by Tom Clancy
Suddenly, Carrie Page leaned forward in her chair.
“Is that your call sign?” she asked evenly. “Ace of Aces?”
The image on the screen nodded. “That’s me!” it said.
To Matt, the image was just an it now—he and the rest of the Net Force Explorers knew that the image they were watching was a fake.
The image on the screen was not their friend.
Julio’s call sign was Jefe, not Ace of Aces. Whoever was running the show had made a natural enough error, considering the logo emblazoned on Julio’s jacket.
But whoever they were speaking to, it was definitely not their friend Julio Cortez.
puters and loading them into the wide-open freight elevator.
Most of the men in white lab coats were Asian, Mateo noted. The Asian Freebooters were increasing their influence in Corteguay every day. Soon they would be almost as troubling as the Americans, Mateo realized.
As he approached the gate, the soldiers—Cuban exiles, he’d been told once—who guarded this place waved Mateo through without checking his identity, or even making sure that his vehicle held no foreign commandos hiding in its backseat or in the trunk.
Sloppy, Mateo thought, shaking his head in disgust. Damn sloppy …
The guards, he noticed, appeared harried and put upon— which suggested to Mateo that this truck was not the first to arrive in the past few days. That thought alarmed him. Mateo cursed when he parked his Hummer and saw the tracks of several trucks in the crushed grass.
But at least the Cuban who admitted him into the bunker itself was thorough in his search and identity check, and Mateo still had to wait for the retinal scan before he could board the elevator and descend into the pit.
When the elevator doors slid open deep underground, Mateo had yet another surprise in store for him. The once-spacious tunnel, hollowed out by pumping an underground river dry, was now crowded with shining new computers wired into a network.
The seven tables, with their wired prisoners, were still in place, but a totally new control station had been assembled in the opposite corner of the cave.
There was no sign of the slovenly woman who cared for the prisoners, but Mateo noticed that the hostages had been cleaned and given fresh, new sheets and blankets. Then Mateo saw two men loitering near the new control center. Curious, Mateo approached them.
One man Mateo recognized immediately. His name was Sato, and his tattoos—and a missing little finger on his left hand—marked the Japanese man as Yakuza. According to the dossier Mateo had read, Sato was a gangster from Osaka, a hired killer who murdered his victims over the Net, impossible as that seemed.
At least that was the rumor.
The other man was probably a Cuban, judging by his clothing, though Mateo didn’t recognize him. The man’s features were slack as he leaned against a mainframe, laconically talking to Sato. The man’s head turned, and Mateo noticed then that the Cuban was a Drex-Dream addict, plugged into an injection system that delivered the drug directly to his cerebral cortex. The metal and Lexan reservoir attached to his skull gleamed in the artificial light.
Mateo shuddered.
At one point early in the century, as more and more of the business and pleasure of the world was conducted on the Net, a few medical researchers had seen a huge opportunity for profit. Computers thought faster than men, and by 2010 the Net was limited only by its weakest link—the humans who used it. The researchers thought that if they could find and patent a drug that would speed up mental activity without physical side effects, they could become richer than Bill Gates had become in the previous century. Businessmen, traders, professional and amateur game players—anybody who used the Net on a regular basis—would pay any amount of money for a drug that gave them an edge over the competition.
Drex-Dream had been the result of the researchers’ work. Unlike most drugs that had an effect on the ability of the brain to process information, Drex-Dream radically improved neural transmission speeds, comprehension, ability to focus, and memory, all without affecting heart rate or blood pressure or demonstrating any of the other common negative side effects of such drugs.
An early, small-scale human trial had looked promising. Then the trial ended. Two of the volunteer subjects of the test were killed trying to break into the lab for more of the drug. Three more went mad. Every person that participated in the trial suffered from some level of addiction. Most were unable to function in the world after being denied a continued supply of Drex-Dream. Because of this, the FDA refused to approve the drug, and the researchers went on to other things. But one of Drex-Dream’s marketers decided that his future was made. He and the drug went underground.
The Drex-Dream trial had been at controlled, clinical dosages. When Drex-Dream was put out on the street by a few select illegal drug dealers, those limits no longer applied. Those who used Drex-Dream in street dosages maintained that the high was indescribable. They were also hopelessly addicted after a single dose.
Most Drex-Dream addicts died quickly as a result of their addiction. While taking the drug, the users wouldn’t stop to eat, drink, or sleep. They starved or died of thirst, often while within reach of the very things that would save them.
Mateo noticed that this man had a timer on his injector, a digital clock with red flashing numbers that automatically distributed the drug in specified quantities at given times. That was one way that Drex-Dream addicts controlled their addictions, but it was only a temporary fix. At some point, probably in the not too distant future, the Cuban would succumb to temptation and unleash the drug continuously. While he was under the influence, he would be inhumanly fast on the Net, inhumanly swift in thought and reaction time. And then, a few weeks later, he would die from self-induced dehydration or starvation.
“I see you have met our new allies,” his master’s voice said from behind him. Mateo turned.
His controller was smiling at him.
“How did the conference go?” his master asked.
“The holoform Ramon fooled everyone, even that woman Hanratty,” Mateo said. “The holo of Julio … I am not so sure.”
“You think those boys saw through our ruse?” the master asked incredulously. Mateo paused before answering.
“I.. .1 feel that they still had doubts,” he said. “But nothing concrete, and no proof. We were too thorough for that.”
“I am not surprised,” his master said. Mateo stared again at the two strangers, afraid to guess their function but too intimidated to ask. When Mateo faced his master again, the man was still smiling at Mateo. That made Mateo very nervous.
“I told you the last time you were here that I suspected that Julio had escaped/’ the man said. “Fortunately, the automatic security program overrode his mind. Unfortunately, the program could not tell me where he went or how he got out.”
The master gazed at Mateo. “Where do you think your nephew fled, Mateo?” he asked.
The younger man blinked and shrugged. “I am not sure,” Mateo said. “To the State Department computers possibly. The media. Perhaps even to Net Force or the FBI.”
“I think he went to find those boys,” the master said. “His friends in the Net Force Explorers.”
“Then perhaps the conference was a mistake,” Mateo said. “Perhaps these children are now suspicious.”
“They were suspicious before this,” the master said. “Your nephew Julio has communicated with them, I’m certain of it!”
Mateo faced the two strangers again.
The Japanese man continued to stare placidly into space, ignoring everything around him. The other man leaned on the cabinet and carefully contemplated something only he could see.
“Is that why these assassins are here?” Mateo asked.
The master reached up and patted Mateo on the shoulder, stroking him as if he were a particularly intelligent dog.
“As I promised you last time,” the master said, pointing at the two men, “these men are here to deal with Julio’s allies in the out
side world.” The master smiled again. It was the grin of a cruel predator. “Virtual assassins,” he whispered softly. “The best our sponsors could buy.”
The man hooked to the Drex-Dream injector suddenly moaned, then began to giggle like a madman.
For many hours after the conference, the Net Force Explorers remained in the Lounge, discussing their next move endlessly. Their attempts to tell the grown-ups that something was radically wrong had been rebuffed by everyone except Jay Grid-ley, who’d said he would check into it—but made no promises of further action. The State Department people had been especially dismissive. One even went so far as to accuse the Net Force Explorers of trying to capitalize on the media attention focused on Julio and his family. It was clear that they, and they alone, believed that their friend was in trouble. If something was going to be done about it, they were going to have to get undeniable proof of wrongdoing, and enough information to save Julio. But everybody had a different idea about the best way to get it.
As they argued, Megan O’Malley zoned out, lost in her own thoughts.
Where is Julio being held? How can he be freed? What will happen once the election in Corteguay is over? And will the end result be different if Ramon wins instead of losing?
These were only a few of the questions that whirled through Megan O’Malley’s mind as she listened to the others talk.
Though the first few hours of their impromptu meeting were spent debating possible plans, the Net Force Explorers had yet to decide on any specific action to take.
Soon, as if they were attending Julio Cortez’s wake, Matt and Mark started to talk about their friendship with Julio, and about the young Corteguan’s love of flight simulators. Eventually, the conversation centered on last year’s Century of Military Aviation competition, where Julio came in second. Megan learned only then that Julio was the sole Net Force Explorer to participate last year. Things were different this year, thanks to Julio’s example. Matt wished he could have competed with his friend, but Matt’s family had been traveling last summer, so he had been unable to join Julio in the competition.
Mark “the Squirt” Gridley would have participated too, but he’d been too young to compete until now.
“Was Dieter Rosengarten there last year?” Andy Moore asked.
“I don’t think so,” Matt said, shaking his head. “But there was this Russian guy named Sergei who cleaned everybody’s clocks. He was almost as good as Pavel Ivanovich, who won!” Matt chuckled then. “Well, Sergei was good, but not as good as Julio,” he remembered. “Near the end of the competition, in the Bosnia scenario, Julio ruined Sergei’s perfect score by shooting him down. The only perfect score was Ivanovich’s, so Julio cost Sergei a shot at the Ace of Aces trophy. Ivanovich came in first. Julio and Sergei were tied with one loss each, but since Julio’d taken Sergei out, Julio came in second, and Sergei came in third.”
Megan smiled. “I’ll bet Julio dug those Japanese a new hole at Pearl Harbor too,” she said, joining in the conversation.
Matt shook his head.
“He didn’t compete in the Pearl Harbor simulator last year,” he told her. “He didn’t participate in the Battle of Britain either.”
Suddenly, something clicked in Megan’s brain. She sat up quickly. “What simulators did he compete in last year?” she asked. “How many different sims did he try?”
Matt knew that look on Megan’s face. She was on to something. Matt considered his answers carefully.
“He competed in five scenarios in the first round,” he said. “The Red Baron first, followed by the Battle of Midway, the Bombing of Europe, the Bosnian Crisis of 2007, and the South African War in 2010.”
“And this year Julio appeared in the Red Baron and the Battle of Midway. …” Megan thought aloud.
Matt’s eyes got wide.
“And not Pearl Harbor or the Battle of Britain!” he said. “Do you think—”
“I think that Julio only shows up in simulators he’s experienced before!” Megan said. “That’s why we didn’t see him the other day. He’d never experienced the Battle of Britain simulator before.”
“That’s it!” Mark Gridley said. “That has to be it. Think about it. You know how, when you first try a new veeyar program, it’s like trying anything for the first time? You make mistakes, don’t take advantage of all the breaks, sometimes you even get bounced out doing something stupid—so it always takes a while to get familiar with it?”
“But once you get the hang of it, it gets easier and easier, until it’s second nature,” David Gray said. “Julio’s got so much to cope with already, he’s avoiding adding that kind of stress to his problems. That’s gotta be it. It’s too much of a coincidence not to be.”
Suddenly, Matt got a stricken look on his face. Megan noticed it right away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“We’re not signed up for the Bombing of Europe,” Matt said. “We’re supposed to do MiG Alley, a Korean War simulation, next.”
“What about the other two sims Julio did in the early rounds?” Andy asked. “Bosnia and the South African War?”
Matt nodded. “We’re doing Bosnia again. And everybody has to do the South African War,” he said. “The South African War has all the most modern high-tech fighters, stuff like the Joint Strike Fighters.”
“Well, then, we’ve got to find a way to get into the Bombing of Europe simulator,” Megan said.
But Matt shook his head.
“Can’t be done,” he said. “The competition is fixed ahead of time. We have to do the Korean War sim, or we’ll get disqualified—which means no more access to the simulators.” Matt shrugged his shoulders. “There are no substitutions, unless they’re made by the Institute staff. It’s not up to us.”
“But what if something bad were to happen?” Mark asked with a devilish grin. “Something so bad it messed that Korean War simulator up so that we can’t use it.”
Andy Moore looked at the Squirt. “Do you have the chips to try something like that?” he asked.
“No,” Mark said. “I’m not stupid. And you heard what my dad said.”
Andy nodded.
“But I know someone who does have the chips necessary, and a whole lot more,” Mark said. “And if we ask her nicely enough, she just might do it.”
As Mark told Joanna Winthrop the Net Force Explorers’ conclusions, he could tell she was listening to them as though their concerns were real ones. She even admitted that their reasoning was sound, given all the unknowns and variables involved in Julio’s bizarre case.
When he and the Net Force Explorers had finished explaining their logic, it was Mark Gridley who dropped the other shoe, though in this case it was more like a bomb.
“We were wondering,” he said in his most innocent and endearing voice, “if we could maybe come up with a way to crash their Korean War simulator.”
“Yeah,” Matt Hunter chimed in. “Nothing too drastic. Just mess it up for a day or two …”
“That way they would probably have us compete in the Bombing of Europe simulation,” David Gray added.
“And I’m sure we’ll find Julio in there,” Megan concluded.
Joanna scanned their eager faces, and she clearly realized that she was outnumbered and outflanked.
“I don’t like this,” she said. “I don’t like this one bit.”
“Please,” Mark cajoled. “Pleasepleaseplease .
His pleading was so comical that it made Joanna Winthrop burst out laughing, as well as the other Net Force Explorers. His clown act was intentional. After she was overcome with mirth, Mark knew Joanna was easy prey.
“All right, all right, but I refuse to do any permanent damage,” she agreed finally. “And you have to help!”
“Just name it,” Matt said. “All of us will help.”
“I only need one of you,” Joanna said.
“Who do you want?” Mark asked, curious.
“You, Mark,” Joanna answered. “I need you to
give me everything you know about the system—and I want you to help me come up with a relatively harmless computer virus, something with a timer attached, so that things go back to normal after a specified time. If I’m going to crack that simulator, I want all the information I can get first, and I want to leave it intact after I’m done with it.”
Mark Gridley gulped, but nodded.
Mark Gridley stopped talking, waiting expectantly for Joanna Winthrop’s reaction. He’d just explained how he’d developed the virus, and what it would do to the flight simulators. Mark didn’t tell her that he’d worked through the night creating the cyber-disease, and that it was the hardest job he’d ever tackled.
“I’d hate to have to go up against you in a cyber-war,” Joanna said after a moment.
Her simple statement made Mark beam with pride. It was as close to offering a compliment as Joanna ever got, and Mark basked in her approval.
“So are you ready to put the virus into the system?” she asked.
Mark nodded.
She gave the computer a quiet vocal command. An icon appeared in the middle of the veeyar, the image of a huge hypodermic needle. As Mark and Joanna watched, the “needle” filled up with the virus program until the hypodermic turned red, indicating that all of the virus had been downloaded into the delivery system.
The word “ACTIVE” flashed before their eyes.
“Now we just have to crack the IEI’s firewall,” Joanna said. “I did a little work on that early this morning.”
Mark realized she’d found a back door left behind by the system’s original designer. She keyed in the names of the man’s children and pets in a certain order—amazing what you could find out with a little research—and the defenses melted before their eyes. Almost immediately, the DEI’s simulator control page opened up to them. Each simulation was a separate software program, something that made their next task a lot easier.
Fearing a trace on their activities, Joanna quickly loaded the Korean War simulation and opened it. Then she aimed the hypodermic needle icon into the heart of the flight simulator program.
“You’re certain this won’t do any real damage?” Joanna asked.
