Harbinger (The Janus Harbinger Book 1)

by Olan Thorensen

  The three men’s attention on Jason had focused as he spoke, though their expressions still conveyed uncertainty.

  “What are some of these problems you talk about?” asked Sinclair. “Maybe that will help me understand why you think all this is so significant.”

  “It depends on whether P = NP is true or false. If false, many mathematicians think the proof’s methodology is bound to lead places novel and important. But if it turns out to be true under even some but not all conditions, the list of applications is effectively unlimited. More efficient transportation and manufacturing systems, 100 percent language recognition and translation, far more advanced weather predictions, maybe into many months if not years ahead, possibly earthquake prediction, design of new computer processors, biotechnology like cancer cures and proteins designed for specific purposes, on and on.

  “Oh, and here’s one for you, General. No cryptography system would be unbreakable.”

  Mueller and Huxler looked at Sinclair, who appeared frozen, his chest not moving. Seconds passed.

  “Well, that’s the shits,” said Sinclair, staring at a wall. He turned to Jason. “But you say it’s unlikely?”

  “That’s the consensus. I’m not qualified to give a reliable evaluation, but I got the sense that Simeon was implying the opposite.”

  “If that’s the case, we need to put a lid on this.”

  “It’s too late to put a lid on this,” said Jason, “because of the communications you’ve already allowed between Freddie and mathematicians he’s previously collaborated with. Two publications coming out that peripherally relate to the P = NP problem. Those two papers are dense mathematics unlikely to have been studied thoroughly by many people, but that’s only a matter of time. One or more readers will eventually realize the implications, and word will spread like you can’t imagine. This sort of thing will explode in the international mathematics community. The only reason it hasn’t happened before is that Freddie didn’t have the last few steps when the papers were published.

  “I even wonder if the other authors of those papers realized the implications. I know I didn’t until I put them together with what I’ve learned since coming here.

  “Since then, he and Simeon have gone further. A lot further. I wouldn’t have even attempted to understand the papers. It was only by studying the recordings of Freddie’s session with Simeon that I could follow along. The stepwise progression and logic are nothing short of amazing. Beautiful, as mathematicians talk about such things.”

  Sinclair cursed under his breath. “I don’t give a shit how pretty the equations are, but this is going to cause a shit storm with the NSA people when I report up the line.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “How can we find out for certain where this is leading?”

  Jason shrugged. “I don’t see any other way but to bring in more qualified mathematicians to do the same thing I did. Best yet, give them access to Simeon, along with Freddie. Maybe I’m seeing things, and they could tell us there’s nothing to worry about as far as the encryption is concerned.”

  “Okay, let me think about this,” said Sinclair. “This will rattle more than a few people, but I might try to shake loose one or two mathematicians to assess where this is going. Jason, give me a few names to begin with, although if we do this, I’m sure there’ll be other names put forward. Don’t get your hopes up. Even if we go ahead, it’s liable to take several months. In the meantime, keep working with Freddie and make as much of it as you can.”

  The three men waited until Jason left.

  “This is one of those conundrums we’ve talked about, Leo,” said Huxler. “New technology can cut both directions, being both good and bad. Part of me would hope the P = NP case was proved by Simeon and Freddie. Think of the better weather forecasting and medical applications. Unfortunately, there’s the downside being the possible end of any kind of information security.”

  “You realize you really don’t have a choice, do you, General?” said Mueller.

  “I know,” said Sinclair. “We don’t. The U.S. doesn’t. When this gets up the line, there will be efforts to find ways to suppress further development and maybe withdraw those two papers of Freddie’s.”

  “Really?” asked Huxler, skeptical. “I don’t know the circulation of the journals the papers went to, but retraction would only draw attention, especially if there are both paper and electronic versions out there. Retract, and people who hadn’t read the papers would give them a look. And who’s to say the journals’ editors would go along? And what about the coauthors?”

  “I know, I know,” said Sinclair, impatient. “I’m probably just pissing into the wind. If it would help, I’d shut Freddie off from Simeon, but that doesn’t fix the current situation. Doing that would only delay the problem as long as Simeon exists.”

  Huxler gave a rueful laugh. “Having any second thoughts about coming out of retirement?”

  “Bet your ass I do. Hell, I’ve had second and third thoughts the last six months. I suspect I’d have been happier in ignorance of what goes on up here.”

  CHAPTER 24

  ZOMBIE SCENARIOS

  Situation Room, beneath the White House

  Bob Neller glanced at the proposed day’s schedule before he entered the Oval Office. He didn’t have to knock. He knew the president was at the Resolute Desk reading the daily intelligence briefing. There was a “solid” feeling about the desk derived from more than just its appearance, the chief of staff thought. Yet he couldn’t have given a clear explanation of why the ponderous-looking wooden piece of furniture projected an emotional response other than it had been used by every living president. He finally settled on the history of the desk and the continuity of the office.

  As Neller closed the door, he saw that although the briefing papers were spread out on the desktop, the president’s chair was turned away as he stared out the window.

  “Good morning, Mr. President.”

  “Morning, Bob,” said Chesterton without turning. “I was just thinking about history. Not just past but future.”

  “Future history?”

  “No. I mean when history looks back on this time, I wonder what it will see and evaluate.”

  Neller was surprised. His friend and president was not normally of a contemplative nature.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh . . . oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s this office. You know . . . what’s happened in this very room over the two centuries.” Chesterton turned the chair to face Neller and rapped a knuckle on the desktop. “Even the furniture. Take this desk. You know the history, right, Bob?”

  “Yeah, or at least the basics. Around 1850 or so, the Resolute was one of the ships trying to find what happened to the previous Franklin expedition looking for a northwest passage through Canada’s far north. They never found Franklin and got stuck in the ice, so the ship was abandoned. That’s all I remember.”

  “Right,” said Chesterton. “Then, about a year later, an American ship came across the Resolute drifting free over a thousand miles from where it had been abandoned. I guess when the ice melted, it floated away on the currents. Anyway . . . the U.S. returned the ship to England, and it remained in service until it was retired and broken up for parts. Timbers were used to make the Resolute Desk, presented to President Hayes in thanks for returning the ship.

  “You know, Bob, more ships and men were lost looking for what happened to the Franklin men and ships than in the original expedition. Humans are funny that way. Just the thought of people stranded in the frozen Arctic, and men came running to save them.”

  Chesterton shook his head. “And have you seen pictures of that part of the world? Cold and bleak. So few humans live up there. They even named a town after the Resolute. I think only about 250 people live there. And even farther north is a God-forsaken place called Grise Fiord. Less than two hundred people, mainly Inuits.”

  Neller was bemused, wondering what had triggered the president’s train of thoughts. />
  “All right . . . enough of that. What do we have for today?”

  Neller handed him the schedule. “Pretty much what we talked about last night. The only addition is making fifteen minutes available for Representative Shoemaker from Iowa. She’s a leader of the House group with doubts about your proposals to modify the education standards.”

  “Okay. Fifteen minutes is tolerable. Listening to Shoemaker longer than that is beyond my duty as president.”

  Neller smiled. “I promise. If she’s still talking nonstop at fifteen minutes, I’ll interrupt with an important call from an international leader. I’ll pick one I think she likes.”

  Chesterton looked down at the papers spread out in front of him. “I’m about finished here. Reading this intelligence briefing reminds me of how the Pentagon makes all these contingency plans, some of which sound pretty weird. Put aside a few minutes of time today for me to meet with Colonel Myerson, the current Pentagon liaison. Before any crisis happens, I’d like to get a sense of which scenarios the Pentagon has planned for.”

  “Mr. President, I believe there are many such plan outlines, though I’m not familiar with their current status. Those related to what are considered the more likely events are routinely updated. I can check and get back to you. Do you want a written report or a briefing?”

  Chesterton eyed the navy officer. He had certain scenarios in mind but didn’t want to raise suspicions that he was interested in specific ones.

  “I read once about the Centers for Disease Control putting out a contingency plan for a zombie plague. Naturally, they aren’t expecting that but used the excuse of zombies to grab people’s attention and encourage them to have on hand basic supplies and equipment for the more likely events, such as hurricanes, tornados, and earthquakes. I’m sure the Pentagon has some exotic-sounding plans. I’ll be curious to hear the most extreme and how they are thought to relate to real-world events. You know . . . nuclear terrorism, plagues, alien invasions, and so on. Set up a briefing with the appropriate people. I anticipate asking questions wherever my interest leads, so be sure they are prepared for anything. No immediate rush, but I’d like a first session within a couple of weeks.”

  Three weeks later, Chesterton waited for an army brigadier general to deliver the briefing, supported by three junior officers and two civilians. The president had made a point of convincing his chief of staff that his interest was as much due to curiosity about how far the military would go in planning scenarios as it was to his effort to better grasp the potential and limitations of the world’s biggest military force. The subterfuge worked better than he’d anticipated, and Neller asked whether he could sit in, along with the secretary of defense, Gordon Gilbertson. He had insisted he needed to be involved once he learned of Chesterton’s interest. Also attending was Attorney General Floyd Deaver. Chesterton had replaced his first choice for the AG position once he learned of Site 23. Deaver had been a federal district appeals court judge known for sound legal reasoning without the rigidity of thinking that established laws could not be overruled by extraordinary circumstances.

  As an added cover for the real reason for the session, Chesterton had Neller ask the Centers for Disease Control to send someone to brief them on a zombie apocalypse to start the session. Rear Admiral Edward Soares of the CDC’s Office of Public Health Preparedness and Response gave the CDC position that it was a publicity stunt to make people aware of having a set of essentials at home for any emergency where normal service could be disrupted for up to a week: water, food, medications, battery-powered radio, hygiene, clothing and bedding, important documents, and first aid.

  “I take it the characters in The Walking Dead didn’t heed your suggestions,” said Chesterton, laughing.

  “No, Mr. President,” said Soares, “although in that case, the situation was so dire that a week’s worth of supplies wouldn’t have made much difference.”

  “Well, from the couple of episodes I got trapped into watching by a son-in-law, they managed to scavenge houses and stores after most people were dead.”

  He smiled and turned to Deaver. “What do you think, Floyd? Were they robbing houses and stores or not?”

  “Definitely not,” said the attorney general. “Oh, perhaps technically, but reality always needs to be in the background.”

  Chesterton had prepared to prompt others to bring up references he didn’t want to make himself. He figured it less likely to elicit suspicions about his sudden interest.

  “Like whatever was said about a suicide note?” he said, hoping someone would volunteer the quote and the source.

  “Lincoln,” said Deaver, “when he suspended habeas corpus during the Civil War. He’s credited with saying, ‘The Constitution is not a suicide pact.’”

  “Actually, there’s some controversy about that,” said one of the civilians whose name Chesterton promptly forgot after introductions. “The exact wording came from a Supreme Court case in 1949.”

  “Takes me back to law school,” said Chesterton. “I had to write a paper for makeup after missing an assignment. The professor had me critique President Jefferson’s making the Louisiana Purchase, even though there was no legal foundation. Funny how some things stick with you. I still remember the quote from Jefferson, ‘A strict observance of the written law is doubtless one of the high duties of a good citizen, but it is not the highest. The laws of necessity, of self-preservation, of saving our country when in danger, are of higher obligation. To lose our country by a scrupulous adherence to the written law, would be to lose the law itself, with life, liberty, property and all those who are enjoying them with us; thus absurdly sacrificing the ends to the means.’”

  “A slippery slope,” said Deaver. “One could argue the quote didn’t exactly match the situation. After all, the Louisiana Purchase didn’t involve a direct danger to the country. Nevertheless, I agree with the principle.”

  Thank you, Mr. Attorney General, Chesterton thought. The time’s going to come when I expect I’ll need to count on you still believing that.

  “All right, General Tiseras, I’ve looked over the material you sent. I was particularly struck by the Fitzsimmons publication from the U.S. Army War College on problems and conflicts between scenario planning and strategy. If I got one of the main points, the writer says both civilian and military leaders are so focused on immediate issues that they ignore or minimize attention to the long term. We’ll get into those issues another time, but does the Pentagon have scenario planning for events as unlikely as the CDC’s zombie apocalypse?”

  “Yes, Mr. President, but the main contingency planning focuses on the most likely geopolitical scenarios and potential military involvement. The more . . . uh . . . exotic planning is a minor effort and currently associated with the United States Special Operations Command.”

  “Currently?” asked Chesterton. “Does that mean it’s not a permanent program?”

  “No, sir, just that the unit is periodically shifted to different commands. Similar to the CDC’s zombie planning, it’s not so much looking at specific unlikely events, but thinking about how the U.S. military and nation might respond to unforeseen events where there might be common features required to mobilize military and civilian resources.

  “The Pentagon prefers to prevent the unit from coming to reporters’ attention and to avoid misinterpretation of an odd-sounding program and exaggeration in reporting.”

  “You mean reporters are a bunch of blood-sucking leeches with no morals or ethics that conflict with getting the best headlines.”

  The general suppressed a grin. “Well . . . I wouldn’t have phrased it quite like that.”

  “Well . . . I wouldn’t either . . . most of the time. As much as the system needs a free press, too many press elements are more interested in sound bites than informing the public. So, you move this unit around to make it harder for bottom-feeders to stumble on them?”

  “Uh . . . I believe that is the thinking.”

  “Good. I a
pprove. Does this unit have a name?”

  “Right now, it’s called the ‘Office of Administrative Deployment.’”

  “What exactly does that mean?” asked the president.

  “Nothing, and that’s the point. The name is unlikely to trigger curiosity. Even if it does, we’ve a mission statement, along with phony reports that are deliberately meaningless in the off chance anyone reads them.”

  Chesterton laughed and turned to his chief of staff. “Bob . . . take note. We may need to bring whoever writes this stuff into the White House staff any time we want to be sure that no one knows what our plans are.”

  He looked back at the officer. “Continue.”

  “Yes, sir, but I reiterate that these scenarios are mainly to identify ultimate limitations on what can and/or should be done. One scenario class is a pandemic—similar to the zombie apocalypse, with the difference being that we give thought to how the nation might respond to pandemics of various severity. For example, one percent, ten percent, or seventy percent of the population dying are three completely different situations, as far as response is concerned.”

  Chesterton nodded and gestured for the officer to continue.

  “Another scenario class that can sound outrageous is an alien invasion. I’ve taken the liberty to surmise this might be another situation you would be interested in hearing more about, so I’ve invited Lieutenant Colonel Delaney to brief you.”

  Tiseras motioned to an officer who appeared too young for his rank.

  “Thank you, sir,” said the officer, who then looked to Chesterton. “Mr. President, I’m the current ranking officer in the Office of Administrative Deployment. That has been our title for the last two years, which means I expect a name change is coming. And no, I’m not aware of the previous names. That’s something deliberately not passed on to avoid leaving a trail. The unit has also been in the same quarters in the Pentagon for almost three years and will be moving elsewhere in the continental United States in about six months when I leave for another assignment.