Deep Black

58

Johnny Bib kept twenty-three voices in his head. Exactly twenty-three. Twenty-three was a beautiful number, a prime with mystical qualities and associations. There were twenty-three ages of man, twenty-three major rules of life, twenty-three important places in the world. Eleven was a good number, and seventeen, and as far as his personal preferences went, Johnny had always felt something for 103. But twenty-three was sublime.

One of the voices told him now that he was wrong about the coup. He heard it quite clearly as Rubens and the CIA people on the conference call debated whether the movements they had observed meant the coup was under way or still in its preparatory stages. Clearly, as Rubens argued, it was the latter; the intercepts made that clear. Johnny was about to cite the statistics to back up his superior when the voice broke into his thoughts and told him he was wrong.

He was shocked. Rarely did he get anything wrong. He sat silently in his seat and waited for an explanation, but the voice did not offer one.

Where was the error?

The voice didn’t say.

“Where was it?” Johnny asked.

Realizing he’d spoken out loud, he glanced up immediately, looking to see if anyone had noticed. He could not tell anyone about the voices, since they would not understand, Rubens especially; they would think him more than usually eccentric, even for the NSA.

Every pore in Johnny’s body opened. Sweat flooded into his clothes. His shirt was so wet he glanced down to make sure the pinstripes weren’t bleeding into his skin.

But no one seemed to have noticed.

“Latest, Johnny?” asked Rubens.

“I—”

“You mentioned a possible time window for the attempt on Kurakin, based on the driving distances and one of the intercepted schedules.”

Rubens was prompting him. Johnny liked Rubens; he was one of his few intellectual equals at the agency and obviously was trying to help him now.

He couldn’t let Rubens make a mistake.

“It’s wrong,” said Johnny finally.

“What?” said Rubens.

“Wrong.”

“Perovskaya, the defense minister — you had new information about him?” asked Rubens.

Johnny nodded his head, though he wasn’t covered by a video camera and no one could see him. The intercepts seemed to point to Perovskaya. He was in contact with three of the obviously rebelling military units. There was additional traffic, not yet decrypted, between his secretary and two other units, as well as an order from his office to a key Moscow infantry unit allowing extra leave. Johnny had told Rubens all of this before the secure conference call.

Wrong, said the voice again.

Where?

The voice wouldn’t respond.

“Johnny, are you with us?” asked Rubens.

Johnny began to nod.

“OK,” said Rubens. “Keep at it. Brott, any updates on the Air Force?”

Johnny listened for a few seconds to the force analysis, then abruptly took off his headset and left the Art Room. He had to find his error, with or without the voice’s help.