Freedom (19 page)

Ross nodded. “But that’s the deal they offer, isn’t it? They’ll bring economic development in exchange for you not participating in politics—but that economic development is hollow and has no longevity. Have you seen the markets? It’s already fraying at the edges. Believe me, by the time it ends, you’ll realize they have all the power and you don’t matter. Prosperity is not prosperity if they can just take it from you.”

“So you prefer America then? Like they’re prosperous? They owe us more money than there is on the planet. America is finished. Why are you helping them?”

Ross frowned. He took a moment to digest the question, taking a sip of his drink first. “Helping them? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t even start with me. You know exactly what I mean.”

Ross nodded. “So, you brought me here because you’ve got a problem. A problem you think the Americans are behind.”

Shen just studied him for several moments. “You haven’t asked how I found you.”

“I don’t have to ask. I already know how you found me.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because I’m the one who told you I was in China.”

Shen paused, looking darkly at Ross. “You’re fucking with me now. That’s why I hated playing poker with you.”

“I’m not bluffing, Liang.”

“Yeah, where did I get the information then?”

“That e-mail you received from Jun Shan. That was me.”

Shen almost bit his cigarillo in half. He glanced around the restaurant again and just shook his head. “Jon, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“The PLA reactivated you to find out why the back doors in router chipsets are beginning to fail in North America and Europe. They’re in a panic, aren’t they?”

Shen ground out his cigarette and pushed the ashtray away.

“What the fuck is going on? Who are you working for? The Americans?”

“It isn’t what you think, Liang.”

“Why does a Russian want to help Americans? They’ve been shitting on Russia for decades. They’re imperialist scum.”

“So you want to recruit me, comrade? Is that it?”

“Communism. Capitalism. Who gives a shit? Look, Western imperialism has undermined China since the British started dumping opium here to pry open the tea market. Now that China is taking her rightful place in the world again, the U.S. and Britain are doing everything they can to keep us down. Join us, Jon. I can open a lot of doors for you—especially for a man with your talents. There is virtually unlimited money to be made.”

Ross sipped his vodka. “That’s a great offer, Liang. And I do appreciate it, but I’m going to tell you what’s really going on here. And you’re not going to like it.”

Shen pushed his drink away. “Damnit.”

“You remember why Interpol is looking for me—why I’m wanted by the FBI?”

“Yeah, because you masterminded the Daemon hoax.”

“It’s not a hoax, Liang, and I didn’t mastermind it. There is an open-source cybernetic organism called the Daemon that is spreading across the globe. It’s created an encrypted social network called the darknet, based on an online video game. Millions of people are joining that network and using it to reinvent human society.”

Shen sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Jon, goddamnit! I’m trying to help you.”

“I’m not kidding, Liang. I’m a seventh-level Rogue in the network, and I have powers and abilities that allow me to—”

“You’ve really lost your fucking mind. I can’t believe it. It’s like you don’t even care.” He pointed out the windows. “I told them I would handle this. I told them to back off. That I could
turn
you, but after you leave here, Jon, they are going to take you away, and put you in a place so dark you won’t ever be seen again. And I won’t be able to help you anymore. Do you understand what I’m telling you? They’re going to
disappear
you, Jon.”

“I understand. It’s okay.”

“How can it be okay? You’ve got to tell me what’s really going on, Jon, or they’re going to beat it out of you.”

“It’s okay because I had to come to China. I couldn’t learn what I needed anywhere
but
China. Because what happens here, Liang, affects the entire world. And what your people did was defeat a system that might have been used to oppress billions. I needed you to know that. The Chinese people want to be free, Liang. Just like all people. I’ve seen it. Just like you’ll see it.”

“Jon, they won’t let you leave here.”

“It’s okay. I have this.” Ross held up a single titanium ring with a crystal embedded in the surface. “It’s a magic ring, Liang. Very powerful.”

Shen stared at him, speechless, for several moments. “Oh my god. You really have gone insane.”

Ross slipped the ring on his finger. “I have to go now. But just remember, I came to see you because I wanted to tell you in person. The Daemon is real, and it’s bigger than all of us—because it
is
all of us. So maybe technology can change the world, after all. Take care, my friend.”

With that, Ross got up and walked away from the table, seeing Shen’s stunned face reflected in a nearby mirror as he left.

“
D
r. Philips, you’ve seen the news. The economy is in shambles. Getting a five-year guaranteed contract with built-in cost-of-living adjustments would secure your future. And you could still work within the national intelligence apparatus. A lot of your colleagues have already made the jump.”

Natalie Philips looked across the table at two sharply attired recruiters from Weyburn Labs. They were sitting in the agency cafeteria. It had been months since the incident at Merritt’s funeral, and she had already been folded back into the NSA’s Crypto division—albeit stripped of decision-making authority.

“You’re wasting your time, gentlemen. And I don’t appreciate being ambushed like this. ”

“Look, the public sector is a great place for backbenchers, but someone of your prodigious intellect could have a bright future.” He leaned forward. “You could still finish your current project—”

The second executive finished for him. “But at a substantially higher salary.”

“And performance bonuses.”

Philips betrayed no emotion. “But I’d be working for Weyburn Labs. There are potential conflict-of-interest issues that I don’t think help the mission.”

“National security is everyone’s goal, Doctor.”

“There was a time when I believed that.”

They looked at each other, affecting hurt feelings.

“Weyburn Labs has a long and fruitful partnership with the U.S. government. Our current CEO was a four-star general.”

She nodded as she poked at her salad. “That may be, but I’m not leaving the NSA.”

“And you really think your career here can advance after that fiasco with the Daemon Task Force?”

She glared at him.

Apparently sensing that things were going downhill, the other recruiter leaned in again and spoke softy. “You’re not the only bright person working on the Daemon. Big things are afoot, Doctor. Things not even you know about.”

“We shouldn’t be discussing this here.”

He edged even closer. “Building from your work, we’ve started to gain access to the darknet.”

She stopped eating.

“This is top secret information, of course.”

Philips eyed them both closely. “Who is doing this?”

“Come join the Weyburn Labs team and find out. . . .”

Just then a uniformed Central security officer walked up to the table. “Dr. Philips?”

“Yes?”

“You need to come with me, ma’am. Deputy Director Fulbright needs you in the Ops Center, ASAP.”

Philips shot one last look at the recruiters, then stood with her tray.

The security officer grabbed it from her. “I’ll get that, ma’am. Please just proceed to the CSS vehicle waiting curbside.”

“Gentlemen. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Think about what we said, Doctor.”

Ops Center 1 was a dimly lit digital front line of uniformed military personnel manning rows of computer monitors. They were there to categorize and prioritize America’s various raw intelligence feeds, but today Ops Center 1 was also thick with Department of Defense brass and men in nicely tailored suits. They stared at Philips and whispered among themselves as she was ushered by two air force officers into a nearby conference room where the door was immediately closed behind her.

Inside the darkened conference room, more military officers and suited executives stared up at a large video screen, which displayed what looked to be live footage of a foreign city—somewhere in China, judging by the street signage.

The moment Philips walked in, Deputy Director Chris Fulbright grabbed her by the elbow and escorted her toward the center of the room. Normally soft-spoken and reserved, Fulbright was keyed up and edgy. Something serious was going on. And if they called her in, then that could only mean it involved the Daemon.

“It looks like Jon Ross has surfaced again.”

A wave of surprise hit her—and then worry. “Where?”

“Shenzhen, China.”

“China?”
She was about to ask how he’d managed to get there, but that was, of course, a ridiculous question. Jon Ross was an identity thief and hacker—he could be anyone he wanted to be. And if Loki was to be believed, Ross was now a Daemon operative to boot. She just nodded. “A world-class manufacturing hub. High-end electronics.”

“That makes sense then. Our intelligence shows the Daemon has become increasingly embedded in the high-tech manufacturing supply chain of Asia—and that the Chinese know there’s some new force exerting influence domestically. They still don’t seem to know what it is. They think it has something to do with the Falun Gong—or other political opposition groups.”

“Who found Jon?” She braced herself for the answer.

“PLA Cyber warfare unit. Someone connected with General Zhang Zi Min—head of the MSS. They’re carrying out an op to grab Ross right now. . . .” Fulbright gestured to the central screen, which even as he spoke showed shaky video of heavily armed SWAT teams lying in wait around building corners. There were scores of them. A low-flying chopper passed momentarily in front of the frame, occluding the view. “We got word of it in unencrypted intercepts. I don’t need to remind you that—aside from
you
—no one knows more about the Daemon’s architecture than Jon Ross. If the Chinese grab him—”

“The
Ragnorok
module. They’d be able to use the Daemon against us.”

Fulbright nodded. “We don’t think the Chinese have even detected—much less decrypted—the IP beacon the Daemon is broadcasting. At least not yet. But capturing Ross might give them access to both. In particular, the Destroy function. That would give the Chinese the ability to destroy individual corporate data on demand—and from there who knows where that knowledge goes. If word got out, it could cause a global stock market panic.”

“But the Chinese are co-invested with America, they wouldn’t—”

“General Zhang is the wild card here. We think his people were responsible for the illicit back doors in corporate routers. It appears the Daemon is closing them, and it’s made Zhang increasingly desperate for something to justify his existence.”

“What do you need me to do?”

Fulbright gestured to several men in suits who were already eyeing her from their place among the generals. “These men want you to identify Ross in that crowd. Before the Chinese get to him.”

Philips looked around the room, suddenly noticing just how many people here were wearing visitor badges.

“Natalie, please . . .” He nodded toward the screen.

She looked up at the video image, now zooming in to scan the patrons of a martini bar. It looked like a sniper’s perspective from a distant rooftop. “They’re going to kill him.”

Fulbright gripped her shoulder. “You don’t know that. We simply need to identify him in that crowd, Doctor.”

“Who are all these men?” She was eyeing the contractors who were even now staring back at her.

“Doctor, we’ve been given a simple directive. We need to provide information.”

“To whom?”

“Natalie, Jon Ross escaped our custody and fled to a foreign power. He’s a serious danger to national security.”

“But—”

“This isn’t a debate. You worked alongside him for months. He may have changed his appearance since then, but you have an eye for detail. Help us identify him in that crowd.”

Philips felt her pulse quickening as she looked up at the screen. There was no way she could do this. And yet, what Director Fulbright said was true. Ross did possess information that the Chinese would be desperate to have—information that they were likely to torture him to get. They might kill him in the process. But if she pointed him out to these men—what then? She tried to remain poker-faced as her mind kept rejecting the cold facts.

The screen panned across Asian and Western faces laughing in the martini bar.

“Doctor, do you see him?”

She couldn’t do it. “I . . .”

A board operator suddenly called out. “The Chinese are making their move, sir.”

“We’re too late.”

Dozens of plainclothesmen brandishing weapons poured through the front door of the high-end bar, creating chaos inside. The camera jerked, then zoomed out a little.

“Yeah, they’ve gone in.”

One of the suits near the wall spoke loudly. “We might still get a shot when they bring him out.”

Fulbright cast a glance to Philips. She was watching the screen. Numb.

“If we miss him, let’s see if we can track what prison they take him to.”

Philips was familiar with this math—“cruel calculus” is what Fulbright had called it. For the first time in her life, she was getting sick of math.

“We’ll use a private asset to take care of it.”

“We need to make sure we don’t lose track of him in the transfer—”