Proportionate Response
Page 37
“You see a port anywhere?” Marks said.
Lip shook his head.
Marks took in the rest of the room. It looked thrown together—not permanent at all. More like some temporary set-up you’d find in a mobile operation. Bunch of huge cables were tracking across the floor, stuck in place with colored duct tape. Least they could do was properly cover those things up. Place looked completely disorganized. There were mismatched pieces of equipment over by the walls. One of the ceiling tiles overhead was out of place. Marks caught a glimpse of hundreds of cables up in the plenum area.
“Well, what do you want to do?” Marks said.
“We need to find a hub, somewhere I can plug in,” Lip said.
“What about those?” Marks said, nodding towards the mismatched equipment along the walls.
“That won’t work,” Lip said. “Those are dehumidifiers and space coolers.”
“You’re kidding?” Marks said. But a second look confirmed that Lip was right. These guys had a two hundred million dollar piece of equipment and they were managing the environment with a bunch of plug-ins. Unfreakinbelievable.
Lip walked over and checked them out. “Should I unplug them?” Lip said.
“Would that work?” Marks said.
“No, not unless they didn’t notice for a week. And it’s not exactly what Johnny Two-cakes had in mind.”
“About that?” Marks said. “The plan we had.”
Lip smirked. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“What we saw in there changes things,” Marks said.
“I agree,” Lip said. “Let’s check the next room. I have a feeling we’ll find everything we need.”
141
CHINA Telecom’s data center, just a short distance from where Lip and Marks were now, was a “lights-out” facility. It was remotely operated. No direct access was allowed. Temperature and humidity was strictly regulated and kept within certain narrow parameters. Any deviation, such as a one-degree temperature shift or a shift in the humidity level, would sound a passive alarm. Shifts of more than an incremental point sounded an audible alarm.
Temperature and humidity, if not controlled, were equipment killers. Too much humidity in the data center and water could condense on the delicate components inside the servers. Too little humidity and things like static electricity entered the picture. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. There was little room for error. That went double for temperature. There was a band of temperature where everything was fine. Outside that band and everything went bad in a hurry.
Owing to the precision necessary, operator error was taken out of the equation. Almost everything within the data center was automated. The ‘thermal guidelines’ were all inputted beforehand and the environmental systems were essentially on autopilot.
When this complex was initially designed it was intended to be scalable. An entire wing that was five levels, totaling over 150,000 square meters, was originally reserved for expansion. To put that in context that was the equivalent of over one and a half million square feet, or put in more layman terms still, like thirty extra football fields waiting on the sidelines, ready to be put in play.
It was a significant amount of expansion space. The architects of the data center had foresight, but even they could not have anticipated the exponential growth that would be needed. In two short years all of that space was absorbed by the ever-expanding sea of servers. In another year the complex was bursting at the seams; all available server space had been utilized, optimized, and then put in a permanent stasis of overextension. The environmental systems were managing, but it was always a challenge. Incredible heat was emitted by the servers, and that heat needed to be managed.
While Lip did not know all of the background regarding the data center, its origins, how it got to where it was today, or why the Black Widow had such a ridiculous set-up using plug-ins to help manage the environment, he was informed enough. Data centers were one of his specialties. He understood them, knew their needs, and knew exactly what levers to pull.
Power ran the beast. Power to drive the servers, and cool the facility. And that power was strictly regulated. Any tampering with the equilibrium of power in, heat out, could have dire consequences. Then, of course, there was the humidity thing. That had a lever too. Lots of levers. Levers that should never be pulled. Because when they did get pulled—“oops”—bad things happened.
MARKS watched Lip tap the last button. They were in some sort of control room. The space felt cramped. Equipment seemed to be crammed everywhere in the room.
“I was hoping for something with a little more bang,” Marks said.
“Oh don’t worry,” Lip said, getting up from his chair. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Guess. Any ideas?”
“No. You?”
“Guess we’ll walk out.”
“Think that’ll work?” Lip said.
“Hell no, but you can talk us out of the jam. Do your usual magic.”
Lip smirked. “Like with the guard?”
“Whatever works,” Marks said. “By the way, what did you say to that guy?”
“You really want to know?” Lip said.
“Sure.”
“Well the first time he asked where you were from that you came so big. And I responded,” Lip said.
“And said?”
“Well, it doesn’t translate well, but let’s just say I said you were big everywhere, but where it counts.”
“And what did he say to me?” Marks said.
“Is that true?” Lip said.
“And I said ‘dui’ to him,” Marks said. “Which means ‘yes’.”
“Yep,” Lip said. “That about sums it up. Alright Tiny, let’s get out of here.”
142
UNEASINESS gripped the man in the white mask as his chauffeur-driven Mercedes went through the gates. Power had been restored throughout the city, but during the thirty minute drive from his manor estate to China Telecom he had seen sights that did not sit well with him. People were in the streets. There was disorder and confusion seemingly everywhere. He’d been relieved to see that the bright lights of China Telecom were blazing as usual as he’d approached the massive complex.
But his relief was short-lived. As his Mercedes drove past the guard house, he saw that all was not as it should be. Employees, hundreds, perhaps thousands, were clustered and milling about in the yard. China Telecom was an enormous complex and its grounds could accommodate quite a number of folks.
He watched the sight through his dark-tinted windows. The employees were moving. It took him a moment to realize they were moving back into the complex. Their faces, those which were near, were dutiful and resigned. As they should be. Still, for a moment there as he’d approached he’d sensed an undercurrent within the crowd—something less docile, something almost unruly. Not a comforting thought. So much hinged on this complex operating smoothly. Such elaborate plans were at stake. He did not like the fact that everything depended on these employees doing their jobs without question.
Human operators, as he knew from experience, could be unreliable. He would have preferred everything being automated. Like the Black Widow. It was told what to do and did it without question. And six weeks from now with the US presidential election it would change the world. Trigger panics in the global markets like the world had never seen. The free markets would crumble, and in the ashes would emerge a new world power. Power that would be his. The glorious architect of it all.
His driver parked the Mercedes at his usual reserved spot. The man in the white mask composed himself and stepped out. He was greeted almost immediately by Hu, Head of Operations. Hu was a compact, stern-faced man; a Party man, religiously committed to the cause.
“What is going on?” the man in the white mask said.
Hu bowed reservedly. “There was a false alarm. Everything is fine now. The workers are going back to their stations.”
“Alarm? What kind of alarm?”
/> “It had to do with our fire suppression system. There was a glitch, a malfunction, I’m told. Nothing serious, but we—”
Hu did not finish. A noise suddenly split the air. It was the intercom system issuing an announcement for individuals to leave the building. Hu’s face imperceptibly flushed. He bowed. “Excuse me, I will go see, and attend to immediately.” He quickly walked away.
The man in the white mask stood there, next to his car. The employees that had been filing back into the complex had stalled. They stood in wavering lines, as if uncertain what to do. The man in the white mask watched.
At that moment there was a cry within the crowd. The cry was picked up by others. Suddenly the docile crowd was not so docile. It began to bulge, and the lines of employees broke. They were moving again, but this time away from the complex in what soon became a disorderly rout. Behind them came a low rumbling sound, which began to build in size. In disbelief, the man in the white mask watched as part of the facility burst into flames.
TWO hours later, the man in the white mask was still watching, only this time from a more removed spot. Before him the gigantic complex that was once China Telecom, was now a raging inferno. Firefighters manning water cannons were attempting to douse the thirty-foot-tall flames.
Hu shared the news. “We have accounted for everyone. It appears only a few people were hurt. No fatalities.”
“Do you think I care about that,” the man in the white mask said. “When I am finished with you—”
He didn’t finish, as he was distracted by the fact his driver was standing behind him.
“What is it?” the man in the white mask said.
His driver was holding a phone. “You have a call, sir.”
The man in the white mask looked at the phone. He knew without having to ask who was on the other line. It would not be the first call. No, there would be seven more where that one had come from. His fellow members on the Politburo Standing Committee all wanting answers. They loved him when he made them filthy rich, when he enriched the coffers of the State, but now things would be different. Things would change.
“Sir?” his driver said.
The man in the white mask ignored his driver and looked back at the flames. He saw one color, and one color only.
Red.
143
IT had taken a while. Leaving wasn’t as simple as just walking out. The fire and initial explosion, however, had created the sort of diversion they needed. Security was overwhelmed by the terrified employees and weren’t exactly in a position to maintain building access and egress procedures. When the employees began to pour through the front gates, it was easy for Marks and Lip to ride the wave.
Some time later, they joined their crew at the rendezvous spot, ten blocks from China Telecom. Around them a new day was dawning. In the smog, for a moment there, Marks actually thought he saw the rising sun.
“What took you so long?” Mei said.
“Ah, thought we’d take in the sights,” Marks said.
“Yeah,” Lip said. “How often do we get here? It’s no fun when you rush it.”
LIP pulled the short straw. It was his job to debrief Johnny Two-cakes.
As he walked away, Marks looked at Mei.
“About that later thing?”
Mei batted her eyelashes. “What later thing?”
“You already forget?”
“Maybe.”
“Let me try to remind you then,” Marks said.
He leaned down and kissed her.
“Hmm… I’m still not remembering,” Mei said.
“Me either. Let’s try it again.”
CELEBRATIONS that night were definitely in order, particularly since Johnny Two-cakes finally forgave them. Lip spun it well. It was Marks’s fault. Man pushed the wrong button. Nothing like passing the buck. Marks had to explain what they discovered. Johnny Two-cakes quickly saw the big picture. Taking out the Black Widow would have only accomplished one piece of the solution. Leaving all that stolen intellectual property, and allowing the CPC to exploit and use it was simply not an option.
Johnny Two-cakes grudgingly admitted they’d actually made a good call. “Say that again,” Lip said. He held out his Blackberry to record it. “I want a new ringtone.”
Johnny Two-cakes sighed.
“That’ll do,” Lip said. He played it over and over. Didn’t take much to amuse him.
Afterwards…
Well, there was a saying. Practice makes perfect. And Mei and he, in a new hotel room, were both committed to the program. With kissing and other things.
“I think we’re pretty good at this,” Mei said, snuggling under the silk sheets.
“I don’t know, maybe we should practice more.”
“Again?” Mei said.
“You too tired?”
Mei climbed on him. She was even more ridiculously delicious without her clothes.
“Every revolution needs some fireworks,” Marks said.
Mei giggled.
“Do that again,” Marks said.
“What?” Mei said with the sexiest voice imaginable. “You mean this?” She moved in the most indescribable way.
“Yes that,” Marks said.
“You like that?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
No more giggling. Not till after the fireworks. And there were fireworks, which seemed almost never-ending.
“I’M going to miss you,” Mei said.
“You be safe,” Marks said. “I’ll try and get back soon.”
“You better—I can’t keep turning down marriage proposals.”
Marks picked her up and they embraced. Baby could hug. “I’ll be thinking of you, Marks,” Mei whispered in his ear.
THAT voice stayed with him. And he wouldn’t have had it otherwise. Not long afterwards, Lip and he were rolling. New identities this time. Mapother and D’Abruzzo had served their use. One of Mei’s connections set them up with Australian passports. A little Web magic avoided any scene at Pudong Airport. Add in another expensive pair of tickets—this time comped by Johnny Two-cakes. Least the man could do was spot them a return ride for their troubles. And snap. They were on the plane. Heading for home. Lip and Marks were flying shotgun in business class. Johnny Two-cakes was up front in first class. Only tickets I could get, he said. Yeah, right. Man had gotten soft. But Marks wasn’t complaining. He was still hearing Mei’s whisper. Made for nice sheet music.
“Real sneaky you and Mei leaving me last night,” Lip said.
“Hmm… what are you talking about?” Marks said. “You had company.”
“Mei’s friend was great,” Lip said.
“And?”
“Wasn’t quite my type,” Lip said.
“Beautiful, smart, and digs über-hackers? Not your type?”
“Must still be sick,” Lip said. He checked the restraint for his seat and looked at the laminated card that showed where the emergency exits were located.
“You’re not going to look at this?” Lip said, tapping the card.
Marks smirked. “If this baby goes down I won’t need to know where the exits are.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll be dead.”
“You’re not helping me here.”
NINETEEN hours later, they landed. No time to waste. They had loose ends to tidy up.
Rudy.
144
RUDNITSKY received the email from TConnery35487@yahoo.com
There was a PDF attached. He opened it and an audio file of a familiar voice gave the instructions.
This is what I want.
A video played. It was some of Monster’s work. Rudnitsky remembered the woman. Fat and doughy—the wife of some mark that had refused to cooperate and was now facing the consequences. She was strapped to the table. Duct tape was across her mouth. The fear was radiating off her, like waves. Naked, her pendulous breasts and rolls of fat looked like white slabs of blubbery meat.
He’d liked watch
ing this one at the time. All that meat made for good entertainment. The six-inch diameter steel pipe was already flush against her belly; its end mushing those gobs of meat out, like lips puckering for a kiss. The pipe was locked into place with the brackets. The camera panned to the floor, taking in the rat in the cage. The cage was raised and put against the open end of the pipe.
The gate of the cage was lifted and the rat scurried into the pipe. The end of the pipe was closed with heavy wire mesh, trapping the rat inside. Another bracket was locked to secure everything and the contraption was ready.
The woman’s eyes were wide. The duct tape was ripped off her mouth. She babbled something incoherent… crying and begging.
The heat element under the pipe was turned on. The rat immediately began to feel the heat and tried to scurry away. It first tried to gnaw through the wire mesh, but quickly gave up trying to use that route to escape. Frantic now, it then went to work on the woman’s belly, clawing and biting and digging.
The woman screamed… kept screaming…
Blood oozed, then gushed, going down those fat white blubbery thighs till it pooled on the concrete floor.
The video ended and the voice continued.
Their flight arrived and they are en route. Consider this confirmation. They will be at this address within the hour.
An address flashed on the screen and Rudnitsky wrote it down.
Bring your entire crew, or at least what is left of it. In addition to Lipkin and Markston, there will be two women and a man named Claiborne for you to dispose of. There will not be any security systems for you to deal with—those will be taken care of at the proper time. Although you will have the element of surprise, proceed with caution. Do not fail this time, as you will not be given another opportunity.
The message ended.
His laptop screen went dark. Rudnitsky grated at the tone of the message, but he let it go. The contents of the message gave him what he needed. He made some phone calls.