Brain Jack

by Brian Falkner

  Vienna said, “I read a bit of the work that Young and Yung did in the field.”

  Dodge said, “The Plague is an encrypting virus.”

  He took off his skull necklace and pulled off the jaw, revealing a USB3 plug underneath.

  “This is the nastiest, deadliest, most poisonous bit of code you will ever dream of. I wrote it about two years ago and have been refining it ever since. I keep it with me, hoping that I will never be in such a desperate situation that I might have to think about using it.”

  “Like now,” Vienna said.

  Dodge nodded. “The Plague encrypts everything it finds. Secure 2048-bit encryption. The virus can still read it, as it has the decryption key built in, but nothing else can. The machine becomes totally unusable, except by the virus. It replicates and spreads. It operates at the micro-code level, even below machine code, so it doesn’t matter what operating system is on the computer. If it encounters a firewall, it encrypts that, too, and passes through it. Backup files, everything.”

  “Dodge,” Vienna said slowly, “you know that if that got released into the wild, it would destroy the computer infrastructure of the entire country.”

  “The entire world,” Dodge said. “It was far too dangerous to ever think about releasing, so I rewrote it. I built in a safeguard. A time limit. After twenty-four hours it reverses. It starts decrypting. It spreads the same way as before but decrypts everything it finds.”

  “What’s your plan?” Vienna asked.

  “Simple,” Dodge replied. “Release the virus through the computers here in this room. Give it an hour or so to spread, and then get the hell out of the city while the networks are all shut down. We’ll have a twenty-four-hour window to get clear before it all starts up again.”

  “Then what?” Vienna asked.

  “I don’t know,” Dodge admitted.

  “Can you rewrite the code?” Sam asked. “Remove the time limit?”

  Dodge nodded but said, “That’s far too dangerous, though. What if it got loose?”

  “What if we set it loose?” Sam said. “What if we unleashed the full version against Ursula?”

  Vienna gasped.

  “You’ll kick the world back to the Stone Age,” Dodge whispered.

  “The world will survive that,” Sam said. “But I don’t think it will survive Ursula.”

  “But we still have to get out of here, and it’s crawling with Tactical and surrounded by the police,” Vienna said.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Sam said. “And I may have a plan. But even if we can escape from the mall, we’ll have only twenty-four hours! And then if we get out of San Jose, Ursula has eyes and ears everywhere. Where can we possibly hide out while you modify the virus?”

  “That’s easy,” Dodge said, glancing over to make sure Gordon could not hear them. “The safest place on earth. Built to withstand any kind of attack, including chemical or nuclear. And right now Ursula can’t see it at all. It’s full of computers, but they’re all still off-line.”

  “Where?” Sam asked.

  “Cheyenne Mountain,” said Vienna.

  “Agent Tyler, it’s Control.” The voice sounded alarmed.

  Tyler stopped halfway down the hallway toward the security office.

  “Go ahead, Control.”

  “PD reports a helicopter approaching the mall—appears to be coming in to land on the rooftop helipad.”

  “The roof!” Hutchens swore violently.

  “Get everybody up there now,” Tyler said calmly. “Maintain the mall security guards at the exits, but I want all agents to converge on the roof. What kind of chopper is it, Control?”

  “PD reports a charter bird. ‘California Choppers.’ ”

  “Get hold of their office immediately. Find out who booked it and see if you can stop it from touching down. Also, get a police chopper in the air; tell them to shadow the target until we advise further.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Let’s get up there,” Hutchens said, turning to leave.

  “You go,” Tyler said. “Find them and hold them. I still want to talk to Gordon.”

  “Okay, that’s it. The file’s uploaded to the main computer system at CNN,” Sam said. “At seven p.m. exactly, it takes over the teleprompter software. As soon as it finishes executing, it’ll infect the system with the Plague. From there it should spread rapidly.”

  “Shame we won’t be here to watch it,” Vienna said, watching the security monitors carefully. “Tactical is all heading for the roof. We need to move, now. Before they figure out that the chopper is just a diversion.”

  “Are you okay, Dodge?” Sam asked. Dodge had that vacant look in his eyes again and was starting to sway.

  “Now please, Mr. Gordon,” Vienna said.

  Gordon gave her a dirty look but picked up his radio. “Reid, Carson, report in.”

  A voice came back immediately. “All clear here, sir.”

  Gordon sighed before keying the radio and continuing. “Okay. Looks like they’ve located the fugitives on the roof. I want you to get over to the central elevators and secure the base of the roof elevator. Make sure they can’t come down that way.”

  “What about the entrance, sir?”

  “The police will cover it from outside. I need you at the elevators, now.”

  “On our way, sir.”

  “And so are we,” Vienna said. “Thanks for all your help.”

  Gordon just grunted.

  Sam said, “Whatever you think of us, you need to avoid using a neuro-headset. You put your life at risk if you do.”

  “Whatever.” Gordon grunted again, but Sam had a feeling that he would take that piece of advice at least.

  Vienna put Gordon’s gun out of sight in her jacket and took his radio. She picked up the telephone that was on the desk in front of him and wrenched out the handset. A rack on the wall yielded a couple of long, heavy security flashlights.

  “It’s almost seven—let’s go,” Sam said, opening the door.

  He took one step into the corridor and stopped, staring into the steady eyes and even steadier pistol of Special Agent Tyler.

  “Or not,” Tyler said.

  37 | CNN

  Ben O’Hara shuffled the papers on the news desk in front of him and smiled studiously and professionally at the camera. The red light on top of the camera was not yet on, but it was only a matter of seconds away, and he didn’t want to be caught with a frown or a blank expression when the world tuned in to see his newscast. The papers he was holding were blank. They were a prop, put there by the studio crew to make him look studious and professional.

  The floor manager said, “In five, four …” She closed her mouth and held up three fingers, then two, then one.

  The light turned red and she pointed at Ben.

  “Good evening,” Ben said in his richest, bulletin-opening voice. “And welcome to CNN evening news. In breaking news tonight …” Even as he read the words from the teleprompter, his mind was telling him that there was a problem. There had been no breaking news when they had rehearsed the bulletin just ten minutes ago. If there was now, the news director would have warned him, would have whispered into the tiny earphone that was clipped into his right ear. He had no choice but to continue, though. The words on that screen were the words of CNN, and a billion people were waiting for him to deliver them.

  “A dangerous computer virus has been identified and tracked across the globe.”

  What the hell …?

  “Known as the neuro-virus, this hitherto unknown virus has been described as extremely dangerous by computer security analysts. It spreads through neuro-connections, infecting human brains through neuro-headsets. Once infected, a person may start to exhibit strange behavior. The public are asked to watch out for this symptom in neuro-users. There is no known cure for this virus, and all computer users are asked to avoid using neuro-headsets for the foreseeable future.”

  He had a neuro-headset in his office. Why hadn’t
he been warned about this?

  “Users are also advised to expect a massive denial and cover-up of the virus as neuro-technology corporations look to safeguard their investments. The government, too, is expected to deny the existence of this destructive new virus, which experts warn may also be able to infect and destroy ordinary computer networks.”

  He saw movement from the corner of his eye and glanced over at the floor manager, who was making an urgent throat-cutting gesture at him.

  “Cut to break!” a voice shouted in his earphone.

  “I’m Ben O’Hara. You’re watching CNN, and we’ll be back after this short message.” When the red light went out, he said, not very studiously or professionally, “What the hell is going on?”

  “Story’s a fake,” the news director said in his ear. “Somebody hacked into our teleprompter system and planted it. We’ve got everybody from Telecomerica to the Pentagon on the line denying it.”

  But the story said they would deny it, didn’t it?

  The voice in his ear continued, “We’re back in two or three minutes with a retraction. They’re just drafting it now. It’ll be keyed up on the teleprompter when we go back. The key points are that there is no such virus; it is just a hoax. There is no danger either to neuro-connections or to ordinary computer networks. The Pentagon is sending over a specialist for us to interview and—”

  The voice cut off, replaced by a high-pitched electronic whine that stung his ear. Ben tore out the earphone with a cry and left it dangling from his collar.

  He looked up at the control booth to see the news director gesticulating furiously. The red light on the camera began to flash, and he tore his attention back to the teleprompter computer. It was filled with gibberish.

  Overhead, the studio lights suddenly went out.

  38 | CAPTURE

  Tyler kept his gun level and steady.

  Sam stood in the doorway and stared at him, his mouth, and his eyes, wide open.

  “Where’s Dodge?” Tyler asked.

  Vienna’s eyes flicked to the side, and Tyler nudged the door open a bit wider with his boot.

  Dodge stood to one side, staring off at nothing, his eyes vacant and a strand of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

  “Shame,” Tyler said. “He was a good kid. Maybe the doc can fix him up when we get you back to CDD.”

  “You know that’ll never happen,” Vienna spat at him. “You saw what happened to Swamp Witch. That’s what’s going to happen to all three of us if you take us back in.”

  “Save the dramatics for the trial,” Tyler said calmly. “Now turn around and face the wall.”

  They did, except for Dodge, who stayed in the center of the room and drooled.

  Tyler tried to flick off a quick neuro-message to the team, but there seemed to be something wrong with the connection. Either his headset or the neuro-network was off-line. A glance at the security console showed that most of the monitors were dead also, and the central computer screen showed only a blue screen covered with error messages.

  No matter, he still had his radio. He stepped forward, covering Vienna and Sam with his gun as he pulled his handcuffs off his belt. He just had the one pair, but that would do until backup arrived. There were only two of them to be concerned about, and he could handcuff them to each other.

  A guard—Gordon, no doubt—was handcuffed to the security desk. He seemed confused about what was going on.

  “Am I glad to see you,” Gordon said. “Agent Tyler?”

  “That’s right,” Tyler said. “Have they been in here the whole time?”

  “Since before you first called, yes. They had a gun on me, told me what to say.”

  “Figures,” Tyler said, holstering his pistol and grasping Sam’s wrist. “Can you tell me if they have done anything, other than just hiding out in here?”

  “Yes. After the punk one woke up, they uploaded some kind of computer file, maybe a virus, to somewhere. They didn’t say where.”

  Tyler’s brain was still registering the words “the punk one woke up” when he felt a tug at the back of his neck as his neuro-headset was forcibly unplugged. At the same instant, his pistol was lifted from his holster. He made a grab for it and started to spin around, but it was already far too late.

  “Hello, guv’nor,” Dodge said. “You miss me?”

  39 | DARKNESS

  Sam led the way, groping along the corridors in the minimal light from the emergency lighting, the only thing in the mall that was still operating.

  Tyler followed him, his arms cuffed behind his back and a pistol pressed against his spine by Vienna, who was close behind. He had been stripped of his armor, helmet, and boots, as they contained tracking devices. His belt radio was in the hands of Dodge, at the rear of the small party.

  When they reached the main thoroughfare, Sam’s first impression was of chaos, people moving in every direction without reason, without purpose.

  He quickly realized that was wrong, though. Those people were heading for the exits, while others congregated in groups, standing or sitting in the middle of the mall, waiting for the lights to come back on. There was a sense of confidence. Confidence in the abilities of those in charge to restore order and stability.

  How little they really knew!

  He saw a woman trying to use a cell phone, shaking the phone with frustration as if somehow that would help it connect.

  Some practical-minded people had flashlights, either purchased or, more likely, “borrowed” from the department stores or hardware stores in the mall.

  “One of the Tactical teams is trapped in an elevator,” Dodge said from behind them, one ear to Tyler’s radio. “But the rest are coming down the emergency stairs on the west of the building. The dog team is coming back from the north corner. They’re all looking for Tyler. Wondering why he isn’t responding to the radio.”

  “Should we give Tyler the radio, tell him what to say, like we did with Gordon?” Sam asked.

  Dodge shook his head. “Tactical have special code words to indicate that they are in trouble. Better to leave them guessing.”

  The sliding doors at the southwestern entrance to the mall had been shut when the power had gone off, but someone had forced them open using the legs of a chair as a lever.

  The gap was narrow, and they had to join a queue of people trudging through. From the darkness in the center of the mall, Sam could hear barking, and he knew the dog teams were not far away. He hurriedly squeezed through to the outside.

  The temperature had dropped from earlier in the day, and with the night had also come a freezing rain. It pierced through his shirt and stung like needles on the bare skin of his face, long watery icicles exploding in pools of water on the street.

  Sam wrapped his arms around himself and stood to one side, trying to get some cover from the overhang of the mall roof as the others came through the gap.

  They crept down Fairlane Drive, avoiding the police cars, and crossed over the Great Mall Parkway onto McCandless Drive. At the center of the parkway, they had to pass under a train, lifeless, lightless, and stranded in the middle of the elevated light-rail tracks. From inside, frightened eyes peered down at the dark, wet streets that surrounded them.

  They continued down the wide, tree-lined avenue, using their fingers to narrow the flashlights down to pencil-thin beams. In the light, the rain made long white scratches on the wall of blackness around them.

  Tyler’s radio crackled back into life as they neared the spillway bridge, and in the relative quiet of McCandless Drive, Sam could hear the voices clearly.

  “Hutchens, this is Dog One; we have a scent trail outside the main doors, heading down Fairlane. Over.”

  “Copy that. All teams converge on Fairlane.”

  “Kill the flashlights, quick!” Sam said. “And get off the bridge—get down into the spillway.”

  Dodge pushed Tyler roughly sideways, but he kept his feet and followed Sam, climbing over a low mesh fence and down a steep ba
nk covered in tussock grass, toward the spillway canal.

  Sam risked a flash of his light here in the dip, out of sight of their pursuers. The water looked murky, with patches of dark green. It spluttered and spat under the impact of the rain. It also looked freezing cold, but fortunately, there was sufficient dry bank on either side for them to clamber along under the bridge without getting wet. They crouched beneath the thick concrete span and waited silently.

  The sound of running footsteps came from above them, and the beams of strong flashlights splayed out across the water. At the point where they had left the roadway, the sounds paused but did not stop, the dogs losing the scent in the rain and moving on across the bridge overhead.

  Tyler made no sound, mostly due to the fact that the barrel of Vienna’s pistol was firmly wedged in his mouth.

  “It won’t take them long to realize they’ve lost the scent,” Vienna said. “We need to move. Get in the water—it’ll kill the trail for the dogs.”

  Sam took one more look at the murky, sludgy canal water and obeyed without hesitation. There was a faintly putrid smell to the water, a whiff of decayed vegetation. It filled his shoes and soaked his jeans, sending shock waves of cold through his body.

  “Go west,” Vienna whispered, pointing in the darkness. “The canal splits and they won’t know which way we’ve gone.”

  At the spillway intersection, they turned north, heading back toward the Great Mall but well below the level of the road.

  “Move it!” Dodge said, prodding Tyler in the back. They all picked up the pace, trying to get as much distance between their pursuers and themselves as possible.

  “Wait here,” Vienna said a few minutes later, clambering up the bank through the tussock grass.

  Lights turned the corner of the canal, and they could hear the voices of the searchers, no more than thirty or forty yards away.

  “Where is she?” Sam whispered urgently.

  “She’ll be here,” Dodge replied. The sound of a large engine came from the top of the bank, and Vienna’s voice hissed, “Up here, quick.”