Entanglement

by Michael Brooks

  CHAPTER 68

  EVERYTHING ON THE GROUND is staying there, Mr President.'

  'What can you tell me about this plane? Are you telling me that hundreds of people died just because of a technical fault?'

  'Sir, there was no squawk. We had no voice transmission from the cockpit. We can only assume a hijack. But we simply don't know anything for sure yet. Troops are already recovering the debris.'

  Gabriel MacIntyre felt a bead of sweat drip down his spine. They had done it. They were listening to the decrypted feed from the White House Situation Room. The thought made him nauseous.

  'You look a little peaky, Gabe.' Thomas Wheelan's eyes burned into him.

  He was a lot worse than peaky. But to say anything, or not? What the hell. He had a right to be heard – he had gone along with this plan because he was an equal partner. No, a vital partner: if it wasn't for him, they couldn't have got the software onto the planes. And he had certainly shouldered an equal share of the risk.

  So why the hell had they changed the plan without him?

  'We were going to call it off just before it went critical,' he said. The words came out quavering, but there was nothing he could do about that. 'It was meant to scare and then disappear. You've just triggered a federal investigation.'

  'And I've already prepared its conclusions and recommendations, Gabe.'

  Wheelan's face was deadly serious. 'Hundreds of lives were lost when US fighter jets were forced to shoot down three planes. But it would have been much, much worse had the Department for Homeland Security not been using its intelligence sources to nail down the situation so quickly.'

  Marinov stepped up. 'And it's now clear that the US government has no choice but to fast-track a better path to complete surveillance,' he added.

  Marinov said it just like a broadcaster, like he was playing a role. Had he and Tom been practising this? Like it was some kind of sick cabaret?

  Marinov's lips carried the slightest trace of mockery as he continued. 'With quantum technology, these attacks on our nation could have been avoided. And, thanks to Thomas Wheelan's work, we now have that technology within our grasp. A thousand lives were lost tonight. But hundreds of thousands more will be saved. The war on terror is, to all intents and purposes, over.'

  Marinov paused. For applause? MacIntyre was struck dumb.

  Wait up. Three planes?

  'Did you just say three?'

  Every one of the targets on the map was carrying Red Spot software – that's how they picked them. One link back to the company was bad enough. But three?

  'Relax, Gabe. The entanglement is untraceable, remember? Want to pick the next one?'

  He couldn't respond. He had just heard the one word he didn't want coming over the loudspeaker. Someone – the Chief of Staff? – just said it.

  Software.

  '. . . there is one possibility, other than a physical hijacking, sir. There is software in the flight-control system that allows remote access.'

  'We can fly planes from the ground?'

  'Some planes, Mr President. Via the transponder that emits the "hijacked" signal. It's possible that there was no squawk because the transponder was compromised.'

  'You're telling me someone else was flying the plane?'

  'It's just a possibility, sir. The software is still active in some US-built aircraft. Certain other nations have stripped it from their control systems.'

  'Jesus, Bob. Get me a list of all the vulnerable planes in the air. Right now. And where is Wheelan?'

  MacIntyre's jaw locked. Christ. They were going to take the flight-control software apart. How untraceable could the entanglement be? There would be some code there – surely it was traceable, whatever Marinov said. He wished he knew less economic theory and a lot more about the stuff his company actually sold.

  'Gabe? Hello? You wanna pick the next one or not?'

  'Allow me.' Marinov stepped forward. 'There's a flight out of Cuba, headed for Montreal. We can fly it in towards Boston. It's getting towards the right position to give us a spectacular little threat.'

  Wheelan shrugged. 'OK.'

  'Alex,' Marinov called. The woman looked up from the control console. 'The Cuba flight is next.'

  She stared at Marinov, then nodded, and turned her back to them. MacIntyre saw her begin to hit some keys. He felt a surge of panic. Boston was surely a bad idea. He had offices here. Not to mention family.

  'Wait.'

  He watched Genovsky halt her tapping and turned around. She looked at Marinov.

  Wheelan gave him a pitying look. 'Gabe, it won't get anywhere near,' he said. 'You really are a worrier.'

  MacIntyre breathed deeply.

  'You said I could choose.' Christ, he sounded like Jennie and her friends arguing over which doll got to ride in the front of Barbie's beach buggy. Still, might as well hold him to something. Way to go, iron man.

  'Fly something into Los Angeles.' He forced out a smile. 'I have competitors on the west coast who could do with a little wake-up call.'

  Wheelan glanced at Marinov. 'That OK with you? We'll do the Cuban flight after.'

  Marinov shrugged, then turned to the woman. 'The United flight from Houston into LAX, then.' He smiled at her. 'For old times' sake.'

  She spun on her chair and fired it up.

  CHAPTER 69

  VIRGO KNEW HE WAS safe enough for the moment; no one would know the car. None of the agents – those who had survived the fireball – would have seen anything of it. He had that on his side, at least.

  He was driving back the way he came, towards the junkyard, still without a plan. It occurred to him that hundreds, maybe thousands of people were sitting on these planes, and he only cared about one fifteen-year-old girl. Should he make a call to the police, get them to the warehouse, and just hope Katie got out alive? Would that be the right thing to do? What it was to be a human being. What it was to have the burden of free will.

  He had to eat. His stomach was knotted with hunger, and he was starting to get dizzy: his body needed food.

  There. That was the great thing about America: you were never more than half a block from a burger joint. The next one up was a McDonald's. His stomach knotted further at the golden arches. He hadn't been in one in two years now.

  The red flash of a plane's lights passed overhead. He couldn't mess around. Big Mac, Coke, and a plan. For Katie's sake.

  He ate quickly, letting his mind blank out for a few minutes. The sweet smell of the burger filled the car. When it was gone, he wished he'd ordered two. The fats and the sugar quickly began their work, and the dizziness faded. He began to think again, assessing his options . . .

  Well, that didn't take long.

  The FBI would be putting everything into finding him. What did they have to go on? Not much; he was in a pretty good position. As long as they hadn't seen the car, and as long as he managed not to get pulled over by any traffic police, he would be OK. Still, it didn't feel good to be wanted. On two continents. With his picture in the newspaper. Did these things go away once you'd cleared your name, or did they drag around your ankles for ever? As things stood, he certainly didn't want this on his résumé. And that was why he had to go back. He had no choice. Virgo turned and threw his trash into the back seat.

  Of course.

  The uniform. Would the FBI have found the dead guard? Maybe. But maybe not. The fireball would have pulled them back.

  It took him a couple of minutes of wriggling to drag the clothes on. He tugged at the jacket, and glanced sideways at the shoulder. The clothes were so oversized that the bullethole fell at a different place on the shirt and the jacket. It was hardly noticeable. In the dark of the car, at least.

  What else did he have? The box. Gierek's machine.

  He popped the boot open, got out of the car, and picked it up. It was too light. Not that he had any idea how light it should be, but it was no heavier than a VCR. He got back in the car, then dropped the box gently down on the front passenger seat.r />
  What was this thing?

  He stared at it for a moment, willing his mind to penetrate the plastic casing and learn Gierek's secret. Entanglement. Einstein's spooky action at a distance. He didn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it, either, but that wasn't the point. The secret of instantaneous wireless communication, faster than the speed of light. Inside this flimsy plastic box?

  Something sparked across his mind.

  Bulgarian programmers. Internet security software. Flimsy plastic.

  It was too obvious, surely?

  There was no sense hanging around, but he might as well have a look. He had the plastic case off in a couple of minutes. And the contents confirmed his suspicions. Clever Laszlo Gierek. Whatever was going on at the warehouse, it wasn't what Born was thinking.

  Virgo put the case back on the box and shifted the car into gear. Here, at last, was something he could use.

  CHAPTER 70

  IT TOOK TEN MINUTES before anyone noticed.

  'We have another one, sir. Flight 436 into LAX unresponsive and deviated from flight plan. It's descending, sir.'

  'Where's it headed?'

  'Present course has it hitting downtown Los Angeles.'

  'Oh, Christ. Do we have a shadow?'

  'Twin fighter escort scrambled. They will engage the aircraft in five minutes.'

  'And where will the debris land?'

  'If we take it out immediately we establish contact, it will hit mostly farmland and scrub. That's according to our best calculations.'

  'And if we wait?'

  'We could triple the casualties. Unless we hear from the aircraft we have to act straightaway, sir.'

  'Where's the list I asked for? Is this one of the vulnerable planes?'

  'Yes, sir, it is. The full list is on its way.'

  MacIntyre listened to the President breathe a deep sigh. What had they done? He wished he could sigh: he could hardly breathe.

  He looked around. Marinov was sitting down now, staring at the huge map on the screen. The woman had moved to the back of the hall. Tom was pacing, and smiling.

  He was smiling.

  The minutes crawled by in silence.

  'We have contact, sir.'

  'Can the pilots see anything? There's still nothing from the plane?'

  'Nothing, Mr President. The pilots report passengers waving frantically. They can't say any more than that. They can't really see anything, Mr President. But there are still no comms from the plane, and the course has not deviated at all – there's no question of the target destination. We are moving into the high casualty zone in thirty seconds, sir. We need the command now.'

  'Three hundred and twenty-four people not high casualty enough for you, Bob? That's the number I'm about to blow out of the sky.'

  'Sir?'

  'Do I have any choice?'

  A pause.

  'Destroy the target. You have my order.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  MacIntyre retched. Twenty heartbeats later, the flashing blip – the plane, the lives he had chosen – disappeared from the map screen.

  'Looks like we lost contact,' Tom said. 'Two down, two to go.'

  Two to go?

  'You said we'd take out three, max.'

  His brother-in-law smiled. 'Well, let's see how time goes, shall we? What are you worried about, Gabe? Getting caught? I thought you'd be way past that by now. After all these months of profiteering, you still don't believe in the power of entanglement?'

  He turned to Marinov. 'Shall we do the Cuban plane now?'

  MacIntyre still felt sick. Nothing else. Just sick.

  CHAPTER 71

  FIFTY-FIVE MINUTES AFTER running from the FBI, Virgo was rolling the Lexus towards the gates of the warehouse complex. This time, he was going in the front door. This time, there would be no creeping about.

  The razor wire glinted in the moonlight. Virgo parked to one side of the entrance, got out and slammed the door loudly. He opened the passenger side door and pulled Gierek's box of tricks up off the seat. He walked up to the closed gate, and rapped on the rain-drenched steel with his fist. A curtain of glittering drops fell to the ground in front of him. A large dark-skinned man, wearing the same uniform as Virgo, came out of a hut on the south side of the gate.

  'Can I help you?' he growled.

  'I'm from the other site,' Virgo said. He held the box aloft. 'Genovsky wants this. Tell her Nathaniel Virgo is here with the delivery.'

  The guard looked Virgo up and down, then turned on his heels and went back to the hut. A minute later, he returned, and opened the gate. 'Someone'll be here to get you in a minute or so,' he muttered. 'Come and wait inside. It's gonna pour again in a second.' Virgo looked up at the mottled sky and followed the guard to the hut.

  Inside the prefab cabin, sixteen monitors, stacked in two rows of eight, displayed random, monotonous views. Most were of empty corridors; the only monitor containing any action was fed from the main hall. The camera was positioned in one of the front corners. Virgo could just make out Alex Genovsky standing at the back of the hall, arms folded. There wasn't enough resolution to read her expression, but her body language screamed impatience: she would be glad when this was all over.

  Amen to that.

  Someone knocked on the door. Virgo looked up and through the window. He couldn't see anyone, but he saw the rain had indeed started up again. The guard grunted loudly that it was open. The door swung back to reveal the squat figure of Daniel Born standing under an umbrella.

  'I got asked to pass on a message to Genovsky,' Born shouted against the clatter of rain. 'I decided to respond to it myself.'

  He looked Virgo up and down, but made no comment on the uniform. Virgo couldn't tell if he was smiling or screwing his face against the windswept spray. 'Are you coming back in?'

  Virgo nodded. Once he was out, Born offered Virgo a share of his umbrella.

  'Thanks,' he said. 'I'm sorry about the clubbing. Really.'

  Born rubbed the back of his head. 'I didn't think I'd see you again,' he said. 'What made you come back?'

  'I had a revelation.'

  They walked in silence for thirty seconds, Virgo's mind chugging through the branching consequences of his game plan. The rain drummed against the umbrella, a rhythmic pulse. To tempt Born straightaway, or to hold back?

  No harm in throwing out a teaser.

  'Do you want the good news or the bad?'

  Born turned his head to look at him, but said nothing.

  'The bad news is you've joined the wrong side,' Virgo said. He paused for effect before he plunged in. 'The good news is I can get you out.'

  Born looked confused. 'What do you mean?'

  Virgo tapped on the plastic. 'The answer's in this box. But if I'm to get you out, I need you to keep it from Genovsky. Just for a while.'

  He sensed Born's pace slacken.

  'Don't make a scene, Daniel. Believe me, you of all people don't want Genovsky to know about this.' He strode a little faster. Born was skipping to keep up now. 'Just follow my instructions and I'll get us both out of this.'

  No response. What was Born thinking?

  'I'm curious, Daniel,' Virgo announced as they sauntered past the guards at the entrance to the main hangar. 'If you can walk in and out of here like this, why did you bring me in through the back?'

  'If we pulled up at the front gates, you'd have jumped from the car.'

  'You had a gun – you could have forced me in.'

  'I'm a physicist, Nathaniel, I've never fired a gun in my life. I thought that would have been obvious to you by now. Anyway, I figured my plan was better. I scouted out the site, found the gap in the fence at the back. I was quite proud of myself.'

  They were in a corridor flanked by ochre walls. This time, though, everything in the building gave the impression of a shaky impermanence; that it could all be pulled apart in moments. He didn't know how long Katie had. He had to move things along.

  'How did you gain Genovsky's trust so quickly?'


  Born shrugged. 'Like I said, she needed someone who knew quantum stuff.' He turned to his right into an orangepainted corridor. At the far end was a set of double doors. Virgo suffered a stab of recognition. They were almost there.

  'So you have access?'

  'If I explain what I'm doing, yes.'

  'And Genovsky's key for the remote control? For the plane, I mean.'

  'You mean planes,' Born said. He stopped walking and stared Virgo full in the face. 'They've already taken two down – your daughter's is up next.'

  Virgo could see Born shaking. Under the bravado, the man knew he was in over his head. Virgo tried not to think about Katie. It was Born he had to concentrate on now. This had to work, and panic wouldn't help him.

  'Can you get the key?' he said.

  'No, I don't have access to that. She carries it on her.'

  It was time to lay out the cards.

  'Does the term Faraday cage mean anything to you?'

  Born stared at him blankly for a moment, then shrugged. 'Of course. It's a metal casing that doesn't allow electromagnetic signals in or out.'

  'Imagine you wanted to build something that had to emit and receive signals – would you encase it in metal?'

  Born looked puzzled. 'Of course not.'

  'Look at the entanglement box, Daniel. What's it made of?'

  Born looked, then touched.

  'Plastic.'

  He mumbled the word, like it was the worst news he had ever heard.

  'Why would Gierek encase his ground-breaking entanglement hardware in plastic, Daniel? Could it be that a metal case would be a problem?'

  Born had stopped walking. No wonder; for him, it was all over now. Gierek had been mimicking entanglement with wireless broadband. Dressed it up to look like something more impressive – but made sure the wi-fi signal could still get out. That simple. Gierek knew people too well. He knew they believed what they wanted to.

  'You looked inside?' Born asked. His voice was flat.

  Virgo halted, then nodded. 'But I didn't need to. Not if I'd thought about it.'

  They were standing a dozen paces from the doors that led into the main hall. Born was staring into the wall. Virgo felt a strange kind of guilt, like he should have protected Born from the truth. The clock was ticking. How much time did you give a man to grieve over shattered dreams?