“I gave the commanders the order to start moving in this morning. Slowly! But still, they’ve crossed into Kuraqi waters.”
Secretary Ruiz leaned forward. “Why wasn’t I told about this?”
“You would’ve been told in due time.”
“In due time? I’m the secretary of state!”
“I think we all know that, Mike.”
“You have an obligation to consult with me on major foreign policy matters.”
“I did consult with you, Mike,” the president said wearily. “I just didn’t do what you wanted. I’m pretty sure I have that power. I think it comes with the presidential seal.”
Ruiz folded his arms across his chest and glared.
“I’m afraid this does change everything,” Ben said, filling in the dead air.
The president did not respond immediately. Ben assumed that was because he already knew what the answer would be.
“How do you mean, Ben?” Sarie asked.
He decided to answer, if not for the president, for the sake of everyone else in the room. “If we have crossed Kuraq’s borders, the colonel could easily call that an act of war. Come to think of it, he was talking about war during that phone conversation, wasn’t he?”
“I can’t stand by and let him butcher those people!” the president said. His lips trembled as he spoke. His eyes watered. Ben hoped to God he didn’t cry.
“I understand the consequences. But we have invaded his territory.”
“And his claim to the Benzai Strip is feeble at best.”
“But we haven’t invaded Benzai, right? We’ve invaded Kuraq. And if Colonel Zuko deems that an invasion, he can make a retaliatory declaration of war. And at that point-well, let’s face it. He can do anything he wants. Anything he can get away with.”
“Even explode bombs on our land?”
“Is there some rule that wars must always be fought on other people’s soil? I don’t think so. In World War II, we firebombed Dresden. We nuked Japan. I think in Colonel Zuko’s mind, he’s in exactly the same position we were then, and has the same right to take action. To destroy his enemy. To win the war.”
President Kyler brushed his eyes clear, then rose. “Agent Zimmer, have you done as I asked?”
“Yes, sir. All federal institutions in D.C. are closed or closing.”
“Good.”
“Haven’t gotten an update on the men who went down in the helicopter. But we’re working on it.”
“Please do. I’d feel better about this if I knew that those people were safe.”
Ruiz made a harrumphing sound. “How can anyone be safe while that madman is controlling our missiles?”
“Zimmer,” the president continued, “I want you to find the vice president and patch him into this conversation. He needs to know what’s going on. Just in case… you know.”
Zimmer cleared his throat. “That’s going to be a lot easier than you might imagine, sir.”
The president tilted his head, obviously puzzled. “And why?”
At that moment the main doors opened and the question was answered without a word.
The new addition to the ranks of those locked down in the bunker, flanked by four Secret Service agents, was Vice President Conrad Swinburne.
9
9:41 A.M.
Seamus pulled his Dodge up the driveway beside an apartment at the south end of the Georgetown Flats, residential housing for graduate students at Georgetown University. He wondered if he should have called ahead. On one hand, there was always value in surprise, particularly if you were planning to ask for a big favor and didn’t want the target to have much time to consider all the sound reasons to say no. On the other hand, a little warning might give his informant time to conduct research or, at the very least, be home when Seamus arrived.
It was a difficult decision, but as usual, Seamus came down on the side of surprise. Perhaps it was the result of too much time in the Middle East, where his targets had a tendency not only to not be at home but to be in another country if they knew he was dropping by. Maybe it just better suited his personal style.
He got out of the car and glanced up at the second-story apartment. No lights visible in the window, but that didn’t mean much. It was morning, and besides people like this target didn’t have much need for overhead lighting. They could survive by the dim blue glow of the computer screen.
Seamus had first encountered RossumRulz not quite a year earlier, while doing research on a new algorithm that was being used to break into scientific facilities, including some covertly operated by the U.S. government. They had suspected terrorists at first-that was everyone’s first-blush instinct in the post-9/11 world. Turned out to be industrial espionage, corporate spooks hoping to discover the next big thing before their competitors did. But in the course of doing research on the Internet-where else?-he came across someone who worked under the name of RossumRulz, a tribute presumably to the inventor of the Python operating language. Not only was he more knowledgeable about these decryption algorithms than anyone else Seamus had encountered, he was able to deduce that there were only three people capable of devising such a program.
Turned out he was right. Seamus nabbed the culprit on his second try and brought the whole security breach to a satisfying conclusion. He had offered to treat RossumRulz to a steak dinner at the Four Seasons, but the informant had declined. Apparently he wanted to maintain his anonymity. Which made Seamus all the more determined to know who and where he was. Just in case.
That part was a cinch. People talked about how there were no skid marks on the information superhighway, but there were, especially when you had the ability to serve a subpoena on the ISP. RossumRulz had cleverly disguised his server by doubling back through several blind alleys and having his own home miniserver, but Seamus still found him. He didn’t introduce himself. He had no need to at that time. But he definitely filed the name and address away for future reference. For when he needed it.
The time had come.
Seamus walked briskly up the outside stairs to the top level, then knocked on the door.
Maybe a minute later, a kid opened the door. Seamus knew he was twenty-three, but he didn’t look it. He was maybe five foot four and had dark, shaggy, curly hair that fell down on all sides as if he were using gravity for his styling gel. Perhaps a latter-day tribute to the early Beatles. He wasn’t obese but soft in the middle, which was about what Seamus might expect from someone who spent his whole life in front of a computer, seeing the light of day only when a new Star Wars picture was released.
“Here’s twenty bucks,” the kid said. “Where’s the pizza?”
Seamus smiled. “I’m not the pizza boy.”
“Oh, sorry.” He started to shut the door.
Seamus wedged his foot inside, stopping it. “I want to talk to you.”
“I don’t need any magazine subscriptions.”
Jeez, was his suit that bad? “I’m not selling magazines.”
“Whatever it is you’re selling, I don’t want any. I buy online exclusively from Cheap Deals.”
“I’m from the government,” Seamus said.
The kid’s expression froze. “Are-are you a cop?”
“Sort of. I’m looking for Arlo Patterson.”
“Oh. Oh!” He slapped his forehead in a particularly unconvincing display. “Arlo doesn’t live here anymore. He moved two apartments over.” He leaned in a little bit. “I think he was trying to get a line on the girls’ dormitory. He can do amazing things with that telescope of his. His parents actually believed that he was interested in astronomy. Isn’t that incredible?”
Seamus smiled thinly. He hoped this kid didn’t use a webcam to tell chicks he was buff, because he was the worst liar Seamus had met in his entire career. This guy had probably never lied in his entire life, except when his friends asked if he was still a virgin. “Look, Arlooo,” he said, making the name sound as stupid as possible, which didn’t take much, “I’m investigatin
g a major terrorist threat and I don’t have much time, so are you going to let me in or am I going to knock you down, tie you to the radiator, and torture you till you tell me what I want to know?”
Arlo’s voice jumped an octave. “Come on in.”
Seamus stepped inside. The apartment was even more revolting than he had imagined. He had expected the inches of dust and decaying pizza boxes. But the Captain Picard action figures? That was just embarrassing.
“Look,” Seamus began, “we know each other. Sort of. You helped me find the people who broke into the Merski Institute. I was working under the user name BoldDragon.”
“BoldDragon. Sure, I remember. Very modest.”
“Well, it was my code name overseas.”
“And I’ll bet you chose it. You should really work on those self-esteem issues.”
“I need your help again, kid. There’s a Middle Eastern kook who has hacked into the military computers that control some of our East Coast ballistic missile systems.”
Arlo made a long whistling sound. “Sweet.”
“Not so much, kid. Especially since the next missile might be coming right to your backyard.”
“Is that what happened out in the Potomac? I knew that wasn’t any gas explosion. That was a cover story, right?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny. But give me the benefit of your expertise. They think this guy may have a satellite that’s programmed to do the hacking. How would that work?”
“They’d need an operations base. Probably not too far from the computers they’re hacking into. They’d also need a seriously invasive program. I’m assuming the Pentagon has pretty decent firewalls in place.”
“I think that’s a safe bet. So how hard would this be?”
Arlo walked to his desk and plopped down in the swivel chair facing his computer screen. The computer itself and its ancillary parts covered not only the entire desk but half the available floor space. “Know anything about GhostNet?”
Seamus searched his memory. That rang a bell… perhaps a memo he had half read. The tech stuff wasn’t his strong suit. It had never had much relevance out in the desert. “Refresh my memory.”
“Back in ’09 it came out that this vast electronic spying operation had infiltrated one thousand two hundred ninety-five computers in government and private offices in one hundred three countries.”
“One hundred three? That’s, like, every country with computers.”
“Just about. They got caught by a brain trust up in Toronto. They stole documents, most of them classified. They hacked into embassies, foreign ministries. The program was being operated out of China. Which might explain why-get this-they even hacked the Dalai Lama. Can you imagine? What kind of people sic malware on the Dalai Lama?”
“Seriously bad people.”
“I guess so. They also concentrated on the South Asian and Southeast Asian countries.”
“Definitely the Chinese.”
“And they were able to do it because they had a really good program. This malware-that’s short for malicious software-didn’t just phish for random information. It whaled for particular targets. Important stuff. Totally Big Brother. It could even turn on deactivated web-cams and mikes to eavesdrop.”
“Get out of here.”
“It’s true.”
“Did they get the United States?”
“Not as far as we know-but if the Chinese could do it to others back then, how long before someone else can do it to us? Not long, I think. All they need is the right program. And if they’ve got a satellite to direct it, there’s even less chance of the infiltration being detected.”
“And what if they’ve got a mole inside the military?”
“Someone who could feed them passwords and tell them about back doors? Cakewalk. Hell, I could probably do it with that information.”
“Could you stop someone else from doing it? Boot them out of the computer system?”
Arlo thought a few moments before answering. “Maybe. It’s hard to reverse-engineer malware. And I’ll bet those Pentagon boys are already working on getting that virus out of their system.”
“That’s a safe bet. What would be the safest-or quickest-way to terminate their control over the computers?”
Arlo pondered. “If you could find the operations base, you could shut down the command signal. If no one’s guiding the satellite, then the satellite stops hacking.”
Seamus stepped forward eagerly. “Great. How do we find this base?”
Arlo shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Who would be capable of doing this?”
“The Chinese.”
“I mean domestically. If you were looking for a hacking expert, whom would you call?”
He didn’t have to think long. “Me.”
Seamus arched an eyebrow. “Who’s got self-esteem issues now?”
“Hey, I’m good enough to be your expert.”
“Yeah, but I assume you’d remember if you’d designed any malware for Middle Eastern dictators.”
“I should hope so. The only gig I’ve ever done anything like that for was-Oh. Wait a minute. Oh, no. Ohhhh, nooooo.”
Seamus pulled him up to his feet. “What is it? What did you do?”
“It was so long ago, I barely remembered. Almost a month.”
“What did you do?”
“These guys wanted to prank the university, so they wanted some targeted malware, something that could hack into a well-protected system. But they weren’t Middle Eastern. They were preppies. They were-”
“Employees, most likely, you stooge.”
“They didn’t say they were going after the military.”
“Imagine that.”
“And they said nothing about a satellite.”
“Because they’re not stupid.”
“And even as good as I am, I don’t think it was good enough to hack into the military defense system. It might be able to seize control once it’s in, but there’s no way it could get past all the firewalls and defenses.”
“But what if the people you sold the program to also had top-secret passwords and back-door information?”
Arlo’s mouth formed a silent o. “That would be bad. That would be real bad.”
“Yeah, it is. Come on, kid.” Semus tugged forcefully at his elbow. “You’re coming with me.”
“But I’ve got class today.”
“I’ll give you a note from the doctor. Bring a copy of your program.”
“I don’t have one!”
“What?”
“That’s part of the deal. They bought exclusive rights. No copies allowed.”
“Did you keep any notes?”
He shrugged. “Not so much.”
“Could you at least explain what you did to our computer experts?”
“I guess I could try.”
“Good. I want you to try very hard.” Seamus led him toward the door. “I want you to think about it in advance so when we get there you-”
Seamus was cut off by a sudden spray of broken glass flying across the room.
“Duck!” he shouted, shoving the kid to the ground.
He watched as a parallel line of bullets crashed into the opposite wall. He heard a harsh rat-a-tat sound, followed by more flying glass and another spray of bullets.
“Great,” Seamus muttered. “Stay down!”
He reached under his coat and pulled his pistol out of its holster. He brought his arms up over the desk and fired wildly out the window, pointing downward. He covered a wide range. He couldn’t possibly see who was firing from this angle-but the shooter didn’t have to know that.
It didn’t suppress fire for long. Another long rain of bullets came flying through the windows. Seamus huddled over Arlo. He didn’t think the bullets could get them here, but even glass could be deadly at this velocity.
He returned fire.
Arlo stared at his gun. “What the hell is that?”
Seamus grunted, speaking as he fi
red. “That is my official Company-issued weapon.”
“But the guy outside’s got a submachine gun! How do they expect you to take on guys like that with a peashooter?”
Tell me something I don’t already know, Seamus thought. He squeezed off another round, then ducked behind the desk.
“Who is that?”
“Don’t know. Probably one of those preppies you work for.”
“You think he wants his money back?”
“No. I think he wants you dead.”
“Why?”
“So you won’t tell anyone what you just told me.”
“But it’s too late!”
He shook his head. “Not if he kills me, too.”
He fired another round, then ducked back behind the desk.
The bullets stopped.
“Does that mean he went away?” Arlo whispered.
“In the first place,” Seamus said, “I wouldn’t assume there was only one. In the second place, I doubt it. We’re totally pinned down. Why leave? Why not finish off the job?”
“Oh.”
“Look, kid, focus on the door. When I count to three, I want you to make a run-”
His sentence trailed off as more glass blasted into the room. A small canister plopped down on the floor only a few feet away from them.
It was round and indented like a pineapple.
Arlo made a sucking sound with his throat. “Is that-a grenade?”
“I’m not sure,” Seamus said, inching forward, careful not to get in the way of another round of bullets. “It might just-”
The lid popped off. Seamus heard a hissing noise, then, a moment later, a colorless gas sprayed out of the canister.
“Oh, no,” Seamus said. “Oh, Jesus God.”
“What is it?”
“Bad news.”
Arlo grabbed his arm. “Bad? How bad?”
Seamus shook his head. “We’re dead.”
10
9:41 A.M.
President Kyler stared at the vice president with something like a combination of horror and disbelief. “Good God, Connie-what the hell are you doing here?”
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