Mark of Evil (44 page)

The prime minister stared at the screen of his Allfone, watching the telecast of the long procession of mourners passing by the coffin of Hank Hewbright, whose body was lying in state in the Capitol rotunda. “They finally got to him,” Harrington murmured out loud.

“Hewbright once told me that this would all come to pass,” Harrington added, addressing his chief of staff next to him. “Detailed in the Bible. The prophecy about a union of ten kings from ten kingdoms and how three kings would revolt from the power of a future, global Babylon. And how the Bible says that those three leaders would be struck down.”

“Sir, with all due respect—” his COS began.

But he was cut off by the prime minister, who plowed ahead. “America, England, and Canada. Three nations have now revolted from the Alliance of New Babylon. The president of the United States has been hit.” The military boat took a momentary bump over some choppy waters and it jolted the prime minister, who then added, “One down. Two more to go . . .”

SIXTY

IN THE AIR—DESTINATION BLUFFDALE, UTAH

Chiro had conveyed Ethan’s order to Galligher: they were to immediately transport the C-Note quantum computer from the Yukon to a huge government compound in the desert of Utah. Galligher put in a call to Alvin Leander at the Roundtable in Colorado and lined up transportation, hiring the same private pilot Joshua Jordan had used for his charter flights. Manfred would stay behind to run things back at the computer headquarters in their Yukon Territory hotel in White Horse, with Bobby Robert in charge of security.

Now Galligher leaned back in the cushy seat of the jet with his eyes closed. He listened to the hum of the dual engines as the Citation X jet streaked through the night sky. But his mind clicked, mentally adding up all the things he didn’t know about this mission that was
the brainchild of Ethan March. Like why he was going to Utah. And exactly what he would do when he got to his destination. And why Chiro’s computer was so critical. Which led him back to the issue of leadership.

Ethan March
had
better be right. About all of this.

He told himself he needed to close down his brain and get some sleep. Chiro, in the seat next to him, was already snoring. But a few minutes later Galligher opened his eyes, like he’d been slapped in the face.

This mission is going to be dangerous. Real rock ’em sock ’em. The president has been assassinated. America’s being sucked into the evil empire. And I’m supposed to bring a homemade computer created by my genius buddy Chiro down to a secret government installation, sneak it in, and hope that nobody minds.

It hit him once again that he needed to connect with Helen, his ex-wife, before it was too late. Things had been bad between them for a long time, but he needed to tell her something. Forget the fact that she basically hated him and had told him never to call again. This was too important to let that stop him. Considering what was up ahead, he just hoped he lived long enough to make that call.

He closed his eyes again. Maybe if he was lucky, he could get a three-hour nap.

IN THE SKY OVER UTAH

The sun was just breaking over the horizon. Ethan March had spent the flight praying and trying to figure out the details of his game plan. He figured the CIA transport plane could land him at the military airstrip right next to the National Data Center.

But then the CIA copilot received another classified bulletin
and relayed the bad news. “Ethan, we already knew that our newly installed president has ordered a complete turnover of our National Data Center facility to the Global Alliance. But now he has forbidden any unauthorized personnel to set foot down there. That makes you persona non grata. So, barring new orders, we’ll have to take you directly to Washington. We’re going to turn this bird around and head east. Sorry about that.”

“Negative,” Ethan bulleted back. “I need to be down there on the ground in Utah.”

“We’re stuck with this directive from the White House. The CIA is not a domestic intelligence agency, so we’re already sticking our neck out by even transporting you over U.S. airspace. But now, with this new twist, completing the turnover of the Bluffdale computer headquarters to the Alliance, you’re shafted.”

“Hang on,” Ethan said. Then he hit the speed-dial number for Judge “Fort” Rice at the Roundtable headquarters at Hawk’s Nest, Joshua Jordan’s former Rocky Mountain lodge. A sleepy Rice answered and asked what time it was. “About five in the morning,” Ethan replied. He immediately briefed Rice on the current legal quagmire—that the new president had ordered the U.S. to join the Global Alliance and had turned over America’s computer headquarters to the Alliance, thus preventing any federal agency from interfering with that order.

“Give me a couple minutes to wake up, throw some water on my face, and figure this out,” Rice said. “I’ll call you back in fifteen.”

Ethan talked the agents into circling above Bluffdale while they waited for the return call from Rice. One thing Ethan knew about Rice from what Joshua Jordan had told him: even though the former Idaho Supreme Court justice was slow to make decisions, he was never late. Fourteen minutes later Rice called back. He told Ethan to put him on speaker phone. Now Ethan, the pilot, and the copilot were all listening.

“This is Fortis Rice speaking. Here’s what I’ve turned up. Back
when Barack Obama was president, in his second term he tried to get Congress to give him sweeping powers to control the Internet in the event of a cyber attack. But the folks on Capitol Hill wouldn’t go for it. So politically he was forced to sign a much less drastic executive directive, giving the Department of Defense, rather than him, the power to oversee America’s Internet infrastructure in the event of a perceived cyber attack. To my knowledge, that directive was never rescinded by any of his successors. So that gives the DOD the trump card.”

No one in the airplane spoke for several seconds. Fort Rice asked, “Are you all there, or did we lose the call?”

“No, still here,” Ethan called out. “Thanks a million, Judge Rice.”

After Ethan clicked off his Allfone, he suggested that the two CIA operatives contact the DOD. If the Defense Department thought a cyber attack on America’s Internet infrastructure was imminent—in this case by Alexander Colliquin and the Global Alliance—then wasn’t the Department of Defense, rather than the president, authorized to thwart it by any means necessary, including using Ethan March and his compatriots?

The pilot and copilot conferred together. Then the copilot sent a rapid-fire series of text memos. As the plane continued to circle above Bluffdale, the copilot asked Ethan only one question: “Are you willing to swear that an attack on America’s Internet capabilities will be imminent unless you are allowed to intervene?”

“Absolutely,” Ethan said. “Without hesitation.”

A few minutes later the pilot spoke up. “Ethan, I’m afraid if we don’t get the okay from DOD to land you at Bluffdale in the next fifteen or so, we’re going to have to start heading east, and stat. Otherwise we may not have enough fuel to make the trip to Washington. And our agency has ordered us not to stop for refueling at any commercial airports along the way. Too many questions.”

MASTER CONTROL STUDIO—ALLIANCE COMMUNICATIONS CENTER

New Babylon, Iraq

Alexander Colliquin was holding his final meeting with his digital communications staff. The newly appointed chief of digital imagery gave the briefing. “Mr. Chancellor, we will be ready to go live in the next two hours. I can assure you that no failures will occur, like that embarrassing incident with Ethan March in lab number six.”

“Which is why you are now in charge,” Colliquin replied. “Continue.”

As the new lab chief launched into his explanation, his voice bordered on the ecstatic. “In the next two hours we will simultaneously override all of the major root server addresses for the Internet around the world. A few in South America, Australia, and Africa, a number in the United States, and the remaining ones in Europe and Asia. That will effectively shut down the Internet and the World Wide Web across the globe. The shutdown will last approximately forty minutes. During that time we will program all of those servers to allow overrides from this office in New Babylon and to receive the reprogramming of the BIDTag grid so everyone with a laser imprint will be subject to your holographic 3-D image messages. The digital hub for this is, of course, the National Data Center in Utah. We have all seven of the ICANN Internet start-up codes, and we will use them to restart the Internet. Then you will commence your first global transmission. Your holographic image will appear to every person on the planet, wherever they happen to be situated—in deserts, cities, jungles, or on a mountain top. Our global GPS locator will target each of them via their BIDTag laser implants.”

“And those without the laser tag?”

“Well, those without—like the many Jesus Remnant rebels—will be located by blanket thermal imaging, which of course will immediately determine that they lack the necessary QR code data that is part of the BIDTag. Once identified, our computers will classify them as
subversive nontaggers and present them with your holographic 3-D image, and then proceed to use the laser impulse from your image to directly control the neuromuscular response center of the brain. I am happy to announce that after the Ethan March debacle, I used this technique successfully on three human nontagger subjects.”

“Jesus nontaggers?” Colliquin asked hopefully.

“I’m afraid not, Your Excellency. Merely political dissidents.”

Colliquin sighed. “Let’s proceed as quickly as possible. Tell me when I can come into the holographic studio to deliver my first message. I don’t want to be late.”

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

In their little efficiency apartment off the Sunset Strip, Dillon Ritzian’s girlfriend, Darlene, was throwing everything at him she could lay her hands on—lamps, dishes, books.

“And to think I was planning on marrying you, you sick, pathetic scum of the earth!” she shouted as she tossed Dillon’s empty bowling bag at him.

“Come on, Darlene, give me a chance to explain,” he pleaded.

“Explain what?” she screamed. “That you sold out the United States of America for twenty thousand bucks?”

“Well, I was supposed to get another eighty grand if these guys ended up using my schematics to hack their way into the computer system, but with the new president bringing us into the Global Alliance, this mob enforcer guy, Henry Bender, said his people didn’t really need my information after all.”

“You’re not getting it!” Darlene shouted as she shoved him back with both hands. “My dad died a Marine, a hero for this country serving in Iraq when an IED exploded under his truck. I was just a kid
when it happened, Dillon. And now I find out that my boyfriend’s a traitor to his country.”

“I needed the money for some gambling debts—”

“I don’t care if you needed it for a heart transplant! What kind of person are you? I’m seriously thinking about moving out. Going back to work at the nail salon.”