The End Game

“With all the power out, it might be a while before they can open the bay doors.” He handed the ID back. He’d barely glanced at it. “This is a pisser. You got any idea what’s going on? Did you see any trucks working on the lines on your way in?”

“Nope, I don’t have a clue what’s going on, been driving forever.”

“Well, keep to the lanes, watch for the Secret Service guys. They’re crawling all over the place getting ready for the president’s big speech here tomorrow. If it happens, that is, and sure it won’t unless they fix this power mess.”

“Got it.” Matthew rolled up the window and reminded himself to breathe.

Andy was flushed with pride. “Imagine, Matthew, everyone’s afraid, isn’t that great? They’re afraid because of me. I like that, I really do. Don’t you think this plant would make a fine burn?”

“Yeah, everyone’s afraid because of you, Andy. Now, keep an eye out. How goes the outage?”

Andy pulled his laptop from back under the seat. “It’s all the way to the Pe

“You and Gunther. Make sure it’s down long enough so we can place the bomb.”

“I’m doing my job. You do yours,” Andy said. “More me than Gunther; you think about it. Hey, everything would be perfect if you hadn’t gotten me shot.”

Patience, patience. “Right,” Matthew said, “and you’re the idiot who left the memory sticks behind, you’re the one who ran when the FBI saw you. If you’d played it cool, you would have been fine. But you panicked and got yourself shot.” How many times had he said this already? His hand fisted on the steering wheel to keep from punching Andy, maybe knocking him out of the truck and ru

The little idiot pouted, no other word for it.

“Matthew, you’re going to have to place the bomb yourself. I can’t limp in there, now, can I? I’d draw attention. The police aren’t stupid; you know they’re looking for us. This place is crawling with Secret Service, too. I’m staying in the truck.”

“Grow a pair, Andy. We’re in this together.” He sounded calm, in control. Wasn’t he the Bishop?

“I don’t know you anymore. I mean, lots of girls screw guys. So Vanessa played you, Matthew. She played all of us. She was really good and she hurt your feelings. You shot her, killed her dead, paid her back, so don’t take it out on me.”

Matthew saw the blood flowing into her hair, turning it stiff and black. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it this time. He struck out with his right fist and punched Andy in the jaw. Andy’s head snapped against the window with a crack.

Andy yelled, “You bastard, you hit me, you hurt me. Without me, you’d be back in Belfast jerking around with Ian.” He began to rock back and forth as he held his jaw.

Matthew whispered through clenched teeth, “Listen to me, you moron. You will do as I say or I will cut out your tongue and leave you bleeding next to the bombs with a sign nailed to your chest saying you pla

Andy didn’t say a word. He turned to stare out the window. Matthew thought he might be crying.

“Answer me,” Matthew repeated quietly. “Do you understand?”

Andy put up his hands to ward off another blow, drew his legs up to his chest. “Yes, yes, of course. I’ll do it. Stop threatening me.”

“Then stop trying my patience, Andy. Stop your whining, your mouthing off. There’s too much at stake. We’ve got to focus.”

He pulled the truck to a stop. A man in a black suit hurried over. “Don’t screw it up,” Matthew whispered between clenched teeth. He got out of the cab and said, in a thick Virginian accent, “Hiya.”

“Papers, please. We’ll need to check the truck, too.”

“No worries.” He handed over the clipboard with the bill of lading on it. “Droppin’ the load off.” Matthew cocked his head a bit so the baseball cap hid his face.

I’m a good old boy doing my job. Don’t make me kill you.

The agent was thorough. After five minutes, though, he waved them through.

Matthew got back into the rig, slammed the door, and slapped the rig in gear. He drove toward their spot, careful not to pop the air brakes as they went down a slight hill.

Andy said, “I’m setting the timer, Matthew. I’ll be ready to drop the code.”

55

ROOK TO E1

FBI Headquarters

The attack was deep, moving fast, overloading the grids as they watched, threatening to take down even more power. Nicholas had five guys working on each leg of the code, but no one was making any progress.

Martin said, “We’re not getting it done. Do you have any more ideas how to stop the code from spreading, Nicholas?”

Think. Think. Be the code.

The code was everything. Gunther was the architect. He’d built something new, so new Nicholas had never seen it before, but there was a key to unlock every code. He simply needed to find the way in. Think, think. And then an idea sparked. “I need to get into Gunther’s server, look at his code from the inside out.”

Savich said, “Nicholas, doesn’t Menard have Gunther’s computers? You can access them remotely.”

“Savich, you’ve nailed it. That’s it. Mike, get me Menard. Right now.”

Mike was fast. “It’s on speaker. What else can I do?”

“You can cross all your fingers.”

Menard said, “Nicholas, I have no more news for you. I—”

“Pierre, forgive me for interrupting. I need access to Gunther Ansell’s computers. Can you get me in?”

He blew out a breath and Nicholas could picture his Gallic shrug. “I can try, but it will be trés difficile. Give me some time.”

“We have no time, Pierre. I need in there, right now. Who can I speak to locally? Who’s working the case?”

“Hold a moment, I will conference you in.”

The phone went silent. Martin said from behind him, “What are you thinking?”

“Gunther always wrote a special key to his code. It’s something we all do, in case of catastrophe. If I can hijack his system I might be able to find the key. Without it, we can’t stop the attack quickly enough. It continues to grow, the power outages are spreading. The power could be out for days at this rate, and with no one prepared, the results could be devastating.”

Menard said, “Nicholas, I have on the line the head of Munich’s police technology intervention unit, Lieutenant Elsie Splatz. She is the one who has been working on compiling the information requested in the warrant you provided. She can help you.”

A woman’s voice came clear on the line, accented, but her English was excellent. “Special Agent Drummond, I have the hard drives of Gunther Ansell’s computers in my office. We have been searching them, but his security is very good. We have not been able to get back his second layer of firewalls.”

“Give me access to your servers, I’ll look myself.”

“I am sorry, Agent Drummond, but that will not be possible. Your warrants have not cleared.”

Mike rolled her eyes at him, and he smiled for the first time in an hour. He said, “We certainly wouldn’t want a little thing like errant paperwork to get in the way of an international cyber-attack.”

“Your sarcasm is duly noted. What would you like me to do?”

“Look for a file called ‘Roman.’ It will be in the subfolders of an encrypted drive called ‘Fever.’”

A few taps. “Yes, I see it here. As you say, it is encrypted. We have not been able to get through this firewall.”