Brainrush 03 - Beyond Judgment (36 page)

Marshall’s central screen showed a satellite map of the Indonesian island chain. His finger described a two-hundred-mile-wide circle east of Sulawesi—formerly known as Celebes—and west of New Guinea and north of Timor. “This is the target area. Dead in the middle of what used to be called the Spice Islands. There are nearly one thousand islands here.” He pointed to an area at the eastern edge of the Banda Sea. “By projecting the trajectories of the tracking signals that disappeared, we’ve narrowed the target down to this region.” He hesitated a moment before adding, “It’s composed of nearly five hundred islands. Even after eliminating those that are too small to accommodate Victor’s plans, there are still ninety remaining.”

“You can’t do better than that?” Tony asked, glancing nervously at the flat-panel display dominating the wall at the end of the conference table. The sound had been muted, but the slide show of damning evidence against mankind continued to stream—as did the countdown clock.

Timmy’s eyes were bloodshot. He pointed to a pill-size capsule that he’d wired into an open circuit board connected to his computer. “I thought I could do something with the bloody present you got for me. By the way, the man’s name was August Schmidt.” He was referring to the RFID that Tony had extracted from under the tattoo on Pit Bull’s shoulder. He and Jake had made a side trip to the morgue on the way to the Geneva airport. In the midst of the mayhem, it had been a simple matter to find time alone with the body. “I’ve been able to reactivate it,” Timmy said. “But backtracking it to the jamming source simply isn’t working. I’ve still got one or two things to try, but I’m not hopeful.”

If Timmy couldn’t do it, nobody could, Jake thought. They’d have to find another way.

Marshall switched to a different screen. It depicted the same map of the Spice Islands region without the satellite overlay. Islands were highlighted in green. “This is a static image from ten days ago. The black dots on the water represent vessels.” There were hundreds of them. It looked like a still shot of an army of ants moving from point to point. The majority of them seemed to be traveling single file along trade routes between the major islands.

Marshall continued, “I thought maybe we could learn something from the traffic patterns. You know, look for an island that boats were heading toward. But when I go to a live feed, here’s the problem.” He tapped a key and the image shifted. Hundreds of dots were replaced by thousands. “It’s as if every boat in the region had taken to the water, scattering in every direction. And that’s not the worst of it. Watch this.” He zoomed in on a random cluster of about a hundred ships. Several of the blips jiggled on the screen and disappeared—only to reappear an instant later somewhere else.

“What the hell?” Tony said.

Kenny took over. “They’re using random signal generators. The same type we used to cover our entry into and exit out of Mexico six years ago. But this is on a scale like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Heck, until we get overhead with the drones, I can’t be sure that some of the islands we’re seeing are even there. These dudes must have been setting this up for years.”

“How long before the drones are on scene?” Jake asked. Kenny had brought three vertical-takeoff reconnaissance drones onboard. Unfolded, the gull-shaped aircraft had twelve-foot wingspans, rotating nacelles that allowed for both vertical and horizontal flight, and a full complement of recon equipment. It had taken a few hours to unpack and assemble them above deck. Jake had watched them take off an hour ago.

“They’re built for endurance, not speed,” Kenny said. He rolled his chair to one side so that he sat in front of a tri-screen remote-control center. It was compact and ruggedized, designed for field use. He checked a readout on the center screen. “They’ll hit the edge of the target area in forty-seven minutes.”

“That’s good, right?” Tony asked.

But Jake already knew that wasn’t the case. His mind had already completed the calculation. The circular target area was approximately 150 miles wide. That was 17,662.5 square miles of search area. “Three birds can’t complete a grid search quickly enough,” he said.

Timmy’s lips tightened. He nodded. “He’s right. There’re thirty islands for each bird to inspect in order to isolate the real ones from the red herrings.”

Sitting next to him, Marshall shook his head. “That’s why we called you in here, Jake. We’re running out of ideas.” With a glance at the wall screen, he added, “And time.”

“Maybe if we called in some help…” Kenny suggested.

“Believe me,” Jake said, “I’ve thought about that. But who do we call? Who can we really trust besides those of us on this ship?
No,” he said, pulling up a chair next to Kenny’s. “We’ve got to figure this out on our own.”

Twenty minutes later, one of the crew brought in food and drinks. Tony was two bites into a sandwich before the platter made it to the table. Jake was reluctant to interrupt their brainstorming session, but they were still at an impasse. Maybe the break would help.

Kenny grabbed a Coke and offered it to him. Jake popped it open and took a long pull.

“Thanks for coming, Kenny,” Jake said, leaning back and stretching his neck. “We wouldn’t have had much of a chance without you and your toys.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Kenny said, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich. “Besides, I can’t wait to examine the tech on this top secret chair you’ve been talking about. It sounds like you guys are several generations ahead of Intel on thought guidance and communication.”

“It’s some pretty cool stuff,” Timmy confirmed with a full mouth.

“We’re damn lucky they only got the chair when they beat feet out of the Palace of Nations,” Tony said, hefting a scoop of potato salad onto his plate. “If they’d got our fearless leader here along with it, we’d be up a creek.”

The comment triggered a question in Jake’s mind. Why would Victor go to the trouble of taking the chair in the first place—if it wouldn’t work without him?

He wondered why he hadn’t considered it before. Victor had said that
our
scientists developed the chair. Timmy had told him previously that the chair had been developed at a secret facility in the United States. Timmy and Doc had both been involved. But what if one or two Order scientists had been part of that team? He thought back to his narrow escape from Hans and his men, replaying the sequence of events in his mind. When the hypnosis drug had first begun to wear off, the techs in the room had been
discussing how glad they were
to be leaving the cramped confines of this cellar after two months
. Then later—when two guards had dumped him on the floor in order to help their comrades heft the chair up the staircase—one of them had said,
He’s not our first priority
.

Which meant the chair was Victor’s first priority. They’d planned to take it all along, even before they knew that Jake was alive. But why? Timmy had explained that the chair was originally designed with the intention of establishing communication with the pyramids. But without Jake’s brain as a conduit, they couldn’t receive…

Then it hit him. “They’re using the chair to transmit,” he said. “They’ve probably been sending messages to the pyramids for months. That’s why Victor is so confident that the Order will be spared. He’s been prepping them with his own custom message.”

The comment silenced the room—except for Tony’s chewing. Timmy was the first to pick up the ball. “Which means we need to be looking up. Not down—”

“Toward the first two pyramids,” Marshall interjected.

“There are thousands of signals streaming outbound from the grid to Earth’s communication networks,” Timmy said.

Marshall finished the thought. “But there would be only one inbound.”

“Which we
can
back-trace to the source,” Timmy said, high-fiving Marshall.

“How long?” Jake asked, standing up.

“Thirty minutes,” Marshall said, pushing his plate to one side.

“Maybe twenty,” added Timmy, his fingers moving faster on the keyboard than a pianist’s playing “Flight of the Bumblebee.”

Grid Countdown: 3h:01m:30s

Banda Sea
4:30 a.m.

F
RANCESCA WANTED TO
move, but she didn’t. Jake had asked her to remain still.

Neither one of them had slept. They stood on the upper deck. Her arms rested atop the railing as she gazed toward the front of the cruising yacht. The warm equatorial breeze pulled the hair from her face. It was 4:30 a.m. The amber grid illuminated the night sky, its light casting an eerie reflection off the rippling surface of the water. Jake stood beside her. He wore a camouflage uniform. A combat vest, backpack, and assault rifle rested on the deck beside him. His green eyes shone bright behind the dark face paint that covered his skin. She watched as his focus shifted from her face to a sketch pad and back again. He’d borrowed the pad and pencil from one of the crew.

“I could do this with my eyes closed,” he said softly, his hand moving back and forth across the canvas. A corner of his mouth turned up in a brief smile as if his words had sparked an ironic memory. He kept drawing.

She hadn’t questioned his odd request to sketch her. It had been important to him. That’s all that mattered. He was a warrior. Her warrior. About to thrust himself into untold dangers to rescue their children.

The man standing before her was so much more than he had been when they’d first met in the library in Redondo Beach. Gone were the boyish manners, abrupt quips, and hidden insecurities—replaced by a man who embraced the changes that had been thrust upon him, and who was anchored in his belief that he could make a difference. The walls that he had so often used to shield his emotions were gone.

She reveled in his trust.

As he drew, she allowed her empathic gift to embrace him. She sensed his guilt, knowing that he felt responsible for all that had happened. But though he harbored those feelings, he didn’t seem compelled to nourish them as he’d done in the past. There was fear there, too. As well there should be, she thought. But most of all she saw in him in an overwhelming sense of purpose—and a calm certainty that reassured her.

The ship slowed. There was activity at the stern, and she knew that the boats were being readied for the infiltration. She sagged at the realization that their time alone was about to come to an end.

“Finished,” Jake said, tearing the page from the pad and rolling it up. He handed it to her. Then he pulled her gently against his chest. His face was inches from hers. A brief chill rushed up her spine.

“I survived the last six years because of you,” he said softly. “I’ve carried you in my thoughts ever since that day we connected on the roof of the institute. I didn’t realize it then, but it was in that moment that you became a part of me. You gave me strength. And the will to live.”

His words caressed her.

He continued, “It seems as if everywhere we turn, circumstances conspire against us. Venice, Afghanistan, Mexico, Venezuela…” He looked to the sky. “And now this.”

She shivered and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“Yet despite it all,” he said, “here we stand. Arm in arm. Together.”

He pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. She stared at him through moist eyes, and his thumbs wiped away her tears. He kissed her. His lips were gentle. She melted into him, and for several moments the rest of the world disappeared.

When he finally pulled away, he took both of her hands in his and lowered himself to one knee.

Her breath left her.

Jake stared into her soul and said, “Francesca Fellini, I pledge myself to you, in spirit and in body. I promise to honor and protect you and our family from this day forward, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, to love you and cherish you all the days of my life.”

Her body trembled. The purity of love and devotion that poured from him was absolute. She lowered herself to both knees before him. Her heart thrummed in her ears. She fought to control her breathing. “J-Jake Bronson, I’ve loved the thought of you since I was a little girl. A part of me dared to believe that you truly existed. So I prayed for it. And now here you are, kneeling before me, everything and more that I have ever dreamed of. You are my life, Jake. I’ve known it since the day we met. I’ve never wavered in that belief, and I never will.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. “Now, under the eyes of God, I pledge all that I am—and all that I will ever be—to you and our family. I promise to honor and protect you from this day forward, for better or for worse, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish you to the end of my days and beyond.”

His face beamed. He pulled her into his arms and showered her with kisses.

“My wife,” he whispered.

“My husband…”

They turned to the sound of heavy footfalls. Tony trotted around the corner. He spotted them on their knees and came to an abrupt halt. Ahmed skidded to a stop behind him. Jake and Francesca shared a final squeeze and then rose to face them. She used a sleeve to wipe away the last of her tears.