An Armageddon Duology (20 page)

L
ightfoote and Poison
were hitting it off charmingly.

Savas had agreed to release the other prisoners if and when she responded to their questions back in Manhattan. They had carted the entire crew back into the city, once again subjected to the delays and authority conflicts from the declaration of martial law. However, having claimed to have bagged key members of Anonymous opened the gates more quickly, and they soon had Poison isolated in an interrogation room. The rest were being held in lockup.

Poison was actually Tabitha Ivy, ‘Poison’ her own hacker handle used from the time she was fourteen. A quick database search revealed that she was now nineteen, a repeat offender having been busted for several hacks of corporate websites, having served nine months behind bars for one job on Pepsi. There was an additional list of minor infractions from possession to vandalizing a parking meter.

It was no wonder she hit it off so well with Angel.

“From what I can tell,” said Lightfoote, “about half the code is just to execute this biological like replication and camouflage system.” She sat next to Poison at the table, Savas and Miller across in a more standard adversarial position. “Another quarter is still just a black box. Finally about another quarter for ending the world as we know it.”

Poison sounded impressed. “How the hell did you get all that? We couldn’t even get near the thing.”

Lightfoote looked at the battered visage of Savas and smiled. “Mr. I-tried-to-shave-during-an-earthquake over there trapped a live worm for me.”

Poison’s eyes grew wide. “How the fuck did he do that? I’m surprised he can log into his own computer.”

“An unusual technique, but it worked. I have an activated worm trapped on a hard drive. The hardest part was dissecting it without it sending everything to hell and back. That’s when I thought, oh,
VMS
.”

“VMS? Like your great-grandfather’s OS?” The hacker looked confused.

“It’s 1970s stuff, for sure, but it kicks serious ass. It’s a hacker’s worst nightmare. Amazon uses it for shipping. Some stock exchanges. Pretty rare and pretty secure.”

“And the worm wasn’t designed to hack those machines?”

“Bingo!” Lightfoote beamed.

The two men stared at each other in confusion.

“I don’t get it,” said Miller.

Poison scowled at him as Lightfoote elaborated. “Fawkes found hacks into a bunch of the world’s computer operating systems: Microsoft, all the flavors of UNIX including Apple. The worm bundles all the tools to hit each of them. But he didn’t waste his time finding security holes in something so rare and hard to hack as VMS.”

Miller shrugged his shoulders. “And?”

“So it’s fucking
immune
, you thug,” spat Poison.

“Wait," said Savas. "So you could use it to look at the worm? The worm can't operate in this VMS machine?”

Lightfoote clapped her hands together. “Correct! But interfacing with the hard drive was a nightmare. We only had a few 1990s era VMS machines left around here. They weren’t designed to handle modern hard drives. I practically had to solder half the spare parts we owned, and cannibalize several perfectly functional computers, to rig something to read the data. Piece by piece. The older machine doesn’t have a lot of memory. But we’re doing it. JP is down there now with some of the rest of the unit. Active worm, but frozen on my lab table!”

“What else have you learned from it?”

Lightfoote’s face fell. “Nothing good. Names. Important names. Politicians. More CEOs. I think they’re targets.”

“Jesus, here we go,” said Miller.

“We need those names now, Angel,” said Savas.

“JP’s getting the list. But just wait. This is only one active worm, and every worm is different, remember? These were the names we were lucky to get. And we don’t have dates or other information. Just names.”

“There could be other targets?” asked Miller.

“Almost certainly. But there’s more. I don’t think the main course has even been served.”

“And that means?” asked Savas.

“That last 25%. The really bad part? It does a lot of things. It infiltrates, copies, and reports out to address that are relays to relays: I can’t track them, but it’s pooling information somewhere, likely ending at his terminal. But the weird part is that this region
always
has empty space. In the code, nonsense. It’s filler. But no way this guy would write junk code. That code is something else. I think it’s a marker for new code. The virus is waiting for new command modules, something that is going to come down the road.”

“Why?” asked Savas. “Why not just hide it all around like the rest of the code?”

Lightfoote shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Poison rested her head on the table and spoke through a mumble. “Fawkes. It’s Fawkes. He’s paranoid. A total douche about it, too. Never get involved with a paranoid. Fucking misery.”

“What do you mean?” Savas asked her.

“It must be the kill shot,” she said, her eyes closed. “He’s too paranoid to ever trust his code. He thinks he can hack anything—that anything can be hacked. So he’s worried he’ll get hacked.”

Miller looked at Lightfoote and chuckled. “He was right.”

Poison’s eyes flashed open. “So, he’s saving the best for last, just in case.”

Lightfoote nodded. “Now I see. The relay system to the worm. He’s going to use it to upload a final code sequence.”

Poison slammed her hand on the table, causing the others to jump. “And then we're fucked. Once he sends that signal, it’s over. You can’t let him send that signal. You’ve got to stop him or the worm will carry out his final instructions.”

“And what might those be?” asked Savas.

“Who the hell knows?” said Poison, her arms out to her sides. “But seriously, Einstein, after all this shit, how do you think his kill shot is going to go down?”

Savas looked toward Lightfoote. “I hope you have some good news about stopping it.”

“Sorry, John—no. That’s a whole other story. But, I’ve sent out my little spies to find out as much as they can.”

“Little spies?” asked Miller.

Lightfoote beamed at Savas. “The virus I used to discover we’d been hacked? Well, I’m a few generations down the road with it and it’s spreading across the net. The worm gave me a few ideas of using NSA backdoors and we’re using them. They’re looking for worm activations and taking what snapshots they can, sending them back to me. Real time. You should come down and see the data. Like some war going on out there.”

Poison stared at her. “Beautiful.”

Miller held his hands up. “You’re infecting computers now? That makes us hackers, too?”

“You’re amateurs compared to the NSA,” said Poison. "As American as apple pie."

“Too true,” said Lightfoote. “But we’re not looking for stealth or long term stability. We’re going in full bore. But don’t worry, Frank. It’s a good virus. A pet virus. It’s on God’s side.” She smiled.

Miller stared incredulously at her. “Jesus. John? What do you say to this?”

Savas appeared not to have heard him. He stared intently at Poison, his eyes focused, seemingly both near and far away.

“John?”

He glanced toward Miller. “Yeah. I’ve green-lighted Angel’s shenanigans. Paying off, I’d say.” Then he turned back to the hacker. “You stopped seeing him?”

Poison frowned. “Fawkes? Yeah. Look, I told you, I don’t know his real identity. He only trusted me with his dick.”

“But you said he pursued you.”

“Jeez, yeah. And you know, when you have the world’s best hacker stalking you online, it’s a fucking nightmare. I spent months shaking him off. I mean, he said it was over, so get the fuck out of my life, right? I think he finally gave up.”

Savas held up a small cylinder. “Are you sure?”

She reached over and grabbed it from his hand. “What’s that?”

“GPS tracking device. An agent pulled it off your car at the warehouse. It’s not in our records. Not a model we use.” Savas stared intently at her. “Anyone else you think might be interested in following your every move?”

“Oh, Christ, that fuck!” She stared furiously at it.

“He likely knows you’re here by now.”

“Yeah, well, so what? He won’t be tracking me anymore.”

“He might try to get you out.”

Poison laughed. “You’re kidding right? Why would he do that?”

Miller leaned forward. “Because he’s obsessed with you. Maybe he thinks it’s love. But it’s obsession for sure.”

Savas nodded. “And that makes me wonder just what we’re going to do with you.”

Poison shook her head. “You really think he’ll come after me?”

Savas smiled for the first time. “I’m counting on it.”

A
deep voice
chanted in the darkness beside the candle flames.

“God of power and mercy, maker and lover of peace, to know you is to live, and to serve you is to reign.”

Houston observed the flickering light from a distance, giving Lopez space as he dressed. Body armor under vestments, belts and holsters for guns, magazines, knives, and grenades. All the while he chanted. She would never understand. He reached out to a God who had rejected him. He sang the song of a priest when the Church had cast him out. It was his way.

“Through the intercession of St. Michael, the archangel, be our protection in battle against all evil.”

Michael
. The older Lopez brother. The man whose death had brought her together with Francisco. The man whose life had upturned theirs and so many others. The man whose actions had created a monster of terrible vengeance that had burned like acid through the Central Intelligence Agency.
The wraith
. A killer whose life ended before the barrel of the man before her.

Michael
. An archangel. Like his brother,
Gabriel
.

“May our cause be just. May we have clear vision. May our courage not falter. May our efforts bring lasting peace. Should we perish in the struggle, may God embrace us and find for us a place in His Kingdom. Amen.”

Crossing himself in front of an icon of St. George slaying the dragon, he blew out the votives and turned toward her, his black cassock a flowing shroud over layers of death. She waited as he approached, a shadow herself in dark camouflage, an energy anticipating the coming violence burning within her.

Lopez spoke softly, staring into her eyes, black to blue. “Everything will depend on removing the sentries on the roof. Those snipers will pick us off if we try to enter. We’ll have to be fast and accurate. The diversion will buy us only moments.”

She smiled beneath the covering of the mask. “Amen.”

Lopez frowned. “Let’s hope our recon remains accurate, that they don’t change anything.”

“Lord hear our prayer.”

He watched her silently for a moment and then pulled down the fabric of the mask covering her mouth. He kissed her, lingering until they pulled away for breath.

“In case it’s the last kiss,” he said. “I want to make it count.”

She reached her hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. “Every mission you do that. And every time I want you to. Because one day, we won’t come back, Francisco.”

He nodded, turning with her toward the door. “But let it not be this night, O Lord.”

T
hey called him simply Alpha
. He was the point man, the de facto leader of this group of men wrapped around and above, guarding the warehouse. The building was a squat little thing, about half a city block. Isolated in the northern New Jersey countryside, it attracted little attention, was not easily accessed, and unregistered in any business directories. It was a ghost.

Like they were. All their real names were scrubbed. They adopted spy thriller handles. Former soldiers and contractors, all of them, hired secretively by a company many in his team began to suspect was involved in some of the attacks occurring around the country. That suspicion led some to leave. But most stayed. The company had done its homework. Like Alpha, most of them would point the gun for whoever paid them the most.

But tensions had escalated dramatically. Five additional guards had been added bringing the total to fifteen. Powers that be were getting rattled about what was inside the metallic walls of the structure. Alpha didn't know what was in there, and he didn't want to know. A few times each month, a small convoy of trucks would show up and pull into what he presumed was an enclosed loading dock, the doors closing and sealing off everything from view. Shortly afterward, the trucks would drive off, whether having unloaded or loaded a mystery that was not part of his job description. A job that paid ridiculous money for guard duty in the states. Iraq had been one thing, but Jersey? Retirement gig.

Until things started blowing up. Until more and more trucks had come. Until more former soldiers had been brought on to fortify a rural building like something in the green zone. Just the presence of that many guns raised the temperature.

"Main gate, clear," came a voice through static on his headset.

"Roger that."

It was Delta. There was only one way by vehicle into the building, through a gate lodged in the electrified fence, then down a broad, truck-friendly road to the loading dock. Three guards patrolled the gate, two at the dock entrance, four moving about the perimeter fence. Six took to the roof, four at the corners and two on the longer sides of the building. Those on the roof were trained snipers. Alpha was one of them, positioned at the front on the right-hand side facing the gate.

"Perimeter report."

Several voices spoke in order of established protocol. The roof snipers followed suit. The space was clear. As it was half an hour ago. As it was at dusk. As it was every night for the last six months that he had worked this job.

That's why when he spotted the headlights at the top of the hill in front of the gate, he didn't quite believe his eyes.

"Delta, check scheduled arrivals."

It looked like a smaller delivery truck, not the massive eighteen wheelers that they tended to get. He zoomed his night-vision goggles. The truck was nondescript, no insignia, the plate damaged and unreadable. The windows seemed opaque or blacked out. Something was wrong.

The vehicle began to accelerate down the hill. Alpha didn't hear the telltale sounds of torque in the engine, the changing pitch as the rpms increased. The steering was odd. His alarm bells were ringing

"Log's empty, Alpha. Nothing due until tomorrow afternoon."

He powered up his scope and set his transmission signal to maximum. "Unidentified vehicle approaching from the road. Treat as hostile. Repeat, treat as hostile!”

Automatic gunfire erupted from the gate. The flashes lit the dark night, strobing the gatehouse, glinting off the chain-links in the fence, reflecting back from the glass in the truck that was now barrelling down the hill. The windshield of the truck exploded, glass spraying inwards, the metal of the hood pocketed with bullet holes. It only accelerated.

"Perimeter guards move forward to engage. Anyone up top with a view, take a shot if you have one. Gamma and Omega, hold the dock!”

The maniacs!
Whatever crazed assault this was, it was only going to end one way, and that was with the occupants filled with holes. A foregone conclusion that didn’t give him any comfort—madmen always maimed and killed. How many men would he lose tonight?

He settled into a crouch on the roof's ledge, stabilizing his rifle, knowing that the snipers around him were doing the same. The night-vision scope zoomed in on the rushing vehicle. Alpha focused on the cabin, determined to take out the driver himself.

The cabin was empty.

Shit!
"Delta, all crews, break off! Repeat, break off!"

But it was too late. His eyes were seared by a bright light and a blast of air that nearly knocked him backward. Stunned, he shielded his eyes as an orange fireball climbed into the sky, quickly darkening in a blanket of smoke and falling embers. The screams hit him now. Just like he remembered. Just like in Mosul when the trucks came and the bombs blew and men and pieces of men lay strewn in the street.

The afterimage of the blast partially blinded him, but he strained to see the gate below. It was gone. The metal ripped and melted like cotton candy, flaming chunks of truck and gatehouse scattered radially around the scene of destruction. Only those bodies that were not close to the explosion were visible, but all of the men he had sent to converge on the intruders were now corpses, or as good as. Three at the gate, four wrecked forms from the perimeter guards. It was a slaughter.

“Roof report.” His voice was strained and husked.

Silence.

He spun around the rooftop, dropping the goggles over his eyes again. Motionless forms were draped in various positions across the asphalt. They were all dead. Sniped themselves while distracted by the commotion and chaos at the gate.

Alpha stood up fully now, heedless of the danger, removing his goggles. It was just a matter of time now. Light flickered from the burning debris behind him. He stared up into the sky, looking for some heavenly object, the moon, even a single star to glimpse before the final darkness came.

But it came without mercy. His head snapped backward, a bullet tearing through the soft flesh of his face, a clean hit to the brain stem that unplugged his basic physiological functions in an instant. For a second, his eyes empty, he stood staring stupidly forward. Then the electrochemical signals ceased completely, and he dropped straight to the rooftop with a thud.

Then, only silence.