In Officer’s Training School, Green had his first chance to work extensively with computers. The modern Army was technologically advanced and expected its officers to be conversant with computers and their applications. He’d even learned the basics of programming there, and he’d learned his lessons well. When the other officers had problems with their units, they would often turn to Green for advice. Still, he was no expert.
The Johnson Installation computer system was a local network that linked all of the base’s computers to a central processing unit. It had firewalls in place to prevent access from unauthorized entry from the outside. Internally, security was dependent on access cards and passwords. Each user had to pass his access card through a slot in the terminal, then verify his identity by typing in a password.
The passwords, an irregular combination of letters and numbers, changed weekly. The level of system access was keyed to the individual, and junior officers were able to access only those areas necessary for the completion of their duties. More senior officers had greater access. Major Stepman, as befitting his position, would have a very high level of access. Green had Stepman’s card, but he didn’t have the hacking ability to circumvent the password system.
But there was another possibility. A couple of months back, at one of the Thursday night poker games, Stepman made a comment that stuck in Green’s mind. During the course of the game, complaining about the Installation was normal and acceptable, up to a point. Green remembered the night because it seemed that Stepman crossed beyond that point.
It was late in the evening and they’d all been drinking. They were discussing some mundane item when the conversation turned to the level of security at the Installation and how bothersome it was to comply. Somebody complained about the passwords and how difficult they were to memorize. Someone else complained about having to memorize a new one each week. That’s when Stepman spoke up:
“I never have that problem,” he’d said smugly. “I just write ‘em down.”
Green remembered being shocked by the statement. It defeated the whole idea of having passwords. It seemed an amazing confession. But nobody said anything about it either then or later.
But now it was very important indeed. Earlier in the week, Stepman had been working out of a station on the third level down. Today, there were some documents that Green needed to pick up at that station. He tried to time his arrival for late in the afternoon, when they normally changed shifts.
He entered the room just as the guards were making the change and positioned himself at the counter near where Stepman had been posted. Green waited until the soldiers were occupied at the other end of the station, then dropped his pen over the counter. He quickly stepped over to retrieve it. One guard glanced over, but returned to his paperwork. Green searched the desk with his eyes as he bent over to pick up his pen. He couldn’t see anything written down. He glanced back one more time, then quickly snaked his hand back along the surface of the desk, running his fingers over the base of the computer. He felt something. A slip of paper taped to the underside of the monitor. Green quickly unpeeled and pocketed the paper.
Later that night, Green went down to a room on the second level, just off the main hallway. The room adjoined a laboratory and had a full computer system. Green had passed the room dozens of times and never seen it occupied. He entered the room, put a sheet of cardboard over the window to darken it to the outside, and sat down at the monitor. He passed the stolen access card through the slot. A window immediately appeared on the monitor screen –
Good evening, Major Stepman. Please enter your password.
Green hesitated a moment. He looked down at the slip of paper he had taken earlier. He’d come this far; it was too late for second thoughts. He took a deep breath, then typed out the characters shown on the paper:
2E#8nq*A@-4l.
The screen image momentarily went black, then changed to a menu page. Green let his breath out in a whistle of relief—he was in. The program was the same one he worked with every day, but now it listed options that he had never seen before: A list of commands that covered every facet of the Installation’s day-to-day operation. Green wasn’t sure where to start. At random, he chose the command marked Vaccines. He scrolled through the file.
It was a long document filled with notes and comments written by several different scientists. The file was filled with medical and scientific terminology, way over Green’s head. But he made out enough to understand the general concept. They were developing a vaccine to be used against an especially virulent breed of virus. According to the notes, the project had been in operation for over two years and the vaccine was in the seventh generation of development. No smoking gun, but this information validated Green’s suspicions.
He closed out the file and opened a new one. The next one he chose was marked “Subject Log.” This file consisted of a spreadsheet. Across the top, it contained columns marked: Subject #, room #, enter date, inoculation date, Vaccine #, first symptoms date, expiration date, autopsy, and comments. Green scanned the columns.
The first subject had been entered over two years ago. It showed symptoms had occurred on the same day that he’d been inoculated and his expiration was listed as two days later. Further down the page, the results showed a longer period between the onset of symptoms and the expiration date, but followed the same pattern. The symptoms would first appear within the first two days, and expiration—death—occurred within the first two weeks.
The pattern was the same until the third entry from the bottom, subject number 326. It showed this subject had been inoculated nearly three weeks previously, but there were still no symptoms of disease. Green stared hard at the comments section for that entry.
Subject is healthy with no adverse signs. Tests show positive for antibodies. Scheduled for forced expiration and autopsy.
The date listed in the comments was the next day.
Green sat back, shaken. They were about to kill a man as part of some bizarre science experiment. He’d heard a quote one time about the banality of evil—how easy it was to be sucked into the worst of behavior when the evil was considered to be normal behavior. So many times he’d heard of atrocities committed in other parts of the world and thought, That can’t happen here. And now it had.
Green took his time and pored over the files. He examined files dealing with the video surveillance system, subject acquisition, the building layout, and the scheduling of security—nearly every facet of the operation of the complex. He printed out several of the files and copied as much information as he could onto an external tape drive. Before leaving for the night, he made some adjustments to one of the programs. He knew what he had to do, and a plan was beginning to form.
9
Ramon was sure he was losing it when he started seeing faces in the white walls of his room. Images appeared like a slide show projected on the blank walls, like dreaming with his eyes open. It started after he was strapped back into the bed. When he could no longer move, his mind spun into overdrive. At first, there were shadows in the corner that, if he looked at them just the right way, would form into the image of some kind of object. First, he saw the outline of a dog and then a bird. Soon his mind was filling in the blanks and he was seeing objects all over the walls, complicated things like a leopard, spots and all, and a firetruck. The wall would be blank and then, like magic, he’d suddenly see the picture so clearly he would wonder how he’d missed it before. It was the isolation. Cooped up by himself in an empty room with nothing to look at and nothing to do, his mind was playing tricks on him.
Then he began to notice the faces. Faces of people whom he’d known before. The details seemed so real and vivid it was like they were physically there. The first face he saw was his attorney, Barry Resnick. With a sad expression, he looked just like he had when Ramon had last seen him on the day of the execution.
He saw other faces, people he knew while in prison over the long ordeal of waiting. He saw inmates who’d go
ne on to meet their fate before him, guards from the prison, and others who’d worked on the ward. Sometimes the image would be just a flash on the wall and other times it would linger, staying for minutes at a time.
Then he saw the face of J. Douglas Aaron, the State’s Attorney who prosecuted him at his trial, and Ramon’s eyes clouded with anger. He was the wrong guy—he didn’t do it. The D.A. and the police had lied and suppressed evidence in order to get the conviction. They knew he was innocent, or at least not guilty of murder, but it didn’t matter. He’d fit the bill fine.
After his conviction, Ramon spent his early years on death row in a haze of hate and self-pity. He concocted how he would seek his revenge, violent fantasies that could never happen. Eventually, he changed. He tried to make the most of whatever time he had left. He continued with his education, became more spiritually aware, and tried to put his past behind him. But now, seeing the face on the wall, it was as if nothing had changed. His anger welled up and he pushed against his restraints.
But then the face on the wall changed again. This time, he saw his mother. She looked like she did right before she had died back when he was just a kid. He usually remembered her smiling or laughing, but now she had tears in her eyes. And Ramon was sure that she was crying about him. He’d thought of her often as he waited in his prison cell, wondering how she would have dealt with his situation. No mother would want to see her son end up as he had. It was better she hadn’t lived to see it.
Whether it was just or not, he was convicted as a murderer and executed by the state. The pain and humiliation—it would have broken her heart. Ramon looked back on all the things he could have done differently. He made so many mistakes when he was young. He’d give the world for another chance.
Lost in his thoughts, Ramon didn’t notice the door open and the lone figure enter the room. It seemed like another of his hallucinations at first, blending in with the faces on the wall. The man in the yellow spacesuit was almost to the bed before Ramon reacted. He strained against his straps and clenched his teeth. If he’d been free of the restraints, he would have attacked. This was the first time one of his captors came in alone.
The man took a step backward and put his hands up in the air.
“Calm down, buddy,” his voice came out in the electronic rasp. “Just calm down. I’m here to help.”
Ramon stopped struggling and watched the spaceman. It was hard to tell in the bulky spacesuit, but he didn’t look like any of his regular captors. The man held his hands out.
“We’re going to get you out of here, but we need to hurry. Okay?”
Ramon looked beyond the visor into the man’s eyes, then nodded in agreement. The spaceman bent down, undid the restraints and disconnected the tubes. Ramon sat up and stretched. It felt good to be up and moving. He stared up at the man, “Who are you? What’s going on?”
“My name’s Charley Green, but we don’t have time to go into it. We need to get moving, now.” Green turned toward the door. “Follow me, do what I do, and no matter what happens, don’t say a thing.”
Ramon hesitated for a moment, then followed. Green took out his key card and swiped it through. The door opened. They stepped into the hallway. Green glanced quickly in both directions. The corridor was empty.
They moved to the right toward the door at the end of the hall. To Ramon, it was all so unreal. Ever since the night of the execution, he’d been on the verge of madness. Had he truly died and was this his own private hell? It all seemed so dreamlike he still wasn’t sure. And if he was still alive, where was he? And where were they going?
At least he was out of the room and moving again. Maybe this spaceman was really going to help him to escape – If not, he’d be ready for that too. Whichever way it went, when the opportunity came, he was prepared to make his move. Ramon felt a rush of excitement. Maybe this was a real chance at freedom. He hoped that he wasn’t setting himself up for another fall.
Green led Ramon through the hallways of the lower level, through a series of airlocks and containment chambers. They went through the disinfectant showers and the soap showers, emerging free of surface microbes. They dried off and Green led them around a corner to a small locker room.
There was a bank of lockers against the wall and Green scanned them quickly until he found the one he was looking for in the corner of the room. Ramon noticed the beads of sweat on his forehead. Green reached in and pulled out two army uniforms. He handed one uniform to Ramon put the other on himself.
“I don’t know that this is going to be the best fit, but it’s what we got.” He strapped on his watch, checking the time. “I’ve doctored the video display. They won’t notice you’re gone for a while. Our first test will be right outside of here. If everything is the way it’s supposed to be, the guard for this section will be off his post. If he’s there, we’ve got a problem.”
Green handed Ramon a pair of shoes about two sizes two big. “If we get past this post clean, we’re taking the back way out. We shouldn’t run into much traffic, but if we do, just follow my lead. Don’t say a word.”
They quickly finished dressing. Green helped Ramon properly adjust his uniform, then took a small duffel bag out of the locker. He opened the bag and checked its contents. Then pulled out a small black device and stuffed it into his pocket before closing the case. “All right, let’s go.”
They passed through another airlock into the main corridor and stopped. Green checked his watch again. They waited for two long minutes before he was ready to go again. After a short walk, they were at the checkpoint at the entrance to the quarantine area. The post was abandoned—nothing there but an empty chair. Green stepped forward and quickly surveyed the area.
“Let’s move. We’ve only got a minute before he’s back.”
Ramon quickly followed Green across the room. Facing the guard’s station was a bank of two elevators. Green passed his card through the sensor of the car to the far left, the doors slid open and they stepped on. Green punched the button for the fourth floor. The doors slid shut and the elevator smoothly moved upward.
“You knew he wouldn’t be there?” Ramon asked.
Green gave a tight nod. “I’m just glad he sticks to schedule.”
The elevator stopped at the fourth floor. They exited into a small chamber with doors leading out from the opposing three sides. The door to the left opened into a long empty hallway. They walked to the end of the corridor where it dead-ended at a bank of elevators. The highest these cars would go was the third floor. They got off on three and moved down another short corridor to a new set of sliding doors.
Green stopped for a moment and looked over at Ramon. “Okay, be ready. We’re on now.”
They walked into a large rectangular room with doors opening out from each side. A guard station was in the middle. Two guards manned the station. One was a tall skinny corporal with rounded shoulders. The other guard was Lieutenant Virgil Ortman, his skin was pale and his eyes bloodshot.
Ortman looked up from a book as Green and Ramon entered the room. They all exchanged casual salutes, then Green handed over his order papers to Ortman. The corporal stayed in the background, looking bored.
“How’s it going, Virge?” Green said. “Getting any action down here?”
Ortman took a quick glance at the papers. “Nah, just trying to stay awake. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you at the game recently.”
“Been working. I’ll try to be there next week, though. How about you? You have a late one last night?”
“Nothing outrageous, just a few beers. You stay in last night?”
“Yeah, had to be up early today.”
Ramon’s stomach churned as he listened to them talk. He tried to stand straight and look bored while waiting for them to finish. Everything seemed so casual, so low key. Like nothing unusual was happening. Green was acting friendly and nonchalant, but Ramon saw the sweat running down the back of his neck.
“I’ll tell ya, I’m going to die of
boredom down here. This place gives you the creeps after a while, it’s so quiet.” Ortman handed the papers back to Green. “Nothing ever happens.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“So they got you chasing around again, huh?”
“Oh yeah, there’s always something.” Green took back the papers and backed up a step, getting ready to move on.
“So who’s the new guy?” Ortman looked directly at Ramon for the first time.
“Oh, he just got his transfer in here, came from back east. Captain Cain wanted me to show him the ropes.”
Ortman stared at Ramon for a moment. “You know, you look familiar. I know you from somewhere. Where were you stationed before?”
Ramon’s heart thumped so loud he was sure that it would give him away. He started to open his mouth, but no sound came out. His body froze. Panic welled up inside him. He fought the urge to run.
Ortman looked puzzled. The corporal behind him moved forward to take a closer look. Green hurriedly filled in the void.
“He was back at Norfolk, he was stationed at Camp…”
“No, that’s not it.” The phone rang. Ortman put up his hand to pause the conversation as he picked up the phone. “Lieutenant Ortman, station six.”
Green reached into his pocket and grasped something. He looked over at Ramon, his eyes showing the tension.
“Yes, sir… uh huh…” As Ortman talked into the phone, he rolled his eyes at Green and gave a wave of dismissal. Green nodded back, and with Ramon following behind, they exited the room.
They moved into a new corridor, Green leaned in toward Ramon and whispered, “God, we almost got toasted there. Why didn’t you answer him?”
“You told me not to say anything.”
Living Proof Page 10
