Leviathan egt-4

by David L. Golemon

  "Admiral Fuqua, order this threat tracked down and destroyed by any means necessary."

  EVENT GROUP CENTER,

  NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

  Niles sat at one of the desks in the upper tier of the amphitheaterlike computer center. He watched as Pete Golding on the floor far below instructed his department on how he wanted Europa's every transaction of the day before tracked. He called it bleeding her system. He likened it to the old ways of physicians bleeding a person to assist in healing. They were about to break down the most powerful computing system in the world and siphon her information out, one program and one line of code at a time.

  Niles placed his glasses back on, gathered the latest communique from the president that listed the threat to the nation and the world, and was about to rise when suddenly every light in the computer center flickered, went out, came back on, flickered again, and then steadied.

  "What in the hell is going on around here?" Pete asked as bells started to chime.

  "Dr. Golding, my internal messaging system has been compromised," Europa said electronically and in print on the main screen.

  Pete glanced up at Niles, who was now standing and peering at the glowing green type on the thirty-foot-wide and twenty-foot-high main viewing screen at the front of the center. He then walked over to his desk situated at the center of the technician stations lining the floor. He leaned into his microphone. Before he could say anything, Carl Everett walked in; he had been in the hallway outside when the computer alarm sounded. He exchanged a look with Niles, who shrugged his shoulders.

  "Europa, query; compromised by whom?"

  "Unknown source, Dr. Golding. I have instructions."

  "Europa, initiate your security protocols," Pete ordered as if he were scolding a child.

  "I am unable to comply at this time, Dr. Golding. Security override Alpha-Tango-Seven is in effect."

  "I have not authorized an AT-seven override. Shut down outside access."

  "What in the hell is an AT-seven security override?" Carl asked Niles, who was now looking very concerned.

  "Alpha-Tango-Seven is an override that can be initiated from a terminal other than Europa. Even our Group cell phones, laptops, and home PCs are Europa secured. This message is not from an internal source — someone from an unauthorized computer has used one of Pete's most secure overrides to get a message to us," Niles explained.

  The double doors of the center opened and Alice joined Carl and Niles.

  "What in the hell is happening?" Alice asked. "Every computer terminal in the complex went offline!"

  Niles didn't answer her; he was looking at the main screen.

  "Jack Collins used this security override last month during the Atlantis operation, when he accessed Europa from an unsecured location."

  Everett remembered that indeed they had, from a cybercafe.

  "Shut down complete—"

  "Thank you, Europa, now begin a trace as to—"

  "Alpha-Tango override reestablished. Incoming message being received," Europa said, cutting Pete off.

  "Goddamn it, shut down the outside source. Authorization, Golding—"

  "Pete, allow the message through," Niles called from his elevated position.

  "Niles, this could be a virus!"

  "Allow it through; we may be getting something from our mysterious saboteur. Besides, if they wanted only to send Europa a virus, they could have done it without us knowing, since they seem to know our systems as well as we do. Let the message through."

  Pete shook his head in exasperation, but leaned over the microphone to comply with his orders.

  "Europa, content of message?" Pete asked.

  The main viewing screen went dark as Europa complied. As they watched, bright red letters started appearing, and scrolled with incredible speed.

  DEPARTMENT 5656, DR. NILES COMPTON, GREETINGS FROM A FRIEND. UNDOUBTEDLY, BEING AN AGENT FOR THE UNITED STATES FEDERAL GOVERNMENT, YOU ARE IN POSSESSION OF THE DOCUMENT DELIVERED TO THE UNITED NATIONS AND TO YOUR PRESIDENT.

  Niles passed the message he had received earlier from the president over to Alice and Everett. He noticed Virginia's absence for the first time.

  AS A SCIENTIFIC AND HISTORICAL BODY, YOU MUST APPRECIATE THE GRAVE SITUATION PRESENTED BY THE LOSS OF SEA LIFE IN THE WORLD'S OCEANS DUE TO THE CORRUPT MEASURES TAKEN BY GOVERNMENTS AND INDIVIDUALS AROUND THE WORLD. THE DEFENSELESS NOW HAVE A DEFENDER. THE THREAT OF FORCE ISSUED IN THE UNITED NATIONS COMMUNIQUe IS GENUINE, AND ITS PARAMETERS CAN AND WILL BE ENFORCED. THEREFORE, WE CALL UPON YOU, DR. COMPTON, AND YOUR DEPARTMENT TO ASSIST ME IN MAKING YOUR GOVERNMENT, AND THUS THE WORLD, UNDERSTAND THEIR DIRE POSITION IN REGARD TO THIS MATTER. FAILURE WILL RESULT IN THE TOTAL DESTRUCTION OF EVERY MAJOR SEAPORT IN THE WORLD BY A NUCLEAR RESPONSE.

  IN A SHOW OF GOOD FAITH, I WILL TURN OVER TO YOUR GROUP AN ITEM THAT WAS LOST TO YOU SOME TIME AGO, ONE THAT YOU WOULD WISH TO RECOVER. I ASK FOR A TRADE, DR. COMPTON: YOU FOR THIS ARTICLE. THIS DEMAND MUST BE MET BEFORE THE DEADLINE MENTIONED IN THE COMMUNIQUe. THERE WILL BE ONE ATTEMPT MADE, AND ONE ATTEMPT ONLY. UPON FAILURE IN THIS ENDEAVOR, THE MANIFESTO DELIVERED TO ALL GOVERNMENTS WILL TAKE EFFECT IMMEDIATELY WITH EXTREME FORCE, AND THE ATTACKS MENTIONED IN THIS COMMUNICATION WILL BE IMPLEMENTED IN A WEEK'S TIME. DR. COMPTON, THIS IS THE ONLY WAY YOUR PRESIDENT CAN VALIDATE THE SERIOUSNESS OF THIS MATTER.

  LATITUDE 41.071 N, LONGITUDE [?]71.85706 W 0230 HOURS.

  END COMMUNICATION.

  Movement on the computer center main floor started immediately as technicians ran to their stations. They didn't have to receive orders from Pete to move.

  "Connection terminated at oh-nine-twelve and thirty-two seconds — origin has been traced by Europa to the Eastern seaboard, location unknown," one of the white-coated technicians called out.

  "Microwave relay station Greenland is the closest we can get to a trace. It dead-ends there," another said aloud.

  "Get me the location of those coordinates!" Pete ordered.

  Europa used the main viewing screen as she pushed the pirated communique aside, then brought up a satellite map of the United States. The view adjusted to the eastern half of the U.S. and then centered on Long Island, New York. It kept magnifying on a large object by the sea.

  "Europa computes latitude 41.071 north, longitude [?]71.85706 west is Montauk Point, New York — specifically, the lighthouse," Pete's assistant said as he straightened from his console.

  "Okay, let's start digging deeper on that trace; they had to have left more of a footprint than just the Greenland microwave relay." Pete looked up at Niles and the others. "Boss, I have a feeling that whoever they are, they have codes for some or all of the U.S. communication satellites."

  Niles listened to Pete's orders and comment, then looked at the three people around him. "Alice, get all department heads into the conference room immediately. Captain, make travel arrangements for New York, fastest possible route. Plan defensively; we're dealing with a very shrewd criminal at the very least."

  "Yes, sir. May I ask your thoughts?" Everett said.

  "Captain, this is no coincidence. This is the same person who destroyed two levels of our complex, and obviously the one responsible for the UN message. Therefore, our priority is to damn well find out what it was they didn't want us to know on levels seventy-three and seventy-four. Let's move. We don't have a lot of time."

  "That's not what I mean. You're not going to trade yourself for whatever it is they have, are you?" Everett asked, knowing that Jack would never allow the director to place himself in harm's way for something that had not been substantiated.

  "I have every intention of meeting their demands." He looked at Everett and the others one at a time. "We need to know who and what we're dealing with, so unless we can find out something before tonight, yes, I'm going."

  * * *

  As Carl Everett met with Jason Ryan to decide how to proceed to this mysterious meeting, Pete Golding and Alice Hamilton asked for a meeting with Director Compton to del
iver extremely bad news. They were shown into Compton's large office, where Niles was meeting on a video monitor with the president of the United States.

  "I'm sorry, Niles, I would like to have the luxury of time, but I don't. I have ordered the navy to provide escort for all oil shipments heading to U.S. shores. The Russians, Chinese, and British are joining the effort. Not all vessels will be covered, at least in this first phase, because there are just so many already at sea. Starting tomorrow, though, no ship leaves Middle Eastern waters without guns surrounding them. As for regular commercial traffic, we are quarantining all ships in port and ordering those at sea to come home. The coast guard will try and get them in, but again, we can't protect everyone."

  "We still believe that whoever was responsible for the sabotage here at the complex is responsible for the world threat. They want to meet, and will provide a good faith measure to attain that meeting — they want to trade whatever they have for me. They insist upon me being a go-between. I need your permission to proceed," Niles said as he rubbed his right temple.

  The president sat silent for the longest time. Then he picked up a piece of paper from his desk.

  "My analysts believe we're dealing with a terrorist element that is only using ecological concerns to mask their real intensions. The U.S. Department of Agriculture says their claims of sixty-one percent loss of seagoing species are hogwash. This may be a move to throw our economy — which, I might add, is more dependent than ever on foreign oil — into utter chaos. Thus far, I'm leaning to that suggestion, because in all honesty, Niles, no matter how bad we think things are with the ecology and global warming, economically we can do nothing about it. We need oil and that is that. I'm not here to debate the right or the wrong of it."

  "I'm not defending these people, Mr. President; I'm a realist, and I know we can't just choke ourselves to death because of our thirst for oil. However, my people are telling me that this communique is telling more of a truth than what your people are saying. The sea has at the very least lost fifty percent of all life that it once supported, and that is a direct result of overfishing and water contamination."

  "I'm not about to sit here and argue with you, Niles; you tell me what to do. Do I just toss seventy million Americans out of work because an outside nutcase says that his group is shutting down the sea lanes? Am I supposed to look at the people of the northeast and say, sorry, no heating oil this year? We don't have the strategic reserves to see us through one damn winter."

  Niles took a deep breath and shook his head.

  "However, since this is the only lead we have on these people, I want your security chief to liaise with the director of the FBI — you are to stay in place in Nevada. Any attempt by you to go to the meeting, I'll have you placed under house arrest." The president held up his hand when he saw Niles start to protest. "The FBI is in charge."

  "My people are leaving within the hour, and will be in New York at the U.S. Air Force facility at Kennedy by six tonight."

  "Who's leading the Group?"

  Niles looked into the monitor. "Captain Everett will handle our end of things."

  "I'm sorry, Niles; you're too valuable to swap for anything they may have at the moment."

  The monitor went dark and Niles slammed his glasses down on the desk.

  "What have you two got?" he asked rubbing his eyes.

  Alice moved toward the credenza and poured Niles his fifth cup of coffee in the past hour and a half.

  "Niles, our culprit erased the inventory and forensics files on all artifacts stored on the two affected levels," Pete announced as Alice sat down in her usual chair in front of the large desk.

  Compton looked up and saw Pete was angry and tired.

  "I really don't know why we expected any different. There would have been no sense in destroying the articles physically if you left a computer record of those finds available." Alice didn't say this to anyone in particular. She also looked tired, far more than Niles had ever seen her.

  "I hate to ask this, Alice, but no one knows those vaults any better than you and the senator. Do you think—?"

  "Yes, but it will take time. Garrison and I will go through the paper files. Maybe we can see what was in them to help you. Since this faction hit even the old Cray system at the old facility, we lost those records also. They were goddamned thorough. However, we're flying in the hard copies from Arlington. I've already asked security to pick the senator up at home and bring him in."

  "Well, at least the senator had the foresight to have the hard copies of the files stored in Arlington; otherwise our saboteur might have gotten to those also," Pete said, perching his glasses on his forehead so he could rub his eyes.

  "Okay, have them all faxed out here."

  "Is Carl ready to go out East?" Pete asked.

  "Yes, he's taking Ryan and Mendenhall. I'll tell him the bad news about the FBI; he's not going to be happy," Niles answered, replacing his own glasses. "I suspect the FBI will set up an ambush to retrieve our item, and try for at least one or two arrests."

  "Is that advisable?" Pete asked.

  "I didn't have much of a choice. Look, one thing we better get used to here, threats have been made by an unknown source to make the nation do something that would send us back to the Stone Age. We, as a country, for better or worse, have set ourselves up for this through our arrogance. Now someone is trying to pull the plug on our neon society, and we can't let that happen, not yet, not until we can get alternatives online and people accept them. The president wants other eyes out there and is desperate for information. I can't really say I blame him, Pete."

  The door opened and Virginia Pollock walked in. She looked tired, and her eyes refused to meet those of her friends.

  Niles looked at Virginia, wondering where she had been. Then he looked at everyone around his desk.

  "Every American knew this day would come, and now it has. If they didn't stop whoever this was, a hundred years of ignoring the earth was about to come back and haunt them. Now pay attention. Pete, we're calling an event for in-house personnel only, and from this moment on, I want you to order Europa to close the complex. No external communication is to be allowed. I want cell frequencies jammed, and all passes revoked. Captain Everett and his team are the only exceptions, and I hate to say this, but I even want his phone monitored while off base. Shut down the gates; turn off communications for the pawnshop. Keep it open, but seal the elevator into the tunnel." He looked at Alice. "All senior department members are to be escorted by security and will be quarantined in the main conference room for the duration of the FBI's and our department's operation. Pete, use my terminal and order Europa to seal the complex."

  Golding did as he was ordered.

  Alice and Virginia exchanged looks. Never had the Event Group gone to such a total lockdown over security.

  "Now, let's find out who attacked us, shall we?" Niles said with a nod.

  "And find out who our traitor is," Pete added.

  THE GOLD CITY PAWNSHOP,

  LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

  The old man went unnoticed at the city bus stop for the hour he had been sitting. His aluminum walker was perched in front of him — just an old man resting his aged body.

  His keen eyes were watching the shop across the street. He had thus far not recognized one employee at the Gold City Pawnshop. The heat was almost intolerable, but the man sat and acted as though the sun were a blessing.

  Suddenly his eyes picked up something inside the shop that made him move his head so his vision could pass across the plate-glass window in the front of the store. He coughed as he finally recognized a familiar face. He had run into this man on more than one occasion in the past, and knew him to be a favorite of his superior officers. His computerlike memory flashed back to two years before in the Arizona desert, and then again last year in the heat of the Amazon. He became satisfied as the black man's name came to mind: Mendenhall — Staff Sergeant Mendenhall. It was comforting knowing that certain things had not chan
ged in the year he had been… away.

  The old man rose clumsily to his feet and used the aluminum walker, leaning heavily upon it as he slowly crossed the busy street. A car honked and swerved to the other lane, but the old man was intent on the pawnshop in front of him. The black man inside looked up at the sound of the horn, and he quickly moved to open the door.

  Second Lieutenant Will Mendenhall held the door for the man, who nodded his head in thanks. The old man had not known the former sergeant had received his second lieutenant's bar after the Amazon mission.

  "Car almost got ya there," Will said as he quickly let the door close behind the man and looked at his watch. He could see the deeply etched wrinkles and figured the old gentleman was at least eighty years old. His white moustache was well trimmed, and for someone his age he had expressive blue eyes.

  "I wanted to throw my walker at the smart-ass bastard, but then what would I have done?"

  "Yeah, wouldn't have blamed you, people around here are in a hurry to get to nowhere," Will commented. "Well, what can I help you with?"

  The old man raised his right liver-spotted hand off the walker in a mock surrender.

  "Son, you have me. I… I just wanted to feel this air-conditioning for a moment before I head back out to that damn bus stop. Missed the last one — hell, I fell right to sleep."

  Mendenhall smiled and nodded his head, "You bet. If you want there's a seat up by the counter." He looked at his watch again, knowing that Captain Everett had called him five minutes ago and ordered him off gate 2 duties. "Right now I have to clock out and get out of here."

  "I thank you, but right here's fine with me. The air is cool and I can see that damn bus comin' through the window, but thanks anyway, son."

  Will was just turning away when the old man's other hand slipped from the walker and he started to fall. Will reached out quickly and caught the man, who was far heavier than he looked.

  "Whoa, you okay?" he asked, stabilizing the man.