Wired (25 page)

42

Kira
Miller retreated to her bedroom at the back of the RV. She turned to Desh
before she entered and said, “The gellcaps are in a secure spot. I’ll need
about five minutes with a screwdriver to get at them.”

Desh
nodded as she disappeared behind the curtain that separated the bedroom from
the rest of the vehicle. “Let’s get you ready, Matt,” he said. He gestured for
the hacker to take a seat at the kitchen table in front of Kira’s keyboard and
monitors.

Once
he was seated, Desh and Metzger wasted no time roping him securely to the
chair. They bound his ankles with both metal and plastic handcuffs and taped
his calves to the chair’s two front legs with a stronger version of duct tape.

They
had just finished when Kira emerged with a small stainless steel canister and
handed it to Desh. He removed a single pill and gave it to Griffin while Kira
took a small glass from a cabinet and filled it with tap water. Griffin took
the water from Kira and downed the pill without ceremony.

“When
will this take effect?” he asked.

“In
about five minutes,” replied Kira.

Desh
pulled an MP-5 from the canvas bag and handed it to Metzger. “Take a position
in Kira’s bedroom as far from Matt as you can get,” he said, “and cover him.”

Metzger
did as instructed, opening the curtain to have a clear view of the entire
vehicle, while Desh stacked both canvas bags on the floor in front of the
passenger seat and pulled an MP-5 for himself. “Colonel, you’re with me.”

Desh
turned the passenger seat around so it faced the road again and knelt on it,
extending his head above the high seatback with the machine pistol protruding
over it. He insisted that Connelly sit normally in the comfortable driver’s
seat, unarmed. The colonel argued that he could carry his own weight and help
cover Griffin, but Desh wouldn’t hear of it, reminding him that a rifle shot
had recently torn a hole through his shoulder, mere inches away from his heart.
“Save your strength, Colonel,” Desh told him. “I have a feeling you’re going to
need it.”

Reluctantly,
Connelly took the seat as requested.

“Kira,
I want you in the bedroom, safely behind the major,” said Desh.

Kira
opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. She had been in charge, and
alone, for far too long. The reason she had wanted to team up with Desh in the
first place was to get help. With a slight smile she realized she should let
herself enjoy not making all the decisions for a change. She walked to the back
of the RV and for once played the role of the damsel, taking a position behind
and to the left of the war-hardened major.

“Major,”
Desh called out.

Metzger
caught his eye from thirty feet away.

“If
he shows any suspicious behavior whatsoever, shoot him in the leg immediately. No
hesitation. Don’t forget that he’ll be much faster than we are, mentally and
physically.”

Metzger
nodded.

The
group took consolation from the fact that in addition to being bound, Griffin
was slow and untrained, so that even if the transformation tripled his speed
they should be able to handle him. Should be. No one was in a hurry to test
this theory.

Griffin
began navigating the web so he would be poised at the entrance to the NSA’s
system when the mental transformation took effect. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Holy crap!” he yelled the instant it did. He continued speaking after this but
at a rate too fast for the rest of the group to decipher.

Griffin
turned back to the keyboard and his fingers flew over it like those of a
possessed concert pianist, filling all three monitors with an ever-changing
parade of menus, data, and web pages. He had worked too fast for most people to
have any hope of following before he was enhanced, but now his speed was off
the charts. He continued working at a dizzying pace for twenty minutes while
Desh and Metzger kept their weapons carefully trained on him.

“Matt,
how is it looking?” said Desh finally. “Can you do it?”

Griffin
snapped an unintelligible response.

“We
can’t understand you,” said Desh.

“Can’t-operate-at-your-pathetic-speed-so-leave-me-the-hell-alone,”
blurted out Griffin harshly, having slowed just enough that Desh could separate
the words.

“Divert
a portion of your mind to act as a slow version of yourself,” instructed Desh. “Less
frustrating speaking with normals that way.”

“Done,”
said Griffin.

“How
are you feeling?” asked Desh cautiously.

“Idiot
question!” snapped Griffin immediately. “What you’re really asking is: have I
turned into the devil? If not, I would tell you no. If so, I would lie and
still
tell you no. Moron!” he finished disdainfully.

It
may have been a stupid question, Kira thought, but Griffin’s response had been
illuminating nonetheless. “You realize—”

“That
I was as pathetic and slow as you are a few minutes ago. Yes, I know.” The
blistering pace of Griffin’s keyboard and mouse manipulations didn’t slow as he
spoke nor did conversation seem to affect his ability to digest entire screens
of information at a glance.

Desh
caught Kira’s eye worriedly, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. Griffin
was also handling the transformation less well than had Kira. Less well,
perhaps, even than Desh. So perhaps it
was
a testosterone effect after
all.

The
group let Griffin continue working in silence for the next fifteen minutes, not
wanting to provoke the demon within. Kira finally decided it was time for a
status report. “How is it coming, Matt?” she called from the other end of the
vehicle.

Griffin’s
hands hadn’t once stopped moving over the keyboard since he had begun. “Child’s
play,” he said smugly. “I’ll be in NSA’s personnel database in about ten
minutes.” He paused. “Meanwhile,” he announced with a superior air, “I’ve
broken into the Federal Reserve and diverted five hundred million dollars into
your numbered Swiss bank account.”

Kira
drew back, stunned.

“Relax,”
snapped Griffin, correctly having predicted her reaction despite her being well
out of his sight. “It’s a victimless crime. Just numbers in a computer. I
didn’t steal anyone’s money, just created five hundred million more. And yes,
even though it’s a numbered and oh-so-secret Swiss account, I’m sure I put the
funds in the correct one.”

“Why,
Matt?” said Kira, concerned. “What prompted you to do that?”

“Sadly,
I’m forced to live most of my life as a moron,” Griffin shot back. “I’ll soon
return to my pathetic former self who will be joining this sanctimonious team
of yours. The better capitalized we are, especially in the beginning before
invention money pours in, the faster we can achieve our ultimate goals.”

The
four other members of the group exchanged meaningful glances and raised
eyebrows. Griffin had become ultra-arrogant, certainly, but in his own way he
knew that the future of his lesser self was tied to the team, which was at
least somewhat comforting.

“You
have to reverse this transaction, Matt,” said Kira softly. “It’s not right.”

“Don’t
preach to me!” barked Griffin. “Spare me your brainless and misguided
moralizing. A sum this great will help our cause, and you know it.”

“But—”

“This
discussion is over!” thundered Griffin.

Kira
sighed deeply and decided not to push it further. The truth was that he was
right. It was a victimless crime and would help them accomplish a greater good.
She was certainly no stranger to these hard choices. She had broken the law to
develop her treatment. She had killed Lusetti and she had injured several
others to avoid capture. That night alone she had been involved in the theft of
two cars and a misappropriation of a military helicopter.

But
this was while she was her normal self. Those experiencing the mind altering
effects of her treatment wielded too much power, and had too little conscience,
to be allowed even the smallest step onto this slippery slope. The team would
need to make sure that in the future those they enhanced had no ability to
directly affect the outside world while still in the thrall of the
transformation.

“I’m
in,” announced Griffin. “Quickly, describe Sam.”

“Well,”
began Desh, “His height is about—”

“Too
slow,” barked Griffin. “I’ll find him without you.” There was the briefest of
pauses and then, “This is him, correct?”

A
headshot security photo of a man filled an entire screen. For the first time
since Griffin had become transformed he left something on a monitor for more
than a few seconds.

Desh’s
eyes widened. “But—”

“How?”
Griffin interrupted, anticipating Desh’s question once again. “Without hearing
your description?” As he spoke, his fingers once again sped over the keyboard
and Sam’s picture disappeared to be replaced by a screen of what looked like
computer code. Once Griffin had learned from Desh’s reaction he had found the
right person he continued to pursue other projects he had been working on in
parallel. “I can access the log-in patterns of any employee. I know Sam’s
locations over the past few days and the timing of some of his activities. From
your story I know his approximate age and I can guess the precise level and
position in the organization that would allow him to achieve all that he has. I
narrowed it to five men. His name is S. Frank Putnam. The S stands for Samuel. He’s
among the top twenty people in the NSA.”

Kira
was speechless.
He had done it
. At
long last, she knew the identity of the man who had killed her brother and
turned her life into a nightmare. “Do you have—”

“Yes,
of course,” snapped Griffin. “His address and more.”

“What
are you doing now?” asked Desh, his weapon still trained on the hacker. Finally,
Griffin’s slower-witted avatar had allowed someone to get out an entire
question without being interrupted.

“Clearing
Kira’s and the colonel’s good names,” he replied.

Given
that Griffin appeared to have almost free rein of the cyber domain, Kira was
encouraged that he continued to work toward helping the team. “But won’t—”

“That
be a tip-off to S. Frank Putnam,” finished Griffin. “No. The records will
remain as they are for twenty-four hours. Kira and Connelly will continue to be
wanted fugitives.”

“And
in twenty-four hours?” called out Kira from her post in the bedroom with
extreme interest.

“The
record will show that the accusations and evidence against Kira Miller were
false, but that she was shot and killed before this was discovered. You’ll be
off the grid for good, Kira. I’ll set up a new identity for you later. When I’m
finished, you’ll be able to ride naked on a horse through Fort Bragg without
attracting military attention.”

“I’d
take money on that bet,” mused Desh, who then quickly winced as if he couldn’t
believe he had said this out loud.

A
smile came to Kira’s face, knowing this was meant as a compliment, but she
didn’t respond. “And the colonel?” she asked Griffin.

“New
evidence will emerge that he is completely innocent, with prior information to
the contrary an attempt by an unnamed NSA employee with a personal vendetta to
frame him.”

“And
what will—”

“Enough!”
thundered Griffin. “I’ve been more than patient.”

He
continued his work with the computer unabated; as if unaware he had just made
an outburst. Eight minutes later he gasped and looked as if his best friend had
just died.

Desh
caught Kira’s eye and nodded knowingly. “Welcome back, Matt,” he said.

“This
well and truly sucks
,”
complained the giant.

“Give
yourself a few minutes,” said Desh. “It won’t annoy you so much.”

“Do
you think you could untie me?” asked Griffin.

Desh
shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Not for ten minutes. I need to be sure this
isn’t a ruse.”

Griffin
didn’t look happy about this but didn’t argue. Having been transformed, he now was
one of the few people who would know firsthand why Desh had been so cautious.

“Do
you remember what happened?” asked Connelly.

“Good
question,” said Griffin, tilting his head for several long seconds. “I remember
what I accomplished,” he said finally. “I only have the vaguest idea how.” He held
out his hands in wonder. “I was like a hotrodding God,” he said in awe. “What I
was able to do in an hour, I couldn’t do normally if I was given a thousand
years.”

Griffin
continued to take inventory of the past hour and a guilty expression came over
his face. “I was a bit of an asshole, wasn’t I?”

“I
wouldn’t say that at all,” said Desh. “You were a
total
asshole.” He
grinned. “But don’t worry about it. Your work was phenomenal.”

Griffin
turned to Kira and shook his head in wonder. “That’s quite a treatment you’ve
got there,” he said admiringly. Still facing her, he let out a heavy sigh and
the smile retreated from his face. “Got anything to eat?” he asked eagerly.

43

Matt
Griffin quickly proceeded to devour four bagels and then started in on a large
bag of corn chips Kira had given him. Desh released the giant from his bonds while
crumbs rained onto his head at a steady pace.

Once
Griffin had been restored to full freedom, the entire group gathered around him
as best they could in the tight space. “My superhuman alter ego may not win any
Miss Congeniality awards,” he said, “but he sure was a God of the cyber domain.
Allow me to demonstrate.” Griffin hit a few keys and a satellite photo came up
on one of the monitors. It showed a central residence and two small, red barns,
contained within the expansive grounds. The house was nestled among several
mature trees. About thirty yards from the house a number of tiny horses could
be identified milling about inside a fenced-in area about the size of a
football field.

“This
is the Sam Putnam residence,” explained Griffin.

“He
lives on a farm?” said Kira in surprise.

“A
small one,” said Griffin. “And he doesn’t actually farm anything. But he does
have eight horses and two barns.”

“A
perfect layout for him,” noted Desh. “It lets him be isolated from near
neighbors without seeming to be a recluse. He’s just a rugged outdoorsman. And
while the farm must have been expensive, it isn’t showy enough to make anyone
wonder how he could afford it.”

“And
the isolation leaves open numerous options for security,” added Metzger.

“Where
is it?” asked Kira.

Griffin
worked the mouse and zoomed out, showing the scene from a far higher altitude. Putnam’s
farm disappeared. As if by magic, a map with borders and place names was
overlaid onto the satellite image. Griffin pointed at the center of the screen.
“Putnam lives here,” he said. “In Severn Maryland.”

The
town was directly between Washington to the southwest and Baltimore to the
northeast. It was at most fifteen minutes away from NSA headquarters at Fort
Meade.

While
the group studied the map, Griffin pulled up a page of information about the
town and left it on the adjacent monitor. Severn had been a small rural town
for most of its existence, but in the past several decades it had seen
explosive growth given its proximity to D.C. and Baltimore and the growth of
the government, including the NSA. While much of the town was originally zoned
as rural farmland, the vast majority of land had now be rezoned for residential
purposes. Putnam owned one of the few remaining properties that could be
designated as a farm.

Griffin
changed the view of Putnam’s property, zooming in to give the view from about a
hundred feet overhead. “He has enough video cameras blanketing the property
that there are virtually no blind spots. They all feed into two separate banks
of monitors, one bank inside his bedroom and the other,” he said, pointing to
the barn that was the farthest from the residence, “inside here.”

 
Griffin moved the view a few hundred yards
from the residence and zoomed in until a relatively unassuming fence came into
view. “This is a chain-link fence, ten feet high, completely encircling the
periphery of the property,” he announced. “It looks innocent enough—almost
inviting. No razor wire, no electricity. But don’t be fooled. It has vibration
sensors. Try to climb over it or cut through it and your exact location is
revealed.”

Griffin
showed a closer view of the main dwelling. “There’s a microwave perimeter
exactly twenty feet out from the house. Break the beam and once again Putnam
will know about it.” He raised his eyebrows. “Presupposing you could get over
the first fence without any alarms going off, and he didn’t see you on the
monitors.”

“How
do you know all this?” asked Metzger.

“He
has a very advanced system,” explained Griffin. “He has a computer devoted just
to home security, and this is tied into the Internet. That way, anyone with the
proper codes can check all of the video feeds and security monitors from any
computer.”

“And
you hacked into this computer?” said Kira.

“Yes.
And reprogrammed it while I was inside,” said Griffin proudly. “For the next
twenty-four hours the system will ignore certain inputs. Cut through the fence
and break the microwave barrier and the system won’t notice. The video monitors
are set to show the same benign view of the estate on a continual basis.”

Desh
scratched his head. “It doesn’t make sense to have a security system online
that’s vulnerable to what you just did,” he said.

“I
agree,” said Griffin. “But it
isn’t
vulnerable. A top-drawer hacker
could hack into the system and identify what security safeguards are in place. But
anyone skilled at storming this kind of heavily protected castle could do that
in other ways. But reprogramming it the way I did simply isn’t possible with
normal human faculties. Trust me on this one.”

“Did
you get anything useful from his personal computer?” asked Kira eagerly. “Anything
that might give us a lead to the sterilization plot?”

Griffin
frowned. “No. He didn’t have any computers online during the time I was
altered. I suspect he only allows an online connection to be active when he’s
using it, and then physically disrupts the connection when he isn’t.”

This
was a bad break, thought Desh. But all things considered, Griffin had accomplished
more than Desh could ever have hoped for.

“Let’s
get back to Putnam’s security,” said Desh. “Are you telling us that we can just
waltz in there undetected for the next twenty-four hours?”

“Almost,”
said Griffin. He worked the mouse and different views of Putnam’s property came
into view, one of which showed a tiny human figure. He zoomed in closer and a
man came into focus wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a cowboy hat. He was putting
out hay for the horses. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, which meant the footage
Griffin had tapped into was probably several months out of date.

“Security
information from the monitors and alarms is fed to two men,” said Griffin as he
zoomed in tight on the man’s waist, revealing an automatic weapon and
walkie-talkie. “He’s one of them.”

“Interesting,”
said Metzger. “This guy’s cowboyed up so most people will take him as a
farmhand.”

“He
doubles as a farmhand from the look of it,” commented Connelly.

“You
said two men,” said Desh. “Where is the other one?”

“The
security computer logs indicate that one of the men is almost always in the
barn, manning the monitors.”

“Won’t
the guard in the barn realize something is wrong when his colleague fails to
show up on the monitors?” asked Desh.

Griffin
grinned broadly. “When Kira makes you smart, she makes you
prodigiously
smart,” he said happily. “I took this into account. I only altered the outer
cameras, focusing on the chain-link fence and the grounds beyond the outer
barn. He’ll be able to see his friend, all right,” he said happily. “But not
anyone sneaking up on him from the outer perimeter.”

Desh
nodded approvingly. “Anything else we should know?” he asked.

Griffin
considered. “I don’t think so,” he replied. “An alarm would normally go off if
the house was breached in any way, but my modifications won’t allow this to
happen.” He eyed Desh. “Unfortunately, I can’t program these two guys to ignore
you,” he said.

Desh
didn’t appear concerned about this in the least. “You’ve done great, Matt,” he
said warmly. “With no alarms or video of our approach, they shouldn’t be much
trouble.”

“So
what’s the plan?” asked the major.

All
eyes turned to Desh. Even though he was no longer in the military—and even if
he was, both Connelly and Metzger would have outranked him—everyone knew this
was his show.

“I
don’t think confronting Putnam right now buys us much,” began Desh. “Capture,
followed by torture, might be an option at some point, but I wouldn’t suggest
it as a first move.” He paused. “Comments? Disagreements?”

There
was silence for several long moments, but no one objected.

“When
do you think capturing Putnam
would
be the right move?” asked Connelly.

“When
we’ve tried all other avenues,” said Desh. “As a last resort. And just after
he’s reset Kira’s implant.” He paused. “Putnam’s probably been conditioned to
withstand truth drugs. But given twelve hours we might be able to persuade him,
in ways he wouldn’t find pleasant, to stop his viral attack and give us the code
to disarm the device in Kira’s head.”

“But
then again, we might not,” noted Metzger.

“Right,”
said Desh. “That’s why we should try other approaches first.”

“I
assume we start with his house,” said Metzger.

Desh
nodded. “It’d be a shame not to after super-Matt here went to all the trouble
to make it easy for us. I propose we wait for Putnam to leave for work and then
break in. That will probably give us a good eight hours to search his house,
and for Matt to have quality time with his computer. The goals will be twofold:
one, learn anything we can about Putnam’s connection to terrorists and how to
stop his plan from succeeding. Two, try to find out anything we can about the
device in Kira’s skull and how to disarm it.”

Desh
surveyed the group, looking each member of the team firmly in the eye. Each
nodded in turn.

“Sounds
like a plan,” said Kira supportively.

Desh
looked at his watch. He was exhausted, as they all were, but they wouldn’t have
the luxury of rest for a long time yet. A stanza from a favorite Robert Frost
poem drifted across his consciousness:

The
woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But
I have promises to keep,

And
miles to go before I sleep,

And
miles to go before I sleep.

 
Desh sighed and turned toward Griffin. Time to
figure out just how many additional miles were in
their
immediate
futures. “Matt, can you pull up directions to Severn and get a distance.”

Griffin’s
fingers flew over the keyboard and fifteen seconds later a map was on the
monitor with the driving path outlined by a bold line. “Seventy-five miles,” he
announced.

Desh
locked his eyes onto Kira. “Kira, we need to get moving. Can you disconnect us
from the trailer park cable and gas lines, and do whatever else needs to be
done for us to hit the road.”

Kira
nodded. “We’ll be ready to roll in five minutes,” she said.