Buzzworm (A Technology Thriller): Computer virus or serial killer?

by Theo Cage

  “He may be listening, so I’m going to keep my voice down. I ran a report for Hyde. I can’t show you because I think that might alert Buzzworm.”

  “What kind of report?”

  “Secure comm. Traffic coming and going out of the CIA for the past year.”

  Vienna hunched over, her voice low. ”And how did that help?”

  “There’s a location in Fredericksburg, in the middle of nowhere, that showed up. That’s where he went. Do you know about it?”

  Vienna sat up, shook her head and eyed the security camera at the other end of the room. “Not one of ours. But that’s a long shot.”

  Med agreed. It was a slim rationale for a desperate act. But it made her think. She used her HUMMER to tap into the CIA’s database of employees. There were over 20,000. Each one had an attached photo for security purposes. She thought about the discussion they had that afternoon in Scammel’s lab. She was certain now that Buzzworm was an insider, a CIA employee or operative, someone with access. Roger had asked her once if it was possible that Xavier was Buzzworm. It sounded preposterous at the time. Not so much anymore especially considering his sudden disappearance.

  She rolled back over to Vienna’s side. “You gave me tickets to a charity dinner years ago. It was held by Staticom, one of the military suppliers. That was the night I met David Xavier. Where did you get them?”

  Vienna lowered her eyebrows, trying to puzzle out the question. “I seem to remember they were left on my desk. That was a long time ago, but it was also the first time that ever happened. And the last.”

  “Who put them there?”

  “Never found out. There was a note. Please give to Mary Ellen.”

  Med saw something in Vienna’s expression. “You thought they were for you at first?”

  “A woman can hope.”

  Med lowered her eyes. “Do you remember what day it was?”

  Vienna laughed lightly, aware how easily Med had read that sliver of regret in her eyes. “It was a Monday. That’s all I know.”

  “What if they were left by Buzzworm? That would mean that he was in our building that day.”

  “That’s quite a leap. Do you know the date of the dinner?

  “I’ll never forget it. Friday May 14th. Our anniversary,” she said sarcastically.

  “It was that memorable?” Med didn’t respond. “Then they were left on my desk on the Monday, May the 10th.”

  Med dragged over the heavy laptop, the brute she often called it, after banging huge gouges in her coffee table from lugging the monster home. She tapped the magnesium base of the laptop with her fingernail. Earlier that day she had seriously considered going through the 20,000 photos in the database. Now she had the potential employee list reduced substantially.

  Med checked the security logs for May 10th in the year she first met Xavier. She wondered what Buzzworm would be thinking if he was tracking her search right now. Screw him, she thought. Let him sweat.

  On the given day there were only three non-employee visitors to Building 213 recorded. One was a woman, so Med left that out. She opened two security files. The first file was an auditor from Finance. A short balding man with a crew cut. When she saw the photo of the second man, all the blood rushed into her face. Vienna noticed right away and moved up to her side. They both stared at the photo, the exact likeness of David Xavier. A ten-year employee. Intrusion expert with Langley. The name on the file was William Warren. But it was Xavier. And likely Buzzworm too, now that his computer credentials were apparent.

  Vienna whistled. “That’s our virus!”

  Med nodded. William Warren. She remembered a neighbor once telling her that the Warrens came over on the Mayflower. That made William as apple pie as you can get. His friends probably called him Bill. Bill Warren. BW. Buzzworm.

  CHAPTER 50

  Under an icy sliver of a partial moon, the bloated black body of the Mott’s Run reservoir seemed to be taunting me. Across its oily surface, about a quarter of a mile away, a mist clung to the far shore. My destination. But I had never learned how to swim and I hated water.

  One chilly autumn, as a kid, my father had thrown me off a dock into a lake very much like this one, greenish-black currents and a hidden bottom. I slipped below the surface without so much as a splash. He almost drowned rescuing me.

  Now I was standing on a rickety pier, looking across the reservoir at the back end of Xavier’s property. Or was it Buzzworm’s? Whoever the fuck he was today, he was making me cross a body of water that made my skin crawl. The property description that Med had given me only offered two options. I could drive right into his front yard via the one main road or take the back route by crossing over the reservoir behind his property. He would be watching the main road, which didn’t leave many options.

  I looked down at my transportation, a flat-bottomed rowboat, one paddle and no lifejacket. I stepped down into the boat, the hollow bump of the soggy wood against the dock enough to wake the dead. I swore. Just take one step at a time was all I was thinking. Push away from the dock into the inky water. Keep your eyes on the opposite shore. Don’t think about what was underneath you, the shiny surface swirling around you like there was something deep in the reeds and moving around. Just think about Kyla.

  It seemed to take forever to scull across the reservoir. As I approached the tree line of the opposite shore, I realized that getting out of the boat wasn’t going to be any more fun than getting in. The high water obscured the shoreline and the banks, the water crawling up the soggy sides of the trees. I pushed up to the tree line, unable to penetrate the submerged forest around me. I looked down. I had no clue as to the depth of the water at this point. What choice did I have? I crawled down into the dirty water, feeling the cold crab up my legs and into my crotch. I touched an uncertain bottom with my arms held high, the waterline now up to my armpits.

  The submerged ground was mushy, all buried roots and rotten logs. I tied the row boat to the closest tree with a frayed old rope and pushed my way up the buried embankment, pulling myself along from trunk to trunk. After a few yards, the water was only a foot or so deep. I checked my position. There was a vague glow, a sodium-colored yard light buried in the distant forest. Xavier’s. He had the lights on for me. How nice of him.

  I pushed my way through the heavy brush that sheltered the back of the property, hoping to make it to the clearing without losing an eye. I had my arms up to protect my face from the whip-like willow branches, my wrists already bleeding. Roger was working on killing the power; luckily that hadn’t happened yet. I would be aimlessly plodding in the dark without the lights of the farmhouse to guide me. There was no path, no obvious direction to follow. I was cold and my shoes were ruined, but somewhere ahead, in the farmhouse or one of the surrounding buildings, I would find my daughter. It was impossible to think of any other outcome right now.

  Within a few hundred yards of the farmhouse, a small clearing of uncut grass ahead, I heard a distant shotgun blast echo off the building. Almost instantly, the yard light went out, as did the lights on the porch and all the interior illumination. I stopped to listen; the only sound my ragged breathing. If I was Xavier, the first thing I would do is check the breakers, just to be sure. But if he heard the rifle blast from inside the house, he might jump to another conclusion about the source of the blackout. I figure he would then head to the generator to see why it hadn’t cut in. After all, he had spent a lot of taxpayer’s money to buy the best. He’d want to know why the backup didn’t kick in. The generator was a distance through a path in the woods west of the main house. That’s where we predicted he would head and that’s where I would follow once he started out.

  I crouched and made my way around the back of the farmhouse, my soggy shoes crunching on broken twigs and dried leaves. I expected at any second to confront at least one of the hired hands or bodyguards. But I was ready for them, gun in hand. Med had guessed there might be two, but that could have changed; Xavier could have increased his security n
ow that he guessed we might be after him.

  Rounding the west wall, I heard voices on the porch. I crouched down in the shadows.

  “I think I heard a gunshot just before the power went down.” A man’s voice. Older.

  “I don’t give a shit about what caused it. Why didn’t the generator kick in?” I recognized the voice immediately. Xavier.

  The other man replied. “We went through the check list yesterday, sir. Everything was tickity boo.” I could see a moonlit shadow of the two men, one of them clearly carrying a rifle.

  “Obviously you missed something. We finally get a blackout and what happens? Someone forgets to turn on the system. Go check it. Get it running. I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And where’s Rupert?” asked Xavier. I figured Rupert must be one of the other guards. But just by the way he said it; it seemed to imply there was only one person missing,

  “He’s finishing up chores,” answered the other man.

  There was a long pause. “What about the kid who crashed the ultra-light?”

  “He said he’d bring him with him when he was done.”

  “Damn. That was over an hour ago, Jake. Bring them all back here. But get the power back up first. If this outage goes on for a while, I don’t want it to affect my plans.”

  From the sound of things, it looked like the BATF agent had probably disarmed one of them and would shortly take out the second. It sounded like they had Roger, but Goodyear was still undercover. I watched as Xavier’s employee jogged off into the darkness.

  Xavier was standing on the porch, his eyes on the distant out buildings. I waited for his hired hand to get out of listening distance. Then I stepped around the side of the farmhouse and looked up at him. I had my 9-millimeter aimed at his chest. Change of plans.

  “Where is she?” was all I said. He looked down at me. I was moving carefully around the railed deck of the porch, his eyes following me.

  “I thought we had a deal, Hyde?” asked Xavier, expressionless.

  “Our deal was I keep the Avion running. And the Avion is running, you just don’t know it. Your blackout’s not my problem.”

  Xavier lifted one eyebrow. “So you’re responsible for this? I should have known. Hyde, the juggernaut.”

  “I asked you where she is. Kyla. And put the rifle down or I’ll shoot you were you stand. ”

  Xavier laid the rifle down on the deck of the porch and put his hands up. As I came around to the wide steps that led up to the porch, he sat down slowly in a wicker chair by the wall. “That’s a bit of a problem, detective. You’re not going to find her in time. And right now, her safety depends on a power source. So you are killing her, you just don’t know it. I’d get the power backup if I were you.”

  I moved up the stairs and across the porch to where he sat. I swung the Glock hard across his face, feeling the gun connect with his cheekbone. He twisted his face sideways with the blow, his body rigid and his teeth clenched. He had just said that Kyla’s safety depended on power. So she must be somewhere on the property.

  “You’re going to take me to her,” I said, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice.

  “I wish I could. It’s too late for that, detective.”

  I swung the gun again, angrier now, the weight of my body behind the blow. This time when I struck him, his head banged back against the wall of the porch. He closed his eyes momentarily and spit out blood.

  “Fort Bragg. Anti-interrogation training. Head of the class,” he growled. “You think you can beat the truth out of me, Hyde? Well, you better have the stomach for it.”

  “This isn’t torture, Xavier. And I’m not the CIA. I’m all about the rule of law. I’m just trying to shave some years off your prison sentence.”

  Xavier laughed, spitting more blood into the palm of his hand. He held it up for me to see. “You call this rule of law?”

  “The feds are on their way with their trained dogs and their infrared guided helicopters. The power going out was their signal. You can make it a lot easier on yourself by giving her up and saving us doing a search.”

  Xavier touched his cheek where the skin was broken. The blood looked inky black in the moonlight. “Their dogs and helicopters won’t help. You’ll never find her without me. And if they get even close to her, this whole place will go up. You know me, Hyde. If anything, I’m thorough.”

  As he said this, almost as if on cue, the night sky lit up to the west of us. From the direction of the generator shed, a yellow mushroom cloud of flame and smoke rose up over the tree line, followed by a booming roar that shook the deck under our feet.

  CHAPTER 51

  Roger was sitting on the side of the gravel road, looking up into the curious faces of Kyla and the kid. The force of the kickback from the heavy gauge shotgun had hammered Roger so hard in the shoulder that it threw him back, knocking him to the ground. He picked himself up and dusted off his jeans, his eyes on the distant farmhouse. All the lights were out.

  “Jake’s going to be here before you know it,” said the kid, moving his hands behind his back in a hopeless attempt to slip through the nylon straps. “He’ll skin you alive when he gets his hands on you.”

  “Shut up,” rasped Kyla, pushing him back hard with both hands. The kid went down onto the shoulder of the road on his knees. Roger pointed the gun at his head.

  “Where will Jake go?”

  The kid looked up at him, struggling to get back on his feet. “He’ll go check out the generator. What do ya’ think? We’re not supposed to let the power go out. Ever.”

  Roger looked at Kyla. He could see that she was losing her patience. She wanted to see her father. Roger hadn’t filled her in on Hyde’s plans and wasn’t about to. He didn’t want her rushing down the road and getting caught in the middle of a shoot out.

  “Kyla, we’re going to follow your dad’s instructions. OK?” She nodded. “We’re going to give him ten minutes, and then we’ll go see him.” He looked at his watch, the dial glowing green in the moonlight. A sudden thought struck him. If he were Jake, he would be rushing into the generator shed in the dark, a closed space where hundreds of gallons of gas were now sitting, the air inside thick with explosive vapors.

  Roger turned to the kid. Even in the dark he could see his brooding anger.

  “I’m guessing Jake’s a smoker?” Roger asked.

  The kid looked up then. He cocked his head trying to understand the question. Then the sky lit up around them.

  CHAPTER 52

  The instant I turned my head to see the ball of flame erupting from the direction of the generator shed, Xavier jumped up and leapt off the side porch. He dove into the same clearing I had just emerged from minutes before. He was headed into the thicket that led down to the reservoir. I could see his back, lit by the angry orange glow of the blast.

  I raced after him, swearing as I hit the wall of bush. There was no way I could lose him now. Part of me feared that he had just seen his kidnapping plans go up in smoke, which might mean that Kyla was somehow involved with the explosion. He had said something about the whole place going up just before the blast. But the timing was clearly a surprise to him, so I tore through the irritating thicket towards him, not caring about anything but getting my hands on the psychopath. In the shadow of the farmhouse, there was no longer any illumination from the flames, but I could hear the sound he made crashing through the bramble. I ducked down and threw myself harder in his direction.

  When I heard Xavier hit the water in the darkness ahead, I wondered if he knew where I had tied up the boat. To this day, I wonder if it was luck or intention that led him directly to the rowboat. As I closed on him, the branches whipping my face, I saw him tear the rope off, struggling with it as I plowed through the muddy water, tripping over hidden roots and rocks to close the gap.

  From only a few yards away, up to my waist in water, I could see him up into the boat, covered in river mud, pushing against the trees with his
hands. I was too late. By the time I splashed up to the rim of the reservoir, he had already arrowed clear of the trees, and was now circling in water that was several feet over my head. He had the one oar out, clumsily pushing the boat away from the submerged shore, never taking his eyes off me.

  I took my gun out then. I didn’t think I had a choice. Once he reached the other side, he would be gone, and any chance to leverage him to recover Kyla would vaporize forever. If she wasn’t already killed in the explosion. There was a possibility I could wound him enough to slow him down. It was going to be difficult. Shooting to kill was one thing; this was quite another. All my shooting practice was about the head and the heart. I raised my gun, the moonlight reflecting off the dull barrel. I tried to steady my arm, my body gripped by the frigid black water of the reservoir, my teeth chattering.

  Suddenly I heard a phone ring, the tones echoing across the water. Xavier looked down, then back at me. Seeing the gun in my hand, raised in his direction, he shrugged and sat down in the wobbly boat. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, the blue glow of the screen suddenly lighting up his face in the darkness. Time seemed suspended as he read his message, his eyes intent on the screen, knowing I had him in my sights. Then he seemed to slump in on himself as if what he just read had wounded him somehow. I thought that maybe Med had failed to keep GIPETTO alive and he had just realized that all of his plans had been crushed.

  He put the phone back in his pocket and reached again for the paddle, his movements slow and deliberate. He started to row again in the direction of the far dock. I aimed carefully, my arm shaking from the cold. I bit down hard and willed my muscles to do their job. If I missed, and he died or slipped into the water and drowned, the odds were that I would never see Kyla again. I squinted into the moonlight, applying steady pressure to the Glock's safety trigger.