He laughed out loud every time he thought of it.
And it kept getting better. When he told the two men he had hired that his objective was to hold a brief meeting with a dangerous man, they had even suggested a location for this to occur. A safe house they maintained thirty miles from their headquarters on a stretch of farmland. The farmhouse and grounds were riddled with cameras and sensors, making this location absolutely secure from ambushes, or surprises of any kind.
The use of the mercs’ facility would add considerable cost to this engagement, but he had told them that money was no object, biting his tongue to keep from laughing when he did.
He was able to set up the hand off as quickly as he had hoped. Only two days after his call with Lucas he arrived in Cartago, in the center of the country. The city had been founded in the sixteenth century by Juan Vasquez de Coronado, and had served as the first capital of Costa Rica for well over two hundred years until the city of San José had assumed this role.
The two men he met with there were everything he had expected. Muscular, athletic, and serious—and armed to the teeth. They drove for forty-five minutes to a small, shabby-looking farmhouse, apparently in ill-repair and on grounds that were wide open and unsecured.
But looks were deceiving. Inside, the farmhouse was modern and well-appointed, and it was all but impenetrable from the outside. His mercenary friends checked their tablet computers and assured him that monitors and sensors indicated they were alone, and that the perimeter was secure out to well over a kilometer.
Browning grinned when the two men showed him the features of the safe house. It was well worth what the US government was paying them.
“Monitors indicate a car approaching,” announced the taller of the two mercenaries. “Three kilometers out.” Both men now had assault rifles slung around their shoulders, ready for immediate use. “One driver, no passengers,” added the merc.
“Show me an image of the driver,” said Browning.
The mercenary manipulated his tablet computer and handed it to his employer. Browning recognized the handsome young man on the screen right away, the same one he had seen through Victor’s eyes just before his death. “That’s him,” confirmed Browning, almost giddy now with anticipation.
“Sensors continue to show that the perimeter is clear,” reported the taller merc. “The driver will be our only company. I’ll let you know if this changes, of course.”
“Thank you,” responded Browning.
Five minutes later Lucas’s car became visible as it approached the farmhouse, rolling to a stop ten yards away from the three men waiting for him. The young killer exited the car. He was dressed casually and holding a small leather briefcase, which was more than roomy enough to carry a hundred sets of tiny BrainWeb implants.
Both mercenaries flanked their smallish employer, raising their assault rifles and pointing them at the newcomer. If Browning spread his arms, he might look like a human hammock suspended between two oak trees.
Lucas stared intently at the man he had come to meet. “Miles Long?” he asked.
“That’s right,” said Browning. “And I already know who you are.”
Lucas lifted his shirt and turned around slowly, demonstrating that he was unarmed. “Any chance your men could lower their weapons?” he asked pleasantly.
Browning nodded and signaled the two men to comply.
“Better?” asked Browning when the guns were no longer pointed at their guest.
“Much,” said Lucas. “Thanks.”
Browning was about to congratulate himself on how well things were going, but this condition changed at the speed of a bullet, as two distinctive cracks rang out over fifty yards distant. At the same instant the sound was registering, blood sprayed at Browning from either side of him, from two heads drilled by high-caliber sniper rounds.
Both mercenaries fell silently into heaps of flesh beside their employer, dead before they reached the ground, now nothing but human lumber.
Browning jumped the moment the spray hit his face. He let out a startled scream, tasting the metallic tang of blood that had worked its way from his lips to his open mouth.
Lucas looked bored by what was happening in front of him. He calmly reached into the briefcase, removed a gun, and pointed it at Browning, who had stumbled forward several feet.
“Did you think this case held implants?” said Lucas with a sneer, shaking his head at his adversary’s stupidity. “Well, guess again.”
The pounding of Browning’s heart rocked his body like an earthquake, but he realized his life now depended on how quickly he could recover his wits. He forced himself to relax. The universe had chosen him as the instrument of humanity’s salvation, after all. There was no way he could come to harm.
“Kill me and all the data I have on you will be released automatically,” he said firmly.
Lucas laughed. “Why don’t I believe you?” he replied. “Oh, right, maybe because you clearly lied about your vaunted surveillance capabilities. Weren’t you supposed to have seen this coming?” he added derisively.
“How did you do this? The perimeter is saturated with cameras and sensors. How were you able to place snipers?”
“Really?” said Lucas. “You do know that technology is my business, right? These cameras and sensors are older models, not state-of-the-art. I could defeat them in my sleep.”
“So what now, you kill me? Aren’t you even interested in how I came to know so much about you and your operation?”
“Oh yes,” said a voice coming up behind Browning, similar to Lucas’s but with a thicker Spanish accent. “Very interested. Not only in this information . . . but so much more.”
Browning gasped in shock. He wheeled around, ignoring the gun being held on him.
His eyes widened in dismay. The voice was as unmistakable as he had thought.
It was Victor! Alive and well and in the flesh. But it couldn’t be Victor.
“You look surprised,” said Lucas’s father in amusement. “I guess your surveillance didn’t see this coming either.”
38
Troy Browning took a number of rapid breaths. This was the mother of all curveballs, but there was surely an explanation, and he would still get out of this intact. The universe was testing his ingenuity, but it would not let him fail. He was confident that this would turn out to be a blessing in disguise, as had so many other events in his life that had looked to be setbacks at the time.
An instrument of the universe couldn’t be stopped by a lesser man, even one as extraordinary as Victor.
Browning was marched inside the farmhouse, zip-tied, and seated on a small couch, while Victor and Lucas took chairs facing him, their postures relaxed. It was clear they didn’t see him as a threat, even if his wrists had not been tied together.
“I must admit to being confused,” began Victor.
“You’re confused?” said Browning, staring at a man he knew to be dead.
Victor smiled. “I suppose it’s fair to say that we’re both confused,” he replied. “Although about very different things. I’m sure all will become clear to us both.”
He paused. “I’m going to begin asking you questions. Consider your responses very carefully. I trust that you know enough about me to believe me when I say that lying or withholding information will lead to . . . unpleasantries,” he added, staring at Browning with an intensity that could intimidate a rabid tiger.
Victor paused for a moment to let this marinate and then said, “So tell me, Miles Long, what is your real name?”
“Troy Browning,” he replied without hesitation.
Victor tilted his head and appeared lost in thought for almost twenty seconds. “The Troy Browning previously with the NSA?” he said finally.
Browning’s eyes widened. The ease with which Victor had come to this conclusion was remarkable. This indicated that he still possessed a working set of implants and had long ago hacked the NSA and other agencies. He must have directed BrainWeb to
scan through confidential employee databases, and then guessed his identity from among the several Troy Brownings who worked in various capacities within the government.
This sleight of hand was a powerful demonstration of the astounding utility of the implants, even when they didn’t bring mind reading along for the ride.
“No need to answer,” said Victor. “I know that’s who you are. Okay, Troy, here’s why I’m confused. You must be working with Justin Girdler. But as good as he is, I can’t see the angle here. You truly thought I was dead, that much is clear. Which means that he did too. So you didn’t do this to set up an ambush. And you aren’t harboring implants inside your skull already. I know, because I’ve designed a means to detect them. And why did you want twenty sets—at least to begin with? Girdler has access to implants of his own.”
“Because I’m not working with Girdler,” said Browning. “Never have. I developed NSA’s communications technology, which enables me to intercept Girdler’s secure calls. That’s how I know about you.”
“Why would you lie to me about this?” thundered Victor, his fists balled up in fury. “You know the penalty!”
Browning sensed that the man’s fury was an act, that he just wanted to judge his prisoner’s reaction. “I wouldn’t lie,” he insisted. “Call up my employee file with those implants of yours. You’ll see I’m the greatest genius the NSA has ever employed. What you won’t see is anything that might suggest I’d ever sacrifice myself to protect General Justin Girdler. I’m what I said I was: a free agent who happened to intercept his calls.”
Victor stared into Browning’s eyes for what seemed like forever, unblinking. “Okay, Troy,” he said, finally shifting his gaze. “Let’s say I believe you. Let’s say you aren’t in league with Girdler. But you do know what he’s been up to, correct?”
“Absolutely. I know everything. About him, and the Black Ops group he now runs.”
Victor nodded thoughtfully and glanced at his son. “This version of events does clear up some of my confusion,” he said. “Although it still doesn’t entirely explain your motives.”
“I’ll tell you everything,” said Browning. “And I promise you’ll be very satisfied. But I have to know: how are you alive? I saw Lucas kill you. You and Eduardo Alvarez both. With my own eyes.”
“You mean with my own eyes,” growled Victor angrily.
Browning swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“I’m alive because my son is even better than I had hoped,” said Victor. He turned to his son. “Go ahead and tell him what happened. Why not?”
Lucas nodded. “It’s simple, really,” he began. “My father tasked me to rethink his business. To look for any weak spots he might have missed.” He glared at his prisoner. “Which I’m sure is something you already knew.”
When Browning didn’t respond, Lucas continued. “What my father was doing with the implants had become the main thrust of operations in many ways. So I spent most of my efforts considering possibilities in this arena. At some point, it occurred to me that in addition to adding a stroke-inducing feature to the technology, as my father had done, it should be possible to have the implants send incoming data back through the Web to us. Turning the wearer into the ultimate bug.”
Browning nodded appreciatively, forgetting for a moment the situation he was in. The chain of logic was simple and impressive. “So you realized that if your father could do it to others, perhaps it had already been done before. To him.”
“That’s right,” said Lucas.
“Eduardo and I missed this possibility entirely,” said Victor. “In retrospect, we were both fools. But to give credit where it is due, Girdler performed brilliantly. I knew from my sources that he was being hunted by his own government. There is no way that could have been faked. So when he proposed a deal to get me the implants, I took it at face value, never questioning his willingness to betray his country. I had always considered him to be the most clever of my potential adversaries, but I still underestimated him. Bravo, General Girdler,” he growled, the words dripping with venom.
Browning felt the temperature of the room drop precipitously. Here was a man who truly didn’t enjoy being outsmarted. A man one didn’t betray without consequences.
Victor was still seething, but nodded at his son to continue.
“I brought in our top software experts to take a look,” said Lucas. “None at the level of an Alex Altschuler, but very good in their own right. They had previously spent months trying to breach the core code for my father, but failed. They assumed all of it was integrated and impenetrable, and it did seem to be that way. But once I gave them something specific to look for, they realized that two islands of software comprised what they had considered to be the core, not one. One was Altschuler’s original work, which they still couldn’t crack. But there was also another, which was actually an add-on. It was almost as well protected as the other, but not quite. Since I told them the suspected purpose of the software, they were able to find it. Unambiguous evidence that all of the sets my father had gotten from Girdler were compromised. That every sight, sound, and thought my father and Eduardo had made were being sent to a secret cloud account.”
“Outstanding,” said Browning in genuine admiration. “Now the rest of what happened is obvious.”
Lucas was as good as advertised. He could have told his father about his discovery and had the implants removed. But if he had, the US would know their game was up, and would then try to clean up after themselves. So instead, he had put on a show for the eavesdroppers. One that had to fool even his father and Alvarez since he couldn’t tell them about what he had learned. Not when their very thoughts were being streamed back to agents of the US government.
And the only way to take them offline for good, while continuing to pull the wool over the eyes of the eavesdroppers, was to knock them out in a way that made it look like they were dead.
“So you staged a patricide drama for Girdler’s benefit,” said Browning.
“That’s correct.”
“What did you shoot at them?” said Browning. “A tranquilizer?”
“What else?” said Lucas with a contented expression. “They had to be unconscious after the shots to sell their deaths.”
Browning actually smiled. “I can see how Girdler might have been suspicious if he continued to receive images and thoughts from their implants after they were dead.”
An amused look came over Lucas’s face. “I had the surgical robot ready to go,” he explained. “Once they were unconscious, I had their implants removed. I then replaced them with sets that my software experts had stripped of the offending code.”
“So where is your uncle?” said Browning.
“Alive and well. He would have joined us today, but he had a previous engagement.”
“My hat’s off to you,” said Browning. “Your reasoning and planning were extraordinary. Exceeded only by your acting skills. I was in the audience, and it was a performance for the ages.”
“It wasn’t easy,” admitted Lucas. “My father has given me everything in life. I have nothing but respect and admiration for him, and for Eduardo. To appear to be such a raving psychopath, to betray them so completely, to spew such acid, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Especially since I had to be totally convincing.”
“It wasn’t easy being on the receiving end of the performance, either,” noted Victor in a way that suggested he was still scarred from the experience. Not surprising. Browning had read the man’s surface thoughts at the time, and Victor thought he was about to be killed without mercy by the son he loved, utterly betrayed by a creature without compassion or remorse, who he had created.
Browning played back the scene in his mind and became even more impressed as he realized the full extent of the double game Lucas had played. He hadn’t just removed the bugs without THT knowing it, he had planted false information that he wanted them to intercept.
He made sure to let them know he wouldn’t be using imp
lants, or placing them with others. If he hadn’t done this, THT would soon wonder why they weren’t picking up new intel from him, or from new customers. And he had made it clear he was rolling up Victor’s ESP program, believing mind reading to be a sham. In this way the US would close the book on this possibility, leaving his father free to pursue it without ever having to look over his shoulder.
Browning nodded at Victor. “Thank you,” he said. “It all makes so much sense now. When I contacted Lucas, trying to impress him with my surveillance capabilities, he knew exactly what method had been used. And that this method was no longer available.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Eduardo and I have been betrayed and violated. I’ve been working hard to locate Girdler and everyone else behind what I consider an extended rape. Payback is in order. So you can imagine how happy I was when you called with information that could only have been obtained one way. I knew that you were a man who could provide the answers I was looking for.”
“So I played right into your hands,” said Browning. “You wanted to draw me out. You knew I couldn’t spot an ambush, but Lucas pretended to fear that I would, so I’d feel comfortable agreeing to a face-to-face.”
He cast his gaze on Lucas. “But you were belligerent and uncooperative at the start of our conversation,” he said to the young man. “Why? You risked pushing me away when you wanted desperately to lure me in.”
“He couldn’t appear too eager,” said Victor. “This is another case where Lucas played it just right. Pushing back just enough, not coming across as so savvy that you might suspect duplicity, and then pretending to acknowledge that you had him by the balls.”
Browning kept his face impassive, but there was a growing excitement within. Victor and his son were formidable, indeed. Even more so than he had already known. They were perfect. He had thought he was coming here to solve one of his two staggering problems, but now he saw Victor could help him solve both.
The universe was providing for him once again. He could now see the end game he needed to move this meeting toward with perfect clarity. This ordeal would turn out to be a blessing in disguise, as he had suspected—although he doubted the dead mercenaries outside would see it that way.
MindWar (Nick Hall Book 3) Page 22
