Leviathan (11 page)

Thor seemed to shrug off the aspect of gloom as he turned from the table, the crest of his shaggy head only slightly lower than the eight-foot ceiling. As he opened the door, Connor again found his voice.

“Hey, Thor.”

The giant turned in the doorway, waiting. Connor saw that the darkness outside was blocke
d out by his titanic form, overcome by the red-bearded face, the Nordic image of strength.

“
You never said which Norse god it was that Jormungand killed,” Connor added, staring.

Thor hesitated, smiling faintly.

“It was Thor,” he said, smile fading beneath a suddenly somber gaze. “It was Thor that Jormungand killed.”

Vaguely disturbed by the late-night conversation with Thor, Connor walked silently into Jordan's room, uncertain of the reason for his fear or why he wanted to make sure his boy was secure and warm.

And as he bent to pull the covers higher, Connor sensed Jordan gazing up at him. Connor smiled, sitting down on the bed and laying an arm across the tiny figure. There was a moment of warm silence.

“
We're friends, ain’t we?” Jordan whispered.

Connor laughed lightly, nodding.
“Yeah, buddy, we're friends. We're best friends.”

Jordan stared, smiling.

“I tell you what.” Connor bent slightly closer. “When we go fishing tomorrow, we'll try and catch one of those real big trout. Then we'll clean it with our knives and cook it for supper!”

Jordan laughed.
“Yeah! That would be fun!” Then he paused, adding quietly, “I always want to be with you, Daddy.”

Connor stared, shaken, not knowing what to say. It took him a moment to recover from the four-year-old's words. Then he leaned forward and spoke,
“And I always want to be with you, buddy.”

Jordan stared up, serious.

“I've got a good idea,” Connor whispered. “Maybe you and me could have a secret sign? Something that just the two of us know about? How's that? Is that a good idea?”

Jordan smiled. His eyes widened.

“All right, let's do this,” Connor said, raising his hand, fingers spread to the air. “Do you think we can keep this sign as a secret?” He whispered, “It's got to be something that just you and me know about!”

Jordan laughed, raising his hand.

Gently, Connor placed their hands together. “All right, then. When I hold up my hand, it'll mean I'm always thinking about you! And when you hold up your hand, it will mean that you're always thinking about me! How do you like that for a sign?”

Jordan grinned and pres
sed his hand firmly against Connor's. “Yeah. I like that.”

“
Okay,” Connor continued. “That's enough for right now. Because you need to go nite-nite. Then in the morning we'll go fishing, and Thor is going to come back in the afternoon and tell you a big story.”

A pause with bright, wide-awake eyes staring up.
“Daddy, are we ever going home? Because Mommy says that ... She says that this isn't our real home. She says we've got a real home.”

Stunned, Connor hesitated.
“Yeah, buddy, sure we're going home. Just as soon as I finish my job.”

“
But where is it?”

“
Where's what?”

“
Home,” Jordan whispered. “Where's home?”

With a sad gaze, Connor leaned forward.
“Well, our real home is real, real far away from here. You don't remember it because you were just a baby when you were there. You weren't a big boy like you are now. But it's in the mountains where it's warm and where there's grass and trees and streams. It's where you can throw rocks in the streams and play in the woods. And where you can have a dog, and a cat, and maybe we can even build a tree house! And we'll all be together! You and me and Mommy!”

Jordan's wide eyes stared.
“I hope we can go home real soon.”

Connor nodded, touching the small face in his weathered hand.
“We will, buddy. I promise.”

“
You promise?”

“
Yeah. I promise.”

Jordan smiled.
“And you always keep your promise.” Connor gazed down, gently placed a hand on his son's chest. “Yeah, buddy, I always keep my promise.”

Chapter 9

His face was as lifeless and white as the belly of a dead fish, the stark hair cut almost to his scalp. Although his manner was calm, his fists were tight, like a man holding back a pathological urge to strike. It was an uncommon look for a scientist.

“Now,” Sol Tolvanos whispered, leaning over Frank. “I am ordering you to turn over control of GEO to my people! Either that or you will be placed under military arrest!”

Frank shook his head.
“GEO isn't going to obey you,” he answered, refusing to look up from his seat. “And neither will I.”

Shouting, the Russian slammed his hand onto the table, snatching up an ashtray. In a rage he flung the thick glass plate to the tile floor where, to Frank's sharp astonishment, it didn't shatter. It hit the floor and bounced high into the air, straight up, spinning like a Frisbee to land on the desk again where it spun for another second, settling in the same place it had been. For a split second even Tolvanos seemed shocked.

Frank used it. “If you're such a brilliant physicist, Tolvanos, you should be able to figure GEO out all by yourself.” He smiled. “After all, it's only a computer, isn't it?”

“
Don't insinuate that I am a fool, Doctor,” Tolvanos muttered, staring through opaque white eyes. “I know that GEO is a unique entity. And I admit, reluctantly, that it is the peak of artificial intelligence – an actual learning computer with its own independent neutrally-copied network personality. A machine, certainly, but almost a living being.” He paused. “Yes, Dr. Frank, I know everything about GEO.”

Frank's face went cold as a gravestone.

“And I must say …” Tolvanos shook his head, “ … that it was rather ghoulish of you to electromagnetically copy your dead wife's neural web for the Logic Core. Isn't that a bit, ah, Frankensteinish? Even for you?”

With a slow blink Frank looked up.
“Rachel designed GEO,” he heard himself say. “She was the one who invented neural networking. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“
Really?” Tolvanos replied. “If I didn't know better, Doctor, I would say that you copied your wife's neural network so that you could continue to have her at your side.” He paused. “How unfortunate that her untimely death prevented her from seeing GEO's ultimate completion. An automobile accident, wasn't it? Yes, truly unfortunate. Especially since she did, indeed, possess a brilliant mind. She might have been proud of you.”

Frank's face was whiter.
“I'm sure she is,” he said.

Tolvanos stared down.
“And now I ask you again, Doctor. Will you not do your job as a professional? Will you not surrender voice control of GEO to my team?”

“
No,” Frank returned the tone. “I won't. GEO belongs to me.”

Adler was sitting sorely to the side.
“Frank, your behavior is completely without justification. It is childish, petulant, and inexcusable, and you are making me regret ever signing you on to the project!”

“
I hate it.”

Frank tried to resist the fatigue, but they had been pressuring him for over an hour in an argument that began in Adler's office and proceeded to the Observation Room to find Hoffman and Chesterton gone and GEO locked in self-diagnosis. Tolvanos had ordered Frank to surrender voice control. Frank had refused. A stalemate. Things had heated up quickly.

Frank knew that Tolvanos had been, until recently, the leading researcher in Russia's illegal development of germ warfare, a science outlawed since the United Nations Treaty of 1972. Now, with the Soviet Union essentially defunct, the Russian was a freelance researcher working for the private defense industry, selling his skills to the highest bidder.

And his skills were, indeed, in high demand. Primarily be-cause, in the secretive community of germ warfare, Tolvanos was a legend.

He deserved the reputation. He had achieved devastating and exceedingly deadly success in highly contagious viral infections that could cause long, lingering suffering before an utterly unalterable death.

It was the work of genius because Tolvanos' viral weapons were far more effective than simple nerve gas agents that merely killed. Not only did his shifting antigen viruses eliminate the effectiveness of a single soldier, but the long incubation period exposed even more soldiers, ambulatory personnel, nurses and doctors in critical care of the ailing patient, in turn infecting them also to kill on an increasing geometric curve.

Almost from the start of Leviathan, Stygian Enterprises had requested Tolvanos presence and input, but Frank had refused to let the Russian join the effort. He had even threatened to back out and work for similar projects under development by the Germans and Japanese if Stygian didn't accede to his demands. In the end the company had blinked, cutting Tolvanos out of the loop. It was something the Russian physicist had never forgotten or forgiven.

Now, however, he was back to claim his share of the game. And to claim his share of the profit that Stygian would make for selling Leviathan to the American government. Frank knew Tolvanos wasn't insane, just utterly committed to furthering his own game plan.

Sweat on the Russian's skin gleamed like glass on white satin. “I do not play games, Doctor,” he whispered. He shook his head ominously, as if the words should be sufficient for an intelligent man. “I am a man of science, Frank. So I do not play games in this arena. There is far too much at stake. And if you are half as intelligent as I perceive you to be, you should know that resistance to my will is futile.”

Frank laughed, but he was wishing fervently that Chesterton would arrive and put these people in their place. But Frank had a bad feeling about that, too, observing the stranger in the dark green Army uniform. Although Frank didn't understand rank, he knew the broad gold insignia on the collar indicated something serious. Just as the twenty men behind him in SWAT-type black fatigues indicated something serious. This project was, after all, guarded by the United States Army. Chesterton could always be outranked.

Adler rose from his chair. “Frank,” he leaned over the computer chair, “why won't you cooperate? I have already told you that we will take every possible precaution.”

Frank stalled for Chesterton's imminent arrival.
“Cement the cavern corridors like Chesterton said to do and then I'll run all the tests you want. But not until then.”

“
I am not a fool, young man!” Adler growled. “I know that you will never agree to test the creature yourself. You irrationally believe that it is too dangerous. But you overestimate Leviathan's power! You don't even understand your own creation! So I only ask you to turn over what is not yours to keep! You do not own the computer! You do not own GEO! You designed it, yes, and programmed it, but it was bought and built by Stygian Enterprises. And despite your mutinous actions, Frank, we will eventually find a way to circumvent the Voice Control System. I simply want to avoid the unnecessary expenditure of manpower which will further delay tests.”

Frank caught something in Adler's voice.

“Why is it so important that we test immediately?” he asked. The old man hesitated. But Frank knew the answer, knew it immediately, and knew it all went back to the beginning of the project when, as Frank had understood, the American government decided to develop the ultimate biological military deterrent. Originally the plan was coded “Project: Doomsday,” and was later altered to “Project: Leviathan.”

Yes, the title had changed, but not the purpose: The Purpose
of Project Doomsday, by Executive Order, shall be to create the ultimate biological military deterrent, a controllable biological weapons system ultimately unstoppable against any standing army but which does not result in biological or radioactive poisoning of the atmosphere or subjugated territories.

Nor had America been the only nation to think of using Electromagnetic Chromosomal Manipulation for such a purpose.

There was first this facility, run by Stygian Enterprises, the private defense contractor that had bought Frank's services. Then there was a Japanese company, Yashima Cyberspace Technology, which also stood on the threshold of ECM success. And finally, a West German company located in Frankfurt.

For the past year it had been an around-the-clock race to determine who would be the first to develop the biological warfare technology, the ultimate military deterrent.

“What has Yashima done?” Frank asked, centering on Adler.

The old man gazed down.
“What Yashima may or may not have done is none of your concern, Doctor.”

“
I think it is.”

Tolvanos spoke.
“They have broken through to the other side, Dr. Frank.”

Frank focused on the indifferent face.

“Yes,” Tolvanos continued, solemn, “they have beaten you, Doctor. They have done what you could not do. Yashima has demonstrated without question that a vertebrate can be genetically and ultimately enhanced for purposes of total war.”