Bolson flushed. “I thought it best to ascertain the cause of the anomaly first, sir,” he said through clenched teeth. Truthfully, when the project had vanished, he had been quite terrified to inform the general of such a breach of security, and thus had launched his own frantic search for the missing program. A week into his 18 hour-a-day search, Lieutenant Martz had gotten wind of it. Bolson had sworn her to secrecy and, with her help, they had doubled their attempts. Apparently, though, Martz had rolled over on him after all and now the consequences would be infinitely worse.
“Lieutenant Martz,” Hawthorne said icily, not taking his eyes off the major. “What was the original projected sentience barrier of the project under optimal circumstances?”
“Approximately twenty-eight months from insertion,” she replied quietly.
“Which puts it at?”
“Approximately August 15th, two years from now,” she answered and then added. “Of course, that would be under optimal conditions.”
“That’s about twenty-five months from now, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Is it possible that barrier has been crossed already?”
“I don’t believe so, sir,” she answered.
“But can you be one hundred percent certain?”
She paused before answering. “No, sir.”
“Is it possible the virus has been compromised and beaten by a public or private sector hack?”
“No, sir,” Major Bolson cut in, but Hawthorne cut him off by slamming his hand on the table.
“That question was for Lieutenant Martz, major,” he said angrily. “You will shut your mouth and let her answer, do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Bolson replied, snapping his attention forward while he silently seethed inside.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but the major is correct,” Martz answered, casting an apologetic look toward the major. “The program itself is encrypted like nothing else in the world and as it grows, it adds to the layers of encryption. Without the base key, which only we have, it would take over a year for even a Kray network to break it from the point that it started at. But as you know, the virus is continuously progressing, so the moment a code breaker starts on the encryption, the encryption has already changed. There is no literal way to crack the encryption without starting from the base.”
Hawthorne nodded, knowing that was the answer she would give. The major might be running the lab, but there was little the computer-savvy general did not know about the project which he headed. “So, we have ruled out program compromise and we know it hasn’t been killed on our end,” he said, referring to the fact that the final kill code for the project, in event of emergency, was his and his alone. “That leaves us with a multi-million dollar black ops project with supposedly infallible tracking algorithms, that has simply vanished into cyberspace.”
“Sir, if I may,” Bolson dared to interrupt, looking at the general and waiting to see if the man would stop him again. When he didn’t, he went on. “Because of what we know, it is my belief the problem is simply in the tracking code. I believe that all I have to do is find the error and insert a new tracking algorithm to re-establish contact.”
“It’s a virus!” Hawthorne shouted. “I trust you have honeypots online”
“Yes, sir,” Bolson answered.
“Have you had any hits from it?”
“No, sir,” Bolson admitted after a long pause.
“Then your reasoning is flawed, major!” he boomed. “And that leaves only one remaining conclusion.”
“What is that, sir?” Bolson asked quietly.
Hawthorne paused and glanced at the suited man, who had remained silent the entire time. Looking back at Bolson, he finished. “Your little baby has crossed the sentience barrier two years ahead of schedule and has decided it doesn’t want to be found.”
Chapter 9
Sherrard Residence, Helena, Montana: Jon Sherrard sat bolt upright in bed, the scream still lingering on his lips. Jen was sitting beside him again, her arms wrapping him up tightly and holding him close, shushing him as a mother would a frightened child. Truth be told, that’s exactly what he felt like. Two weeks ago, he had returned from an absolutely unbelievable and terrifying journey, his conscious reuniting with his body after being separated from it and lost for nearly three days in the very real and frighteningly vast reaches of cyberspace.
At first, all was well and he had spent a lot of time relating to Kat and Drew what had happened and what it was like to literally float while lost in an indescribable electronic universe. His explanation had gone a long way in answering the many questions they had. It was what had cast him adrift that troubled him so greatly.
During the demonstration for Systemtech, he had been very pleased with how smoothly the whole thing had gone, including the repair of the damaged thumb drive through channels they had not considered would be part of the show. It was as he was getting ready to make the trip back into the hub and then into his body, that he became aware of a new virus that had been attracted to one of the honeypots. This one was different – malevolent and almost thinking, and he would swear to that for the rest of his life. This newcomer, the Horde, began rewriting and assimilating portions of random code in many different programs and when he got too close, he could actually feel it reaching out for him, almost as if it was trying to absorb him as well.
So he had done the only thing he could think of to escape. He had thrown himself through the gate and literally out into the limitless expanse of cyberspace. Moments later, Kat had shouted the order to take the honeypots offline and he was suddenly stranded, cut off from his way home, and all alone. At first, he had lost all hope and nearly panicked, fearing that he would remain part of this futuristic alien landscape forever. But logic took over and he calmed down and began exploring his new surroundings, understanding how the strange world worked, but never straying too far from the sealed gates that led back into the honeypot.
Eventually, he began to venture out further, searching for data streams that looked familiar and would give him a clue that he was at least near FutureTek’s own network. As he was near the honeypots, it didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. It did, however, take him considerable time and effort to make use of it and bypass FutureTek’s firewalls and security systems to craft his short cry for help to Kat. Had she not been there to see it, he didn’t know what would have happened, because it was in those final moments that the Horde found him again.
During his stay in cyberspace, Jon had discovered that it was not just an empty landscape. Instead, it was almost like a living, breathing entity, populated by data streams, worms, and viruses of uncountable proportions. For the most part, he had nothing to fear from anything he ran across. Even the internet worms were unable to harm him and he had dismantled more than a few of them during his time out there.
However, that all changed when the Horde returned in its entirety, a massive entity far greater than the little tendril it had sent into the honeypot. To his horror, it had become aware of him and now was actively pursuing him as prey. So, the game of cat and mouse began. Jon would flee, letting his conscious slip among passing data streams and immersing himself into coded programs on various unprotected hard drives and clouds that he could get to. But the virus would inevitably find him, pursuing him relentlessly, and every time it did, it seemed to be just a little smarter, just a little quicker, and a little more determined to catch him.
Jon had no idea what the outcome would have been if it had caught him, nor did he ever want to find out. Fleeing in stark terror, he had finally managed to get Kat’s attention by manipulating her e-mail program to send his plea for help to her. He considered himself thoroughly blessed that she happened to be right there when he sent it because if she had not been, he didn’t know if the next time he encountered the virus would be his last.
So, he had made it back from impossible odds, reunited with his body, with his wife and f
riends, and most importantly, with reality. Several good night’s sleep had given way to quality time spent holed up in his house with Jen and Dakota and a promise that he would never again do anything so stupid as to separate his conscious from his body. He had even tendered his immediate resignation as FutureTek’s test pilot, preferring to keep his feet grounded solidly in their lab, a proposal that Drew Jackson had graciously accepted.
On the third day after his escape, he had finally consented to answering the official questions that had been waiting for him and he spent a considerable part of that day and evening speaking with Homeland Security Agent Rick Alders. He answered every question he was allowed to regarding the technology, as well as more personal questions concerning his friendship with the deceased Perry Edwards and the man’s still unbelievable betrayal of FutureTek and his country. That, in itself, was a bitter wound that would be raw with Jon for a long time to come.
He then finished the lengthy and ongoing interrogations by once more relating his entire story, this time to the same three Systemtech employees who had witnessed the ill-fated demonstration that had begun his nightmare. He had even managed during that discourse, although unintentionally, to regain their interest. After hearing his story, Michael Monroe had immediately tendered a substantial offer to buy out FutureTek, an offer that would make them all rich beyond anything they could imagine. And although the offer was contingent on the completion of the official investigation into Perry Edwards and his untimely death, it had still finished the day on a good note.
At least until he went to bed that night.
It was that very night when the first nightmare came. He awoke from it the same way he had awoken from it this night and every night since the first – with a scream. Jen was always there, consoling him and doing her best to sooth his jangled nerves. But he was starting to wonder if that was enough. The nightmare was terrifying – repeated run-ins with the virus in his subconscious state that always ended up with the scream starting in his dream and finishing as he woke up. However, each time he had the dream, the virus seemed to get just a little closer to him and he found himself wondering what would happen when it finally caught him, even if it was just in his dream?
So, he lay there shivering in his wife’s arms while Dakota nuzzled him with his own canine concern. He felt that something dark was still stalking him and he stayed that way the rest of the night.
Morning found Jon Sherrard staring into the bathroom mirror with tired eyes, peering at a pair of lesions that had somehow found their way onto his face just below his left eye, sometime during the night.
Chapter 10
National Security Agency Headquarters, Fort Meade, Maryland: Major Thomas Bolson stalked along the corridor toward the lab. He had been in a foul mood since the meeting the day before with General Hawthorne and the NSA gorilla. After the meeting, he had worked non-stop in the lab by himself, trying vainly to come up with a way to reign in his creation and salvage his military career, while trying to stamp down the overwhelming feelings of betrayal. Yet as before, he had come up empty, and his anger had only intensified. At around 5:00 in the morning, he had gone home, hoping to catch a couple hours of sleep and change into a fresh uniform. The uniform change he was able to manage, but sleep did not come and his feelings of anger and helplessness were as raw as before.
Back in the military complex, he paused at the steel door leading into the lab and went through the normal palm and retina scan routine, before the door hissed open, allowing him entrance. He walked into the lab and froze as the door shut behind him.
Lieutenant Danielle Martz looked up from her work station, all the color draining from her face. It was obvious she had not expected him. She had avoided the lab after yesterday’s meeting on the advice of General Hawthorne and had only returned after she knew that Bolson was gone. The major had returned early, though, trapping her in a situation that she knew could get out of hand, particularly with their past together.
“What are you doing here?” Bolson snarled, tossing his briefcase on a lab table and folding his arms in anger. Every muscle in his body tensed, and it was all he could do to keep from killing the woman right there. She had betrayed him so completely; had compromised everything he had worked toward and had likely permanently derailed his military career. He could have his sidearm out and put several bullets into her head before she even moved and, truth be told, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t yet take that route.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she stammered, standing quickly. “If I had known you would be back…”
“You wouldn’t be here!” the major snapped, finishing her sentence. “What’s the matter, Dani? Are you afraid I would retaliate against someone trying to undermine my project and my command? Are you that desperate to take over this project?”
“No!” the young woman replied quickly. “It’s not like that at all, Tom! I swear!”
“Don’t patronize me!” Bolson yelled, moving forward threateningly. “You’ve had your eye on this since day one! You led me on! You set me up and then you betrayed me! Everything you’ve ever said was a lie and you’ve cost me everything!”
“No, sir,” she stammered again. “You’ve got it all wrong, Tom! You have to let me explain.”
Bolson had his sidearm out and two steps took him within reach of the young woman. She started to back away, but he grabbed her shoulder and yanked her toward him, pressing the barrel of the gun against the side of her head. “Give me one good reason not to do it, Dani,” he hissed, his face very close to hers. Memories from their relationship reared up in his mind, but he allowed his anger to blunt the emotions. He was ready to go over the edge.
“Tom, listen to me,” Danielle said softly, tears welling in her eyes. “I swear this is not how it was supposed to happen.”
Bolson pressed the gun barrel harder to her head. “Tell me how it was supposed to happen, then,” he snarled.
“Please, Tom,” she begged. “Please don’t hurt me. I never wanted this to happen. Never.”
For a moment, Bolson wavered, and that was the only window that Martz needed. An accomplished martial artist—a fact the major knew nothing about—she threw her left arm out, shoving Ayer’s gun hand hard to the side, while at the same time striking him hard in the chest with an open palm. It was not meant to hurt him, only to separate the two of them and give her room to work.
Bolson was thrown back and nearly lost his grip on his weapon, but he recovered quickly and began to bring his gun back to bear on the woman. Only this time, she was not the helpless victim and he found himself looking down the barrel of her own sidearm, freezing him in his place, his gun still pointed toward the floor. As if to punctuate the fact that the momentum had swung 180 degrees, Danielle Martz said coolly, “Your weapon, please, major.”
Bolson flinched visibly, expecting his head to be reduced to a puddled mass of brain matter and body fluids, but instead she motioned with her free hand for him to place his weapon on the table. Quickly becoming numb to everything that had happened, Bolson hesitated for a second before complying and backing away from the table.
Martz stared him down for a moment and then quickly holstered her sidearm, her eyes never leaving his. “I could have killed you, Tom,” she said icily, her face suddenly a mask of stone. She picked up his weapon and then surprisingly flipped it around and presented it back to him. “Of course, you still have the opportunity to kill me if you truly feel that’s your only recourse here,” she went on, indicating that he should take his weapon from her. “I won’t stop you. But understand that if you do, you won’t know the truth and if you’re truly concerned about your career, you can bet it would end in front of a firing squad or under a needle.” She paused before finishing. “It’s your move.”
“Why give my gun back to me?” he asked, trying desperately to piece together everything that had happened as he took his weapon and immediately holstered it. He was reeling from the about-face she had done, but was smart enough to know that he wa
s in something a lot deeper than he had originally thought.
“Because I trust you,” she said simply.
“You’re NSA, aren’t you,” Bolson stated, trying to put some heat into his accusation, but failing miserably.
Without answering, she brushed past him. Pausing for a moment, she turned and reached into her pocket. She tossed him a key, which he quickly snatched out of the air. He knew what the key was, since he had used it a number of times in the past. “Noon,” she said simply and then left the lab through the hiss of the security door.
Thomas Bolson was shocked at how things had suddenly turned and he breathed out a long sigh as he slid into his office chair in a daze. For the next two hours, he worked in numb shock, unbothered by anyone, but accomplishing nothing. At about ten thirty, he left the complex.
He arrived at his destination an hour and a half later and used the key to let himself in. It was a small house, set back from a quiet tree-lined road in Manassas, Virginia. He hadn’t given it any thought in the past, but now he looked at it with an eye for detail. The house was sheltered from the road and unobtrusive. To anyone else, it was the perfect little cottage in a quiet part of town. To him, he now saw it for what it was – a cover.
Danielle Martz was waiting for him in the living room, seated in an easy chair, her face much softer than the ice queen she had been when she’d left the lab a few hours earlier. Several times in the past, she would have been waiting for him in a negligee or something even less, the part of their relationship they had kept secret from everyone. Today, she was dressed comfortably in work-out clothes - spandex shorts and a tight-fitting Under Armour top. Bolson had always been attracted to her and the two had hit it off surprisingly well when she had first come to work with him on the Horde Project. He was just now starting to understand why that was.
“Sit down,” she said softly, indicating the couch that cornered her chair.
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