Iran had entered an agreement with a previous administration that had filled their coffers and had given them a free hand to develop nukes. America thought its concessions had at least delayed Iran’s timetable, but the Islamic theocracy had begun breaking their end of the bargain before the agreement was even officially struck, and had only ignored it at an accelerated pace ever since. They had perfected their warheads and the means to deliver them years earlier.
Now, only a complex web of international threats and pressure, along with massive payoffs by America, had been able to keep the Iranian nukes in their silos, but Siegel’s sources confirmed what they already feared. The ultimate hardliner, Hakim Osmani, was maneuvering to pull a coup and assume power, and his chances of success had just gone from near zero to near a hundred percent.
The current regime was run by a ruthless zealot, Javad Zarif, a barbarian who cared nothing for human life, or his own people. But compared to the likes of Hakim Osmani, this man was a prince. The most extreme Islamists were passionately devoted to bringing about a global apocalypse, and Osmani had drunk deeply from this Kool-Aid.
“What are our chances of stopping him from taking over?” asked the president.
“Very slim. My men in Iran are good, and we’re trying. But there have been more sightings of Bigfoot than of Osmani. And he’s rumored to be protected by tech and by dozens of zealots not only willing to die for him, but eager to do so.”
Cochran chewed his lower lip. “And we still believe he’ll emerge and consolidate power within three to four months?”
“Based on predictions made by my men on the ground and our best analysts, yes. After that, his first act will be to send multiple nukes toward Tel Aviv and New York.”
“Doesn’t knowing the target increase the odds we can shoot them down?”
“Yes, significantly,” replied Siegel. “Our anti-missile countermeasures are extraordinarily good, and there are some who argue Israel’s are even better. But they’ll have tricks up their sleeves too. If they launch everything they’ve got over a short window, we believe they have a good chance of getting one through.”
“What if we launch a comprehensive attack now, before this situation plays out?”
“Our sources say Osmani loyalists are in control of Iran’s nukes already. He’s waiting until he takes full control so he gets the credit for the strike. But if we go after him hard enough to have any chance of success, he’ll see us coming in plenty of time and send up the nukes early.”
“Losing New York or Tel Aviv is catastrophic enough,” said Cochran, “but you know this will escalate across the region and world.”
“That’s what they’re counting on,” said Siegel in disgust. “We knew that letting Iran have the bomb could only end badly,” he added bitterly. “Remember the good old days, when the destruction of the world was a possible side effect of the quest for power and not the primary goal?”
“What do you recommend we do?” said the president.
“I would normally recommend we call an emergency meeting of the National Security Council to start brainstorming options,” said Siegel. “Normally.” He blew out a long breath. “But as of a few days ago,” he continued, “I’ve become aware of other . . . options.”
It wasn’t hard to guess where the admiral was going—exactly in the direction Cochran had wanted to take the meeting—but the president decided to play dumb, staring at the virtual Bob Siegel as though he needed it spelled out.
“We could deploy our mind reader,” said the admiral simply. “We could keep this latest intel on the shortest of leashes. Instead of trying to solve this through traditional channels, we could roll the dice with Nick. Send our superman over to Iran. He’ll be able to find Osmani and defuse the situation if anyone can. Surgically. It’s not as though he hasn’t delivered miracles before.”
Cochran nodded grimly. “I’ve given this a lot of thought, Bob. I think you’re on the right track. But not quite. You know Nick almost killed himself during the USD Op. The doctor I spoke with gave him less than a fifty-fifty chance of pulling through. What if he had died? Then what? Threats to the world are metastasizing faster than ever before. The intel gathered by Girdler’s Trojan Horse implants has been outstanding, but Hall’s intel on terrorist activity in the homeland has been even more vital, preventing what would have otherwise been unprecedented losses.”
“I know that throwing him into Iran is a big risk,” said Siegel, “but at this point I don’t think we have any other choice.”
“But we do,” insisted Cochran. “Because Nick Hall isn’t the answer in this case. His abilities are what we need.”
Siegel squinted in confusion, but didn’t respond.
“We’ve become too reliant on Nick,” continued the president. “He’s much too valuable to send out on dangerous missions. And this isn’t something he signed up for anyway. But what if we could turn someone else into a mind reader? Someone who would not only have Nick’s abilities, but so much more. Nick has no formal combat training, no schooling in military strategy, in weapons, in tactics. And although he’s making an effort to learn a few key languages, he’s not fluent.”
“Can he only read minds in English?” asked the admiral.
“No. The computing power imbedded in the implants is truly extraordinary. He can set them to translate to and from hundreds of languages. They can even help him with pronunciation. But it’s not quite as seamless as if he were fluent. Incoming words and thoughts are translated into English so quickly this isn’t a problem. But if Nick wants to speak in a language he doesn’t know, he has to slowly repeat the translation the implants give him. This is slow and clumsy.”
“So in this fantasy scenario of yours,” said Siegel, “we’d create a new and improved Nick Hall. The Farsi-speaking commando edition.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m sure we could find the right commando,” said Siegel. “But how do we give him ESP?”
Cochran explained about Kelvin Gray and the implant movement data that everyone thought would replicate the effect. “We’re sitting on fifty sets of implants,” said the president. “And we have the necessary data. Nick just asked for authorization to let his ESP team access it inside THT’s headquarters, and Justin and I gave him the okay.”
“It’s really that straightforward?” asked Siegel. “Just use the data to guide the implant installation, and the next thing we know we have our Nick Hall action figure, complete with ESP and kung fu grip.”
“Something like that,” replied Cochran. The reality was far from this simple, but no sense getting lost in minutia at this point in the discussion. “We’d keep this entirely to ourselves, of course. You’d be responsible for finding the right guy. I’m pretty sure one of the members of SEAL Team Six would do the trick.”
SEAL Team Six was the nickname for The US Naval Special Warfare Development Group. SEALs underwent extreme training and their skills as warriors were legendary, but only the top two hundred of these, from a pool of almost three thousand, became part of this ultra-elite group.
“I know any number of these guys are fluent in both Arabic and Farsi,” continued the president. “They’re also mission hardened, experts in weapons and tactics, and experienced killers. Not to mention able to run marathons, barefoot, in freezing rain, while carrying two of their comrades on their backs,” he added. “And I’m barely exaggerating. So we carve out a four-man subset of SEAL Team Six. Call them SEAL Team Six-and-a-half. All four get implants. Allows them to communicate telepathically.”
“What are you talking about?” said Siegel, blinking in confusion.
“If two people have implants, they can set them to communicate with each other in a way indistinguishable from telepathy. Nick and Alex do it all the time.”
“Alex has implants?” said Siegel. “Anything else I should know about?” he added irritably.
Cochran couldn’t blame him for being annoyed. Not that he should have expected a single briefing to
bring him up to speed on everything. “Alex doesn’t like to advertise them,” said the president. “He was five times the scientist of anyone else before he got implants. Now that he can access nearly unlimited information and run computer simulations in his head, he’s truly off the charts.”
“Good thing he’s on our side,” said Siegel. “But back to your SEAL Team Six-and-a-half. You’re envisioning one guy who reads minds, and three teammates who can surf the Web with their thoughts and communicate with each other telepathically.”
“Unless you think a bigger or smaller team makes more sense.”
“No,” said the admiral after a few seconds of thought, “four is the right number. So what’s the mission? Locate and kill Osmani? Anything more?”
“Yes, depending on how it goes. That would be the primary goal, but why stop there? Why not disable their entire nuclear program? Seems impossible. But you know what Nick accomplished at the Academy Awards. That was my first introduction to the man. You weren’t in the briefing at the time, but they had us by the balls. All it took was one man to rewrite the laws of what was possible. An untrained marine biologist.”
“Any concerns that we’d be creating the ultimate weapon?” asked Siegel. “If the guy we chose ever went off the reservation, there’d be no stopping him.”
“Yes. I have enormous concerns,” replied Cochran. He grimaced. “But nothing like the concerns our THT brethren would have. They equate the release of this data in any way with the opening of Pandora’s Box—almost literally.”
“I know they do.”
The president sighed. “ I hate to say it, but this is why we’ll need to keep this secret, even from them.”
Siegel’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I agree,” he said. “They’ll recognize the magnitude of the danger we’re in, and realize that we don’t have a choice.”
“Maybe. But I’m not willing to count on it. If any group will see the cure as being more dangerous than the disease, it’s this one. For good reason. These people have more experience with ESP, have thought more about it, than anyone. They’ve committed themselves to making sure mind reading never spreads beyond Nick, and finding a way to block it if it ever does. Justin has made his opposition to something like I’ve just outlined loud and clear, and the rest agree. They all know that absolute power corrupts absolutely, and love Nick all the more because he’s incorruptible. They believe the world is very fortunate that lightning struck the man it did, and think the chances of getting this lucky twice in a row are vanishingly small.”
“So if they’re out of the loop, how do we proceed?”
“I’ve given this a lot of thought since reading your report this morning,” said President Cochran. “They’re lax when it comes to monitoring their own people. They’ve made sure the data isn’t connected to the Internet, so no one can hack it. But an insider could copy it and remove it manually.”
“And they don’t check these people when they leave?” said Siegel. “I can’t believe that Justin Girdler would ever be that sloppy.”
“You say that because you aren’t used to a world with Nick Hall in it. He’s read all of their minds. He tries to stay out, but if a new security issue arises, he’ll dive in for a quick swim. So he knows for sure that no one will betray him or the team. He can read intent. They all absolutely intend to protect the data, with their lives if necessary. Nick knows this, so Justin and Mike know it too.”
“I don’t see how this would work, then,” said Siegel. “This just means that we know for certain that none of them will take a copy off the premises. And even if this suddenly changed, Nick would know it right away. What am I missing?”
“That I’m the President of the United States. While Nick is off at Hill with his ninety-nine terror suspects—which is scheduled to happen again in about two weeks—I can order one of the peripheral players on the ESP team to bring out the data. I can tell him I’ll explain everything once he does. These people may not intend to steal the data, but when their president insists that they do so for reasons that only he understands, this is a compelling argument.”
Bob Siegel pursed his lips in thought. “But not certain,” he said. “If the ESP team is anywhere as cohesive as the main group, the one you choose might tell even his president to go pound sand.”
“Maybe. But it’s a chance we need to take.”
“Justin will remain at headquarters the entire time Nick’s at Hill,” said Siegel, “which will make this more difficult. Last time, when Nick got wind of the sarin gas attack, Justin was at a climbing gym in Sandy, Utah. He doesn’t ever want to be caught out of position like this again when something big happens. So he’s vowed to hold the fort whenever Nick’s off premises—just in case.”
“I have an idea that might even incorporate Justin into things in a small way,” said Cochran. “And I can make sure he’s tied up in meetings, even if he is at headquarters, while our mole is copying the data. I don’t want to discuss it now, but you and I are scheduled to meet face-to-face next week, and I should have it ironed out by then.”
“However creative your idea, it won’t be easy to get anyone there to betray Nick and the group.”
Cochran sighed. “Whatever happens, happens. I could just order Justin and Nick to give me the data, but I’m still not sure they would, and they’re too important to risk alienating. I’m trying to do what I think is best to save lives. They’re trying to do the same. So if I fail to get the data out, who knows, maybe it’s for the best. It’s not us against them, or good guys and bad guys. We’re on the same team, just with different strategies to reach the goal line.”
“Remember when ethics used to be easy?” mused Siegel. “In grade school. Stealing is wrong. Hurting others is wrong. When did it get to be so complicated? If you murder a psychopathic serial killer who was released on a technicality you go to jail for life. If you murder a kind family man on the battlefield, one who was forced into service by his government, you get a medal.”
“So what do you get when you screw over people you admire?” said Cochran wearily, “and steal data they don’t want used?”
“I guess we’re going to find out,” replied Siegel.
There was a long silence. “Regardless of the ethics, Bob,” said the president finally, “your job couldn’t be more important. The guy we choose to turn into a mind reader has to have all the warrior skills, but also top scores on his psych evaluations. We need a guy who is . . . well, whatever the exact opposite of a sociopath is. A guy with a lot of empathy. High moral standards. A team player. Incorruptible. Another Nick Hall.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” said Siegel. “I’m not saying that most of these soldiers aren’t very good men, but you’re looking for a cross between a pacifist and a saint. Not easy to find in a commando. These guys have all killed—a lot—and they aren’t exactly docile. Ever wonder why Jesus Christ never signed up to serve in the Bethlehem division of SEAL Team Six?”
Cochran laughed. “You do have a point. The perfect recipient probably doesn’t exist. But just get me close. Find a team player. Someone stable, with solid ethics. Who follows orders. This should be good enough.”
“And if it isn’t?”
The president stared at Siegel for several long moments. “We take a page from Victor,” he said. “We add software to the implants allowing us to trigger a stroke by sending the proper code. Obviously, we won’t tell our commando. And we’d only use it as a last resort—if he goes off the reservation, goes crazy, becomes out of control.”
Siegel looked on in disbelief. “So we find a decorated soldier willing to go on a dangerous mission to save New York and Tel Aviv, at minimum. And then we repay him by putting a land mine in his head when he’s not looking. Are you serious? Girdler wouldn’t even put a kill switch into the heads of our enemies, and you want to do it with our heroes?”
“You were the one complaining about how blurry ethical lines can become,” pointed out Cochran. “It’s a horrible thi
ng to do. Despicable. But when you create the ultimate predator, it would be irresponsible to do anything else.”
“Look, I’m not a philosophy professor,” said the admiral. “But this just feels . . . wrong. Very wrong.”
“It does to me, too.”
Cochran was about to continue the discussion when the back wall of the Oval Office, which years earlier had been entirely transformed into a continuous touch-screen monitor, indicated a call coming in from General Justin Girdler over the NSA’s secure line. The president quickly instructed Cali, his personal digital assistant, to put the call through.
The Oval Office appeared to grow larger and it became populated by the large table in THT’s main conference room along with the entire core team back in Utah. At the same time, at THT’s headquarters, the core team now saw projections of the president and Director of National Intelligence as if they were seated around the table.
“Sorry to interrupt,” said Girdler by way of greeting, “but it seems there’s been a . . . situation. One with a major impact on what we’re doing.”
“What happened?” said the president.
“Victor and Eduardo are both dead,” replied Girdler, as though still in shock. “Murdered.”
“How is that possible?” said Siegel in disbelief. “No one is more careful than Victor. And no one is better defended. Was it Sayed Nazry?”
“Not Nazry,” replied Girdler. “It was an enemy who turned out to be a little bit . . . closer to home.”
The general still looked shaken, as though still unable to fully process what had happened. “I just sent the footage of their murders to Cali,” he continued. “I recommend you and Bob take a look before we proceed. This is something that you really have to see to believe.”
33
The president and Bob Siegel watched the scene play out on the back wall of the Oval Office, as large as life. Victor and his first lieutenant tied against a wall while his son hovered over them, taunting them and gloating. Cochran had no love for these tech merchants, but it was a sickening spectacle.
MindWar (Nick Hall Book 3) Page 19
