Robert Ludlum's (TM) the Patriot Attack

by Kyle Mills

  Smith heard a loud whoosh behind him and he dived, rolling over the top of the woman who was just starting to shake off the effects of the Taser. The projectile barely missed him, rocketing past his right shoulder and sticking in the heavy wood molding near the ceiling.

  If all these things managed to get into the air, Smith knew that his survival would be measured in seconds. He grabbed the dazed woman, dragging her toward the heavy desk that dominated the room. She screamed and he felt the warmth of blood splattering across his face. When he looked back, a chunk the size of a baseball was missing from her right thigh.

  His plan to get beneath the desk and pull it toward the wall as cover was starting to look completely pointless. It was quickly becoming clear that these things weren’t just high-tech shrapnel—they had some kind of command and control structure. If they weren’t able to get around the desk, they’d go right through it.

  Smith lifted the struggling woman into a fireman’s carry and went for the broken window, falling through it and bringing what glass was left in the frame down on them.

  He rolled on top of the woman, lying on his back with his Sig Sauer aimed toward the open window—more out of habit and training than an expectation that it would do any good. After an excruciatingly long two-count, he came to the realization that they weren’t following. He could still hear the bottle-rocket sound of their engines, but whoever programmed them had obviously set them up to stay within the confines of the house.

  He moved off the moaning woman and into a crouch, sweeping his weapon from left to right. They were sandwiched between the house and a dense, blossom-covered hedge. He couldn’t see out, but that probably meant no one could see in either. His vehicle would be to the right at about twenty yards, but it might as well have been a mile. Genjiro’s wife was going into shock and his injuries were going to make carrying her that distance a slow and painful process.

  Smith pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed Randi, sliding cautiously along the rough-hewn boards that sided the house.

  “Yeah,” she said, picking up on the second ring.

  “Abort! Do you understand me? Abort!”

  “Jon? What the hell—”

  His body was suddenly racked with a kind of pain he’d never felt before. Randi’s voice turned to static and he felt his legs buckle. The gun fell from his hand as he fought to stay upright. Then everything went dark.

  43

  Utsunomiya

  Japan

  Jon!” Randi shouted into the phone. “Jon, can you hear me?”

  It was obvious he couldn’t. The static was so loud that she had to hold the phone more than a foot from her ear. And then it went silent.

  She resisted the urge to slam the cell repeatedly into the dashboard of her rented car and instead threw it on the passenger seat. The traffic was bumper-to-bumper and she gunned the car into oncoming traffic, turning onto a slightly less crowded street lined with high-rise apartment buildings.

  As expected, there were no empty spaces, so she pulled into a loading dock decorated with emphatic signs that she assumed said “No Parking.”

  “Calm down,” she said in the empty confines of the car.

  People walking by on the sidewalk started looking at her with vague concern, probably based on her expression. She picked up the phone again and pretended to be in the midst of a cheerful conversation. A few moments later, no one was giving her a second thought.

  What the hell had happened? She’d seen Smith bleeding from an artery, getting shot at, and playing with viruses that could wipe out half of humanity. He always sounded like he was speaking at a PTA meeting. This call had been different and it unnerved her. He’d sounded desperate.

  She turned the wheel to pull back out into the street but then stopped before releasing the brake. Her first instinct was to try to make it to him, but what was the point? It would be almost an hour’s drive, and that was only if the GPS in her phone stopped inexplicably switching into Japanese.

  Her target was only about a mile away and her second instinct was to go for him despite Smith’s warning. Akito Maki was the last lead they had, and if they blew it what was the next step? Snatching random Japanese scientists, hooking them up to car batteries, and asking if they’d been spending their weekends building a science fiction army?

  She looked across the street and saw an Imperial Japanese war flag flying over the entrance to an apartment building. It was one of probably twenty she’d seen that day. And then there were the demonstrations, T-shirts, banners, and barricades erected in front of Japan’s government buildings. Grocery stores were having a hard time keeping their shelves stocked as people squirreled away supplies to get them through what everyone seemed certain was coming.

  She slammed a hand into the wheel and it felt so good she did it a few more times. Normally she’d assume that Smith had escaped whatever he’d gotten himself into, but his injuries were slowing him down badly. More likely he was dead or captured.

  A man in a police uniform was approaching from the north and he pointed sternly at her. She gave an apologetic nod and eased back into traffic. The GPS in her phone warned her in Japanese that she was headed away from her destination. She turned it off and dialed Fred Klein.

  If they ever needed one of his miracles, it was now.

  44

  Northeastern Japan

  Jon Smith opened his eyes and stared up at the fluorescent light hanging above him. Beyond it was an earthen ceiling, and judging from the rock jammed into his spine, the floor was similarly constructed.

  He eased into a sitting position and made a quick survey of his surroundings: a small cave that, based on the uniform striations in the walls, had been created by machine. The space was no bigger than ten by ten feet and there was a single door built out of a reddish material with a visible carbon fiber weave. Other than that, there was only a simple wood table and a couple of matching chairs.

  He stood unsteadily, focusing for a moment on his physical condition. His back wasn’t as bad as it could be—thank God Ueda’s office had been on the first floor. Not that it had done the engineer much good.

  He remembered hitting the ground with the man’s injured wife and calling Randi. After that, there was nothing until he’d woken up in this place.

  Smith took a seat in one of the chairs and saw that a cut on the back of his hand had been patched up. Better than the alternative, he supposed, but waking up in unidentifiable places with a bunch of doctored wounds hadn’t been working out all that well for him lately.

  He considered going to work on the door with one of the chairs, but after a few moments decided it would be a waste of time. Instead, his thoughts turned to Randi. Had she done what he’d told her? Had she turned tail and run?

  He hoped the fact that she wasn’t there with him suggested yes, but she could just as easily be dead. Or imprisoned at a facility closer to her target.

  The door began to slide back and Smith rose from the chair and took a step back. He put a hand on the chair, but as weapons went it wasn’t exactly state of the art. For now it might be better to just figure out where he stood. If an opportunity arose, he could always take it.

  The man who came in was immediately recognizable. A full five inches shorter than Smith, he had a solid, stocky build and a weathered face beneath military-cut gray hair.

  “General Takahashi,” Smith said, bowing subtly. It was vaguely possible that he could kill the man before anyone came to his aid, but there was no way to know if that would solve problems or create more. Civility seemed to be a wiser course of action at this point.

  Takahashi returned the bow as the door closed automatically behind him. “Colonel Smith.” He motioned toward the table. “Please sit. It’s my understanding that that you’re injured.”

  It would have been disrespectful to refuse, so Smith took a chair and watched the general as he did the same.

  “Randi Russell?” Takahashi said simply.

  His first reaction was to
lie, but that would just insult the old soldier’s intelligence. “She was on a similar mission. I told her to abort after I ran into your…toys.”

  The old man nodded. “A self-propelled, self-directed antipersonnel weapon. As yet a bit unsophisticated. We can limit them to a certain area but beyond that they just seek out body-heat signatures. I’m told that more advanced targeting computers are too heavy.”

  That explained why they hadn’t gone for him specifically and why they hadn’t chased him through the window. Lack of sophistication notwithstanding, the weapon had terrifying potential if dropped into the middle of an advancing infantry. And as far as Smith knew, nothing even remotely similar was under development by the United States.

  “But that’s not what got me, is it, General?”

  “No. Genjiro’s house was surrounded by tiny grains of silicon that are very similar to sand but charged by solar radiation. When a certain remote signal is given, they rearrange themselves into a circuit and can deliver quite an electric shock. Think of it as a twenty-first-century minefield. Depending on the circuit created, it can kill or incapacitate. More important, though, it can be permanently shut down after hostilities end. No more generations of children having their limbs blown off by mines left behind. A significant improvement, don’t you think?”

  Smith actually did, but decided not to admit it. “Ironic that Genjiro would be killed by something he had a hand in designing.”

  Takahashi nodded. “And unfortunate. He made significant contributions over the years. Having said that, his time was coming to an end. As a soldier and scientist, I imagine that you’ve discovered the same thing I have: War favors the wise and experienced. Science prefers the young and inspired.”

  Smith didn’t respond.

  “Do you know where you are, Colonel?”

  “I can only speculate.”

  Takahashi leaned back in his chair and waved him on. “Please do.”

  “After losing Reactor Four, you’d need a new venue to work on your nanotech weapon that eats metal, concrete, and plastic. I notice none of those materials are present in this room. You’d still need radiation to kill it just in case, though. So, I’d have to guess an underground nuclear waste storage facility.”

  The old soldier smiled. “I would say that you live up to your reputation, but I have to admit that I know surprisingly little about it. We have excellent penetration into America’s military computers as well as those at the CIA and NSA. They all seem to indicate that you’re a microbiologist. I think you’d say virus hunter.”

  “Maybe your access isn’t as good as you think, General.”

  “I believe it is. We’ve been developing supercomputer and cyber warfare technology since the early eighties. Your own NSA is about ten years behind us. A much more likely explanation is that you’re not here at the behest of any of those organizations.”

  Fred Klein insisted that Covert-One’s computers be completely cut off from the outside world. If you wanted to access them, you had to be physically sitting behind one of the terminals at the marina. And getting to one of those terminals without Klein’s permission would be a challenge for the Eighty-Second Airborne.

  “Knowledge is power,” Smith said noncommittally.

  Takahashi smiled, obviously not expecting him to just roll over and give up his employer. “As is technology. You directed the military’s development of Dresner’s Merge unit, did you not?”

  “Yes, sir.” It was more or less public knowledge, so he didn’t see any harm in admitting it.

  “A fascinating system. Limited, of course. But I was very interested to see where you were taking it.” He looked at Smith as though he were a gifted child. “I greatly regret that you weren’t born Japanese, Colonel. You would have done very well on my staff.”

  Smith accepted the compliment with a respectful nod. The endless pages of information he’d gone through on Takahashi had painted a picture of an extremely formidable soldier. But sitting there across from him, Smith realized they hadn’t captured the full extent of the man.

  “So you weren’t as impressed by the Merge as I was,” Smith said, trying to draw him into saying more about the technologies his people had developed. Surprisingly, Takahashi seemed completely unguarded on the subject.

  “What you were working on was already obsolete, Colonel. There’s no way to improve the soldier. No matter how well equipped he is, he’s still flesh and blood, driven by unpredictable and unstable emotions.”

  “Obsolete,” Smith repeated, thoughtfully. “Like your battleship?”

  From his expression, it was clear that Takahashi knew he was being baited. He just didn’t seem to care. “The Izumo was just a piece of military theater. Something for our people to rally around and to keep the Chinese off balance.”

  “But you’ve obviously done better.”

  “Unquestionably. My predecessor started with a blank page. He threw out everything we thought we knew about warfare and brought in philosophers and scientists who’d never had anything to do with the battlefield. Together they imagined something completely new.”

  “And you managed to find the talent to build it.”

  “Young people in America are quite self-absorbed, don’t you think? The Japanese are nationalistic by their very nature. Most of the people I approached were honored to be asked to serve their country. The rest were convinced by my financial resources.”

  “Convinced to do what, though, sir? Start a war with China?”

  Takahashi’s face became a mask. “At your country’s insistence, the Japanese people gave up their right to project power militarily. We made up for that somewhat with the strength of our economy, but a superpower needs both. Certainly you understand that. You’re a soldier serving the second-most-powerful military in history.”

  Smith ignored the sudden demotion to runner-up. “I can’t help thinking that you’re telling me a great deal, General.”

  It was likely that it didn’t matter because he was going to be tortured for information and then killed afterward, but it seemed sensible to bring up the subject.

  “Our countries are allies, Colonel. Nothing I’ve done is intended to harm our close relationship.”

  Smith noticed the lack of emotion in Takahashi’s voice. At best, he saw the United States as a necessary evil. At worst, a problem that he hadn’t yet figured out how to solve.

  “Can I assume, then, that I’m free to go?”

  Takahashi actually laughed. “I think that can eventually be arranged, Colonel. But first, I’d ask a favor.”

  “Sir?”

  “Your president is personally hosting a meeting between China’s leadership and our prime minister. It begins tomorrow in Australia. I’d like you to contact your superiors and request a private meeting between him and me while he’s there.”

  Takahashi reached into his pocket and retrieved a phone, sliding it across the table.

  “Take me at my word that this summit is meaningless, Colonel. We’re entering a new era and it’s time our countries discuss how it can be brought in with the minimum chaos.”

  “You mean how the world will be divided up between us.”

  “If you prefer.”

  Takahashi stood and gave a short bow before walking to the door. A moment later Smith was alone again in the locked cave.

  There was no way to know for certain the capabilities of Takahashi’s military, but even if it was just what Smith had experienced firsthand, the face of war would be changed forever. If the man had actually found a way to control his nanotech to the point that he could deploy it as a weapon, then the US military and the rest of the world’s militaries combined were now irrelevant.

  He reached for the phone and dialed one of many emergency numbers he’d committed to memory long ago. It would be routed through the analog phone system of Myanmar, passing through a house with two handsets literally taped together. And when the conversation was over, that house would conveniently burn down.

 
Not surprisingly, Klein picked up on the first ring.

  “Yes.”

  “We have a bit of a situation, sir.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “For now.”

  “But you managed to get to a phone.”

  “A phone was provided.”

  “I see. To what end?”

  “The general would like a private meeting with our friend while he’s on his southern vacation.”

  “Understood. And are you recommending that our friend take the meeting?”

  “I think it would be wise.”

  “Can he contact the general directly with his response?”

  “I imagine so. He doesn’t seem particularly concerned about confidentiality.”

  “And you? Is there anything we can do to help you?”

  It was an interesting question. In the end, though, he appeared to be inside the facility where the nanoweapon was being developed. While the chances were remote, it was possible that he could figure out some way to cause trouble.

  “No. I’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you for the call. And good luck.”

  45

  Tokyo

  Japan

  Randi Russell slung the bag over her shoulder and dodged along the crowded sidewalk, watching her reflection in the store windows for anyone taking undue notice. Beyond a few admiring glances from the men she passed, her practiced eye spotted nothing. By design, she wasn’t the only Caucasian on the street. Covert-One didn’t keep a safe house in Tokyo, and Klein had been forced to set one up with less time and forethought than he usually brought to the task. They’d agreed that the best bet would be to hide in plain sight—to rent an apartment in a part of the city heavily frequented by foreign tourists and businessmen.

  Randi cut right and jogged up a stairway leading to a set of glass doors. She pressed her hand against a palm reader—the Japanese loved technology—and heard the lock buzz. A moment later she was striding across a tastefully minimalist lobby toward a bank of elevators.