Entanglement

by Michael Brooks

  Born looked down at the floor. 'I had a look at it. It seemed blank, like the other one. Why would Laszlo be carrying a blank disk? It's something to do with the entanglement.'

  Virgo looked to the door.

  'How long before they find us here?'

  Born looked up again and shrugged. Virgo moved towards the door.

  'Don't, Nathaniel.' Virgo paused, a hand hovering over the handle, and turned to look at Born. His eyes were pleading; he seemed genuinely concerned. 'You can't just blunder in there. If this goes smoothly, if there's no trouble and no leaks, there's a chance Katie will walk off the plane. If it doesn't, she'll be dead. Either in the air, or before she's past the airport boundaries.'

  Katie will walk off the plane? Born's naivety was almost touching.

  'And me?'

  'You?' Born squared his gaze on Virgo. 'You're dead already.'

  Blunt. But realistic.

  Virgo breathed deeply. 'So what do we do?'

  Born eyed him with curiosity. He seemed suspicious that Virgo had given up so readily.

  'Come with me,' he said. 'Let me show you what's going on.'

  Born stood up slowly, wobbled a little, then led him out of the door. They walked quickly towards the end of the corridor, then stopped at a set of double doors and peered through their narrow strips of wire-reinforced glazing. It took Virgo a dozen heartbeats to take in the scene.

  CHAPTER 62

  THE HALL WAS ENORMOUS. Most of it was given over to the trappings of an operations room; half of the far wall was covered with a huge display divided into various component squares. Two small displays on the right were blank, except for labels at the top of each screen. One read 'Pentagon'; the other 'Oval Office'. An enormous map of North America filled the biggest area. It was speckled with flashing white aeroplane-shaped silhouettes.

  At the front, six armed guards in black uniforms stood, ten metres apart. A dozen technicians shuffled around briskly behind them, moving between banks of monitors and control consoles. In front of the consoles, a huge black metal box stood on a silver trolley. It was the size of two large coffins, one stacked on the other, and was covered in connectors and strung with cables that led to the three racks of electronics sharing the trolley's platform. And next to it, on a black platform, was a small – insignificantly small – shiny silver box. Somehow, he knew: that was it. Genovsky's quantum computer.

  She was standing by its side, speaking with three men. Her face was glowing under the lights that hung from the false ceiling.

  'I've got to get her over here,' Born said. With a glance at Virgo, he pulled one door half-open and stood in the doorway.

  'Who's she talking to?' Virgo asked from behind the other door.

  And then he saw him. The man on the TV. Thomas Wheelan.

  Born replied without turning his head. 'One of them is Gabriel MacIntyre,' he said. 'Which is interesting.'

  'Who?'

  'Red Spot Industries. Don't you read the papers? He's the man that brought it to global domination.'

  Red Spot. Like the disks in Gierek's lab.

  'What about the others?'

  'The one with the ponytail is Genovsky's boss, Vasil Marinov.

  The other – the black guy – I don't know. But he looks familiar. Maybe –' His voice tailed off. Genovsky had spotted him.

  She forced out a smile, then said something to the men in front of her. Instinctively, Virgo pulled back behind the door. He didn't want to be seen. He could hear Genovsky's heels clacking on the floor as she moved towards them. She was in a hurry.

  'Did you get it?' She sounded stressed.

  'I got it,' Born replied. 'It's in the car outside.'

  'Good. Where's Virgo?'

  It seemed the ideal moment to step forward. It wasn't: Genovsky pushed Born back through the door, which slammed into his face.

  'Ow. Fuck.'

  Great entrance.

  Genovsky was standing right in front of his face. He resisted the desire to wipe a hand over his nose to see if it was bleeding. She stared at him for a moment. Beads of perspiration hung on her brow. She glanced back into the hall; as her head snapped back round, she noticed Born's black eye.

  'What happened to you?'

  Born said nothing, but turned and led them back along the corridor, and into an office. There were four upholstered chairs in the room, two desks and a filing cabinet. The walls were painted cream, but there were nail-holes and stains where pictures had once hung.

  'Nice place,' Virgo said. 'Who's your decorator?'

  Genovsky looked him over for a moment before she spoke. 'What are you doing, Virgo? You sent my name to the FBI. You want to use entanglement against me? Did Born tell you about the entanglement in the flight control software? What are you doing to your daughter?'

  She turned and walked back towards the door. She was agitated. She was vulnerable here, he knew it. She wouldn't want a body now. She wouldn't want to be explaining herself to the boss at this stage of the operation. He could afford to push it. As she reached the door, she turned back to face him.

  'You know how many people I have killed to keep this' – she waved in the direction of the main hall – 'under wraps?' She was still sweating, and a silver string of saliva was caught between her parted lips. 'Believe me, Nathaniel, you will soon be one of very, very many.' Her voice softened slightly. 'If you won't help me, I can't help you.'

  'How can I help you, Genovsky?'

  This woman couldn't keep still. She stepped back towards him, and came right up close. She was wearing little makeup, and he could see the contours of the scar as they rose and fell in the bruised cheek. It was strangely elegant; there was something about it that highlighted her cheekbones. He pulled his eyes away from following its course.

  'I need that machine. And I need to know what it does.'

  'In exchange for what?'

  'I'll do what I can for your daughter.'

  Time to push it.

  'Like you can do anything. Aren't you playing a bit part here? That's the Secretary for Homeland Security in there. What makes you think you can help?'

  She hesitated, and he saw it. 'I am operating the entanglement. With the planes. If I turn it off, everything goes back to normal. She will survive.'

  Bingo. And Genovsky really did believe it. But he needed more.

  'Entanglement? How does that work?'

  She didn't bite. 'I need the machine, Nathaniel.'

  He had run out of rope – he could see it in her face, even before she spoke. He could figure the details out later. When he had got out of this.

  She looked at her watch. 'Let's get the machine.'

  Virgo moved towards the door. 'I'll need Born's help carrying it in.'

  Genovsky laughed. And then she turned to Born. 'You have a gun, don't you?' she asked.

  Born shrugged apologetically. Genovsky frowned then pulled a gun from her shoulder holster. She handed it to Born. 'I'll be back in two seconds,' she said. 'If he moves, shoot him.'

  She slipped out of the room. Virgo looked around, then at Born. He could probably make it; Born wouldn't fire the gun, he was almost certain of that. But then he might not make it out of the building that way. Where had Genovsky gone?

  Too late. She was back. And she had company.

  'This is Daniel Born,' she said to the security guard standing by her side. The guard had a blond buzz-cut, and the kind of jaw that right angles were invented for. His arms were folded over a machine gun that hung from a strap over the bulging globe of his shoulder.

  'Daniel Born is going to prove something to me. He is going to take this man outside to his car, and then shoot him. You are going to make sure that happens, then you are going to help Born carry a piece of electronics back in here. You put it in here, you come and find me. OK?'

  Born was staring at Genovsky. She looked at her watch again. She was up against the clock. Virgo knew the feeling.

  There was a knock, then the door opened and a squat man stepp
ed into the room and beckoned to Genovsky. 'Mr Marinov is looking for you,' he said.

  Genovsky hesitated, then nodded to the guard. 'I'll be in the hall.'

  She looked at them for a moment, and swept quickly out of the room.

  There was nothing to be gained from hanging around now.

  'OK,' Virgo said, pointing politely towards the door. 'Shall we?'

  CHAPTER 63

  IT WAS THE SHEER number of planes on the display that overwhelmed Gabriel MacIntyre. He stood, impotent, leaning against the railing that supported the racks of equipment, and stared at the shiny silver box. Then up at the display again.

  Every one of those flashing dots had Red Spot software in the navigation systems. He had been proud and excited to win those contracts – the airlines always checked code thoroughly; the contracts were a testimony to the company's strength.

  Trust Marinov to know they didn't check the upgrades nearly so thoroughly. It had been easy to upload his entanglement patches to the systems. They now had remote control, like with the power companies. But remote control over a competitor's pricing systems was one thing – remote control over a plane's navigation system was plain terrifying. You shouldn't mess with things like that. Thank God for the entanglement. Flipping a bit on a plane as it came in over the Atlantic was heinous, but at least no one would know how it had happened. He would have to learn to live with the responsibility, but at least he wouldn't have to live in jail.

  He shifted his feet and looked round the room. Where had that Genovsky woman gone? Marinov was over there, chatting with Tom like they were out on a golf course somewhere, discussing the best way out of the rough on the sixteenth. Occasionally, they looked up at the screen, but most of the time they were engaged in animated conversation.

  He couldn't see Genovsky anywhere. What was the deal with her, anyway? When they met, she took his hand in her grip like she'd been told to grind it into dust. She had eyes that would freeze your soul, but when she talked about the entanglements, they lit up like it was her school science project. She seemed to want to pal up with him just because he knew about the quantum computer. Like she'd had this secret for years and finally found someone she could tell, someone who might understand.

  And yet she was the hired killer. Jesus. How fucked up was all this? Why did he have to be here? What could he add to this set-up? If it was so terrifyingly powerful, why couldn't the government just go ahead and pay for it? Why were they here going through all this? There must be a way to work it out, for Marinov to get his payback, his development money. It didn't make sense to set up the fake sting. If Tom Wheelan wanted to make America stronger and safer, get the money to put together a quantum cryptography network, why didn't he just take the goddamn quantum computer into the Oval Office, plug it in and show it off? Why the elaborate routine? Was he missing something?

  'You ready, Gabe?'

  It was Tom, striding towards him, smiling his fake smile. MacIntyre pulled himself back into the room, crushing all the unresolved questions back down inside him.

  'Ready for what? What's gonna happen now?'

  He could see a nervous glint in Tom's eye. It was matched by the way he was fiddling with something in the pocket of his suit pants. Pills, MacIntyre guessed. The look was something to do with the pills. It was the same look he'd seen last night before dinner, before his wife gave Tom the new stash.

  MacIntyre felt happier when he saw this weakness; it gave him hope, it let him off the hook. We're not human, we're just biochemistry. We're just slaves to the molecules. We're being manipulated by atomic forces.

  'We're about to take control of the first plane.'

  Tom's words fell into the back of MacIntyre's mind while the front struggled not to fall into despair at the tragedy of his existence.

  'It's time to start the show, Gabe.'

  The show? Seriously? This was so out of control.

  They were being manipulated by atomic forces. And somewhere up in the heavens, a plane was about to find out how they felt.

  Jesus. How did he get into this? What had gone so horribly wrong – so fucking goddamn horrifically wrong – that he was involved with a gang of grown men using quantum theory to hijack a plane?

  It was all so absurd, so pathetically absurd, that he just stood there grinning. He was actually grinning. And Tom was grinning right back at him.

  Jesus.

  CHAPTER 64

  VIRGO, BORN AND BUZZ-CUT marched up the corridor in single file. When he turned his head, Virgo could see Born pointing the gun limply at his back. He could feel the cold steel of the gun tucked into his waistband. And behind Born, out of sight, he could hear the steady rhythm of Buzz-cut's heavy boots. He would have to time this perfectly. Virgo set an eager pace: five minutes later, they were scrambling up the steep bank. By the time they had crawled under the fence and arrived back at the Lexus, Born was struggling for breath.

  Virgo put his hands behind his back. 'Here we go, then.'

  Buzz-cut looked on, amused, his arms still folded over the gun. A professional smirk played on his lips. He was watching amateur hour.

  Born's hands were shaking. Virgo's hands were reaching into his waistband. This would be tricky. What did he know about safety catches?

  But it was dark. That would give him an extra quartersecond. Then the smirk would be gone. How long before Born cracked? This was clearly killing him. Suddenly, he was facing the reality of what he'd got into. The rain had stopped, and the moon shone clear from the gunmetal sky. Born stood silent, his head hung low. His hands were shaking more wildly now.

  There wasn't time for this.

  'Daniel?'

  Born looked up. In the moonlight, Virgo saw a childlike face. His eyes were wide and rimmed with tears. He was just about to break.

  As Born lowered the gun and turned apologetically towards the guard, Virgo took a leap, spinning around the car. The gun was out and raised before he landed. He pumped the trigger. The first shot hit Buzz-cut's shoulder and knocked him to the ground. Virgo had to stand tall to get the second shot over the car's bonnet and into the forehead.

  Born stood, frozen to the spot.

  'Tell me about Katie's plane, Daniel.'

  Two seconds passed before Born answered. He looked like a frightened child. 'They're using entanglement like a remote control. They've taken over the navigation system.'

  'How the hell would they do that? You'd have to have something on board that was quantum-controlled.'

  'That's what Gierek achieved. A quantum interface for electronics and software. Genovsky said Red Spot have been using it for months now to manipulate competitors' prices.'

  There was no time to argue this. Born's face was earnest enough.

  'How do you turn it off?'

  'Genovsky has the control, like she said. It's a keyoperated over-ride.'

  This, at least, was believable.

  'And who are these people?'

  'Organised crime.' Born shrugged nonchalantly, like he had thrown in his lot with the local church knitting group.

  'With quantum computers?'

  'Genovsky does the high-tech stuff – they even have a bluesky sector. It's like IBM with Uzis. And no need for lawyers.'

  Born was quite something – he had stopped even noticing the body at his feet. Like he just flipped into extreme autism at the opportune moment: no empathy. Which made him pretty much useless for now.

  Think.

  'OK,' Virgo said eventually. 'Time to get the machine.' He tossed Born the keys.

  Like an automaton, Born went round to the back of the car. Virgo followed. One crack with the butt of the gun, and Born crumpled into the mud.

  Virgo dragged Born's limp form to the side of the Lexus, and then further into the dark, towards the trees. The keys were still clenched in Born's fist. Virgo pulled them from his grip and moved back to the car. He closed the boot, and jumped into the driver's seat.

  Wait.

  It would be unpleasant, but maybe w
orth it. Just in case. He got out of the Lexus, and went over to the guard's body.

  The sizing was all wrong, and there was a bullet hole in the left shoulder. But this was no time for sartorial unease.

  Stripping the corpse was difficult; the dead weight made it a cumbersome task. Virgo propped up the torso and removed the jacket, resisting the temptation to rip the shirt off, and worked methodically through the buttons. He let the torso thump back down onto the gravel, removed the boots, then unzipped the trousers.

  Virgo gathered the clothes and threw them onto the back seat. He dragged the stripped body to the trees and laid it next to Born. A treat for when he came round.

  Virgo climbed back into the driver's seat and started the engine. He slapped the car into reverse. The wheels spun on the wet mud; he took a deep breath, trying to let the adrenaline abate, and then let his right foot press more gently. The Lexus moved smoothly backwards.

  Two minutes later, a half-mile from the junkyard entrance, he pulled over to the side of the road, and reached for his phone.

  CHAPTER 65

  FRANK DELANEY, SPECIAL AGENT in charge of a nonexistent investigation, was taking a leak. The telephone receiver had sat idly on its cradle all day. No one had seen Virgo. Or at least no one who wanted to report it. Morgan had left for the day. Rosemary was there, though. Delaney suspected Morgan didn't want to leave him alone in the empty office, didn't trust him that far.

  Morgan said Delaney could hang around the Boston field office for a day or so without causing too much trouble. But any longer and people would start asking questions. No one minded his presence – he was welcome to visit. But everyone knew he'd asked to get out and taken the first post he was offered at Quantico. Everyone assumed he'd lost his edge.

  Was that what this was about? Did he have something to prove now that Nancy was long buried? Was he ready to come back?

  He hadn't yet worked out what to do if someone did spot Nathaniel Virgo. Morgan had promised him a team and some back-up, even a helicopter if he needed it. But Morgan was smart, repaying the favour at minimal risk. Once this was over, the code of honour would be satisfied and he'd be free of obligation.