The Cassandra Compact
Page 35
“You can’t light that here,” Smith told him. “DNA can be contaminated by airborne particles.”
Klein sighed. “Just one more reason to go outdoors.”
Fred Klein—and Covert-One—trusted no one and nothing, took nothing for granted. Even a laboratory that officially did not exist could be bugged, which, Smith knew, was the real reason Klein wanted to leave. He followed the intelligence master out into the hall and locked his door. Side-by-side, they made their way downstairs, past dark labs and offices that showed only occasional light. The building was silent except for the hum of the giant ventilation system.
Klein walked a dozen steps from the building and stopped to fire up his pipe. He puffed and tamped until clouds of smoke half-hid his face. He waved some of the smoke away. “Let’s walk.” As they headed toward the road, he said, “Talk to me about your work here. How’s it going? Are you close to creating a molecular computer yet?”
“I wish. The research is going well, but it’s slow. Complex.”
Governments around the world wanted to be the first to have a working DNA computer, because it would be able to break any code or encryption in a matter of seconds. A terrifying prospect, especially where defense was concerned. All of America’s missiles, secret systems at NSA, the NRO’s spy satellites, the entire ability of the Navy to operate, all defense plans…anything and everything that relied on electronics would be at the mercy of the first molecular computer. Even the largest silicon supercomputer would not be able to stop it.
“How soon before the planet sees an operational one?” Klein wanted to know.
“Several years,” Smith said without hesitation, “maybe more.”
“Who’s the closest?”
“Practical and operational? Not really anyone.”
Klein smoked, tamped down his burning tobacco again. “If I said someone had already done it, who’d you guess?”
Precursor prototypes had been built, coming closer to practicality each year, but an actual, complete success? That was at least five years away. Unless…Takeda? Chambord?
Then Smith knew. Since Klein was here, the clue was the Pasteur. “Émile Chambord. Are you saying Chambord is years ahead of the rest of us? Even ahead of Takeda in Tokyo?”
“Chambord probably died in the explosion.” Klein puffed on his pipe, his expression worried. “His lab was completely destroyed. Nothing left but shattered bricks, singed wood, and broken glass. They’ve checked his home, his daughter. Looked everywhere. His car was in the Pasteur parking lot, but they can’t find him. There’s talk.”
“Talk? There’s always talk.”
“This is different. It comes from top French military circles, from colleagues, from his superiors.”
“If Chambord were that near, there’d be more than talk. Someone knew.”
“Not necessarily. The military checked in with him regularly, but he claimed he was no farther along than anyone else. As for the Pasteur itself, a senior researcher of Chambord’s stature and tenure doesn’t have to report to anyone.”
Smith nodded. This anachronism was true at the renowned institute. “What about his notes? Records? Reports?”
“Nothing from the last year. Zero.”
“No records?” Smith’s voice rose. “They had to be in the Pasteur’s databank. Don’t tell me the entire computer system was destroyed.”
“No, the mainframe’s fine. It’s located in a bomb-proof room, but he entered no data in it for more than a year.”
Smith scowled. “He was keeping longhand records?”
“If he kept any at all.”
“He was working alone?”
“He had a low-level lab assistant who’s on vacation. The French police are searching for him.” Klein stared toward the east where the sun was higher now, a giant disc above the prairie. “And we think Dr. Zellerbach was working with him, too.”
“You think?”
“Whatever Dr. Zellerbach was doing appears to have been completely unofficial, almost secret.”
Smith nodded. “When he regains consciousness, he’ll tell you what Chambord’s progress was.”
“If he does wake up. Even then, it could be too late.”
Jon felt a sudden anger. “He will come out of the coma.”
“All right, Colonel. But when?” Klein took the pipe from his mouth and glared. “We’ve just had a nasty wake-up call that you need to know about. At 8:55 Washington time last night, Diego Garcia Island lost all communications with its aircraft. Every effort to revive them, or trace the source of the shutdown, failed. Then precisely five minutes later, communications were restored. There were no system malfunctions, no weather problems, no human error. Conclusion was it had to be the work of a computer hacker, but no footprints were found, and every expert short of heaven says no existing computer could’ve pulled it off without leaving a trace.”
“Was there any damage?”
“To the systems, no. To our worry quotient, one hell of a lot.”
“How does it compare to when the Pasteur was bombed?
Klein smiled grimly. “A couple of hours later.”
“Could be a test of Chambord’s prototype.”
“No kidding. The way it stands, Chambord’s lab is gone. He’s dead or missing. And his work is destroyed…or missing.”
Jon nodded. “You’re thinking the bomb was planted to hide his murder and the theft of his records and prototype.”
“An operational DNA computer in the wrong hands is not a pretty picture.”
“I was already planning to go to Paris, because of Marty.”
“I thought so. It’s a good cover. Besides, you’ll have a better chance of recognizing a molecular computer than anyone else in Covert-One.” Klein raised his anxious gaze to stare out across the enormous prairie sky as if he could see ICBMs raining down. “You’ve got to find out whether Chambord’s notes, reports, and data were destroyed, or whether they were stolen. Whether there really is a functional prototype out there somewhere. We’ll work the usual way. I’ll be your only contact. Night or day. Whatever you need from any part of the government or military on both sides of the pond, ask. But you must keep a lid on it, understand? We don’t want any panic. Worse, we don’t want any unilateral deals made with the bombers by some eager Second or Third World country.”
“When do I leave?”
“Now,” Klein said.
ROBERT LUDLUM’S THE PARIS OPTION
—now available from St. Martin’s Paperbacks!
The Covert-One Novels
THE HADES FACTOR (with Gayle Lynds)
THE CASSANDRA COMPACT (with Philip Shelby)
THE PARIS OPTION (with Gayle Lynds)
THE ALTMAN CODE (with Gayle Lynds)
Also by Robert Ludlum™
THE AMBLER WARNING
THE JANSON DIRECTIVE
THE SIGMA PROTOCOL
THE PROMETHEUS DECEPTION
THE MATARESE COUNTDOWN
THE APOCALYPSE WATCH
THE ROAD TO OMAHA
THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
THE ICARUS AGENDA
THE BOURNE SUPREMACY
THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION
THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC
THE BOURNE IDENTITY
THE MATARESE CIRCLE
THE GEMINI CONTENDERS
THE HULCROFT COVENANT
THE CHANCELLOR MANUSCRIPT
THE ROAD TO GANDOLFO
THE RHINEMANN EXCHANGE
THE CRY OF THE HALIDON
TREVAYNE
THE MATLOCK PAPER
THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND
THE SCARLATTI INHERITANCE
By Philip Shelby
DAYS OF DRUMS
LAST RIGHTS
GATEKEEPER
ROBERT LUDLUM’S THE CASSANDRA COMPACT
Copyright © 2001 by Myn Pyn LLC.
Excerpt from Robert Ludlum’s The Paris Option copyright © 2002 by Myn Pyn LLC.
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ISBN: 978-1-4299-0665-4
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