“For how long?” asked Siegel.
“Long enough. Naturally, I read things in your past that you wouldn’t want publicized: duplicity, misuse of power, and so on. But none of us are saints. I’d say your ethics and conduct are about even with the general and colonel here,” he added, gesturing to Girdler and Campbell, “which is very high praise. And if it makes you feel better, I’ve read President Cochran as well. You have fewer skeletons in your closet than he does, and he has the fewest of any politician I’ve ever read—and believe me, I was forced to read a lot of them.”
“What?” said Siegel in confusion.
“Long story. The important thing is that you’re here. You passed the screen. Your secrets and indiscretions are safe with me. You aren’t exactly as pure as the driven snow—or even snow that’s been sitting for months outside of a coal factory—but you’re a good man on the whole. You have good instincts and good intentions. And you’re a man who can be trusted.”
Hall sighed. “And for the purposes of full disclosure, yes, I also went into your head while you were touring with the general just now, just to get a sense of how you took the revelations about this group. And just so you know, all things considered, you’ve taken them well.”
Altschuler jumped in before the admiral could respond. “I know you feel violated,” he said. “But consider if this wasn’t for the best. We all trust Nick implicitly. If he hadn’t vetted you like he did, we’d have been forced to keep you at arm’s length for some time. We’d be worried that you couldn’t be trusted or would play politics to exert control. But now that Nick has vouched for you, we’re ready to embrace you as one of our own, from day one.”
The admiral stared back at the brilliant scientist, deep in thought. Finally, he nodded. “An interesting point,” he said.
“So why don’t we begin the briefing, Bob,” said Girdler. “The moment we start, you’re officially one of us—part of our two-man Washington cohort—and Nick will stay out of your head.”
“Then we don’t have a second to waste,” said Siegel, showing just the hint of a smile for the first time. “Let’s start this damned briefing already.”
30
President Timothy Cochran joined the meeting from the Oval Office four hours later, looking for all the world like he was actually inside THT’s conference room and seated at the table along with the rest of the team. Holographic televisions that projected perfect 3-D video without the viewer needing to wear glasses had been perfected years earlier and had spread across the US like a hyper-infectious virus. Not only was breakthrough technology being developed at an increasingly furious pace, it was spreading faster than ever before.
Girdler still marveled at a holographic breakthrough that had occurred only in the past few months, enabling the creation of a virtual presence anywhere, one that could be manipulated to make it appear a virtual meeting attendee was interacting with the room, actually seated around the table. It wasn’t quite flawless, but you had to pay attention to tell the virtual from the real.
It was science fiction come to life. But for that matter, the technology in Nick Hall’s head had recently been nothing but science fiction as well.
Science fiction had predicted many of the advances humanity now took for granted with uncanny accuracy, and had even been responsible for a number of them. Girdler had read that Captain Kirk’s communicator had been the inspiration for the cell phone, one of the greatest transformative developments of all time.
The general shook his head as he realized something profound. One of the few things that science fiction had largely failed to predict was the Internet itself.
He had read the great Isaac Asimov as a kid. In Foundation, set in a star-spanning empire thousands of years in the future, Asimov had envisioned a mighty initiative to amass humankind’s collective knowledge in a work called the Encyclopedia Galactica—a work that would take generations to complete. At the time, Girdler had found Asimov’s vision of a single repository of all human knowledge to be powerful and compelling.
But despite painting a far future civilization filled with starships and other advanced technology, not even the genius of Dr. Asimov could imagine a tool as awesome as the Internet, a vast collection of knowledge—including images, audio, and video—that could be instantly searched for the occurrence of any subject matter or phrase. One that enabled a reader to jump off the page to reference a related topic millions of pages away and then jump back again in an instant.
Astonishingly, the Internet had swept across the planet only a handful of decades after Foundation had been written, turning Asimov’s grand, far-future vision of the ultimate printed encyclopedia into something laughably primitive. Comparing the scope and usefulness of the fictional Encyclopedia Galactica to the Internet was like comparing a flint arrowhead to a nuclear ballistic missile.
“Welcome, Mr. President,” said Girdler after the computer rendered a virtual Timothy Cochran at the other end of the oval table.
“Glad to be with you,” he replied. “How goes the briefing?”
Girdler gestured for Admiral Siegel to respond.
“They’ve given me a fairly comprehensive crash course on their operations,” said Siegel. “And a pretty good dose of their sophomoric sense of humor.”
Cochran laughed. “Glad to see you’re getting the full treatment. I take it they also told you exactly how you were vetted before being asked to join.”
“Oh yeah,” said the admiral.
“Well, just so you know,” said Cochran, “you get the last laugh. They’re all staying here within Nick’s range, while you get to spend most of your time thousands of miles away.”
“Thanks, Mr. President,” said Hall, pretending to be offended. “It’s always great to be reminded of how much I’m loved.”
“Believe me, Nick,” said the president in amusement, “I’m doing you a favor. I’ve known Bob for years. No one should have to be exposed to that mind.”
“We should probably get started,” said the general before Siegel could come up with a humorous rejoinder. “It’s been a while since you’ve attended a meeting, Mr. President. And while Bob is now current on operations, we still need to fill him in on important events that have taken place over the past several months. So we have a lot of ground to cover.”
“Understood,” said Cochran. “Before we do, though, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to congratulate all of you on the USD operation. I want to thank you, Nick,” he added, turning to face the man in question, “first and foremost, since I know you almost extended yourself to the point of no return. And I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I was when you finally came out of your coma.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But all of you performed brilliantly,” continued Cochran, “and heroically. General, please extend my congratulations and gratitude to the members of your security team who were involved. Tell them that I mourn your losses and thank them for their heroism.”
He paused. “I also want your recommendations as to what medals would be appropriate to award. Beginning with Kevin Wellman, who I understand was willing to sacrifice his life for Nick’s. But don’t forget about the members of the team who captured the drone, especially Sergeant Plaskett.”
“I’ll make sure you have these recommendations by tomorrow,” said Girdler solemnly. “Speaking of the USD attack,” he added, “how goes the backlash over the cover-up?”
“Not great,” grumbled the president. “But I’ll be honest with you,” he added with a crooked smile, “I’m a professional politician at the top of the food chain. As such, lying goes with the territory. But usually it’s for self-serving political reasons. It really is a pleasure to hone my lying skills for the right reasons.”
Girdler nodded. He couldn’t believe Cochran had so freely confessed to this, but since Hall had been in his head, after all, perhaps he felt more comfortable letting his hair down among this group.
“Not that my fabrications have b
een totally effective,” continued the president. “There are conspiracy theories going around. The most popular is that we stopped a tactical nuke from being exploded in USD’s stadium and killing Malala and six thousand little girls.”
“Well that’s just crazy,” said Megan with a twinkle in her eye. “I mean, where do these nutcases come up with this stuff? It’s obvious that this was nothing more than a gun malfunction over a crowded stadium. Which just happened to turn one of two drones into a rain of shrapnel. Which just happened to occur during a drone-catching demonstration done to honor Malala. Which was ordered by a president with really poor judgment, who was, you know, probably a little drunk at the time. I mean, what else could it be?”
“Thanks,” said Cochran with a groan. “That makes me feel a lot better.”
Mike Campbell laughed. “We do appreciate you taking one for the team,” he said.
“And you did an excellent job keeping everyone in the stadium calm,” added Girdler. “If not for this, our operation couldn’t have been successful.”
Cochran simply nodded to acknowledge this praise.
Girdler didn’t consider himself a religious man, but it was difficult not to wonder if a higher power wasn’t looking out for the world. Believers argued that even great tragedies had a purpose behind them, just one that humanity wasn’t qualified to see, like a beginner chess player trying to understand a sophisticated move made by a grandmaster.
Kelvin Gray had killed eighteen people in a quest to perfect what had come to be known as BrainWeb. A tragedy, no doubt. But in the process Nick Hall had been created, and how many tens of thousands of lives had he saved already?
“There are a few important recent events I want to report on,” began Girdler, finally getting down to the nuts and bolts of the briefing. “But before I do, I’d like to give Bob some historical context that we didn’t quite get to.”
Girdler turned his head to the left and caught Siegel’s eye. “Since I put the ten thousand sets of implants into Victor’s hands, a number of things have changed. Most importantly, Victor decided that selling all of them would be problematic, especially when word got out that he had them.”
“Why?” asked Siegel.
“The appetite for them was a lot greater than he could manage. He worried that those he denied might resent him for it, might become enemies.”
“And you’re certain this was his rationale?” asked the admiral.
“Victor isn’t just a seller of BrainWeb technology,” replied Girdler, “he’s a user. So what I’m telling you we got from his conversations and even his surface thoughts, which we’ve been privy to since just after he acquired the sets.”
Siegel nodded. “That’s what I call solid intel,” he said appreciatively. “Please go on.”
“So he staged an attack on himself,” continued the general, “pretending it was us, and pretending we took back our property. In this way, he got off the radar, and regained discretion over which customers he would work with. After that, he’s been very stingy about doling out the implants,” he added unhappily. “It’s like the city of Troy gratefully accepting our wooden horse, not suspecting a thing, and then innocently deciding it would look prettier if displayed outside of their gates.”
“I can see how that would be frustrating,” said the admiral.
“It got worse from there,” said Girdler. “Victor also disengaged from working with Jihadists, which he had done extensively to that point. We thought we’d be inside the heads of most of the top terrorists. When Victor changed gears, we at least thought we’d get a read on terror chiefs through their dealings with him. When he went cold turkey it was quite a blow to the program.”
“It seems as though Nick’s work with terror suspects at Hill Air Force Base is filling in that gap quite nicely,” said Siegel. “Whatever you call it. Your ninety-nine bottles of terrorism on the wall initiative, I suppose.”
Girdler smiled. Ninety-nine bottles of terrorism. Take one down, pass it around. Siegel might just fit in even better than he expected. “It has been a big help. Especially in protecting the homeland. But we’re still mostly blind to the internal politics of ISIS and other groups.”
“Not totally,” said Siegel. “I’ve had some recent success placing operatives inside some of these camps. And inside Iran, Iraq, and Syria. Something we’ve made a top priority. Not as good as being in their actual heads, maybe a bit old-fashioned, but we aren’t totally blind.”
“Congratulations,” said Girdler. “That’s excellent work. And we might be able to get back in the game too, at least when it comes to ISIS.” He paused. “Mike, could you elaborate?”
“Sayed Nazry contacted Victor just six days ago,” said Campbell. “The day after the attempted sarin attack. I’ll send everyone the data Victor’s implants beamed back to us during the call so you can watch for yourself. You won’t believe it. Nazry treated Victor like he was a clerk at Walmart in charge of customer returns. He wanted his money back for the drones Victor sold him, basically because he was so pissed off that we stopped his attack.”
“So how did this improve our situation?” asked the president. “Didn’t Victor just tell him to go to hell, putting us right back where we started?”
“Surprisingly, no,” replied Campbell. “Victor has decided to make a play for ESP.”
He went on to explain how the arms dealer had decided to use a large number of implant sets to try to recreate Hall’s condition in helpless victims, first using Brazilian prisoners and now trying to work out arrangements for ISIS to supply them in bulk.
“Not a good turn of events,” said President Cochran. “Yes, he’s now interacting with the head of ISIS, but only for a narrow purpose of his own. The window we’ll get into Nazry’s activities will be vanishingly small. On the other hand, if Victor succeeds in his quest for ESP, we’ve got a huge problem.”
“Not as big as you might think,” said Girdler, “since we’ll know if, and when, he hits pay dirt. They haven’t set up the facility they’ll use to test their experimental subjects yet. But once they do, we’ll know where it is, and we can ready a strike plan. In the unlikely event Victor succeeds, we’ll end the facility—and him. This will stall out any further distribution of implants, but we’ll still be receiving data from those he placed prior to his death.”
“I still don’t like him going after mind reading,” said the president.
“I don’t either,” said Girdler. “But in my view this doesn’t warrant any drastic changes to our program. Not yet. We need to use him as long as we can. The odds of his success are long, and since we’re in his head, he’ll have no place to hide.”
Cochran nodded. “Agreed,” he said finally.
“Interestingly enough,” said Mike Campbell, “the idea to work with Nazry didn’t originate with Victor this time.”
“Eduardo Alvarez?” guessed the president.
“No,” said the colonel. “There’s a new player on the board. Turns out Victor has a son.”
“You’re shitting me!” said Siegel in dismay. Victor had been on the admiral’s most wanted list for years, and he had studied him extensively. “He managed to keep this from our entire intelligence community. Remarkable. So who’s the son?”
“His name is Lucas Perez,” said the general, “but he’s decided to do the one-name thing like his father. And get this, the kid was in our easy grasp for years but we didn’t have a clue who he really was. He was just hanging out in Massachusetts, getting his doctorate at MIT.”
“We pulled his records,” said Colonel Campbell, “which I’ll forward to everyone. As they say in Boston, the kid is wicked smart. Even more brilliant than his father. And judging from how well he’s taken to killing after losing his virginity, he’s wicked ruthless.”
“After losing his virginity?” repeated Cochran, arching an eyebrow.
“Not sexually,” explained Campbell. “His father wanted him to get his hands dirty. Learn how to kill. I’ll send the image
s taken thorough Victor’s eyes of his conversation with Lucas and subsequent kills, but I have to warn you, viewer discretion is advised. Lucas shot a man in the throat at point-blank range. I’d probably pass on that one. But the son is catching on fast, and seems to be cut from the same mold as his father.”
“So how is this significant to us?” asked Admiral Siegel.
“It isn’t,” said Girdler. “For now. But now that Lucas is in the picture, he’ll add a new variable to the equation.”
The general paused. When no additional questions were asked, he nodded toward Mike Campbell to continue.
“There is one last key development to report,” said the colonel. “One that we think might well make up for our lack of penetration into Jihadi groups.”
He went on to describe Victor’s new strategy, one that his implants had revealed less than a month earlier as he was cooking it up in the private confines of his mind, and then as he discussed it with Eduardo Alvarez.
Victor may have decided to limit access to the implants, but he would make every placement count. He would become the puppet master for power players around the globe, providing twenty sets of implants to each to help them move up the ladder and ultimately take the reins of power in their countries, creating a group of world leaders who would be forever in his debt.
Since the president’s last briefing, Victor had met with Alexander Sokolov in Russia, Pak Pyong-so in North Korea, and most recently, Li Jeng in Hong Kong, and had set up a number of additional meetings with others of their ilk. Campbell promised to forward implant-derived footage of Victor’s meeting with General Li to the members of the team to give them a better sense of how he had been implementing this strategy.
“Why twenty sets?” asked Siegel.
“So the men he’s trying to elevate can give implants to nineteen of their closest allies,” replied Campbell, “strengthening their hands.”
The admiral shook his head. “That’s a mistake. In these circles, with these stakes, at least one ally will want power for himself and turn on the man Victor selected.”
MindWar (Nick Hall Book 3) Page 17
