipei

  The lab door opened and Boo Wah came back in. He resumed his seat and picked up his beer. He dropped a handful of chips on to the table. “Done!”

  “Were you able to copy it?” asked Bernie.

  “Completely. No problem.” Bernie opened his hand and threw a half dozen peanut sized circuit chips on to the table. They spread out like dice.

  “What about the alteration?” Bernie pressed.

  Boo Wah selected one chip from the table. He held it up and then responded. “That turned out to be easier than I had anticipated. I simply severed one micro-connection. This disables the interactive transmission capacity. This will still permit TaiCom to download information prior to implantation and to integrate the chip with a person’s DNA. It will even permit additional satellite input. But, those guiding the operation will be unable to read the thoughts of the implantee. The flaw will not be discovered until they test transmission. This should befuddle them.” Boo Wah chugged a glass of beer as a celebration. Then he placed the chip with the alteration in front of Bernie.

  “Is there any reason we cannot give the chip back to Leona right now?” asked Bernie.

  “No. It’s her’s.”

  Leona’s faced looked wan, but her eyes marked the location of each chip on the table. She reached with her right hand for the altered chip, while her elbow covered a second chip. She swept both up into her left hand, closing it before anyone could see she was holding two chips, not one. “Well, I just don’t know how to thank you two boys for such a lovely gift.” she said sarcastically. “How did you mark the altered chip, Boo Wah?”

  “You’ll see a blue felt pen on the edge. Virtually invisible unless you’re looking for it.”

  Leona did not look in her hand. “Now, just how do you expect me to slip this back into TaiCom’s inventory without being discovered?”

  “I’m just a lab geek,” said Boo Wah. “How would I know? You’re the spy.”

  “It’s got to be Monday morning,” said Bernie addressing Leona. “Katia worked
at TaiCom, on the 83rd floor of Taipei 101. She had planned to return it on Monday before office hours, hoping that nobody would have missed it over the weekend. But, now we have a problem. Just where at TaiCom is the chip’s home? Katia knew. But, we don’t. If you put it in the wrong place, then it will be obvious that it had been moved. But, maybe that’s the best that we can get away with.”

  “Why wait until Monday? Why don’t I try to break into TaiCom tonight?” Leona quizzed her comrades.

  “Because weekend security is impenetrable. All who come and go are registered. Records are kept. Even Katia would not have tried it on the weekend; and she has...or had...official clearance. The building is unlocked Monday at 6:00am. Most offices don’t open until 8:00am. So, that’s your window, Leona. Do you think you can handle it?”

  “I guess I’ll have to make it work,” pined Leona.

  Chapter 22

  Chicago

  A handsome African American man wearing a white alb without a stole approached the front of the chancel at Trinity Lutheran Church. “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning,” chimed those in the pews. A sense of quizzical tension pervaded the congregation, because they did not see the familiar face of Leona Foxx in front of the altar.

  “No doubt you were expecting to see Pastor Lee here this morning,” he continued. “She is in Taiwan at the moment. She’s there on a brief vacation, eating plenty of Chinese food. She sends you all her warm greetings and best wishes.” A sense of relief overtook the assembly. There would be nothing to worry about now even after observing that their pastor was missing.

  “For those of you who have not met me, I’m Graham Washington,” said the black man in the alb. “You may call me, Pastor Gee. Some months ago I was sent to Trinity by our presiding bishop, Justin Hurley, as a Parish Listener. The bishop wanted to learn more about Trinity’s mission and activities here on the south side of Chicago. Because I know your parish well now, Pastor Lee asked if I would conduct the worship service with you this morning, in her absence. She also asked if Hillar Talin would serve as acolyte.” He turned with his hand directing all eyes to the teenager sitting in the rear of the chancel. Hillar was a lanky teenaged boy, with liberty spiked hair a twenty gage stainless steel nose ring. Hillar stood briefly, blushed, and sat down again.

  “Today is a special Sunday. Tomorrow is Memorial Day, so perhaps we should take a moment to honor those of us in this room who have served in America’s armed forces. Those of you who have served in the U.S. Navy, would you please stand up.” Three healthy young men rose to their feet, two Anglo and one African American. All three had worn their uniforms for the occasion.

  “Remain standing please. Now, those of you who were or are soldiers in the Army.” One stood up, a woman. She reached down to aid her pew partner, a man. The second gained stability; and all could see him leaning on a crutch. One leg was missing. Both smiled.

  “Do we have any Marines?” Three men rose and were added to those standing. A fourth waved from his wheelchair.

  “Coast Guard?” Two young men stood.

  “Finally, what about the U.S. Air Force?” This added two more.

  “These men and women have served our country. The rest of us owe them gratitude, because they defend our freedom as Americans. They....”

  “What about Sven Fiske?!” an anonymous voice shouted. Other voices blended in. “Yes, what about Sven?”

  An elderly troll looking man in the front row sporting a large hearing aid, perhaps a centurion, was struggling to his feet. He gripped his cane with two hands. Graham smiled and directed his attention at the senior. “Sven, where did you serve?”

  “I fought with the Norwegian insurgency against Nazi Germany,” he uttered. Because it was difficult to hear, his daughter, Lena Fiske Brandt, repeated it loudly and proudly so the entire congregation could hear.

  “That’s marvelous,” Graham added, his eyes still on the elderly veteran. Then he turned to the congregation. “Let’s show our appreciation for our men and women in uniform.” Applause broke out. Some clapping rose to their feet. Then, the entire room was on its feet. The applause lasted much longer than one might have predicted.

  Graham motioned for everyone to be seated. “As part of our memorial, I’ve asked one member of Trinity to say a few words. Orpah Tinnen knows firsthand the sacrifice a military family makes. Orpah?”

  Mrs. Tinnen made her way from a pew to the chancel. Graham handed the African American woman a wireless microphone. She took it in hand, paused, and began to speak with unanticipated clarity and poise.

  “The cost of freedom is high. I know. My family and I have paid the price. My father and my husband served in the U.S. Marine Corps. My father was killed in the first Iraq war. My husband died from an IED in the second Iraq war. Last year my son, Magnus, a Navy Seal, died while deployed in Afghanistan. These three men in my life sacrificed their lives so that we could live in freedom with democracy and security.”

  Graham’s inner mind stirred. He could hear what no one else could hear rising up from within his disturbed conscience. What bullshit! And Mrs. Tinnen believes so firmly in military sacrifice for freedom. Her father died for Texarab Oil Company. Her husband died for Houston’s windfall profits. Her son Magnus died not in Afghanistan but rather in a secret war in Iran. All she got from the Pentagon was a flask of ashes, probably from a burned fence post. But, she believes this was a sacrifice for freedom. I guess when human lives get wasted, it’s better to believe there’s some sort of meaning that blesses them. Now, I’ve got to stop this pessimism, Graham told himself. I’ve got to lead worship, goddamit. Graham struggled to regain his composure and his public face.

  Following Mrs. Tinnen’s personal reflections, the congregation stood to sing, “America the Beautiful.” When the descant kicked in on “God shed his grace on thee,” Graham’s double mindedness disappeared and he sang with gusto.

  Chapter 23

  Chicago

  “Go in peace. Serve the Lord,” Graham called out after arriving at the front door of Trinity Church following the recessional hymn. The congregation shouted back in unison like soldiers at attention: “Amen.” Then, Graham took the pastor’s customary place on the church’s porch to greet the exiting parishioners.

  As the slow line of worshippers filed out, Graham shook hands, exchanged niceties, and complimented countless women on their hair or broach or dress. For the smaller children, Graham knelt as if for prayer to ask each child’s name and provoke a laugh. Those military veterans whom he had recognized he gave a humorous salute accompanied by, “Our nation thanks you for your service.”

  Many of these vets responded with something like, “Thank you for remembering us today.” The eyes of more than one glistened with an uncontrolled tear.

  One vivacious young African American woman presented herself to Graham as if she were auditioning. She was wearing an eye-catching Caribbean print dress with white quilted peep toe pumps. Graham’s Y chromosome immediately directed his eyes to the filigree cross dangling from a golden chain. That cross was nestled snugly in the woman’s cleavage. Graham nearly missed her hand when reaching for the handshake.

  “Good morning, Pastor Gee,” she sang out like a rooster at dawn.

  “And, a good morning to you too,” he replied with eager courtesy. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. Welcome to Trinity Church, Mrs….?”

  “That’s Miss! Pastor Gee. I’m Trudy Lincoln. This is my first visit to your lovely church.”

  “Lincoln, eh. Did Henry Ford name a car after you?” Graham asked while trying to seed an exchange of smiles. When a quizzical look appeared on her face, indicating that she didn’t get the joke, Graham continued almost without interruption. “Please feel welcome to come next Sunday and learn to like us.”

  “Actually, Pastor Gee,” she said in a loud whisper, “I’d like to approach you about some questions I have about God and the Bible and my faith and things like that. Do you ever�
�.” She broke off speaking. Then, she resumed, “Might you be available some time for a personal conversation?”

  “Yes, of course,” he responded with unusual alacrity.

  “Should I make an appointment?”

  “I don’t have my appointment book handy. Perhaps we could exchange phone numbers and then make contact later in the week. Would that work for you?”

  “That’s a plan!” she exclaimed. Immediately she reached into her clutch bag and removed her cell phone. “Smile,” she commanded while lifting it to her field of vision. “I need your photo for my directory.” After snapping the picture and obtaining his mobile number, she dialed his number. He could feel the cell phone vibrate in his pocket; but he shied away from digging under his alb to pull it out.

  “Now, you can call me, or I can call you,” she said. Then, Trudy departed with an over-the-shoulder, “You’ll be hearing from me.”

  Chapter 24

  Chicago

  Once the crowd had dispersed and Graham could catch a breath, he sensed he was still not alone. He was right. Hillar along with another person approached him slowly from the sanctuary. Graham took the initiative. “Now, Hillar, just whom have you brought with you today?”

  “Graham, I’d like you to meet my brother, Jaroslav. We call ’m Jerry,” declared Hillar while stretching his arm toward his sibling.

  “Older or younger?” asked Graham extending his hand for a handshake.

  “He’s my older brother,” interjected Hillar.

  Jerry stared for an awkward moment at Graham’s open hand, then after an embarrassing delay quickly engaged in the meshing of hands.