Palm Sunday (38 page)

“Yes. I’ll see to it immediately.”

Mason smiled at Norbert. “Great job, as always.”

Norbert blushed, and muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ as he turned and left.

Mason leaned back and once again pondered the ceiling. 

At the FBI regional data center, the news concerning the travel industry was almost all good. All airlines were once again flying normal schedules, and the buses were running as before the shutdown. A few minor issues remained, but by and large the crisis was over. The focus, even according to Roberts, was now on the cause.

Sharon was tasked with identifying the perpetrators, which was what he wanted to do all along. Ironically, the only solid clues he had were from his own, unofficial investigation.

Sharon wandered up to Justin’s work area. “How’s the search going for the component manufacturer?” he asked. He still felt that the debris from the tunnel might be their best lead.

“I have an initial list,” replied Justin. “But I’m sure I missed quite a few. There isn’t exactly a centralized database for this information.”

Sharon nodded. “How many did you get?”

Justin looked at his display. “Worldwide I came up with three hundred and forty-nine companies that manufacture components that could match your sample. Without any other information, that’s the best I can do.”

“Good. Now take that list and cross-reference it with distributors. I’m assuming that these companies don’t generally sell their products directly to end users.”

Justin agreed. “The typical customer would probably be another company. Electronics, telecomm, that sort of thing.”

Sharon perked up. “Of course! That would be the connection. Narrow it down to orders to telecommunications firms. Especially if they have anything to do with the Internet.”

Justin was perplexed. “Why?”

Roberts chose that moment to visit the computer center. Sharon glanced quickly at Justin. “Just do what I said.”

“Agent Sharon, could I have a word, please?” said Roberts.

Sharon walked over to his supervisor. “What’s up?”

“Have you figured out how the airlines were shut down?”

“We’re still working on it,” said Sharon.

“The boys upstairs want a statement concerning our progress.”

“If our investigation had initially centered on who did it, we might have it solved by now. These are some slick folks we’re dealing with; they cover their tracks well.”

“Are you saying you won’t be able to find them?” asked Roberts.

“No. But it would help if we could re-activate Walthrop’s system, maybe even bring him back on board. He has some unique talents.” Sharon suspected it was only a matter of time before the Internet anomaly reappeared. He wanted to be ready.

“Do what you have to,” said Roberts. “Finding the source has priority.”

“Gotta love politics, huh?”

Roberts didn’t smile. “Just get me some answers.” He turned and left the computer center.

When Roberts had gone, Sharon addressed the entire room. “Listen up, people. We’re going to bring Professor Walthrop back.” The technicians groaned. “I know he has his own way of doing things, but let’s face it–we can use his input. I expect you to accord him full respect.” Sharon knew that his people resented any outside help, but what the heck; Walthrop livened things up. 

One day later–that’s how long it took for Walthrop to show up–Sharon couldn’t help but think that they were right back where they had started. The Professor was riding roughshod over several technicians, and the peculiar Internet anomaly had started popping up again. Walthrop felt that his system was getting closer to localizing the source, yet he was baffled, as the signals seemed to occasionally switch between two indeterminate points of origin. This was a marked departure from past experiences.

“What are you saying, Professor?” asked Sharon. “You think they have two entry points now?”

Walthrop frowned. “I’m not certain. There are differences in the refractive signatures that are too minute to accurately measure; in fact, I’m not at all confident that they represent a true measurable variance.”

“Is there some way we can measure more accurately?”

“Perhaps,” said Walthrop. “If we set up another system, in a sense perpendicular to the one already in place, it might do the trick.”

“What do you mean by ‘perpendicular’?” asked Sharon.

“Geographically speaking. Right now our monitoring network runs east to west, over a twenty-mile corridor. I’d like to put another line in place, north to south, intersecting the existing line near the center.”

“What would that accomplish?”

“Optical triangulation,” said Walthrop. “The deviations in the signatures are small, too small to pin down with our current setup. If we add the additional line, and sync it up with our existing system, I think we’ll get a more accurate measure.”

“How long will it take to get it up and running?” asked Sharon.

“We could be up by tomorrow or the next day.”

Sharon didn’t hesitate. “Let’s make it happen.” 

Stanley had just finished a marathon session on the Alpha. Getting the configuration files right had caused an unexpected delay, and he didn’t exactly have access to the normal support line from the Alpha’s manufacturer. By early evening, as Katherine was rising from her extended nap, he’d finally had enough. The system was ready, but he was beat. As Katherine rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and yawned like a bear after a long winter, Stanley declared his day over.

“I can’t do any more. My mind is officially fuzz,” he said.

“What time is it?” asked Katherine.

He looked at his watch. “Five thirty.”

“What! Kayoko, you were supposed to wake me after a couple hours.”

“I tried. You kept saying, ‘I’ll be right there’, and then falling back asleep. After three tries I gave up.”

Katherine smiled sheepishly. “I think I remember that now. Sorry.” She looked at Stanley. “So where are we with the Alpha?”

“It’s up,” he said. “Our programs are initialized, and the security subroutines are functioning normally. You can log on as yourself and you’ll have full system privileges.”

Katherine nodded. “Should I start building the interface, or do you want to work on that in the morning?”

“Do whatever preliminary work you can, but we’ll plan to start probing the agency tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”

Slocum watched from the kitchen where he was making himself a sandwich. “You guys done good. Real troopers.”

“Thanks,” said Katherine.

Kayoko walked into the living room and sat down on the floor next to Bobby. “Challenge you?”

He was playing a video game. “Okay. But I’m going to kick your butt.”

It seemed like a normal domestic scene. Almost. As Katherine watched Bobby and Kayoko race around the computerized track, it reminded her of the situation they were now in. She knew that starting tomorrow the real contest would begin, and she was confident that they had the skill to go head to head against almost anyone when it came to computers. But were they good enough to prevail against the agency?

Professor Walthrop’s enhancement to his existing system took a little longer than expected, but by the afternoon of the third day following its approval, the north-south line was initialized and synchronized with its east-west counterpart. He immediately started to monitor traffic, but two hours into it his report was glum.

“I don’t understand,” said Walthrop. “Activity was increasing just a couple days ago, but now that we’re in position to pin it down, they’ve stopped.”

“Welcome to my world,” said Sharon. “Just keep at it, and let me know if you detect anything.” He walked over to Justin’s workstation. “How’s your project going?”

“Pretty good, sir. I may have something for you.”

“Show me.”

Justin brought up a display with the original three hundred and forty-nine suppliers of the type of capacitor Sharon had found. “Here’s our original list.” He made an adjustment for shipments in lots greater than one hundred, with the corresponding distributors to the right. “And these are the vendors who received the larger batches.”

“That’s still quite a few,” said Sharon.

“Yes, it is. But take a look at this one.” He pointed out a vendor with lines pointing to half a dozen different suppliers.

Sharon peered at the display. “That’s odd. Why buy from so many different companies?”

Justin shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it’s peculiar.”

“What’s the vendor’s name?” asked Sharon.

“Digicomm United Technologies.”

Sharon’s mind instantly went back to the tunnel where his friend had been killed. The dead technician had been wearing a Digicomm uniform. “I’ve heard of them,” he said.

“Where?” asked Justin.

Sharon hesitated. He had done a cursory investigation of Digicomm, and they appeared legitimate. He had assumed that the clothes worn by the technician were stolen, but now he wasn’t so sure. He ignored Justin’s question. “Find out everything you can about Digicomm.” 

Norbert had finished organizing the Pascua files for transfer to Mason’s account, but he hesitated over one detail. Mason had specifically said not to keep a backup of the antidote program, but all of Norbert’s training and common sense told him that he should. His fingers lingered over the keyboard, wanting to disobey the direct order, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had long ago decided to trust Mason implicitly; he couldn’t betray that loyalty now. He completed the transfer and deleted the programs from his own account. The source code, the program itself, and the antidote, were now in the full control of Charles Mason. 

Kayoko watched, fascinated, as Katherine and Stanley sat before the Alpha’s console. She thought they looked like co-pilots on a futuristic mission. The palmtop, the frequency generator, and an assortment of wires and cables were now tied into the Alpha.

“Everything seems to be working,” said Stanley. “Let’s test the interface using the same frequency as last time.”

Katherine agreed. “At least to see if the connection still works.”

As Katherine and Stanley discussed their preparations, Slocum and Bobby moved up behind them, and watched as the unusual combination of machines came to life. This would be the first test of their ability to access the data stream since they had done so at ScanDat.

“I’m going to start the masking program,” said Stanley. This was a routine he had written to emit low-level background noise, hopefully sufficient to camouflage their activities on the Net. “The masking program is running, and the interface is active.” He looked at Katherine. “Get ready to trigger the palmtop. I’m almost ready on the Alpha.”

Katherine nodded. “Standing by on the frequency generator.”

“Do it,” said Stanley.

Katherine threw a pair of switches, noting the movement on the output indicator. “Increasing frequency to activation threshold. You should see a response soon.”

A second later Stanley nodded. “That’s it. We’re synchronized with the agency data stream. We should be able to use the palmtop’s menu to access the main system. We better shut down before we’re detected.” They had no intention of launching their attack just yet. First they had to verify that everything still worked.

“Reducing amplitude,” said Katherine. “The signal should be fading.”

“We’re still in the stream, but just barely. Hold it there for a second.”

As Stanley observed the activity on his console, Bobby suddenly appeared next to him and asked a question about what they were doing. Stanley turned to tell his son to wait, and as he did so his arm bumped against the palmtop. The jarring motion produced an unexpected effect, as a brief electronic pulse was recorded on the output indicator.

Stanley looked at his display with concern. “Shut it down!”

Katherine quickly reduced the output to zero, and the connection to the data stream was severed. “What was that?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” said Stanley. “A spike in the output, obviously.”

“Strong enough for anyone to see?”

Stanley shrugged. “I don’t know. We were just barely in the stream. I wanted to see if we could remain connected at a low level while still maintaining stability. That’s when I bumped our decidedly unstable friend here.” He gestured towards the palmtop.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Bobby backed away and stood with his head hung low.

Slocum looked at him. “What are you talking about, kid? That was your father’s fault, pure and simple. If it wasn’t for his own clumsiness, it never would have happened.”

Bobby was suddenly defensive of his father. “That’s not true! My Dad isn’t clumsy. Who’s the one that got captured and had to be rescued? That was you! So now who’s clumsy?” The boy stared defiantly at Slocum.

Slocum grimaced. “That’s a good point, Bobby. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

Stanley nodded his appreciation at Slocum. Five minutes later Bobby had completely forgotten the incident, and sat contentedly in front of the television, playing his electronic game. 

When it happened, Professor Walthrop was so excited he could barely mouth the words.

“There, there it is!” The signal was extremely weak, and all efforts to trace it to a specific location proved fruitless. “Can someone get me some fixed reference points, please? This pulse is fading almost as fast as it showed up.”

“We can’t pin it down,” said Justin. “Our signal is getting scattered for some reason.”

“Then find out where it is when it scatters. Hurry!”

“Too late, Professor. It’s gone.” 

Norbert saw the signal sooner than Professor Walthrop, but only because he happened to be sitting at his console when it happened, and his equipment was better.

“What have we here? Someone in our data stream again?” He spoke to himself as he ran a subroutine to isolate the origin of the signal. Like a silent sonar pulse, his program set forth across the optical ocean, seeking the intruder who dared to enter his domain. He was surprised when his program only returned a garbled sequence of random bytes. Before he could attempt other measures, the signal suddenly disappeared.