The Trigger (12 page)

She drew in a long breath but didn’t look at him. “I’m busy right now, and I’ll report my progress to Spencer, as I always have.”

Arrogant! “Would you show a little more respect? Don’t forget I pay your salary.”

Slowly, she pivoted and met his eyes. Grace stood shoulder to shoulder with him, and her muscles flexed under the wet shirt. “Don’t forget I can walk away from this community at any time. And if respecting you is a job requirement, then I just might.”

Her threat gave him pause. Spencer would be outraged if Grace left. And they needed her more than ever. But still, she infuriated him with her aloofness and her physical superiority. In the last week, she’d been worse than ever, showing outright contempt.

“What’s going on with you? First you tell the FBI that Emma and I were fighting. Now you’re threatening to quit and leave?”

Grace shook her head, jaw twitching. “No, you tell me. What’s going on here? First Emma and Tate disappear, then Spencer’s suddenly in an all-fire hurry to have the generator ready, and now you’re asking about detonators. What the fuck are you up to?”

He should have known better. Grace was too smart for her own good sometimes. He started to offer an explanation but she cut him off.

“I know we’re all supposed to pretend that everything is fine, but I think you know what happened to Emma.”

She suspected him.
The accusation hit him like a blow to the chest. “What are you implying?”

Grace stepped toward him, unblinking. “I’m not implying, I’m saying. I think you killed Emma because she wanted to leave you, and you couldn’t stand the idea. Under all that futuristic ideology, you’re weak and insecure and controlling.”

How dare she! Rage pulsed in his temples and he fought for control. “You’re fired. Pack your stuff and get off my property. I won’t let you destroy this community with your hatred and lies.”

“You can’t fire me! Spencer won’t let you. Now leave me the hell alone or I’ll tell Agent McCullen what I know about you and Emma.”

What did she know? His heart thundered with fear and loathing. “There’s nothing to tell!”

“I heard the fight. I saw you leave your house after dark. I saw—”

Randall couldn’t take anymore. Blisters of heat exploded in his brain and he lashed out with both hands.

Thursday, May 9, 1:05 p.m.

Still feeling upbeat after his run with Sonja, Spencer showered and checked on Lisa. Marissa was putting ointment on his wife’s bedsores, but she looked up. “Lisa’s restless this morning, but not in pain.” The nurse rolled his wife onto her back, kissed her forehead, and left.

Lisa gave him a weak smile. “Spencer.”

“Hi, sweetheart. Can I get you anything?” He’d quit asking how she felt long ago.

“Maybe some juice.”

Her voice was clear and strong, another surprise. He hurried to the kitchen, poured a small glass of orange juice, and brought it back. He started to transfer it into a cup with a lid and straw, but his wife’s cool fingers touched his arm.

“I’d like to sit up more and drink it from the glass. I’m thirsty.”

He raised the head of her bed and handed her the juice. “You look pretty in that blue gown.” He had bathed and changed her that morning, and she’d barely noticed. He remembered reading that sometimes terminal patients rallied right before they passed on. Would this be their last conversation? Heaviness filled his heart.

“Thanks, honey.” She took a long drink. “I know we’ve talked about this, but I don’t want you to grieve for me anymore. Find a new wife while you can.” Lisa was even more worried about a social collapse than he was.

“I’ll be fine. We have some new young people here, and I think the wait is almost over.”

“I know about Sonja.” Lisa’s voice was quiet. “Tina visited me this morning, and she’s such a gossip.”

A sharp stab of guilt. “Sonja is just a new member. My heart still belongs to you.”

“I know.” The loose skin on her forehead wrinkled into a frown. “What did you mean by the wait is almost over?”

Spencer wanted to tell her. He and Lisa had never kept anything from each other. But since the day he and Randall had started talking about the trigger, he’d known he couldn’t share his plans with his wife. She would worry too much about the potential suffering of others. “I just meant that your pain, and our time together, is near the end.”

“Sing to me. I love your voice.”

He’d never understood why, but it didn’t matter. He sang “Forever and Ever,” a Randy Travis song that always made Lisa misty-eyed. She drifted off before he finished.

Feeling melancholy, Spencer headed for the data center. He’d heard Raff come in earlier and was relieved to find him still there. They’d been up past midnight again, working to set up new proxy computers in Puerto Rico, using remote desktop protocols and 3389 ports. He sat down at a monitor and asked, “How’s it going?”

“I found an employee at Bentley & Eastman who telecommutes two days a week and accesses files through a remote portal.” Raff glanced up from the monitor. “I posed as a customer and sent him an email embedded with a surprise. As soon as he opens it, I’ll have access to his files and can upgrade his security status.”

Spencer felt impatient. “Then what?”

“Once the employee, David, has the upgraded security clearance, we can move money around—or make it disappear. I’ll start with Standford Oil. Without cash, the company will be paralyzed and will have to shut down refineries. A massive gas shortage will follow.”

“How long will all that take?”

“I don’t know.” Raff shrugged. “Maybe a couple of weeks. Predicting the outcome is not my area of expertise.”

Spencer felt a new charge of optimism. There was a Standford refinery near Houston, one of the cities where he planned to shut down the electricity, so the effect could be immediate. Their potential started to seem unlimited. “It’s not enough. We need to target several companies at once.”

“I can do that.”

“For my part, I’ll create a fake fraud warning, then I’ll start cuing up recipients. I’ve got millions of addresses.” Spencer felt another rush of adrenaline. “If even a third of those people go to their bank and pull out money, it’ll cause a ripple. That will make the news, which will cause a bigger ripple.”

Raff gave him a sly grin. “You like fucking with people as much as I do.”

Offended, Spencer squared his shoulders. “You’re wrong. I’m doing this to shut down our carbon output and reset our climate-change trajectory.”

Raff rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

Spencer didn’t bother to respond. The hacker was too shallow to understand their goals. He opened an email he’d been saving from the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation. After copying the contents, he created a new email that looked identical—with a perfect blue and gold logo—and modified the text. The message was reassuring, yet contained an alert that customers should monitor their accounts for irregularities. Next he altered the sender’s URL to look like it came from the FDIC, then embedded a chunk of code that would access the person’s financial information when they logged into their banking information. Once he had access to all those port 443 accounts, he could manipulate the money, causing further panic.

The fun part over, he began the tedious task of duplicating the email and attaching thousands of address recipients to each communication. He had the files batched and ready to go, but with millions, it would still take all day.

The work kept his mind off phase two, which he tended to worry about. Months ago, he’d created a worm that he would soon send out, causing the office computers in major power companies to malfunction. But that was only part of the attack. He also had to hack into the software that controlled the flow of electricity so he could manipulate a shortage. He knew the security weaknesses of both Siemens’ and ABB’s power-grid equipment and had taken several dry runs, but the real-life scenario would still be challenging. Technicians would be working madly to correct the system, and he would have to keep overriding them for days—if he could. The financial collapse would work in tandem, and, in theory, business would quickly grind to a halt. Once the U.S. economy tanked, the rest of the world would follow like dominoes.

By six, his stomach was growling, his back was stiff, and he had to get away from the computer. He stood, knowing it would be polite to invite Raff to dinner, but he wanted to get away from the annoying and immature hacker. Spencer’s thoughts shifted to Sonja. Was it too late to ask her to join him for a meal? Or was it too early in the whole scheme of things to begin to court her? Lisa’s words echoed in his head. His wife had encouraged him to find someone else.

He realized he hadn’t checked on Lisa all afternoon, so he hurried to her room. She was sleeping peacefully, and he was relieved to keep moving. He still had so much to do. Grace came to mind, and he wondered if she’d made progress. Did it really matter? They would be fine for a while even if the electricity from the generator was intermittent. Guilt hovered around his conscience. Grace had looked so tired and worried today, and he hadn’t given her nearly enough support. Spencer decided to pack a picnic dinner for the two of them and take it down to the creek. He called Grace, but she didn’t answer so he left a message.

As he made sandwiches, he wondered about future meals. They had chickens and turkeys in a pen near the greenhouse, and after the collapse, his meals would be made with recently slaughtered, fresh-roasted turkey. He could have already started eating exclusively from their land—as some members did—but he’d been too busy taking care of Lisa and everything else to home-prep food. Spencer looked forward to a healthier diet.

The sun was still bright but low in the sky as he drove the golf cart down the path to the creek. On another day, he would have gone on foot, but now that things were in motion, every hour was precious. When the terrain began to slope down, he parked the cart and walked the rest of the way. In the dusk, he spotted the structure over the generator. Something wasn’t right. Where was Grace? Had she quit for the day?

He saw feet sticking out from behind the metal turbine housing. Spencer’s pulse quickened and his throat closed up. Why was she lying down? He’d never seen her nap on the job. He ran toward her. “Grace? Are you okay?”

Rounding the generator, he kneeled down. The acrid smell of burned flesh assaulted his senses. Oh dear god. Grace lay motionless, and her face was angry red. Blood trickled from her eye sockets. “Grace!”

Spencer started to check her pulse, then remembered his first-aid training. He looked to see if she was still touching whatever had electrocuted her.
No.
Her hands were at her sides and burned nearly black. Oh shit, oh dear. What had happened? Spencer checked her pulse. Nothing. Life was gone from her body.

How had this happened? Grace was so professional, so careful. But she’d also suffered from PTSD and depression when she’d first joined them. Spencer had another ugly thought. Had Grace and Randall argued again? No, this must have been an accident.

Crushed by the loss, he wanted to weep. Grace had been his friend and a wonderful source of encouragement. But his brain was in panic mode. What now? He couldn’t call the authorities and report her death. They’d want to investigate, and he couldn’t risk having them on this area of the property. Even if federal agents didn’t find anything, they might press charges for negligence or try to shut down their community. He couldn’t let any of that happen. They were too close to setting the trigger.

Spencer grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and shakily dialed Randall. The damn call wouldn’t go through. He pushed to his feet and cursed out loud. The connections out here were tenuous, so he charged up the path, hoping for better reception. He didn’t get it.

Spencer ran to the motorized cart and gunned it toward the housing area. He and Randall had to talk this through. Grace was estranged from her family, so her people weren’t likely to get worried, but another sudden disappearance would be alarming to community members. They could tell them Grace had an emergency and had to leave. After the meltdown, community members would understand if Grace didn’t come back. Travel, especially commercial flights, would become impossible.

What other choice did he have?

Ten minutes later, he pounded on Randall’s door, but his brother didn’t respond. He tried calling again, and this time it went through, but Randall didn’t pick up.

Spencer stopped at his garage and grabbed shovels, gloves, and a small lantern. He hoped no one was watching as he dropped everything in the back of the cart. It didn’t matter. He used hand tools all the time, and this would look like just another outdoor project. Still, he glanced around. As the sun set, the cul-de-sac homes were quiet, as his friends and supporters cooked dinner and settled in for the night. He jumped back on the cart and raced back toward the generator. The thought of Grace lying alone on the ground as darkness descended made him ill. She deserved so much better. Was her death his fault? Had he pushed her too hard?

He refused to believe it. Accidents happened. People got sick and died. Lisa came to mind. How would he handle her death? There would be nothing suspicious about it, but he hated the thought of a government official coming to Destiny when they had so much going on. If Lisa died before the collapse, he would put her into the Jeep and take her to the coroner. Once the paperwork had been filed, he could bring her back home and conduct the service he had planned.

Why was everything happening now? Could he recruit a new engineer before it was too late? Or should they put their plans on hold? For a moment, he froze. Could he go through with everything? Covering up Grace’s death was inconsequential compared to setting the trigger. What was the alternative? Even if Sonja moved in with him, they still faced continuous uncertainty. Could he keep her happy in Destiny? Or would she get bored and tired of waiting like Emma had?

The cart hit a rut in the road, jostling him out of his thoughts. Spencer turned on his headlights. A moment later, Randall appeared in the road. Thank goodness. He’d hoped to find him out here.