MindWar (Nick Hall Book 3)

by Douglas E. Richards

  Which was only fitting, he supposed. He wouldn’t be the chosen one if an ordinary man could have his vision of the future, and his ability to overcome obstacles.

  So what steps would he need to take to turn his destiny into reality?

  First of all, he realized, he needed to keep ESP to himself for a while before he released it into the wild. He would study the effect. He wouldn’t be surprised if he discovered an easy way to trigger it in every man, woman, and child, all by himself. Hall’s team might have done the same, but they had been focused on achieving the exact opposite goal.

  He also needed time to acquire power and riches, so he could create an opulent stronghold to hide within, safely isolated, and exceedingly well-protected from the chaos that was sure to erupt when mind reading became widespread. He would go to whatever lengths were necessary to emerge from the coming collapse unscathed, to lead the new, enlightened flock his efforts would create.

  This was another key mistake Christ had made. Die for humanity’s sins? Fuck that.

  Christ’s dad had had a better idea, which was yet another lesson from the story of Noah’s Ark. Humans should die for their own sins.

  Christ must have been such a disappointment to his father.

  Given Browning’s genius, once he could read minds he should be able to build up the appropriate level of resources in no time. He could blackmail billionaires, slip into safes, buy and sell stock based on insider knowledge he could read in the minds of corporate CEOs. He could read the location of cash hoards, waiting to be laundered.

  But there were faster paths to enormous wealth also. Instant paths. He would be the ultimate identity thief. He could read computer passwords and Swiss bank account numbers. He could read corporate CFOs to learn what he needed to know to divert hundreds of millions from mega-corporations or government slush-funds while covering up his tracks. The sky was the limit.

  Troy Browning would be rich and powerful, and he would devote his power and riches to preparing an impregnable stronghold. He was one messiah who would survive the coming flood, not immolating himself on a cross, but sticking around to build upon the love and harmony that his cleansing would bring.

  But this would be the relatively easy part. The difficulty would be acquiring the technology to begin with. First, he would have to find a way to intercept the data coming out of Utah, and such interception wasn’t his area of expertise. He would need to be very clever, and most likely acquire a hired gun or two. But even then, it would be a daunting prospect.

  THT’s headquarters and personnel only looked unsecured. The warehouse building was a fortress, with hidden traps and advanced weapon emplacements controlled by Nessie, the most formidable computer on Earth, one birthed by the NSA itself. Despite her origins, she couldn’t be touched or tampered with, not even by Browning. She was too smart, too watchful, and would never allow her programming to be corrupted, no matter how clever the attempt.

  Nessie’s brain was incomprehensibly big, but she had eyes to match. An entire satellite had been devoted to THT’s headquarters and the movement of its tenants. She also had access to every traffic camera and security camera in the area.

  The core team had small living quarters within the main structure, and rarely ventured out. But Nessie monitored the movements and activities of all THT’s employees anywhere within the Salt Lake City area, her expert systems always on the watch for anything out of the ordinary, better than a human could ever be at picking up on subtle clues and sounding a warning.

  His second problem was even more worrisome. Implants were required to trigger ESP. This wouldn’t be true for long, but for now he needed a set of his own. While the US possessed dozens, he couldn’t possibly get his hands on them. Girdler and Cochran had locked them up tight in the most secure vault ever built, Fort Knox, where they were keeping the nation’s supply of gold company. Only the president himself, or someone he had designated, could get access. Even if Browning could find a way in, he couldn’t hide the theft, which would be like kicking a hornet’s nest.

  So this strategy wouldn’t work on a number of levels.

  He didn’t have to think for long before the only possible viable alternative hit him squarely between the eyes: Lucas Perez. It was obvious. Lucas had thousands of implant sets just lying around.

  Thousands of sets that until very recently had belonged to Lucas’s father. While Browning was watching the president’s chat with Siegel, a funny thing had happened. THT had called with some interesting news.

  It turned out that Lucas Perez had some serious daddy issues.

  Lucas was the opposite of Troy Browning. Browning was a messiah, willing to cause death, yes, but only for divine purpose, to carve out a malignant tumor before it killed the entire patient. Lucas, on the other hand, was a devil, exemplifying the wickedness of the species, willing to kill his own father to achieve nothing but petty, selfish ends.

  But no matter how evil Lucas had shown himself to be, Browning needed him for a divine purpose, and he knew he had the leverage to get what he needed.

  Luckily, President Cochran never came to Utah in person, always phoning in on his oh-so-secure channel, so Browning had a front row seat for most THT meetings and off-line briefings. Since Victor was THT’s Typhoid Mary, spreading BrainWeb implants far and wide, he was a frequent subject of discussion.

  Victor maintained a phone number that was well known to the scum who might want to do business with him—a number he had gone to heroic lengths to make sure could never lead to him. Anyone who wanted to reach Victor had but to leave a message at this number. If the arms and tech merchant liked what he heard, he would return the call.

  After Browning had learned of this he had looked into it further, and found the number was surprisingly easy to obtain. But Victor was known to be relatively unresponsive, like God. Huge numbers of people throughout history had attempted to contact the Lord, but precious few had ever received a reply. Not that the tech merchant was anywhere near as aloof as the fabled Almighty had shown himself to be.

  Those hunting for Victor over the years had tried to use this messaging system to trick the man, but this strategy was obvious and had never worked. Only Nick Hall had used it successfully, but he had cheated, having acquired knowledge through mind reading that he shouldn’t have been able to get.

  Lucas had studied his father’s business and was brilliant in his own right. Browning was sure the lad wouldn’t destroy this system. Why would he? He could listen to messages and choose not to respond. Or he could reply, explaining to the caller that his father had had an unfortunate accident, probably not going into detail on the whole messy patricide angle.

  Browning thought deeply for a few minutes and then dialed up Victor’s legendary bat-phone. For just a moment he thought about introducing himself as Commissioner Gordon, but then decided to go in another direction, since a batman reference was a little too juvenile.

  “Hello, my name is Miles,” said Browning after hearing the distinctive beep. “Miles Long.”

  He broke out into a grin. He could have gone with John Smith for an alias, but why be boring? If he wasn’t going with Commissioner Gordon, he could at least use his favorite porn star name.

  “I’m calling for Lucas Perez. Lucas, I want to make a deal with you. I happen to be an independent scientist who has developed revolutionary surveillance capabilities. In fact, I know everything there is to know about you and your father, and your operation.”

  He paused. “Allow me to demonstrate. I know about your father’s dealings with Li Jeng in China, Alexander Sokolov in Russia, and Pak Pyong-so in North Korea, for example. I know about your visit to your father’s Brazilian island, and his efforts to get you blooded.

  “Congratulations to him for being such a fine teacher, by the way. He did a masterful job of getting you acclimated to killing. If he were alive, he might say too good of a job. And congratulations to you, as well. Killing your father and uncle in cold blood is impressive. Shows initi
ative. That’s what I call taking the bull by the horns.”

  Browning smiled, quite pleased with himself, and waited a moment to let this sink in. He could only imagine what was going through Lucas’s mind right now. The young man had no idea the implants were bugs, so he must think his mystery caller was omniscient, his knowledge supernatural.

  Lucas would be tearing his father’s principal bases of operations and computer networks inside out looking for bugs, racking his brain to determine how Browning had managed such flawless surveillance. He would probably end up purging numerous of his father’s loyal employees, thinking them spies.

  Regardless, Browning’s voice message would draw a return call, more surely than a red cape would draw a bull.

  “I’m telling you this to make it clear that I hold your future in my hands,” he continued. “I can locate you wherever you try to hide. The US authorities would give me quite the reward for leading them to you. But I don’t want that. I’d rather be your ally instead. It’s all up to you.”

  He paused. “Here is my number,” he added, reciting the digits. “If you haven’t called me in twenty-four hours, I’ll take this as a sign you don’t want to work together and act accordingly. I know how smart you are, Lucas, so I have every confidence you’ll make the right choice.”

  Browning paused one last time. “Talk to you soon,” he finished cheerfully.

  36

  Troy Browning grinned as his phone began to ring. It had been less than eight hours since he had left his message, and he was certain Lucas had spent seven of these trying to trace the number Browning had left. Lucas would no doubt try to trace Browning again—with the same lack of success—after the call had ended.

  Browning had written the book on untraceable calls, literally, or at least the lengthy classified White Paper. Lucas would die of old age before he got anywhere near finding him.

  Browning answered the call on the third ring. “Hello, Lucas,” he said smugly. “I’m glad you had sense enough to return my call.”

  “You had me intrigued,” said Lucas calmly, his English containing just the hint of a Spanish accent. “After all,” he added, “anyone calling themselves Miles Long has to be overcompensating for some kind of inadequacy. I’m sure if I did a search for tiniest dicks in America I could find you right away.”

  “Very funny,” said Browning. “But do you really think it’s smart to piss me off?”

  “I don’t take well to being threatened, Miles,” he growled, his tone now one of pure malevolence. “So who are you, really? How did you find out about me? And what do you want?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer your first two questions. As for what I want, this is a question I’ve already answered. Like I told you, I want to team up. I want the same deal your father made with Li Jeng and others. Give me twenty sets of implants, and when I get to the top, I’ll owe you.” Browning really only needed the one set, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a few backups.

  “Are you a world leader?” said Lucas. “Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, maybe? Speaker of the House? Because this is the level of leader who gets this deal. If not, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

  “I thought you might be smarter than your father. But right now, I’m not sure you’re smarter than a tree. I only made the offer to be nice, and because allies are better than enemies. But you forget who has the leverage here. So here’s the new offer. You give me a hundred sets, and we part company. In exchange, I destroy all of the copious surveillance data I have on you and your organization, and agree not to acquire any more.”

  “A hundred sets?” said Lucas in disbelief. “I don’t even have a hundred sets anymore. And I’m getting offers for a million dollars apiece for the ones I do.”

  “Okay, it’s your first few days on the new job, so I’m going to cut you some slack. Maybe you’ve been drinking to celebrate and you killed off too many brain cells. I told you I know everything. What about that word don’t you understand? You can’t bluff me. I know you have many thousands of sets left, Lucas. I know that your father staged the raid in which the Americans supposedly took them back. And I know you don’t plan to do anything with the ones you have. You have more money than you could ever spend, and you want to work on the scientific, creative side, anyway.”

  He paused to let Lucas ponder the accuracy of these statements.

  “So be as smart as I thought you were,” continued Browning, “and realize what you’re up against here. Your plan is to let the sets gather dust, anyway. It costs you nothing to give them to me. And if you do, I go away forever. If you don’t, I’ll give my intel to one of our three-letter agencies and you can wait for our special forces to pay a visit. Or maybe they’ll just send a missile down your throat.”

  There was a long pause. “I need your assurances that you’re a one-man operation,” said Lucas. “That no one else has access to the information you have.”

  Browning smiled. It was about time that the young man’s youthful arrogance gave way to his intellect. “No one else has access,” he replied. “So—do we have a deal?”

  Lucas sighed loudly. “Tell me about this revolutionary surveillance method of yours and we do,” he said. “I want to know how you pulled this off. But you need to honor your word. I give you what you want and we go our separate ways. If I ever learn you’re still tracking me, or kept a copy of your surveillance data for future leverage, no special forces group or missile you try to have sent will keep me from learning who you are and turning your body into a bloody canvas.”

  “Good,” said Browning, ignoring the threat. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. I’ll tell you where to send the sets. Once I have them, I’ll tell you my secret, let you peek behind the curtain.”

  “Oh no,” said Lucas. “I hand them off in person. You know I’m not in America. There’s no way I’m sending them through customs. And I’m not trusting you to tell me about your surveillance methods from afar after you have what you want.”

  “Now you think I’m stupid. I know you killed your father and fake uncle. So am I supposed to feel safe around you? Really?”

  “How about this?” said Lucas. “How about we complete the exchange in Central or South America? In a country of your choosing. At a location and time of your choosing.”

  “It doesn’t matter who chooses. You’ll still have plenty of time to set up an ambush.”

  Lucas snorted. “If I do, you’ll know it, right? You know everything, remember? I’ll come alone. If your surveillance shows anyone else, or shows that I’m armed, call it off. Tell your agencies what you know about me.”

  Browning chose not to respond.

  “But I will play it straight,” continued Lucas emphatically. “You’ll know if I don’t, so you’ve got me by the balls. And you’re right about the implants. I have no plans to do anything with them. So it costs me nothing to get you off my back, like you said.”

  “So why all the bluster?” asked Browning.

  “I was trying to see if you could be intimidated or bluffed. Feel you out. See what you were made of. Now I know. We’ve both had our fun, now I just want this to go away. Choose the site, watch me to make sure I’m not armed or with others, hell, even bring bodyguards of your own. It’s true I killed my father, but only because I had a lot to gain. And I didn’t have to defeat armed bodyguards with my bare hands to do it. If you can think of anything else that makes you feel safe, we can do that too.”

  Browning smiled. As evil as this young man was, and as stupid as he had seemed at first, he had turned out to be quite savvy, after all. “That won’t be necessary,” said Browning. “Provided you come to the exchange alone and unarmed, this will be enough.”

  He paused. “I’ll leave a message on your father’s number with the meeting details within the next few hours.”

  “Good. I look forward to putting this behind me.”

  “You and me both,” said Browning. He needed the exchange to happen soon, so he’d be back in time to fi
gure out some way to intercept the data disk coming out of THT’s Utah facility. “So gather up the implant sets and be ready to move,” he added, “because I plan for this to happen quickly.”

  37

  Browning was jet-lagged and hadn’t had nearly enough sleep, but he was so energized by the prospect of getting his hands on the most impressive technology ever created he felt ready to run a marathon.

  Very soon he would be halfway to his goal. Then, once he found a way to get a copy of Altschuler’s data and became a mind reader, nothing could stop him from bringing humanity into the age of inclusiveness and enlightenment.

  Browning had never been to Costa Rica before, but it was as beautiful as advertised, with eight hundred miles of coastline bordering both the Caribbean and Pacific Oceans, along with mountains, volcanoes, farmland, orchards, and even rainforests.

  Not that he had picked it for its beauty.

  One of the many conversations he had eavesdropped upon had revealed that US drug enforcement operatives in Costa Rica had frequently employed one or more mercenaries from a small private agency, for both protection and more offensive-minded duties, and spoke very highly of the professionalism, competence, and dependability of these men.

  Browning had viewed this saved conversation once again to learn whose computer had the information he needed. After hacking into it, he was not only able to obtain the mercenary agency’s contact information, but codes he could use to masquerade as a high-level DEA operative.

  The universe was providing for him once again.

  Browning had been delighted. He didn’t really expect Lucas to give him any trouble, since the young man’s arguments for why he would behave had been quite persuasive, but it paid to be prepared. Costa Rica offered a convenient and reliable group of mercenaries for his meeting with Lucas. And there was only one thing better than having easy access to reliable mercenaries: having these same mercenaries accept him as a DEA operative and bill the US government for their services after he had left.