by Siegel, Alex
"Which cameras?"
"I'm trying to cover the whole continent. 357 thousand cameras so far. More every second as the virus spreads. I'm focusing on transit points like bus stations, airports, sea ports, and train stations. The computational load is highly distributed, of course."
"Obviously." He raised his eyebrows in an ironic gesture that was lost on her. "What about the phone system?"
"The Boston hackers are responsible for phones," Leanna said, "and Manhattan is scanning all financial transactions. Los Angeles has satellites and aircraft. Mexico City is monitoring border crossings."
Smythe shook his head. It almost doesn't seem fair to old Xavier, he thought.
He noticed one window in the corner of a monitor that seemed less active than the others. It was full of odd symbols arranged in geometric patterns.
"What's that?" he pointed.
"Math," Leanna said.
"You wrote that gibberish? It looks like it came from aliens."
She glanced up. "No, those notes came from God."
"Huh?"
"We're helping Him with an important project. Do you want to hear about it?" She became animated and gave him her full attention for the first time. "Norbert never wants to know what we're doing anymore."
Flinching a little, he said, "Sure, I guess. Use small words, please."
"The Lord is planning a security upgrade for His firewall."
"Like a computer firewall?"
"Exactly," she said. "The current system is based on a trinary..."
"Hold on," Smythe said. "God has a computer?"
"What do you think we live inside of? It's called the universe, sir." She rolled her eyes. "As I was saying, He uses a trinary model with quantum..."
"Wait. You're going to upgrade the universe?"
"Just the security protocols. The math is really hard. We had to invent a new algebraic system to keep the expressions bounded. Bethany had this great idea for recomposing the problem as..."
"Stop, please," he said. "When is this upgrade happening?"
"It will be a few years. We're still trying to learn our way around the system. There are a lot of equations to memorize. And when we finally finish designing the upgrade, we have to triple-check the math. We don't want to introduce a bug."
"A bug in the universe."
"Right." She nodded with an innocent expression. "The universe could crash."
"I see," he said slowly. "I hope God also checks your math."
"I expect He will." She smiled. "It's fun talking about this with somebody else."
"I'm not enjoying the conversation as much. Maybe it's because I'm terrified." He looked at his watch and checked the written schedule. "You were supposed to eat breakfast. Did you?"
"No, sir," Leanna said. "We forgot."
"And did you use the restroom twenty-eight minutes ago?"
"No, sir." She looked down. "We were busy. It's too late now."
"You can't pee when it's not on the schedule?" Smythe said.
"I could try." She frowned. "It wouldn't feel right."
He sighed deeply. He was very glad he didn't have Norbert's job.
Chapter Nineteen
Xavier stopped his car in front of a pump at a gas station. He stepped out of the warm interior and into winter. The sky was clear and the afternoon sun was bright, but he was still fucking cold. He wished he were back in Houston.
He kicked the car in annoyance. It was a battered green Corolla that he had stolen about ten miles back. Immediately after driving away, he had discovered the rust bucket was almost out of gas. Now he had to fill it up or steal another. The first choice seemed easier.
He had two payment options. He could use a credit card at the pump or pay with cash inside the store. He was worried the clerk might recognize his face after all the news reports. That left the credit card.
Xavier took his stack of fake identification out of his pocket. He had loaded up before leaving the camp yesterday afternoon. The stack included driver's licenses, insurance cards, and credit cards, all with different names. The picture on the licenses showed his face with the beautiful mustache he had lost. That stung.
He selected a credit card. He was about to swipe it when he stopped himself. The Society had created the card, and they knew he was carrying it. They would be watching for account activity.
Xavier pitched all his credit cards into the garbage. Stealing another car was looking like the better choice after all.
He noticed a surveillance camera mounted on the corner of the station. The lens was pointed right at him. Cameras were ubiquitous these days, so he wasn't worried. Even the Gray Spear Society couldn't watch a million video feeds at once. He would be safe as long as he didn't call attention to himself.
However, stealing a car while on camera wasn't smart. The video would be sent to the police, and they would certainly recognize him even without his mustache.
He looked around as he pondered what to do. He had stopped for gas in a town in South Dakota. The station was just off Interstate 90, and he planned to drive west on the highway as soon as he filled the tank. The featureless land was covered with windblown snow. The town was on the north side of the highway, and it looked tiny.
A SUV pulled up to another pump. A woman in a white fur coat jumped out and ran into the store. Xavier noticed she had left her purse on the front seat.
He quickly walked over and opened the door of the SUV. It took just a moment to find a credit card in the open purse. He was back at his own pump within seconds.
He swiped the stolen card. As soon as it was accepted, he threw it into the garbage. He began to fill the tank.
Flashing red and blue lights got his attention. Several police cars were approaching rapidly from the west. Xavier looked east and saw the same thing. He guessed they were state police because they were on the highway and there were a lot of them.
He faced the surveillance camera. I guess they can watch a million feeds after all, he thought. I bet they're using computers. He drew a semi-automatic with a suppressor and shot the lens dead center.
He took off running. He headed north into the small town because hiding places could be found there. It was the logical thing to do, and he liked to start every engagement with a logical choice. It made his adversaries think he was predictable.
Another police car with flashing lights appeared on the street ahead.
This is a good spot to make a stand, Xavier thought.
He transferred his semiautomatic to his left hand and drew a .50 caliber revolver. It was a monster of a gun and would make enough noise to be heard across the entire town. He wanted everybody's attention.
He could see a cop through the front windshield of the approaching car. Xavier fired at the cop's face and sprayed blood across the headrest. The car veered out of control and smashed into a tree with a satisfying crunch. The wreck was very cinematic.
Xavier had a moment before the large group of state troopers showed up. He looked around for the best available cover. An old station wagon was parked on the side of the road near a row of bushes. The steel body would offer decent protection for a short while. That will do, he thought.
He crouched behind the station wagon. He sighed with impatience as he waited for the next act of this little drama to begin.
Finally, Xavier saw several more police cars zooming down the street. He blasted away with his revolver to let them know where he was. It didn't matter whether he hit anything. The noise and muzzle flash would be impossible to miss.
The cars squealed to a stop, and one crashed into another from behind. Xavier chuckled. He waited until all the cops were out of their cars and hiding behind cover.
When they could hear him, he yelled, "You'll never take me alive, copper!" He loved using that line. He fired the last two bullets from his revolver to prove he meant business.
He slipped the empty revolver back into its concealed holster. His 9 mm semiautomatic was a much better weapon anyway.
/> Xavier poked his head out just for an instant. A bullet whizzed by his ear. Time to move, he thought.
He produced a shadow and had it crouch behind the car. Silently, he slipped into the bushes. He wiggled the shadow and made it peek out from behind the station wagon so the cops would believe he was still there.
Quickly but covertly, he made his way around the police and back towards the highway. The yards behind the houses didn't even have fences to slow his progress. He kept his shadow behind the station wagon. Not being able to see it made it hard to maintain, and the movements would be unnatural, but it didn't matter in this case.
Xavier turned a corner and almost ran into two very surprised state troopers. He shot them in the heads before they had time to cry out. The suppressor on Xavier's gun turned the gunshots into clicks and hisses.
He reached the street leading back to the gas station. All the cops were looking the other way. He made his shadow jump up a bit and wave its gun around. His adversaries responded by unleashing a volley of bullets. Xavier imagined their frustration as every shot seemed to miss. It was hard to kill air.
He reached the green Corolla he had arrived in. The pump had stopped, so the tank was full. With the surveillance camera out, there was little risk the Society would know he had circled around.
Calmly, he put the nozzle back in its slot, got in, and drove off.
* * *
Aaron stood on a low hill overlooking Camp Diniyoli, a.k.a. fake Camp Zonta. The main building had a brown shingle roof that almost looked like real wood. It had the architecture of a barn, but that just added to its homey charm. Smaller buildings were clustered like gossipy school children around a teacher. Dense forest lay beyond, but a few trees were boldly growing in the interior of the camp. The frozen lake was a sheet of blue-white perfection.
Aaron pressed a red button. Explosions ripped through the camp, starting at the main building and radiating outwards. He could feel the ground shudder, and extra warmth touched his face. It sounded like a thunderstorm. Great balls of orange flame lifted into the evening sky.
In the last two weeks, Camp Diniyoli had become a stronghold of the Gray Spear Society. It was no longer safe for ordinary people to visit. Death had taken up residence here. Aaron certainly couldn't let children come to such a place. The only solution was to cleanse the site with fire. The owners of Camp Diniyoli would have ample money to rebuild thanks to a very large donation from a very anonymous source. Furthermore, a well known construction company would make itself fully available for the project. The kids wouldn't miss camp this summer.
Smiling, Aaron turned to his team. Nancy, Jack, and Kamal had remained with him to help with the cleanup.
"Are we done, sir?" Jack said. "Can we go home yet?" His bald head gleamed with the orange light of the setting sun. His breath turned into fog.
"Unfortunately, no," Aaron said. "Our old headquarters isn't safe until Xavier is dead. Besides, we have another project that has to begin as soon as possible."
"What, sir?"
"We have to work on the new headquarters."
Nancy furrowed her brow. "The Rosemont Tower?" she said.
"No." Aaron shook his head. "Another new headquarters."
"Are you being obscure on purpose, sir?"
"It doesn't have to be much. Just an empty building that looks convincing from the outside. Xavier won't actually go inside."
She stared at him. "Are you playing another trick on Xavier, sir?"
"The last and best trick, I hope." He nodded. "Let's go. We have to hurry back to Chicago. Tomorrow will be another busy day."
* * *
Marina looked out the front windshield of the Boeing C-17 Globemaster III. It was night outside, and all she could see were points of light. Some were stars and some were individual homes on the ground. It was hard to tell where the separation was.
She sat in the back of the cockpit. Two Air Force pilots occupied the front seats, and the glow from the instrument panel illuminated their faces. They believed she worked for the FBI Special Missions Unit. It was a good cover story because Hanley could personally vouch for her.
One of the pilots turned to Marina and said, "Ma'am, somebody on the ground is trying to reach you."
"Thanks." She put on her aviation headset and adjusted the position of the microphone. "Hello?"
"It's Bethany, ma'am."
"Don't use your name!" Marina barked. "You're talking on a radio."
"Sorry," Bethany replied in a deeply apologetic tone. "I must be getting very tired. At least the radio is encrypted."
"What's going on?"
"The body of a dead TSA inspector was found in a train station in Lincoln, Nebraska. We analyzed routes and schedules and projected the ten most likely destinations for Xavier. We placed a Global Hawk over each location and used infrared surveillance to..."
"Stop," Marina said. "Just tell me where you think Xavier is."
"A mobile home park in Hastings, Nebraska. Your squad is the closest of the three. The flight time is about a half-hour. Should I notify the police?"
"No. This time we'll try to sneak up on him quietly. Do you have a satellite photo in front of you?"
"Yes, ma'am," Bethany said.
Of course she does, Marina thought. "I'm going to miss you two girls when I'm in San Francisco. I just hope the hackers on my team are half as good."
"Thank you."
"I'm going to parachute down with my squad," Marina said. "Find an open field near the trailer park and give me the exact coordinates."
She relayed the information to the pilot, and he put it into his navigation system.
"Thirty-one minutes," he said.
"Very slow and very quiet on the approach," she told the pilot. "We'll jump off the ramp."
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. That should be quite a ride. Good luck."
Marina left the cockpit and climbed down a ladder to reach the cargo bay. The interior of the C-17 was enormous enough to accommodate a hundred troops with equipment. It was so big it seemed more like a blimp than an airplane.
Only five passengers were riding today: three men and two women. They sat together in a close group. They wore body armor with the gray and black camouflage pattern favored by the Society. It was the new type that Guthrum had worn at the camp, and it covered their entire bodies from neck to ankle. The material combined ultra-strong, braided fibers with composite plates over critical areas. The fibers were knitted tightly to form dense layered netting. Combat helmets and full face masks would protect their heads. The squad was armed with a wide assortment of powerful weapons, ranging from different types of grenades to assault rifles loaded with armor piercing ammunition.
Marina took the long walk over to them. A man named Jacob was speaking and the other four were listening intently. More war stories, Marina thought. The squad had been swapping tales of past missions all day long.
Jacob faced her and said, "Any news, ma'am?"
Marina suppressed a smile. A senior legionnaire was calling her "ma'am." It still felt funny.
"We're jumping in a half-hour," she said. "Get your parachutes on. Xavier is holed up in a mobile home park. We'll be landing in an open field north of his position."
"Are the other two squads joining us?"
"They're too far away. We'll try to take Xavier by ourselves."
Nobody complained, but the squad was clearly unsettled by the news. They were going after the traitor with just one third of the search team.
"We'll be fine as long as we work together," Marina added.
"Yes, ma'am."
She almost smiled again.
It took most of the half-hour for the squad to prepare for the dangerous jump. All of them had jumped out of an airplane exactly five times before. Those jumps had occurred in the morning as part of a hastily arranged training session. The squad members were barely qualified to jump without an instructor, much less do it at night from the back of a jet plane. Marina was looking forward to an in
tense experience.
They received a one-minute warning from the pilot over the intercom. Everybody walked to the loading ramp.
"Use your phones to find each other," Marina said. "Don't go after Xavier until we're all together."
"Yes, ma'am," the squad replied.
The ramp lowered and the noise was deafening. A blast of freezing wind tried to sweep Marina out of the plane, but she was holding onto a strap.
A red light above was flashing. Everybody watched it closely. The light turned yellow and then green. She immediately ran off the ramp and into darkness.
She curled herself into a ball. As soon as she fell out of the wake of the plane, the airstream slammed her very hard. It was like being hit by a giant tennis racket made of icicles. Even though she wore body armor, the impact hurt. The wind tried to rip off a mask that was strapped tightly across her face. She clenched her jaw as she tumbled through the sky.
After a moment she transitioned into normal freefall. She stretched out her body to slow herself down. The tumbling stopped, and she achieved the proper face down orientation. She moved her arms and legs experimentally. Nothing felt broken or dislocated.
Night vision goggles were integrated into her mask. She could see the mobile home park clearly. She used her hands to steer herself towards an empty field to the north. She wondered if this was how birds felt when they flew.
Finally, she pulled her rip cord. The sudden jerk seemed extra hard, or maybe she was just sore. She glided to the field and landed on her feet.
She sucked in a deep breath. Her heart was pounding like a hammer. Once was enough for that experience, she thought.
She took out her phone and opened the locator app. It showed the positions of everybody else in the squad. Even with the guidance, it still took a while to round them up. Two people had landed in the wrong field. One of the women had twisted her ankle during a hard landing and couldn't continue the operation. Jacob carried her to a nearby barn, where she would wait while the rest of the squad searched for Xavier.
Marina had four people left. One was Jennifer, who could vomit black adhesive slime. Jacob had the ability to lay down patches of invisible energy that acted as proximity sensors. He could tell whenever somebody moved near a patch, and the energy lasted up to an hour. It was a subtle and very useful gift. The other two men, Carl and Zach, had no gift.
