Deceived (31 page)

Viruses?
Nick
fought to make the connection.

 "We have
'stealth' strains now," Carolyn went on. "Viruses which employ
cloaking systems to mask their identity. They're aided by encryption systems,
and polymorphic encryption systems which shift form after each infection. Camouflaged,
some are invisible to even the most advanced anti-virus programs."

"What do
viruses have to do with any of this?"

Carolyn took a
moment to collect her thoughts. "In today's world, if you have important
data on your computer, the best thing you can do is keep it quarantined
—
no
contact, no infection. The virus designers knows this, and entice users to
break quarantine. They offer a Pandora's box; they use Trojan horses. You
download one, open it up, and 'boom.' You blow up. It's a lesson the government
took to heart."

"Mr.
Ford"
—
Whitford hunched forward, his two hands resting on the tip of
his cane
—
"we've offered China a Trojan horse."

"I don't
understand," Nick said.
"A fact from the Gulf war
—
you can look it up in the papers; it
leaked before we could classify it. Several weeks before Desert Storm, U.S.
intelligence officers learned of a plan to smuggle a computer printer from
Amman, Jordan to a Baghdad military instillation. The Iraqis intended to tie
the printer into the computer network which coordinated its air-defense
batteries. The U.S. intelligence officers got access to the printer, replaced
one of its microchips with a specially altered replica
—
a computer virus
embedded in its electronic circuits."

Whitford sat
back and grinned. "The printer infected the computer; the computer
infected Iraq's entire air-defense system.
Boom!
" Whitford's threw
his hands apart. "The virus wreaked havoc. Every time an Iraqi technician
opened a file on his computer, the screen went blank. It didn't win the war for
us, but it damn well helped, and it opened up the government's eyes to the
possibilities."

Nick's eyes
opened as well. Incredible. He let the gun sink. "The software, the chips,
the weapon components Frasier made available to Li
…
?"

Whitford now
literally beamed. "We dictated to Frasier exactly what he would pass to
Li; we infected the items beforehand."

"Nick,"
Carolyn said, "no way are the Chinese going to break these encryption
codes. They're years ahead of anything available in the private sector
—
some
of the best minds in the country have confirmed that to my satisfaction. And
the chips? The viruses are burned into their microcircuits."

What had Dennis
said: the Chinese were puppets? Nick stared at Whitford and Carolyn,
spellbound, as Whitford went on.

"The
Pentagon's examined some of the software the Chinese currently use in their
T-72 tanks and MIGs
—
crap. Obsolete years ago. The Chinese'll grab at
this stuff, plug it in and test it. It'll perform incredibly, just as it was
designed to do. So what'll the Chinese do? They'll copy it; they'll employ it
in every one of their tanks, their planes, their subs, their radar
installations, their ships, thinking they've upgraded their army. But each
peripheral we let them steal
—
range finders, helmet sensors
—
each
piece of software they smuggle, has the same embedded virus. And once our
little virus gets its claws into their machinery, it ain't ever letting go,
son."

"But
haven't you given up our technological edge," Nick asked, still struggling
to come to grips with what he'd heard.

"Have we
given away
some
technological secrets? Sure, ones we concluded the
Chinese would buy or steal or develop soon enough anyway. But look at what
we've gained, a chance to infect the Red Army. And the poetic justice of it all
—
the
Chinese will have done it to
themselves
."

Nick let the
gun drop all the way to his side. "Exactly what will this virus do?"

Whitford said,
"Until we activate it, nothing. Every component will function as designed.
But every piece J.T. Frasier leaked to Li is designed to link to equipment with
'ears.' Link to fighters, tanks, subs, and personnel carriers. All pieces of equipment
which have the capability to
receive
radio, laser, or infrared signals. We
can actually
communicate
with our virus, Mr. Ford. Give it instructions
by specially coded message."

Carolyn nodded.
"It's all true, Nick."

"Let me
give you an example," Whitford said, animated. "Say China decides to
invade Taiwan. A squadron of Chinese Su-27's leads the advance attack and meets
one of our squadrons; they engage each other. Suddenly one of our fighters
transmits a specially coded message over military radio frequencies. Think of
each of the Su-27's as one computer network; the infected software or chip, our
software, our chip, is tied into that network. It 'hears' the transmission; the
virus activates. Suddenly all hell breaks loose. The virus shuts down the Su-27s'
navigational systems, its fire control systems, its communication capabilities.
Dog fight over. We win without a goddamn shot being fired."

Nick's eyes
blurred. Was it possible? He answered his own question: if young college
hackers could successfully insert viruses into the computer systems of Fortune
500 companies, what couldn't the government do with all its resources?

Whitford's
voice turned somber. "I pray constructive engagement is effective, Mr.
Ford. We all do. We pray China buys into American culture: from Disney to
democracy, but if that doesn't happen, we better be prepared for the
alternative. That's what this was all about. Our military is being gutted
—
we
need
an insurance policy. A safety valve. One I hope to God we never
have to test."

"How do I
know you haven't made up everything you've told me?" Nick asked.

"You have
the word of a senior senator and the Comptroller General of the GAO."

"Congress
approved the plan?"

Whitford shook
his head. "It's a 'black' program
…
no congressional or White House
oversight.
Very
few people know, for obvious reasons. If the secret gets
out, the operation's worthless."

"What's
your authority then? For this kind of covert action you'd have to get the
approval of
—
"

"
Dammit
,
Ford," Whitford yelled, cutting Nick off. "Haven't you heard what I
said: China launches a nuclear missile, we might be able to disarm it. China
invades Taiwan or South Korea, we might be able to shut a good slice of their
army down. Forget the damn approvals for a moment. We may have won a war China
doesn't even know it fought
…
a bloodless victory."

Scott,
Jing-mei, Dennis?
"Not bloodless, senator. There have been a few
casualties."

Whitford
slammed his cane against the floor. "Carolyn thinks the world of you;
frankly I'm having a little trouble understanding why. I don't give
—
"

Carolyn put her
hand out, silencing Whitford, then said, "You would have been cleared and
gotten your job back. ..And what happened to Scott, we had nothing to do with
it. We had no idea he was investigating on his own
—you know that
. He
stumbled onto Li's operation, and
…
Li's men caught him, Nick. At Kiajong
Shipping yard. We didn't know anything about it. They just
…
" Carolyn's
voice faded away.

Mutilated his
hands then killed him, Nick thought, finishing Carolyn's sentence. "And
the subcontractor in Birmingham
…
McKenzie?"

Carolyn rubbed
her forehead. "Things spiraled out of control. Li was informed of your
leads
…
that you were going to question McKenzie. The intent was to give
Li a chance to cover his tracks, that's all."

"I'd say
he covered them pretty good, wouldn't you?"

"McKenzie
was a
traitor
to the United States of America," Whitford trumpeted.
"He was killed
—
I'm sorry about that
—
but what would you have
us do: flush the operation down the drain in
his
memory?"

Nick clenched
his teeth. "Instead you left Li free to attack me, to attack Meg."

"You've
got to believe me, Nick," Carolyn said, "I knew nothing about
that."

Nick turned on
Whitford. "And you, senator?"

"You had
the disk, enough evidence to expose Li's entire operation." Whitford shook
his head. "You were removed from your post, dammit. If you had stopped
your investigations, nothing would have happened to you or to Ms. Taylor. We
had the situation under control."

Nick raised the
gun again; his hand shook. It would be so simple to pull the trigger. An
accessory to all that happened to Scott, Meg, dead in the time it took a nerve
impulse to go from his brain to his finger.

Whitford took a
deep breath. When he continued, he spoke emotionally. "I know what you probably
think of me, but you're wrong. If I could take the young girl's place, I would.
Without hesitation. But I can't. And now we must all deal with realities. The
merit of the operation remains. Our safety valve, the Trojan horse, still
exists. Still protects you and me. Protects every child who hopes to grow up
someday and realize the fruits of this great nation. How will revealing all
that has happened do anything but hurt those prospects?"

"People
died
."

Whitford set
his jaw. "Don't give me that sanctimonious bull shit. Open your eyes. The
game's rough, welcome to the real world. We wear white gloves only to hide the
bruises on our knuckles. Let me repeat,
no one
was supposed to be
killed. It was an accident
…
out of our control. Yes people died. They
have in the past, and will in the future. Are we supposed to fall on our
swords? If we are, at what price, Mr. Ford?"

"And so
the killing goes on. Dennis, Jing-mei."

"I don't
know who attacked you today. Maybe it was Li's men, maybe not. But I promise
you this, if it was a rogue element in the government, whoever was responsible
will be found and punished. There are limits, Mr. Ford."

Were there
,
Nick wondered. "And the man inside Carolyn's gate?"

"A secret
service agent
…
nothing more. Here to keep watch for Dennis
…
as I
said, I had no idea he was dead."

Blood roared in
Nick's ears. He imagined Whitford as a snake, hypnotizing and confusing the
issues. "We're a government of laws. We can't
…
The public has to
know."

"Ford,"
Whitford yelled, "my God, think of what you're saying. Think of the
strategic edge we've gained. We've wheeled thousands of miniature Trojan horses
inside China's gates, and we can open the trap doors any time we like."

The promise
of a bloodless war—did anyone have a right to forfeit that?
Emotion fought
logic in Nick's mind. He shut his eyes. Was this about Whitford or Carolyn, or
about the thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of lives that Whitford said
might hang in the balance? "I can't ignore it all," Nick said
finally, eyes now hard in resolve. "Too much has happened."

Whitford
stroked his chin, then nodded slowly. "All right," he said weakly. "Maybe
too much
has
happened. Maybe Carolyn and I must face the consequences of
our actions. So be it. But Mr. Ford, don't ruin all we've worked for. Don't let
the end of our careers stand for nothing. Work with us."

"How?"

"By
keeping it out of the papers. By maintaining the integrity of the operation. I
promise you, Mr. Ford, that I will testify before a closed session of the
Senate. I'll write a confession, cooperate in any way you'd like."

Carolyn eagerly
seized on the idea. "Whatever you want, Nick," she echoed.

A closed
session of the Senate? The truth revealed. Other, better minds, could weigh the
operation and consider the alternatives. It made sense to Nick. The Senate
could investigate and determine whether to lay bare the operation. Either way,
it would not be on Nick's head alone to decide.

Whitford
pointed his cane at Nick's gun. "I think you can set that down now,"
he said. "We're all on the same side."

Nick's mind
continued to whirl. How could he, one man, play jury? Maybe Whitford was
telling the truth. Maybe Nick could lay grave injustices at the senator's feet,
at Carolyn's feet, but perhaps murder was not among them. And if he shunned
vigilante justice, that meant he had to go to the authorities
—
why not
the Senate?

Nick lowered
the gun to the desk.

Whitford heaved
a sigh. "Strange, Mr. Ford, but the idea of confessing, letting the Senate
take action
…
no matter what that may mean to me personally
…
somehow
it's liberating." He turned his legs to the side, rubbed them vigorously
with the palms of his hands. "Excuse me while I stretch my legs
…
have
to do it every half hour or so, another of my doctor's orders. Only thing that
keeps the blood flowing." He groaned as he rose, placing most of his
weight on the cane. "I hate using a cane, but it keeps me out of a wheel
chair. Maybe it's just vanity
…
Roosevelt ran the country from a
wheelchair, did a fairly good job of it too."

"How would
we set up a closed-session of the Senate?" Nick asked.

Carolyn
answered. "We can get on the phone right now, Nick. You name the senators;
we tell them everything."

Whitford, to
Nick's left now, nodded. "Two senators, three senators, a half-dozen. Whoever
you feel most comfortable with."

Nick started
cataloging senators in his mind. Senator Raine for sure. And Senator McCaskey. Maybe
Senator
—