Wired. Part 20

Desh knew that the vision he had had while enhanced was truly breathtaking in scope and ambition, but this didn't change the current stark reality. They were wanted and on the run. Kira had an explosive device in her skull with little time remaining. If they were unable to defeat Moriarty, his utopian vision would be forever unrealized.

They had been driving for close to an hour when Kira's phone rang. Desh took a deep breath and answered. It was the colonel, as expected, and the news was good! He was in the air. His friend, a Major Ross Metzger, had come through.

The colonel handed the phone to Metzger and he and Desh exchanged greetings. Desh offered his heartfelt thanks and gave him their location near Lancaster. Metzger consulted his...o...b..ard computer and after a few minutes suggested a rendezvous point. If they caught route 283 northwest toward Elizabethtown, they would find a high school just outside the city limits. The helicopter would land on the fifty yard-line of the school's football field.

Desh spotted the school forty minutes later. He parked in the lot, and they walked the short distance to the field. They had been unable to find a flashlight in the stolen car so their vision was severely limited on this dark night. They stationed themselves under the bleachers and awaited their ride. Even by helicopter, it would take Metzger a while to cover the distance from Bragg, probably another hour or so.

This wasn't the first time he had been under the bleachers with a beautiful girl, Desh reflected, but never as an adult, and never a girl like this. He desperately wanted to hold her. He suppressed this ridiculous impulse, disgusted with himself. Civilization was coming to a fork in the tracks, with one track leading toward heaven and the other toward h.e.l.l, and his actions could determine who controlled the switching station. What an epitaph that would make: the future of humanity destroyed because the man in a position to stop the threat was in the thrall of infatuation and couldn't keep his head in the game.

After what seemed like an eternity they heard the sound of a chopper cutting through the night sky, and minutes later an elongated helicopter appeared above the field, its body dimensions roughly those of a dragonfly. It hovered noisily over the fifty-yard line and lowered itself to the ground. Desh and Kira jumped through a wide opening in the middle of the aircraft and were greeted heartily by Griffin and Connelly as the helicopter lifted off once again. Despite the presence of eight steel troop seats facing the front of the craft and two side-facing gunner seats, all the pa.s.sengers remained standing, holding on to straps to help maintain their balance.

Connelly was wearing a sling on his left arm to prevent movement, but looked surprisingly good. Griffin looked somewhat ridiculous without his facial haira"a clean-cut Wookiea"but Desh pretended not to notice any difference in the man.

"Jesus, Colonel," shouted Desh appreciatively over the din of the helicopter. "You got us a Blackhawk?"

"Only because Bragg was all out of Harriers," replied Connelly wryly.

39.

Jim Connelly handed them both a sophisticated set of padded black headphones, with a speaker arm they could position under their mouths. They slipped them over their heads while Connelly repositioned the set he had been using, which he had removed while greeting them.

Metzger was in the pilot's seat in the front of the chopper. He looked back over his right shoulder. "Where to?" he said into his own headset. He was about the same age as the colonel, with black hair and bushy eyebrows.

"Hagerstown, Maryland," said Kira in a normal tone of voice. Even so, the entire group could easily hear her through the headphones, which did a remarkable job of insulated their ears from the unrelenting din of the chopper. "It's about seventy miles northwest of D.C."

Metzger nodded and the Blackhawk swooped off on a southwesterly heading. He dialed up a map on his computer and within minutes settled on a flight plan. When he had the aircraft under control he reached back and shook hands with Desh and then Kira in turn.

"We appreciate the ride, major," said Desh. "Do you think you got away cleanly?"

"I think so," he answered. "I altered some computerized flight logs to disguise the theft. Hopefully this will buy us a day." He shrugged. "I also disabled the transponder so they can't locate us immediately when they do discover the unauthorized use."

"Well done," said Desh.

Metzger nodded to acknowledge the compliment. "We should be there in about thirty minutes," he announced. "Where do we land?"

The four pa.s.sengers eyed each other for inspiration, but no one offered any immediate thoughts. A Blackhawk wouldn't be easy to hide.

"We need abandoned areas that don't get any traffic," said Metzger. "Think."

Kira pursed her lips in concentration. She had been living in a trailer park just outside of Hagerstown for months. She should be able to come up with something. "There's a community pool near the town's northern border," she said. "After summer it's drained and the facility is chained up. It has a very large deep-end we could land in."

Metzger shook his head. "Won't be deep enough. This bird's almost seventeen feet high."

d.a.m.n, thought Kira in frustration. She turned back to sorting through additional possibilities. They had been picked up in a football field. While this was a nice wide-open s.p.a.ce, it couldn't conceal the chopper. She smiled. Perhaps she just had the wrong sport. "There's a minor league baseball team in Haggerstown," she said. "The Suns. They play in Munic.i.p.al stadium. Seats over 4000. Enclosed by bleachers and a home-run fence."

"How tall are the bleachers?" asked Metzger.

She had never been to a game but had driven by the stadium on many occasions. "At the entrance, behind home plate, taller than seventeen feet."

"Is it locked up in the off-season?"

"Can't imagine it's not," replied Kira.

"How close to residential areas?"

"Not," she replied. "Fairly industrial. No bars or stores in the area open at night."

"Sounds like we have a winner," said Metzger. "Let's give it a go."

With this decided, Desh motioned to Connelly to join him in the back of the chopper. The two men knelt beside two large, green canvas bags that Connelly had loaded aboard that contained a wide a.s.sortment of weapons and other equipment. Desh unzipped the first bag and inspected the contents approvingly: four combat knives, plasticuffs, metal handcuffs, rope, tape, six flashlights, a first aid kit, a wire cutter, a bolt cutter, and six pairs of night vision goggles. Desh also found several a.s.sault vests sporting multiple pockets for weapons, spare clips and grenades.

The second bag contained a wide variety of electronic and communication equipment, four H&K .45s, four MP-5 machine pistols, and a dozen stun grenades. These grenades were also known as flashbangs. Like this name implied, they would create such an intensely bright flash and earsplitting bang that they would blind and deafen an enemy for about ten seconds. Several pairs of eye protectors and electronic earplugs were present as well to minimize the effects of the stun grenades on those who were using them. Finally, Desh located several empty rucksacks that could be filled for specific missions as needed.

Connelly had done well. He had loaded the chopper for bear as Desh had requested.

As Desh continued inspecting the equipment he removed his headphones and motioned for the colonel to do the same. He leaned in close to Connelly's ear. "This Metzger really came through for you," he shouted. "But it's inner circle time. I'm going to lay out information so sensitive I don't trust myself with it." He looked at Connelly meaningfully.

"He's solid," bellowed Connelly, but even so Desh could barely hear him. "He was on my team back in the day. We've been on dozens of missions together, including some that went bad. Real bad. Cl.u.s.terf.u.c.ks. He's as good as it gets."

"Integrity?" asked Desh.

Connelly nodded. "We took out a Columbian drug lord once. Just the two of us. The guy had a silk drawstring bag in his safe filled with diamonds the size of marbles." He raised his eyebrows. "Ninety-nine guys out of a hundred would have at least raised the philosophical question: who would know if some went missing? But Metzger pulled the bag from the safe, looked inside, and tossed it to me. Never mentioned it again." Connelly locked his eyes firmly on Desh. "He's one of us, David. He prides himself on doing what's right."

Desh nodded. "Thanks Colonel. Good enough for me. I a.s.sumed as much, but I had to ask." He slid his headset back over his ears and Connelly did the same. The two men carried the heavy canvas bags to the front end of the helicopter.

When they were within twenty miles of Hagerstown, Desh pa.s.sed out night vision goggles and Metzger killed the helicopter's lights. They were now invisible from the ground. Piloting a helicopter blind using night-vision equipment wasn't for the faint of heart, but Metzger had considerable experience doing so. Five minutes later they were over Hagerstown and Kira directed Metzger to the stadium. He circled it quickly and landed as close to the bleachers as he could, well behind home plate.

As expected, the gate entrance had a heavy chain around it and was padlocked. Desh pulled a pair of bolt-cutters from one of the canvas bags, and they were soon on their way.

They came upon some parked cars about three blocks from the stadium, and Desh expertly broke into one and hotwired it. They returned the night vision equipment to one of the canvas bags, threw both bags in the trunk, and climbed into the car. Kira drove, Connelly took the pa.s.senger seat to protect his injury, and Griffin, Desh and Metzger crammed themselves into the back.

Kira pulled away from the curb. "Next stop, my place," she announced. "We'll be there in fifteen minutes."

PART SIX.

Moriarty.

40.

They parked at the outskirts of Kira's trailer park and made their way silently to her cla.s.s A motor home. It was nearing three in the morning, and the other residents of the park were sound asleep and didn't stir at their arrival. Kira had taken care to select a park at which there was ample s.p.a.cing between RVs.

Kira's RV was forty feet long and eight wide. The drapes were already closed and she kept the lighting low. Despite the limited s.p.a.ce, Kira had decorated the dwelling tastefully with several well-placed knickknacks and plants that gave it a homey and unmistakably feminine feel. The RV was packed with cherry cabinetry and had a self-contained bathroom, kitchen, dining area, living room, and bedroom. Desh had never been inside an RV of any kind and marveled at how much could be fit inside, and how cleverly. The kitchen had an oven, a three-burner stove, and a microwave, along with a large stainless steel refrigerator-freezer. There were two tan leather couches along either wall, facing each other, with about four feet of s.p.a.ce between them. A high-end computer rested underneath the small kitchen table with a full-sized keyboard and three monitors on its surface. Desh couldn't imagine wanting or needing more than a single monitor, but after the last few days he was beginning to think this was a minority opinion.

Kira gestured for Connelly to take one of the two couches and for Griffin and Metzger to take the other. The driver and pa.s.senger seats were cushioned, soft-leather captain's chairs, capable of being swiveled around 180 degrees to become additional living room furniture; a configuration Kira used whenever the vehicle was parked. She sat in one and motioned for Desh to take the other. The only hint that the group was gathered inside a mammoth vehicle rather than a tiny house was the presence of a large steering wheel protruding into the living room.

"We need to brief you and we need to do it quickly," began Desh as soon as he was seated. "There's a lot to tell, so let's get right to it."

For over an hour, Desh and Kira reviewed everything they knew: intelligence enhancement, Kira's longevity therapy, her self-imposed memory blockade, the murder of her brother, the Ebola frame, and finally, their recent interaction with the ruthless man they had called Moriarty. They did their best to impart the information succinctly, but understood the importance of being thorough. The team had to know the entire truth; no matter how much valuable time was consumed in the process. Desh observed the major carefully throughout the briefing, finding him to be intelligent, inquisitive, and a positive addition to the team.

It was Desh's pa.s.sionate description of the awesome power of an enhanced intellect that persuaded the three men to believe the rest, as utterly fantastic as it all was. If the level of intelligence that could be attained was truly as phenomenal as Desh described, they readily agreed that age r.e.t.a.r.dation could be achieved after a number of sessions in this altered state, and that a hyper-infective virus targeting egg cells could be perfected as well.

Thirty minutes into their briefing, Kira had brewed up a pot of coffee and provided a cup to each member of the team, who were unanimous in expressing their grat.i.tude for the caffeine.

Finally, at just after four in the morning, the briefing was complete.

Metzger leaned forward on the couch, so he could see around the now clean-shaven giant seated beside him, and glanced worriedly at the bandage-covered bald spot on the side of Kira's skull. "I hate to bring this up," he said, "but the explosive is set to go off in only six hours."

Kira nodded, but remained silent.

"Is something like this really possible?" asked Griffin, directing his question to Connelly who was across from him in the compact living room.

The colonel sighed. "I'm afraid so," he said. "C-4 is the explosive everyone knows about, but the military has developed plastic explosives even more potent than this. Shape the charge correctly and it wouldn't take much. Easy to b.o.o.by-trap a device so it can't be removed."

"Jesus," said Griffin in revulsion. "I am so sorry, Kira," he added gently. "This Sam is truly a monster."

Kira attempted a half-hearted smile. "I appreciate the concern, Matt, but I'll be okay. Remember, he didn't implant the device to kill me. He did so as an insurance policy: to make sure I don't kill him. If he dies, I die. In the meanwhile, he'll continue to reset it. He needs me alive to get his hands on the fountain of youth. He'll expect me to try to stop him for a few days, get nowhere, and then let myself be recaptured: giving him my secret rather than letting him carry out his plan."

Griffin nodded, but the frown didn't leave his face.

Metzger pursed his lips in concentration. "Kira," he said, "you told him you couldn't give him the secret to your longevity therapy, or the location of the flash drive, even if you desperately wanted to. Is that true, or partially a bluff?"

"Unfortunately, it's absolutely true," replied Kira with a troubled look on her face. "He knows firsthand that with the extraordinary capabilities enhancement gives you, manipulating memory in this way is possible. Despite this, he thinks with proper motivation I'll find a way. But he's wrong about that."

"That's unfortunate," said the major. "It means that negotiating a stop to the threat isn't even an option." He frowned. "What if his plan succeeds? Is he right? Would you then publically disclose your longevity treatment?"

Kira sighed. "I would," she replied. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.d is right. At that point there would be no reason not to. Humanity's only hope would be to achieve true immortality, or figure out how to coax the production of new egg cells. Enhanced molecular biologists might eventually discover a way to do this, but I wouldn't count on it."

Metzger frowned deeply. "If we want to have any chance of stopping this threat," he said, "I'd suggest that our first order of business is learning who this Sam really is."

"Agreed," said Desh.

"Do we have anything to go on?" asked Griffin.

Desh raised his eyebrows. "Actually, yes," he said confidently. "I think we do."

41.

All eyes were instantly upon David Desh, including Kira's. He hadn't yet shared his theory even with her.

"First, it's almost certain Sam is in the government," began Desh. "We know he has considerable legitimate authority. Not to mention access to next generation military helicopters and to safe houses. Second, he kept boasting of the men he had in his pocket, be they molecular biologists or military muscle. He apparently has dirt on a large and diverse cast of characters." Desh leaned forward intently. "So how would someone be able to get that much dirt on that many people?" He turned his gaze to Connelly and raised his eyebrows. "Remind you of anybody, Colonel?"

Connelly thought for a moment and his eyes widened as he realized where Desh was headed. "J. Edgar Hoover," he whispered.

"J. Edgar Hoover," repeated Desh, nodding. "Head of the FBI for forty-nine years under eight different presidents. Rumored to have used the power of the FBI to wiretap and spy on citizens of personal interest to him. Kept secret files on his enemies containing compromising or embarra.s.sing information. n.o.body could be sure what he had on them. Rumor has it that several presidents called him in, intent on firing him, but he left unscathed each time."

"Many believe he was the most powerful man in the history of the US, including presidents," pointed out Connelly.

"Exactly," said Desh excitedly. "I think Sam is taking a page out of Hoover's playbook, trying for the same results. And my guess is he's well on his way. He claims to be blackmailing numerous men. He has also demonstrated considerable power to move men and equipment like so many chess pieces, not to mention arranging to have the colonel provide me with Smith's telephone number as my contact. Since Hoover's time, Congress has added more stringent safeguards against domestic surveillance, of coursea"" He raised his eyebrows doubtfully.

"But this wouldn't hinder him in the least," said Kira, completing Desh's sentence. "Enhanced, he can circ.u.mvent any safeguards. And the word ruthless is completely inadequate to describe him. Here's a man who was a psychopath before he was enhanced. A man who bragged about burning my brother alive."

Desh nodded gravely.

"So you think Sam's with the FBI?" asked Metzger.

Desh shook his head. "No. The FBI isn't the best agency to carry out this strategy any longer. A modern day Hoover would choose differently."

Griffin's eyes widened. "The NSA," he whispered.

"Exactly."

"We better hope you're wrong," said Griffin anxiously, "because if you're not, then this just became even a bigger nightmare. The NSA makes Big Brother look like the ACLU. They're the largest intelligence gathering organization in the world, which also makes them the most powerful agency in the world. They're in charge of cryptology for the US, which puts them in charge of signal's intelligence: radio, microwave, fiber-optic, cell phones, satellitesa"everything."

"Your certainly know your NSA, Matt," said Desh, standing and pouring himself another cup of coffee. "They've been involved in this from the beginning," he continued. "In some capacity." He shifted his eyes to Kira. "Someone had to order satellites to track you, Kira. But that didn't necessarily mean our Moriartya"or Sam if you willa"worked there. Given everyone was convinced you were behind the Ebola threat, the NSA would have been called in regardless."

"But if he did work there, that would explain a lot," said Metzger. "The NSA sends daily intelligence reports to numerous agenciesa"and even to the White House on occasion. If this Sam was operating from within the NSA he could readily spread false intelligence. He could spread misinformation about Kira that would be accepted as fact. And he put together a tight frame of the colonel in record time. I've known Jim Connelly forever, and I know that nothing could ever get him to betray his country. Yet the evidence they put together against him almost had me convinced."

"The more you think about it," said Desh, "the more sense it makes. The NSA would be the ideal place for Sam to reinvent Hoover's strategy, using capabilities that Hoover could only dream of. The combination of being able to doctor intelligence reports and eavesdrop on whoever he wanted to at the highest levels of governmenta"and blackmail thema"would make him the ultimate puppet master."

"He'd be high up in the organization," said Kira. "But not the Director. Not enough anonymity that way."

Metzger pursed his lips. "It feels right," he said, his bushy eyebrows almost touching as he wrinkled his forehead in thought. "But how much does this help us? Even if we knew this were true, could we find him?"

"David and I know what he looks like now," said Kira.

"Yeah, but they don't just advertise employees of the NSA in an online directory with pictures and addresses," said Connelly.

"How many employees do they have?" asked Kira.