The shadow war

by Glen Scott Allen

  Anton took all this in without any reaction. "And how you help? You said you're historian, not computer guy."

  "That's… complicated. My area is Colonial American history. Jeremy's work somehow became connected to… well, apparently he was interested in a Reverend Bainbridge, who had something to do, perhaps, with King Philip's War, and…"

  Benjamin stopped, aware he was babbling. His fatigue was beginning to show.

  "All right, never mind," said Anton. "Tell me about Dr. Fletcher's work, who you call Jeremy."

  This guy doesn't miss much, thought Benjamin. "We were friends, back in college."

  "Again, fine. Now, program?"

  "Well… Samuel thought it looked like nuclear war game theory. But he said it was on a level far above his expertise. He said he wished he could show the program to you, that perhaps you'd have a better idea what it was all about."

  He entered the TEACUP password, then rotated the laptop so Anton could see the files displayed.

  "This is it," he said. "It's called TEACUP, for-"

  "Text Entry, Analysis, Conversion and Utilization Program," finished Anton. "Told you, I know Fletcher's work. Been working on program for years."

  Benjamin leaned back, sighed. "I think I came to the right place," he said.

  "Maybe," Anton said. He rose from his chair, came over to the coffee table, and, with some effort, squatted down in front of the computer.

  "What is files?" he said, pointing to the list on the screen.

  "Well, that's one of the things I'm hoping you can tell me. Samuel opened some of them, looked at them. But that's when he said he wasn't certain what it all meant."

  "Hm," Anton said, scanning down the list of files. Benjamin noticed a sudden glint of recognition in Anton's eyes when he got to the top of the rightmost list.

  "You recognize these?" he asked.

  "Maybe," Anton said. He stood up, sighing again. "No way to do work." He looked down at Benjamin. "You look like hell," he said.

  Benjamin rubbed at his eyes. "I've been driving all night. If I could just-"

  "Take nap," Anton said.

  He set his coffee down, picked up a stack of books from the couch, set it on the floor-where it promptly tipped over. He grunted, pushed them aside with his foot.

  "Here, on couch. Stretch out. I'll get you blanket." He leaned down and put his hands on the computer, then looked at Benjamin. "All right I take this upstairs, to study?"

  Benjamin looked around, nodded. "I guess," he said.

  "Good." Anton picked up the computer. "Go on, lay down. I'll be back in minute with blanket. Give me hour or so, see if I can read the leaves of this teacup." He smiled down at Benjamin.

  Benjamin suddenly wanted very much to trust Anton Sikorsky; to turn the whole mystery over to him, to fade into unconsciousness, hopefully to awaken to answers and clarity-and perhaps the news that Wolfe was alive.

  He leaned his head back against the arm of the couch, and by the time Anton came downstairs with a large, thick comforter, he was already sound asleep.

  CHAPTER 27

  Benjamin woke up to Anton's face above him. For a moment he didn't recognize him and couldn't remember where he was.

  "You've had a nice nap?" Anton asked him. He held out a glass of orange juice in one hand, and in the other he held a plate with some sort of sandwich. "Sit up, eat something. You'll feel better."

  Benjamin slowly raised himself on the couch. He rubbed his eyes, accepted the orange juice from Anton. "What time is it?" he asked.

  "A little after noon," Anton said. He set the sandwich on the coffee table, then pulled over the armchair and sat down. "You were sleeping soundly, I didn't want to wake you. But then I think, he's not here to sleep all day, is he."

  Anton waved toward the sandwich. "It's not much. Something with corned beef, some pickles-you like pickles? Being Polish, I assume everyone likes pickles. Some cheese. Ah," Anton sighed, "if my Liska were still here, she would fix something very nice. She made a lamb sandwich-"

  Benjamin took a bite of the sandwich, realized he was very hungry indeed, took another.

  Anton watched him chew for a minute. Then he said, "So, now maybe you are ready answer some questions?"

  "About Fletcher's computer program? I'm afraid I won't be of any help. It's even more Greek to me than it was to Mr. Wolfe."

  Anton waggled his hand. "Maybe yes, maybe no. Come on. Bring food."

  With the glass in one hand and the sandwich in the other, Benjamin followed Anton into the foyer and up the stairs.

  As they climbed the stairs, Benjamin looked at photos lining the wall. A number were black-and-white photos of Anton surrounded by men, all of them standing in front of blackboards or in offices that suggested academic settings. But in every photograph there were also men in military uniforms-Soviet military uniforms. He recognized those enormous officer hats.

  They reached the top of the stairs and turned left, into a small room that might have been Anton's study-except that it looked identical to the downstairs. The shelves were overflowing with books, and a large, heavy antique table held so many even its bulk seemed ready to collapse under their weight.

  In a little alcove, Anton's desk was set in the middle of an overarching forest of book stacks. At the other end of the room was a blackboard, filled with equations.

  Anton led Benjamin to the desk. Fletcher's laptop was there, the screen up and glowing with a vast, intricate web of equations. Benjamin realized the equations on Jeremy's computer and those on Anton's blackboard were quite similar.

  "Now, please, sit," he motioned toward an armchair nearby, "and let me ask my questions."

  Benjamin pulled over a captain's chair. Anton sat down in the old wooden swivel chair before the desk, the chair squeaking whenever he turned it from side to side.

  "First," Anton began, "what the hell is having happened?"

  In broad strokes, Benjamin outlined the investigation he and Wolfe had carried out: his discovery of the TEACUP password, the interest Jeremy had had in Myorkin at the FRN and Orlova at the RCC-and Sikorsky at Georgetown. And he confided to Anton that Wolfe thought Jeremy's death hadn't been an accident, that someone at the Foundation may have killed him to keep some aspect of his work secret. A conclusion, Benjamin said, he'd come to agree with.

  "Yes, those clear parts," said Anton, not commenting on Fletcher's possible murder. "But why you? Why history guy, with Indians and Pilgrims?"

  Again, Benjamin wondered how much he should tell Anton. But what was the point in asking for his help if he wasn't completely honest with him?

  So he told Anton of the mysterious Ginsburg book about Bainbridge and the fake Bainbridge diary at the Morris Estate. He was even about to tell Anton of the strange symbol he'd seen in the Foundation's mural-but once again he feared it would sound outlandish, fantastical, and undermine Anton's faith in him; so he said nothing about the mural.

  While Anton was mulling over what Benjamin had said, Benjamin asked a question of his own.

  "Have you ever met Dr. Fletcher?"

  "Oh, yes, yes. Years ago. Conference, but of smart ghouls, us guys who do this-" he pointed to the blackboard "-get paid to 'think unthinkable.' "

  "Kahn's phrase?" Benjamin asked.

  Anton looked surprised. "You know Kahn?"

  "No, not at all," he said. "But he was mentioned the other night at dinner."

  "At that place, no surprise. Almost everybody there thinking unthinkable, one way or another." The tone of teasing sarcasm was suddenly absent from Anton's voice; he sounded more than a little angry. Then he seemed to shake it off.

  "And you leave after fire?" he asked.

  Benjamin wondered if Anton was accusing him of abandoning Wolfe. "I wanted to stay and find out if Samuel was okay, but Gudrun… Dr. Soderbergh, she insisted there was nothing I could do, and that I should leave immediately."

  "Um-hm," said Anton. "Gudrun Soderbergh. I know this name, too. Rising star. Little bit, how would you say,"
Anton leaned his head to one side, "bent?"

  Benjamin thought for a minute. "Biased?" he asked.

  Anton nodded. "Reminds me my old masters. Always knew answer before asked question. Helluva way to do research."

  "I saw some photos, in the hall," Benjamin said. "You used to work for the Soviet military?"

  Anton frowned. "United States has DARPA, RAND, bunch of alphabet soup guys. In USSR, instead of letters is numbers. My number was 12 Directorate, Ministry of Defense. In Kuntsevo, outside Moscow. Sometimes we get vacation, in Urals, at Kovinksky." He smiled. "Nicer winters." Anton stopped talking for a minute. "You know Russia at all?"

  "Not really," Benjamin said. "I've never been there."

  "Lucky you," said Anton. "Anyway, perestroika come, I go. Americans very happy with my arrival. What the hell for, I wonder. They know everything already. Anyway, here I am. I meet Samuel ten, twelve years ago. We both decide other one is son of a bitch. Get along fine."

  Anton sat back in the chair, looked at him. "Now, I have three, maybe two more questions."

  "All right," Benjamin said. "If I can answer them."

  "We'll see. First question is, who is this Gadenhower guy, with the bees?"

  Benjamin smiled. "Gadenhower was a woman. Edith Gadenhower. Her research seemed quite bizarre to us. I have no idea how it fits in with Dr. Fletcher's research."

  "Is all right," Anton said. "Think I do." He stopped, squinted. "And you said ' was '?"

  "Yes," said Benjamin, looking uncomfortable. "After we returned from the Morris Estate, I went to her laboratory and… well, apparently her bees had escaped…"

  Anton's eyes widened. "Fletcher and Gadenhower?" Benjamin nodded. "And maybe Sam?"

  "The fire was in her laboratory."

  "Yes, big explosion, much chaos," Anton said, nodding to himself. "Sad, very sad." Anton's expression of grief didn't strike Benjamin as quite sincere, but he decided not to question it right now. "But hope for best, yes? Now, question number two: What did Samuel tell you about Fletcher's work?"

  "He said he'd been writing about nuclear war theory for years, and that he was far ahead of anyone else with his theories."

  "That I know," Anton said. "I mean, did he think it was good or bad?"

  Benjamin thought back. "He said it was strange, that the way Dr. Fletcher wrote, he seemed… well, that it was almost like he didn't believe the Cold War really happened."

  "Happened," Anton said. "I was there. Anyway okay, question number three. This TEACUP program, what did Samuel think it does?"

  "Well…," Benjamin tried to think how to put it. "He said something about it calculating probabilities. I guess he meant probabilities of the Cold War being the sort of affair Fletcher described in his other writings. He said Fletcher was looking for flaws in the logic of the whole MAD doctrine."

  Anton laughed. "Flaws like crazy bear in room," he said. "Very big, very dangerous, but nobody talks about him."

  Anton put his head down for a moment, deep in thought. He stood, stretched his back, walked over to the blackboard at the other end of his study.

  "See these?" he said, tapping equations on the board.

  "Yes," Benjamin said.

  "Three years," he said. He took a piece of chalk from the blackboard, drew an enormous X across the equations. He turned and looked at Benjamin. "All shit now." He came back and sat down, pulled the chair closer to Benjamin, pointed to Fletcher's computer. "Thank you very much, Dr. Jeremy Fletcher."

  He settled back into the chair, crossed his hands in his lap, and began to speak.

  "Sam wrong about TEACUP program. Or half wrong. Fletcher's TEACUP really does read tea leaves. Cold War tea leaves." He leaned forward now, put his hand on the edge of the computer. "And is really two programs."

  "Two programs?" Benjamin asked.

  "One half calculates probabilities about Cold War."

  "You see," Benjamin began, "that's what I don't understand. We know the Cold War happened, so how can it calculate the probability of it having happened?"

  Anton thought for a moment, then asked, "You know how they find planets Neptune and later Pluto?" Benjamin shook his head. "Didn't see them. Too far away. But they see Uranus does not go exactly way it should go. Something making it… wobble. They calculate, figure how big such a thing should be, where it should be. They look there… voila! They discover planets. All from the math."

  Anton cleared his throat, leaned forward. "TEACUP work like that. For years Fletcher feeding it data from Cold War. Program eats data, spits out analysis. At first what it telling Fletcher not clear. He makes program better. When he gets to TEACUP 6, it's very clear what program telling him." He paused.

  "Yes?" prodded Benjamin.

  "Is wobble in Cold War."

  "Wobble?"

  "Is something making it go different way than it should go."

  Benjamin leaned back on the couch. He wasn't at all sure he understood what Anton was telling him.

  "I know," said Anton. "Is confusing. What way should a cold war go? But there are things more probable, and things less probable. People like Fletcher, people like me, we calculate such things. What TEACUP tells Fletcher is, things don't add up."

  "What 'things'?" said Benjamin.

  Anton pursed his lips, blew out air. "From what I read so far, data points at something in sixties. Something very, very strange happen. That thing, whatever was, create wobble."

  "You mean, this aberration in the course of the Cold War?"

  "Sam right, you smart boy. Yes, aberration. Good word."

  Anton pulled the laptop closer, began typing. After a moment he turned the screen back so Benjamin could see it.

  Displayed there was the same graph he and Wolfe had seen that night in Fletcher's room: the two sides of a rising bell curve, with a missing middle.

  "We saw this," Benjamin said. "Samuel called it a… a Nash equilibrium?"

  "Yes, exactly. He says what that means?"

  "Well, something about two sides playing a game, and if each knows what the other will do, they've reached a stalemate."

  Anton nodded. "Right again. TEACUP tells Fletcher Cold War at stalemate. In sixties."

  "Well, see, that's what I don't understand. Why is that big news? Of course it was a stalemate. That's why it was the Cold War, right?"

  Anton smiled, looking a little smug. "According to TEACUP, such, how is it, standoff shouldn't happen for at least another five, ten years. Or should collapse, you know, go boom. Or even end. Guys who built first U.S. missiles, what you call Minutemen, made them to last only ten years. They figure, by then, madness over."

  "But, aren't they still there?"

  "Exactly so," nodded Anton. "Rusting in silos. See, in beginning, everybody know MAD is, well, crazy. And according to TEACUP, good chance there is something fake about this nice Nash equilibrium."

  "How good a chance?" asked Benjamin.

  "Eighty percent," replied Anton.

  Benjamin remembered: the two incomplete graphs, and above them the blinking red number.

  Eighty percent.

  "That's… incredible." He ran a hand through his hair, felt the fatigue catching up with him again. He wished Samuel were there with them, patiently explaining, coaching Benjamin's thinking in the right direction… He even felt he wouldn't mind a good, stiff shot of scotch right now.

  "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm still very tired. And even if you're right, there's still a lot I don't understand. Why would anyone kill Jeremy over this? For that matter, why would they kill Edith? And how does all this even connect with her work?"

  "I show you." Anton leaned over to the computer, moved the cursor around and opened one of the files, then turned the screen so Benjamin could see what was displayed. Benjamin recognized it from the Gadenhower file.

  "See this?" Anton pointed at the formulae. "All about how bees use enemies to make hive act this way, that way."

  "Something Edith called 'swarm intelligence,' " said Benjamin.


  "Exactly so," said Anton. "Bees a kind of… model. For how people act even when not sure why they do what they do. Beehive a kind of conspiracy without little workers knowing is conspiracy. Understand?"

  Then Benjamin remembered something Edith had said in her lab. "What appears random is really a bunch of small acts, all of them overlapping, interacting, until finally what you get is-"

  "Called 'emergent phenomenon.' Too complex to see right away. Looks like chaos, but really strategy. Fletcher talks to Edith, puts that into TEACUP… suddenly he calls you, has heart attack, and all hell breaks loose." Anton sat back, making the chair squeak loudly. "Was maybe key TEACUP needed."

  Benjamin thought for a moment. "Edith's research is about how what looks like a conspiracy really isn't, yes?"

  Anton smiled broadly. "And if you turn it around?" He waited for Benjamin to think that over.

  "Then…" Benjamin looked up. "It would be a model for how what doesn't look like a conspiracy really is?"

  "Again, smart kid," Anton said. "So smart kid, know plan for end of world?"

  "Uh… no," Benjamin said.

  "I show you."

  Anton stood up, went to the blackboard and turned it over to the blank side.

  He drew a big circle on the left side of the board and inside it he wrote one word in capital letters: SIOP.

  "This is United States plan for nuclear war. SIOP. Single Integrated Operational Plan." He drew many lines out from the circle to little stick figures of planes, missiles, and submarines. "Tells everybody when to shoot, how much to shoot, where to shoot." He tapped the chalk on the blackboard. "Same SIOP since 1963. Forty years, still same. Wolfe and me, we tell them ten years ago, when we at Foundation together, time to change SIOP. But noooo, they say. Too expensive, too complicated."

  He shook his head, laughed. "Not make sense. Soviet Union is gone. Half of Russian missiles, submarines, bombers? All gone. But still, this SIOP not change. Like doesn't matter Soviet missiles mostly gone." Anton wrinkled his nose. "Something fishy, yes?"

  He moved to the other side of the blackboard, drew another circle. Inside this one he wrote strategija #1.