Predator One (52 page)

The air force was doing the same with its jets, as were the army and marines with everything from helicopters to tanks. A lot was riding on the success of ADAD.

“System is green and fluid,” said Ghose.
“All meters are at midpoint, and the redundancies are showing online.”

“Very well,” said the captain. He removed his keychain and waited for her to do the same. He inserted his key and nodded to her to do the same. They made eye contact, and she saw it then, hidden behind his blas
é
expression, that spark of excitement. He was enjoying this. He wanted it to work, too. There was a twinkle there.

She smiled at him. He managed to keep a poker face.

“On zero,” he said. “Two, one, zero, turn.”

They turned the keys.

The ADAD system came online smoothly and without pause. All throughout the control room, the lights changed as the autonomous systems activated and took operational control of the submarine. The chief of the boat ordered everyone to stand down, and they obeyed, standing or sitting
at their posts, watching as software did what it had been trained to do. The ADAD ran through a series of diagnostics that included making subtle changes to airflow, trim, position, speed, course, and every other system. The telemetry was sent back to Kitsap, where it was analyzed.

Ghose could not see the smiles on all those faces, but she knew they had to be there. She wore one of her own. And
now, so did the captain.

“Running a weapons check,” said Ghose, and the captain turned to see the lights on the torpedo and missile systems flick on and off. The mine-deployment systems flashed. The countermeasure-deployment systems did likewise.

Everything was running perfectly.

“Well, Doctor Ghose,” said the captain, “I must admit that this is mighty damn impressive. You and your team have
done something remarkable here. On behalf of my officers and crew, I want to congratulate you.”

He held out his hand.

Ghose took it.

And then the lights went out.

Everything except the screen on the ADAD console. In the one second she had left to live, Doctor Sarah Ghose saw something that was impossible. According to every safeguard, every design feature, every failsafe bit of computer code,
it was absolutely impossible.

All fifty of the Tomahawk cruise missiles went live.

Every single warhead on the harpoon torpedoes went from inactive into the green.

All of the firing systems instantly went from disabled/inactive to active launch.

In a microsecond. Faster than any human involvement could manage.

Far too fast for any human intervention to stop.

The torpedo tube doors and missile
launch doors, however, did not open.

Ghose saw all of this in a second.

And then there were no more seconds of her life.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen

Air Force One

In Flight

April 1, 12:59
P.M.
Pacific Standard Time

The president asked Church to go over the Regis thing again for the benefit of the gathered generals and senior advisors. Church took them through it step by step, adding to it the fact that the Kings clearly had abducted Doctor Davidovich and had hacked a DMS drone to kill the scientist.

As Church spoke, though, the president shook his head and kept shaking it. So did most of the military officers. Alice Houston sat next to Linden Brierly, and they kept exchanging worried looks. This was not going well. No matter how it would ultimately play out, it was not going well.

Finally, he slapped his hand flat on the tabletop with a sound as loud as a gunshot.

“Damn it, Deacon,” he growled,
“you do realize that what you’re asking is impossible.”

“It’s not impossible, Mr. President,” said Church. “It’s merely difficult. You need to shut down every piece of military hardware that has had Regis installed, and then you need to remove that program. There is no other reasonable alternative.”

“I can’t and won’t do something like that on the say-so of a captain in the DMS.”

“You don’t
need to take Captain Ledger’s word for this, Mr. President. Would you like me to replay the tape of him interviewing Doctor Davidovich inside the crashed truck? You heard him say, in no uncertain terms, that the Seven Kings have control of Regis.”

“But nearly everything has Regis. Most of the fleet, most of—”

“We don’t need an inventory, Mr. President. We need leadership.”

The president bristled
and pointed a finger at him. “You watch yourself, Deacon. My predecessor and half of Congress may have been afraid of you, but I’m not.”

“I won’t budge from this request, Mr. President.”

“And I won’t damn well do it. You’re wrong about this. Davidovich was a traitor and a liar and—”

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Bain, the national security advisor, burst in. He looked shocked, even
horrified.

“Mr. President,” said Bain, “we have a situation.”

“God. Now what…?” said the president.

“It’s the
Jimmy Carter…”

Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen

Tiger Mountain State Forest

Washington

April 1, 1:01
P.M.

Brian sat in Ugly Betty’s passenger seat, and the rest of the team stood around the open door and watched the news Nikki forwarded to us. The
Jimmy Carter
was lost with all hands.

While test-driving the new Regis system.

Top closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the frame of Ugly Betty’s
open door. He murmured a prayer for sailors lost at sea.

“We commit your bodies to the deep,” he said, “to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the sea shall give up her dead…”

Instead of saying “amen,” Bunny punched the side of the car with a sound like an iron gong.

I felt like the ground beneath my feet was turning to quicksand.

If there had been any
doubt left about whether the Kings controlled that software, it had blown itself into atoms along with a lot of good people aboard that boat.

Gone. All gone.

At that moment, I got a phone call from the unlikeliest of sources. I stepped away from the others and punched the button.

“Junie?” I said. “This really isn’t a good time.”

“I know,” she said, “we’re all watching the news. It’s so horrible.”

“It is. Look, baby, let me call you—”

“No, Joe, I need you to talk to someone. He might be able to help.”

“Who?”

She paused. “Toys.”

“Toys?”

“He’s here at the hospital. He wants to help.”

“I’d like to help him by putting my foot up his ass. I told you he shouldn’t be there, Junie, and you know it.”

“Mr. Church said it was all right.”

“Oh, please.”

“Joseph,” she snapped, and damn if I
didn’t snap to attention. If the guys had seen this, I’d be Mr. Whipped for the rest of my life. Damn it. “You need to speak with him. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think this was important.”

“Yeah,” I said, “okay. Put him on.”

The next voice I heard was someone I hated with every fiber of my being. I am not usually an inflexible and unforgiving prick, but I have my moments. Toys was a pet project
of Mr. Church, I get that. I know that Junie and Violin worked with him at FreeTech. I know that he is supposed to be trying to redeem himself. But …

“Ledger?” said a familiar voice.

“Toys. Tell me why I’m talking with you.”

“It’s not to swap recipes or gossip about celebrities,” he said dryly.

“Glad to hear it. You have thirty seconds. You’ve already wasted ten of them. Tell me something
that I need to know, or we’re done.”

“They’re saying that Aaron Davidovich escaped from the Seven Kings.”

“People shouldn’t be telling you anything. Fifteen seconds.”

“I heard something about him escaping from an island.”

“So what? Ten seconds.”

“An island in Washington State,” said Toys. “Near Seattle. Or maybe near Tacoma?”

I said nothing.

“You stopped your countdown,” he said.

“No,
I haven’t. You’re telling me what you heard. Now tell me what I need to hear or fuck off.”

“I think I might know the name of the island,” he said. “Would that be what you need to hear, or should I go and fuck off now?”

In a voice I didn’t even recognize as my own, I said, “Tell me what you know and how you know it.”

Toys said, “I’ll admit I’m guessing, but I think it’s a good guess. A few years
ago, after Sebastian and I joined the Kings but before your lot tore them down, there was one night when Hugo, Sebastian, and I were having drinks and talking about the future. About what we might do after. You understand? After the Kings had stopped playing their games. After we’d had our fill and wanted out. Hugo often talked about that. He liked the idea of retirement, though I don’t think
he would ever have retired. Anyway, we talked about where we’d like to live. Sebastian wanted to live in the Caribbean or the Bahamas, but Hugo said it would be too risky. Even with good plastic surgery and enough money. Hugo said that it would be better to pick a place that was inside the protection and financial stability of the United States but outside the mainstream flow. He favored the Pacific
Northwest because there are so many private islands up for sale. If you remember, his estate during the Ten Plagues thing was on an island he owned in the Saint Lawrence River.”

“Get to a fucking point, Toys,” I warned.

“I am. Keep your balls on. I’m telling you what Hugo said. He told Sebastian that there were some good prospects that would allow a boat to slip out to sea or a seaplane to make
a quick getaway to somewhere in Canada.”

“Toys…”

“Hold on. Remember, this was just conversation. This was Hugo being Hugo, telling everyone what the best way to do anything was. He always wanted to be seen as the one who knew things. I don’t think any of the Kings actually owned property in Washington, but Hugo talked about his ‘great escape’ so often that everyone knew it was a solid bet as
a safe haven.”

“A name. Give me a name.”

“The one Hugo liked the most was a small island in Puget Sound called Tanglewood. After what Davidovich said, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Maybe that’s where the Kings are.”

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty

Air Force One

In Flight

April 1, 1:25
P.M.
Pacific Standard Time

The president sagged back against the leather cushions of his chair. The conference room was utterly silent. On the screen, video footage from a helicopter showed the massive whirlpool that was all there was of the USS
Jimmy Carter
.

The president dragged a trembling hand across his mouth.

“How many men?”

“Fifteen officers, one hundred and twenty-six enlisted. Four members of a DARPA team.”

“Merciful God,” said the president.

Linden Brierly looked past him to where Mr. Church sat, his fingers laced tightly together on the tabletop.

Those two words seemed to hang in the air, a mockery of their own meaning.

Into the silence, Church said, “This is the Seven Kings.”

“But … why
target the
Carter
?” asked the president blankly. “Is it something tied to his presidency? Something about the class of submarine?”

“No,” said Church. “This is Regis. This is exactly what I’ve been telling you about.”

“Why
that
sub, though?”

Church leaned forward. “I still don’t think you understand, Mr. President. This isn’t about the
Jimmy Carter
. I’m not sure how else to make my point. The
Seven Kings are hacking Regis. Do you understand what that means? They have just proved that they have the technological reach to take control of any U.S. military craft which has been fitted out with the Regis autonomous command software.”

“But…”

“Right now, to a very real degree, they can turn our own weapons of war against us. The
Carter
was a statement. There may be demands to follow, or
they may choose to make other statements before issuing those demands.”

“What can we do?” snapped one of the generals. “Every damn thing has Regis in it. We can’t very well shut down our entire military.”

Mr. Church’s eyes were ice-cold. “We may have to.”

“That would leave us vulnerable to attack,” said the national security advisor.

“Vulnerable?” said Brierly. “What do you think we are right
now? This isn’t just about shutting down our military. It’s about preventing those automated systems from turning every plane and warship we have against us.”

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-one

Tiger Mountain State Forest

Washington

April 1, 1:38
P.M.

We were already in motion when Church texted me to say that the president was issuing an executive order for all land, sea, and air craft to have their autonomous systems shut down. Since Regis controlled so many ordinary functions on ships and aircraft, it meant that for now the bulk of our military
power would be inert. Even the Seventh Fleet in China.

I told the others, and Bunny’s only response was to step harder on the gas.

“The whole fleet?” gasped Brian. “The air force? All of it?”

“Most of it,” I corrected.

“Goddamn big set of paperweights,” mused Top. “And right now that’s all they’re good for.”

Brian looked worried. “What’s going to happen? What if someone attacks us?”

“We’ll
throw rocks,” said Bunny. Then he shook his head. “It won’t happen. Nobody’s going to start a war with us. They know we’ll recover.”

I wish his voice carried more conviction. He didn’t get any “hooahs” for that.

“If we can find that reset code,” Brian said, “we can get it all back online. Right?”

“Kid,” I said, “I am completely open to suggestions.”