“What’s your point, Major?”
“My point is that you, Major Lewis, General Ramses…we’re all just pawns for you, to be manipulated, all in the name of the greater good. Elicia is a person, with a life and a family.”
“You don’t get it,” snapped Betancourt. “If this all plays out to its grisly conclusion, there will be no people. There will be no families. There will be no life.
“And, for the record, I am no Lewis or Ramses. I don’t enjoy making the tough decisions, Major, but it is my duty, and you have to do your duty to stop the extinction of the human race.
“Elicia is not just a spectator in all of this. She actually has the platform to do something about it. Maybe she won’t be so averse to all of this like you think. Why do you think she started her blog and podcast to begin with?”
“The NSA will track her down and come for her,” said Peter bitterly.
“Whether or not she takes that risk is up to her,” said Betancourt. “So I suggest that you deal with whatever feelings you have for this girl and do your duty. Your country…shit, the WORLD needs you. So get your head straight.”
Peter stormed out of the room, passing a startled Brittany who batted her eyelashes at him. “Is everything okay, Peter?”
“No, it’s not,” snapped Peter.
“Need some company?”
“I just want to be alone right now,” replied Peter icily, not even looking at Brittany, who was doing her best to accentuate her best features. She frowned as he descended the stairs. She heard the back door slam downstairs.
Betancourt came out of the bedroom and into the hallway where Brittany stood disappointed.
“Colonel, is he going to be okay?”
“He’ll be fine. I need to talk to your little sister.”
“We heard you guys yelling through the wall. I have to say that I don’t approve. Don’t you think she’s been through enough?”
“Brittany, this country is in great danger. The world is in great danger. You don’t know the half of it.”
“Elicia told me about the monsters at the army base. It’s so surreal.”
“Brittany, it’s beyond surreal. At this point it’s about to get real, and I believe your sister can help.”
Elicia appeared in the doorway wiping tears from her eyes. “It’s okay Brittany.”
Brittany turned to her sister. “Elicia, you don’t need to…”
“I said it’s okay. The Colonel and I have to talk.”
“They can do this without you, Elicia.”
“Brittany, please. Let us talk.”
Brittany shot Betancourt a sullen, icy look and went downstairs.
“She’s just trying to be a good big sister,” said Betancourt.
“She was never a good big sister,” said Elicia. “She was always focused on herself. She never took the time to understand me. If she did, she’d know why you and I had to talk.”
“Elicia, we have to take into account the possibility that we won’t be able to stop Kafka.”
“You want me to fire up the old podcast again to tell people to stay off the grid.”
“Yes.”
“You have to realize that I won’t reach everybody, and out of those I do reach, not all—if any—will listen. But I’ve been thinking about that, and I think I have a way.”
“Really?” Betancourt sounded impressed. Or maybe he was just desperate for ideas. “How?”
“We’ll have to fight fire with fire, and I think I know just how to do it.”
“And how’s that exactly?”
“Well, you said that Kafka is going to use a master RGT console to send his digital signal through cell phones, computers, and televisions…”
“That’s right.”
“Well, what if I told you that I’ve been scanning operating systems and firmware for mobile phone companies for side money.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I check the systems for what are called open ports, vulnerabilities that a virus can exploit. Then I patch up the vulnerabilities.”
“So you’re saying that you can patch up whatever ‘port’ Kafka is using?”
“Not yet. There are too many of them. He’s obviously using a pretty sophisticated ephemeral port to launch his digital virus, but I can crash the system, taking all devices out of the loop, while I figure out how to patch the weakness.”
“How would you crash the system?”
Elicia smiled. “With a nasty little virus of my own.”
“But there are lots of different mobile companies. Do you have experience with all of them?”
“No, but I don’t have to. Thanks to the Open Mobile Alliance, all of the operating systems and firmware are standardized. What I can do for one, I can likely do for others.”
“Are there any current weaknesses we can exploit?”
“There are a few, but I have ephemeral ports of my own that I have access to for my work. I have my hands on a nasty virus that uses a polyalphabetic cipher that I can unleash to burn the operating systems.”
“That sounds like Tronika’s handiwork.”
Elicia shrugged. “You have to understand the disease to create a cure.”
“I wish the army followed that logic when fooling with THV,” said Betancourt ruefully.
“I can also tank the firmware, which is the ultimate burn. We’re talking hardware damage that’s not easily repaired.”
Betancourt raised his eyebrows and rubbed his temple with his right index finger and thumb. “I’m not even going to pretend that I know what the hell you’re talking about. What about your employers? Won’t they be pissed that you are using their weaknesses to trash their systems.”
“I think a little business interruption is nothing when it comes to national security,” she said wryly.
“Try the safety of the world, but computers and televisions aren’t cell phones. How will your plan work for them?”
“While they are not cell phones or mini-coms, these days, televisions and computer tablets and such are all mobile devices. Televisions are no longer one-way; they have touch screens and two-way communication ability.”
Betancourt put his hands on his hips and couldn’t help but smile.
Elicia smiled back. “You’re impressed. I can tell.”
“How did you learn all of this stuff?”
“Well, let’s just say I haven’t been busy all these years cultivating a social life, so I’ve had lots of spare time.”
“What about the NSA? They’ll track your activities.”
“As Tronika, I’ve created a whole bot network that I can reactivate and use to hide my activities, or at least slow them down.”
“Bot network?”
“I’ve garnered access to other computers using rootkits I designed.” She saw the confused look on the Colonel’s face. “A rootkit is a virus that grants me privileges to other computers remotely as if I was the main user, but the beauty of a rootkit is that it disguises its own presence so that the main user—or administrator—can’t detect its presence. The compromised computer is called a ‘zombie’ computer, which can be used to launch attacks while making it look like it’s the unsuspecting user who is doing it.”
“Zombie computers,” said Betancourt. “How ironic.”
“Then I can start hacking into the Area 51 system and do what’s called a core dump analysis to try and find out how Kafka is hacking into the system…what. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I just realized that Peter was right to rescue you and your sister.”
Elicia frowned. “Yeah, but I think I liked his reasoning better.”
“Hey, that’s not what I meant,” said Betancourt defensively. “What you are about to do is very brave.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m a real American hero.”
“Elicia, there’s a good chance that Peter will fail in trying to stop Kafka. Kafka is very powerful, more powerful than Peter, but if he can buy you the time you need, you
might just save the country. What do you need?”
“I need a computer with access to the internet.”
“That will be very risky.”
“I’ll activate one of my bots and then access my code for my port scanners, rootkits, and the virus that I have dropped in a virtual safety deposit box.”
“Clever girl. Just in case your equipment is stolen, your work isn’t.”
“Right.”
“I think Marcy’s father has a computer or laptop around here somewhere. If they detect you, it will lead them to your bot?”
“Yup. Then I’ll close the port before they complete the handshake.”
“Handshake? Jesus, you hackers love your lingo.”
“They will use data packets to sniff out my open port to the bot computer. Once they detect it, the packets will draw out my port and they will connect, in effect finding me out.”
Betancourt, resigned, put his hands up. “I’ll take your word for it. I’m too old for this shit. Go find Peter. I need to discuss our strategy for breaching Area 51. It won’t be easy.”
“No, I imagine not. Why do you want me to go find him?”
“He feels terrible about attacking you. He’s a good kid. Give him a chance to apologize.”
“That’s not important, right?” said Elicia, blushing.
“It is to him,” said the Colonel.
Peter was walking around in the fenced-in backyard, kicking stones as he walked. He heard the back door creak open and shut, and he looked up. His heart nearly jumped into his throat when he saw Elicia.
He froze in his tracks as she approached him.
“Hi. How are you feeling?” he asked self-consciously.
She looked down for a moment, and when she looked up, she bit her lip. “I’m fine. No permanent damage.”
“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened.”
“No need to apologize. I realize you didn’t know that you were attacking me. The Colonel told me everything about the voice in your head.”
“Oh. Good, I guess.” He felt her heart flutter.
“Can you hear it now?”
“No. It doesn’t always speak to me, but I get the feeling that it’s always listening. You must think I’m some kind of freak.”
Her vitals lit up like a Christmas tree. “Peter, you saved my life, and you saved my sister’s life.”
“And now Betancourt wants to cash in on the favor,” said Peter bitterly.
“I know,” she said. “We already spoke, and it’s okay. Really.”
“You know the NSA will track you down. They’ll take you.”
“I know, but it has to be done, right?”
“I don’t think so,” said Peter defiantly.
“Oh, come off it, Peter. Why do you think I started the blog and the podcasts in the first place?”
“Elicia, you don’t have to be a hero.”
“So you’re the only one fit to play that role?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Peter, you’ve only recently become a freak. I’ve been a freak my whole life.”
“C’mon, what are you talking about?” he replied awkwardly. He didn’t know why she was getting angry, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.
“Oh, really? Come on, you saw my sister. She’s a freaking model. She’s always been my parents’ favorite, she’s always been popular. She’s never had to apply any real effort to get boyfriends. She’s gets through life by batting her eyelashes, and then people can’t throw gifts at her fast enough.
“But this isn’t about her. It’s about me. The ugly duckling, who had the misfortune of having to develop a personality and intelligence because I couldn’t manipulate people with my looks.”
“I don’t think you’re ugly,” said Peter matter-of-factly. His sincerity stopped her dead in her tracks, and she began to blush. Her heart fluttered again, and his did in kind. “My little brother, Carl—now the mighty Kafka—used to feel that way. He was always the brains in the family. He saw it as a curse, but he had options. More options than I did.”
“And look at which option he chose,” said Elicia. “I am choosing a different option. Yeah, I’m a misfit, I always have been, but that doesn’t mean I have to be so bitter about it that I turn dark. Because of what I can do as Tronika, I have a responsibility to do the right thing.
“That’s what makes you different from your brother. You may not have his brains, but you took on responsibility. Responsibility to protect our country. ”
“Believe me,” replied Peter, “responsibility isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve seen many horrors. I’ve seen many good people—friends, my family—die.”
“And that is what makes you a hero, Peter—the fact that you choose to shoulder the burden knowing exactly the cost of doing so.”
Peter paused, weighing her words. “You really are smart.”
Elicia blushed again and smiled. “And I believe you said I was pretty, too.”
Peter flirted back. “No, I just said you weren’t ugly.”
“What about my sister? She’s got eyes for you. You’re exactly her type.”
Peter smirked. “Not anymore. Now I’m a responsible freak like you.”
“Really, now.”
“Elicia, are you really sure you want to do this?”
“Trust me. Only I know how to go about it.”
“How?”
“I’m going to out hack your brother. There’s no time to explain. The Colonel actually sent me out to get you. He wanted to discuss the defenses at Area 51 and an attack strategy.”
“Duty calls.”
“So do you really think your brother can infiltrate Area 51?”
“Hey, my brother infiltrated Guantanamo Bay. I don’t put anything past him.”
Chapter 14
Beeville Carnival
11:29 HRS
Petrela roamed the grounds of the carnival in daylight. Because it opened at 11 am, the crowds were sparse, which meant less cover. Less cover made Petrela nervous.
He went over what happened—or at least what he thought may have happened—in his head. Bejko and Vllasi never left Kafka’s hideout. There was an explosion. All of this meant that the meeting went wrong. Kojic was right, or at least it seemed. Even about the “drones” milling around out back.
He was at the center of the carnival and he sent out a ping from his mini-com. Minutes passed, and then almost a half hour without any return ping. Petrela looked around nervously. Maybe the site had been compromised.
Suddenly, his mini-com emitted a tone indicating that he had been pinged back. He walked the grounds until the ping became louder, and he stopped right in front of the tent for the freak show.
A cartoonish looking carny with oily black slicked down hair, a waxed mustache, and drab clothing beckoned him. “Step right up, young man, and we’ll make a true believer out of you.”
It was the code.
Relieved to be found, Petrela didn’t hesitate. He stepped into the tent and sat on one of the long, backless wooden benches.
The carny produced a plastic tie from his pocket. “Where are the others?”
“Something went wrong. They didn’t make it.”
The carny bound his hands behind his back, and two other men entered the tent with a black sack. Petrela nodded. He knew the drill.
However, all four men were surprised when the curtains behind the stage opened and a tall, dark, lanky figure with four blinking eyes and a toothy grin stepped out onto the stage.
“What the hell is this?” one of the men asked the carny.
“I don’t know,” shrugged the carny, as confused as everyone else.
“Welcome all to the Beeville freak show, where we make true believers out of everyone!” said the four-eyed monster.
“Kafka?” gasped Petrela, who now wished his wrists weren’t bound behind his back.
“The one and only, in the flesh! And do we have a treat for you tonight!”<
br />
The carny and other two men pulled handguns and trained them on Kafka.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we have a very special act for you tonight. No doubt, you have met my friend, Luka Kojic. Snappy dresser, wonderful singing voice, but not much in the loyalty department I’m sad to say.”
“Where are Bejko and Vllasi?” asked the carny.
“Bejko is fine. Never better. As for Vllasi…well, he’s around…” Kafka gestured widely around the tent. “But today, I want to introduce to you someone very special, a personal creation of mine, you all know her as Marina, Kojic’s lovely wife…” Kafka stabbed the air with his long index finger, “…but at the Beeville freak show, she is known as no other than the Zombie Girl!”
Marina staggered out onto the stage and began to awkwardly pirouette, ending in a horrific curtsey. The men gazed upon the stage in horror.
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded the carny.
“This is a warning,” said Kafka with great menace. “It was this easy to track you down. Tell your cell to mind their business. If not, I shall add them to my morbid little menagerie of monsters. Savvy?”
“This is not our way,” said the carny. “The jihad you wage is not according to the Law.”
Kafka shrugged sardonically. “Well, you know what they say about rules. They’re made to be broken. Really, I don’t know why you guys are so outraged. It’s not like you’re a bunch of boy scouts.”
“You are not OIL. You are a monster.”
Kafka smirked, revealing his right fang. “You say tomato, I say tomato. I can call you a bunch of deranged mass murderers and you can call me four eyes, but why resort to sophomoric name calling?” He hopped down from the stage, looming over his frightened prey. “I don’t want to fight you guys. We share the same enemy. Those who hurt you have also hurt me…Can’t we all just get along?”
“You’re…going to let us go?” The carny swallowed hard and nervously licked his dry lips, afraid of the answer.
“Of course I am,” said Kafka with mock surprise, “but I am keeping Bejko as a souvenir, for my trouble and all. You tell Bushaj and Murati—I believe those are your cell’s leaders—to back off or I’ll be dropping by to collect some more souvenirs…” He pointed to Marina. “Like Kojic’s wife here.”
I am Automaton 3: Shadow of the Automaton Page 27
