by David Wood
“Don’t pay him any mind,” Tam said. She gave Avery a long appraising look. “And I hope you didn’t get the idea that I brought him in to replace you.”
Avery cocked her jaw sideways. “Well…”
Stone leaned forward, fixing Avery with an unusually intense stare. “She’s telling the truth. Tam has complete confidence in you. Besides, I’m no researcher.”
Avery studied him for a moment, then turned her eyes to Tam. “Then why is he here? I mean, I know you two go way back, but it just seems to me like the last thing we need is the kind of baggage he’s bringing along.”
“That’s taken care of,” Tam said. “As for the rest, you’re just going to have to trust me. Catch him up on what we know. It’s been a long night, and I need to grab some shut-eye. We’ll reconvene at 1400.”
Before Avery could offer any further protest, Tam departed with Kasey and Greg in tow, leaving her with only Stone for company.
“Canada, right?”
She stared at him. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re Canadian.” He peered at her as if expecting to find confirmation written across her forehead. “East Coast. Halifax?”
“What, is this some kind of Sherlock Holmes parlor trick?”
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ And no, not really a trick. I have an ear for accents. You can tell a lot about where a person is from by the way they pronounce the word ‘coffee.’”
Avery frowned. She did not have an accent. At least she was pretty sure that she didn’t. But Stone had been on the money. She did indeed hail from a small town about fifty miles south of the capital of Nova Scotia, but she had made a real effort to neutralize the broad vowel sounds that were so often associated with the region. As a junior college history professor, and then subsequently as the Myrmidons’ research specialist for the last year, she knew she wouldn’t get any respect if she sounded like a backwater fisherman’s daughter.
“Is that your special talent then? Master of accents? Or maybe it’s your ability to be super-condescending?”
Stone leaned back in his chair and stretched. “No. I don’t have any special talents.”
Avery’s instincts said otherwise. Tam had not told her much about Stone, and despite the fact that Avery was a crack researcher, she had found very little real information about him. She knew that he was the only scion of a wealthy Virginia family—in addition to being rich, his grandfather and great-great-grandfather had been famous explorers in their day—but as near as she could tell, the only noteworthy thing Gavin Stone had accomplished was to single-handedly infiltrate the American National Security Agency’s ultra-secure computer network, and help himself to reams of data detailing their controversial, and not entirely legal, domestic surveillance program.
Exactly what was in the data, or why Stone had pilfered it, was anyone’s guess. Avery assumed he was some kind of whistle-blowing hacktivist, but he had made no attempt to release the data, nor had he offered it up in exchange for his freedom after being captured and whisked off to a secret CIA detention site. He was either a criminal or a vigilante—maybe both—and while Avery felt a certain admiration for what he had done, her sense was that he had done a good thing for a bad, or at the very least ambiguous, reason.
None of which explained why Tam felt he was worth the bother.
To cover her discomfort, Avery got up and went over to the room phone. “You hungry?” she asked him.
“Absolutely famished.”
“Me too.” She dialed the front desk and canceled her room service order, then turned back to Stone. “Let’s go. I need some air.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’m not sure Tam wants me wandering off.”
Avery shrugged. “What’s she going to do, arrest you?”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “She already did that.”
Stone took a sip of coffee and allowed the hot liquid to roll around his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “Perfect. You know, the Viennese truly perfected the art of coffee.”
“Of course I know that,” Avery replied. “I’m a history professor. And I’ve been here for a couple days. That’s why I picked this place.”
“This place” was Café Sperl, an elegant old coffee house, situated in a white brick triangle building just a few blocks from the hotel. According to the sign, the café had been in business since 1880, and it certainly looked like it. The décor and furnishings were like something from a museum. It wasn’t hard to imagine Strauss or Mozart sitting at the café tables or in one of the plush upholstered booths, sipping coffee or eating apfelstrudel. High arched windows looked out over the street, and dark mahogany paneling lined the back wall, beneath sconces that probably once burned with gaslight. The effect of both the hot coffee and the décor was amplified by the wintry weather outside. Although bitterly cold, the snowdrifts that lined the streets made the city seem like something from a fairy tale and imbued the warm interior of the café and its offerings with a sublime, almost supernatural quality.
“Did Tam really arrest you?” Avery asked when he set the cup down. “I thought you two were old friends.”
“The arrest is just a formality,” he explained, intentionally avoiding the implicit question in her latter statement. “As long as I’m in federal custody, so to speak, the US government won’t treat me as a fugitive. I don’t have to worry about my picture going out to every CIA station in Europe, and I can go anywhere Tam wants to take me.”
“Seems like a big hassle. Why don’t you just give back the data you stole? Wipe the slate clean?”
“You’re very direct.”
“It saves time.”
Stone took another sip of coffee. He could already feel his pulse quickening with the infusion of caffeine. Ten months of going without had diminished his tolerance for the stimulant. He would have to pace himself. “I assume you think you know what it was that I… stole.”
“Something to do with the NSA domestic surveillance program. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think it’s right for the government to be spying on its citizens, but you broke the law. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“Did I break the law? The legal system is predicated on the notion that the accused must be proven guilty in court. So if I broke the law, why haven’t I been given my day in court?”
“They can’t put you on trial without revealing top secret information,” Avery replied, matter-of-factly. “It sucks, but you left them no choice.”
Stone smiled. “Are you so sure that’s what really happened?”
“You’re saying it’s not?”
Stone set his cup down. “Tell me about Destiny.”
Avery frowned but accepted the change of subject without protest. “If you know that much, then I have to assume that Tam has already briefed you. We intercepted a cell phone call—thanks to the NSA’s surveillance protocols, incidentally—to a suspected Dominion operative. The call mentioned ‘destiny’ and indicated that there’s something here in Vienna that they need. Something related to General George S. Patton. You know about him, right?”
“I recall seeing a movie about the man,” Stone said. “But it was ages ago.”
Avery arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Seriously? Tam made you out to be some kind of super-genius.”
“That was generous of her. I told you, Miss Halsey—”
“It’s Dr. Halsey actually,” she snapped, but then immediately softened her tone. “But I guess if we’re going to be working together, you can call me Avery.”
“Avery, then. But as I was saying, I’m not a researcher. That’s your job, and I would be delighted to hear what you’ve been researching.”
Avery regarded him with her storm gray eyes. Stone could tell that she was an intense person, driven to accomplish whatever task she set her mind to, and not someone who accepted change without a fight. She was attractive, but Stone sensed that she was the kind of person who saw her looks as an impediment to her goals instead of an asset. It was not an unwarra
nted concern, he knew. Misogyny was endemic in academic circles where the ‘old boy’ mentality prevailed, and successful women were often accused of sleeping their way to the top. He could tell that her ambivalence toward him stemmed from the perception that Tam had brought him into the equation because of a lack of confidence in Avery’s abilities. The truth was much more complicated, but nothing he could say would disabuse the young historian of that notion.
“George Patton,” Avery said, “was quite probably the most brilliant and aggressive military strategist in World War II. He led the campaign that broke the German Army in North Africa, and then went on to liberate Italy. He was a prickly character though, and that got him into a lot of trouble with Allied command. The Germans knew that he was the best and believed that he would lead the war effort in Europe, which is why the Allies started using him to divert attention away from their real operation. Ultimately, that deception was probably the key to the success of the D-Day invasion.”
Stone nodded, indicating that she should continue.
“The idea of being side-lined didn’t sit well with Patton, and he managed to get back in the fight. His forces were among the first to reach Berlin, but by that point in the war, it wasn’t so much a battle with the Germans as it was a race with the Soviets for control of Eastern Europe. After Hitler was defeated, Patton was briefly appointed military governor of Bavaria, but he ruffled too many feathers and was relieved of command. That would probably have been the end of his military command, but before he could return to the States, he was killed in a car accident.”
“Bavaria? Not Austria?”
“At the time, Vienna was under Soviet control. Patton didn’t get along with the Russians very well.”
“So what’s the Vienna connection to Patton?”
Avery stared at him again, the apprehension in her eyes giving way to curiosity. “First, tell me why Tam brought you aboard. What exactly is it that makes you worth all this trouble? Are you a computer guy? A hacker? ‘Cause I already have a guy for that.”
“That’s good to know. No, I don’t think that’s what she has in mind for me.”
“Well, what then? You’re not getting anything more from me until you ‘fess up.”
Stone managed a grin to hide his discomfort. “Tam really didn’t tell you?”
“She said that you would bring a unique set of skills and perspectives. She also thought you would be a lot more useful working on our team than rotting in a CIA detention facility.”
“Ah.” Stone took a sip from his cup. “Well, I have picked up a few skills over the years—”
“Like hacking?”
“Among other things.”
Avery did not relent. “She said you had a unique ability to see what most people miss. What was she talking about?”
Stone fiddled with his coffee cup. “It’s not easy to explain. Most people think it sounds crazy.”
“Believe me, I can handle crazy.”
“I’m good at recognizing patterns.”
“Uh, huh. So are the people in Mensa. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Maybe I should be asking you. I’m sure there’s no shortage of available personnel. So why would she pick me? You must have some ideas about that?”
Avery frowned. “Well, there aren’t as many qualified candidates as you might think. The Dominion has a pretty long reach. When Tam set up the Myrmidons, she limited recruitment to people that she was sure hated the Dominion as much as she did. My brother, Dane, worked with her for a while last year to help take down the Dominion in America, but being a secret agent wasn’t really his thing. Tam thought it would get easier to find qualified people after the terror attacks, but things actually got worse. We got infiltrated by these guys calling themselves the Norfolk Group. After she cleaned house, we were pretty much down to a skeleton crew. That’s when Tam decided to bring you in. She trusts you, obviously, and that’s probably the most important thing. But aside from being able to recognize patterns and avoid answering questions, what are you good at? Are you ex-CIA? Is that it? Is that how you two know each other?”
Stone did not answer for several seconds. Then, he met her gaze. “I’ll tell you, but first, tell me something. Why are you one of Tam’s Myrmidons? Why are you fighting the Dominion?”
“Because they’re evil. They’re as bad as the Nazis. Hell, the local branch—the Heilig Herrschaft—are modern-day Nazis. They want the same things Hitler wanted. Racial purity, religious oppression, global domination. Someone has to take a stand against them; it’s as simple as that.”
“It’s never as simple as that,” Stone said, almost too softly to be heard. “But those are noble reasons, I’ll grant you. Why do you think they want those things?”
“The short answer? They’re psychopaths. I meant that in the literal, clinical sense.”
Stone nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. The people who are driven to create something like the Third Reich or the Dominion…they are wired differently than the rest of us. Who knows what causes it? Nature or nurture? Maybe something happens, a genetic switch gets thrown, the conscience gets turned off, and presto, you’ve got yourself a Hitler or a Mengele.”
Avery crossed her arms. “You aren’t going to answer my question are you?”
“I told you. It’s hard to explain. And my conversational skills may have become a little rusty.” Stone took another sip of the coffee. “Are you familiar with the hypothesis that our universe and everything in it is actually a holographic computer simulation?”
Avery just stared at him as if he had grown a second head.
“You did say you could handle crazy,” he reminded her.
“Uh, you mean like in the Matrix? We’re all plugged into a big computer, living out a virtual reality.”
“Nothing so banal.” Stone managed a smile. “Have your historical studies taught you much about the history of computers?”
Avery shrugged. “I know that there were mechanical computers—like adding machines—long before the twentieth century.”
“Right. When most people think computers, they think electronics, but a computer is any device that carries out logical computations. The moving parts of the computer must follow the mathematical rules of logic. The universe behaves the same way. We can observe these mathematical operations in everything from the movement of galaxies to the behavior of atoms.”
“Okay. I get that. Math is everywhere. How does that make everything a hologram?”
“Think about it. What is reality?” He rapped on the table. “What is stuff made of? Atoms, right? We could take it down a couple more levels, but that’s good enough for our purposes. The most abundant element in the universe is hydrogen. It’s a simple atom, one proton, one electron—a positive charge and a negative charge. Hydrogen atoms collect because of gravity, and when they reach a certain critical mass, the atoms start fusing together to form helium atoms, and a star is born. Basic high school science, right?
“At a certain point, the process continues with helium fusing into other elements. The stars eventually explode as supernovae, scattering the elements across the universe to become gas clouds, asteroids, and planets. All the matter in the universe—all the stuff—comes from that process.
“The important point is that it’s all mathematical. The gravity that draws atoms together, the critical mass necessary for fusion to begin, how long the star will burn before it goes supernova—these are all mathematical operations, not random events.”
He could see that he was losing her, so he decided to change tack. “Do you have a coin?”
She dug a one euro coin from her pocket and slid it across the table. Stone picked it up and looked at the image stamped on the front—the likeness of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. “If I flip this in the air, what will happen?”
“It will land, either heads or tails up.”
“Any other possibilities?”
She shrugged. “Anything is possible. It could land on edge, but th
at’s really unlikely.”
“We can’t reliably predict whether it will land heads or tails, but if we flip it exactly the same way, we should get the same results. Why don’t we?”
“Because you can’t flip it exactly the same way. There’s always going to be a slight variation.”
Stone nodded. “The science of studying the effects of those slight variations is called chaos theory. You’ve probably heard of it but the name is misleading. There is no such thing as chaos in the mythological sense. We call it chaos because full awareness of all the possible variations in a complicated system is impossible. For us at least. But with a sufficiently powerful computer, capable of detecting all those minute variables, we could predict the outcome every time.” He flipped the coin in the air and deftly caught it, slapping it down on the back of his left hand, covered with his right. “Heads.”
He uncovered it without looking and showed it to her.
“Luck,” she said, dismissively. “You had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.”
“There’s no such thing as luck. Only a confluence of variables that have been in motion for about fourteen billion years. The universe itself is the computer, working out the inevitable program of its own existence. Everything that has happened in the entire universe, and everything that will ever happen, is the predictable result of a mathematical progression that began with the Big Bang.”
Comprehension began to dawn in Avery’s eyes but was just as quickly replaced by disbelief. “Wait. Everything?”
“Everything.” He held up the coin. “The atoms that make up this, and the atoms that make up me, and the table, and you and this coffee shop, are all the result of a chain of events that was set in motion billions of years ago.”
“You’re talking about fate. Predestination.”
Stone shrugged. “Those are philosophical terms. I prefer ‘deterministic.’”
“I don’t buy it. Maybe stars and planets behave like clockwork, but living creatures aren’t predictable.”
“Why not?”
“A little thing called free will. We do things because we choose to, not because we’ve been programmed to.”
