Cutting Edge

59

“You knew about Delta,” said DeBolt as he looked down the barrel of a stubby semiautomatic. The weapon appeared steady in Patel’s hand, yet he took another step back to put more ground between them. A sign of confidence in his marksmanship? Or discomfort in the tactical situation? DeBolt suspected the latter. He estimated they were separated by eight feet — too far to go for the gun, regardless of Patel’s skill level.

“I created Delta!” said Patel. “Just as I created you.”

DeBolt shook his head, trying to make sense of it. “But … surely you realize every remnant of META has been destroyed. The surgery clinic in Maine burned to the ground, Benefield is dead.”

“There was also the unfortunate DARPA software team in Virginia,” Patel added. “You never knew about them. I could never have managed the project alone — the system architecture and coding were extensive. We hired a group of programmers, a few support personnel. Thirteen men and women altogether.”

“Thirteen?” DeBolt said, as much to himself as Patel. Yet another rise in the body count. By now he should have been numb to such a revelation, but it struck a blow all the same. “Were there other subjects?”

“Alpha and Charlie … but they never had a chance. One was an Army sergeant, the other a Navy corpsman. Neither could possibly have recovered from their injuries.”

“You’ve killed a lot of people.”

“It wasn’t me — I am only a technician, a computer engineer. Although, one might say I programmed the demise of META. The wet work, as they say, was done by Colonel Freeman and his Special Forces team. And of course Delta.”

“But META was your idea, your creation … why destroy it now?”

“You still don’t understand, do you. I haven’t destroyed it. I’ve taken ownership. META is mine alone now, and it can’t be reversed. The software you so blithely use to make amazing discoveries is deeply embedded at its source — it won’t be discovered for years, if ever.”

“What is the source?” DeBolt asked. It had always loomed as his biggest question.

“It won’t hurt to tell you. Not given your immediate prospects. But you should have figured it out. Think about it, Bravo. You don’t merely see maps and websites. You can access military intelligence and satellite imagery, obtain data on any individual in the world who has a profile on a server. You can hack into corporate databases, activate a cell phone camera in China, map the electrical grid in Bulgaria. What little you’ve stumbled upon so far — it only touches the surface.”

DeBolt stood still listening, hanging on every word.

Patel smiled. “Yes, there it is. I can see it in your expression — just like Delta. At first you don’t want any of it. You feel used, as if you’ve been turned into some kind of cyborg, half human and half machine. You’re overwhelmed and burdened by your new abilities. But slowly you begin to realize what you have. What you might do with it. Can you deny it? The feeling of supremacy, of having virtually all knowledge available for the asking?”

DeBolt wanted to deny it … but Patel wasn’t completely off the mark. He had felt it, a confidence, even an ascendancy. He had been given an intoxicating power others could scarcely imagine.

“Of course you know where it comes from,” the scientist continued. “Tell me — what is the most capable agency in the world when it comes to sorting data and signals intelligence? Who can hack at will into virtually any network — friend or foe, corporate or government? Who can monitor anyone’s phone traffic and track their commutes? What agency coined the term ‘yottabyte’—that’s ten to the twenty-fourth power — because ‘zettabyte’ wasn’t enough? Think, Bravo. You know.”

DeBolt didn’t want to admit it, but Patel was right again. There was but one possible source.

He had known all along.

Lund watched the conference spokesman trundle up the center aisle. He was beefy and wore an ill-fitting business suit — put him in leather suspenders and lederhosen, and he would have looked right at home in a beer hall. He approached the lectern at the head of the Festsaal gallery, played with the microphone for a moment, and said in thickly accented English, “My apologies for the inconvenience. Dr. Patel has obviously been delayed. We are trying to reach him and discover the nature of the difficulty. When we get any information, an update will be provided. As we wait, refreshments are available in the main hall.”

There was a flourish of hushed conversation, and what had been a trickle of defectors became a flood. The central aisle filled shoulder to shoulder. The place would be empty within minutes. Lund considered joining the crowd, but saw little point. If Patel was going to show up, this was where it would be. Anyway, where else did she have to go?

She settled deeper into her chair.

If nothing else, she thought, I’m safe here.

The rail-thin man sitting next to her got up to leave.