Protocol 7 Read online

  Simon’s head came up. “What?”

  “Unknown—”

  There was a knock and a familiar voice right behind it.

  “Professor?” Simon heard, both through the door and the intercom that Fae silently activated. “Professor, it’s me—Andrew.”

  “What the devil…?” he said to himself, and moved quickly to open the door.

  “Hello there!” Andrew said, sounding cheerful and completely innocent. But he was holding his personal phone next to his face, the screen pointing right at Simon, displaying seven words as large as he could make them:

  HAVE YOU CHECKED YOUR FLAT FOR BUGS?

  “Mind if I come in?” he said as Simon read the message. Simon could see a thousand things going on behind the young man’s smile.

  He thought about it, but only for a moment. “…Of course,” he said. “Come in.”

  He still had the pad and pencil in his hand, the list of names visible. He flipped to a clean sheet, wrote swiftly, and then showed it to the young man as he came in, and Fae locked the door behind him remotely.

  Simon wrote back:

  NO, CAN YOU?

  Andrew read the words and nodded enthusiastically. For the next three minutes, Simon watched in silent amazement as the young man pulled a variety of small devices from a wide array of pockets and belt loops, moving from room to room, making faces and tapping walls.

  Finally they were back in the study, and he put the last device away. “I don’t suppose you have a console I could use? Something connected to your AI?”

  “Of course he has,” Fae’s voice answered. “And the name is ‘Fae.’”

  Andrew grinned. “Fae it is, then,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you. Now that console…?”

  Simon showed him to his desk and got out of the way as the young man plopped himself into the chair and let his fingers fly across the virtual keyboard.

  After a few keystrokes and a muttered word, the bubbling darkness in the holo-display congealed into a churning black-and-white cloud of static—monochromatic digital bees in a hive.

  “That little app your AI built was lovely,” Andrew said. “Very clever.”

  “Why thank you,” Fae said. She sounded thoroughly charmed.

  “But unfortunately, it just makes a ‘hole’ in the sound-map. A few too many of those, and the uberprograms will notice, wonder what you’re hiding.” He continued to type madly as he spoke, as if his fingers were completely connected to his brain. “Let’s try this instead—my own little recipe. Not just a security shield; this actually samples the voices in the room and reconstructs a non-volatile conversation to replace the real audio for any listening device, local or remote. Algorithm-proof. You’d have to be a real, live person, and a truly suspicious one, to know we aren’t just having a pint and shooting the shit.”

  Simon nodded, very satisfied. “Good,” he said. “That was the kind of thing that I was hoping to get from Hayden, but—”

  Andrew stopped typing and looked up for the first time. “Hayden’s scared,” he said. “There’s something going on at the college—someone’s stealing data, leaking conversations, even sabotaging research experiments. It’s driving him crazy, and he doesn’t dare let something like…this, like what you showed us, into the place until he figures out what’s going on.”

  It took a moment for Simon to process all that…but it made sense. Perfect sense.

  “All right, then,” he said. “Good to know.”

  Andrew’s grin grew wider. “It’s true!” he said. “That’s why I popped ‘round!”

  I need this man, Simon realized. Rather badly. “Look,” he said aloud, “I’m thinking of taking a trip—quite a long trip, actually. But it’s one I will want to take in complete privacy—complete, Andrew. No one can know where I am, how I’m getting there, or what my destination is—not anywhere along the way.”

  The young scientist nodded; he didn’t even seem surprised. “Air travel?”

  Simon shrugged “By air, by rail, by sea, by private vehicle and public trans, whatever…it could be anything. Everything.”

  Andrew made a thinking-face. “Okay…” he said. “You know how hard that is, right? You’re talking about hiding from or faking out analog snoops like the eyes-down satellites, and dumb digitals like the metro CCTV systems, not to mention much smarter private security cams, and the entire Google-sphere, and AI/GPS, and—”

  Simon put up a hand. “I get it. It’s hard. The questions to you are: can it be done, and can you do it?”

  Andrew gave that crooked smile again. “One question in two parts with only one answer: if it can be done, I can do it. In fact, I’m one of the very few who can.”

  ˆSimon actually believed that. “They don’t call you ‘The Invisible Man’ for nothing, Andrew.”

  “I really rather hate that nickname,” he said…then grinned. “But I rather love it, too. Still—let me show you what you’re asking for.”

  He dug into his coat pocket and came up with a flat translucent box. Half a dozen glowing panels decorated the sides; one edge was trimmed in shining metal. “Stand up,” he said, squinting at the device.

  “What?”

  “On your feet.”

  Simon stood up slowly and faced the student. Andrew pointed the device at him, metal edge first and swept it up and down from toe to head and back again. The device said, “Thank you,” in a polite AI voice.

  “You know what thread recorders are, I assume.”

  Simon sighed. “Yes.” Of course he did. They were one of the first real breakthroughs of nanotechnology: strings of protein-machines, thin as sewing thread that could digitally record bits of sound—from a few seconds to hours, depending on the length and complexity of the construct. They could be woven into clothing or jewelry, even into hair extensions, and then accessed by AIs and the cell network. It ended the need for microphones and ear buds and changed communications technology forever. “What about—”

  “They can be a lot thinner than you think,” Andrew said. “Too thin to be seen by the human eye, actually. And they can be blown about by the breeze, cling to your clothes or hair or even skin, and then be queried by wireless interrogators that you’ll find…well, pretty much everywhere. Every time you pass a microwave transponder, or an ell link, or even a wireless cam, a third party can read what’s on any given thread. Then another AI can fit all the little pieces together in no time at all. So anybody who really wants to can hear any conversation you’ve had—indoors or out, in private or public, pretty much all the time.”

  Simon was appalled. “That’s insane.”

  Andrew held up the glowing device. It said, “Professor Fitzpatrick has nine unauthorized threads on his person.”

  “What?”

  “Playback?” the AI asked politely.

  “Please,” Andrew said, not taking his eyes from Simon.

  Rough-edged but perfectly understandable versions of his own voice and Max’s sarcastic tones filled the room:

  “Are you actually suggesting I drop everything I’m doing and fly halfway around the world because you want to have a chat?”

  “Yeah, Max, that’s exactly what I want you to do: come skipping on home for a fucking chat.” There was a brief pause, and then he heard himself say, “Okay, I get it. Forget we even discussed this.”

  “All right,” Simon said harshly. “You’ve made your point.”

  Andrew dropped his hand and thumbed a panel on the device. “Permanent erase, please,” he said.

  “Erasure complete,” the device responded.

  He dropped it casually on the couch. Simon shook his head, thoroughly chilled. “I had no idea it was that…extensive. That intrusive.”

  Andrew shrugged. “Only a matter of time, really. It started almost fifty years ago with CCTV and Google Earth. I’m sure the government types would have liked to keep it to themselves, but that’s simply not possible. The tech is too common, too cheap, too easy to decrypt.”

  Simon
found himself a bit weak in the knees, despite all his training and discipline.

  He felt like he had to sit down. “Good god,” he said.

  “It’s not so much that someone is listening to every word you say,” Andrew told him, trying to be comforting in his own awkward way. “It’s that they can, if they have a reason to.”

  “And you can stop that?”

  Andrew nodded, and for the first time Simon saw the serious, even haunted man underneath the easygoing grad-student exterior. This man was a genius who had taken on a huge burden, who knew a secret that few others knew, and he took it very seriously. “Yes. I can keep the surveillance systems—all of them—distracted,” he said. “I fool some of them, I shield others. I basically make them not notice you, whether you’re moving or not, talking or not, broadcasting or not. What really protects you is the sheer size of the planet: seven billion people, every one of them with a digital signature. It’s just too much data to shift, even for the smartest AI ever grown. It’s too chaotic. And of course, my amazing brain is a big help, too.”

  He grinned again, and the shadow disappeared from his eyes. Simon knew immediately he’d made the right choice. This young man, impulsive as he was, was clearly essential to his plan.

  “How much would it cost me for the full treatment?” he said. “Actually, for me and a few others, traveling with me?”

  Andrew did his best to look shrewd. He picked up the pad of paper and the pen, handling it as if it was an alien device. “I’m going to write down a figure,” he said playfully.

  Simon grinned. “Oh, please do.”

  Andrew scrawled a number on an empty page and made a flourish “pound” sign in front of it. Then he ripped the page free and handed it facedown to his colleague. Simon tried to keep a straight face as he took it and turned it over.

  It was pathetically low. He could actually have covered it out of his savings with barely a dent. I had no idea how low on the hog he was living, he said. He even felt a little guilty about it.

  “I think I can work with that,” he said dryly and tucked the paper in his pocket.

  “Great. Only one other condition, then.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “I’m coming with.”

  Simon didn’t even have to think about that one. He shook his head firmly. “No,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Andrew, no. Do I even have to tell you that there might be danger involved? Physical danger, as well as danger from the authorities that could ruin your career or put you in prison?”

  “No, in fact, you do not have to mention that. I was assuming.” He plopped down and hunched his shoulders, thinking furiously. “Look, I know I can write my own ticket, work for any company or government in the world, and make more money than God. I get that. But…I don’t want to. I don’t want to work in some super clean facility for the rest of my life, or sit behind a desk and guide some other team of researchers who are having the real fun. I’m twenty-six years old, Simon. This is when I’m supposed to take risks. Besides, the level of invisibility you’re looking for? Can’t do it remotely. The whole point is that you can’t be detected remotely, so how could I possibly rig it that way?”

  Simon glared at him. “I’m not prepared to put you at risk.”

  Andrew looked to the side and gave him an elaborate shrug. “Then I guess you’re prepared to stay at home and get listened to. Forever.”

  Simon kept glaring. Andrew did the same…for a moment. Then he broke away with a laugh and hopped up again. Simon looked away and tried not to smile. Damn jumping jack, Simon thought, amused despite his annoyance.

  “Look,” Andrew said. “Here. A lovely parting gift or two.” He opened his backpack and pulled out a set of unusual-looking cell phones—big, bulky devices compared to the paper-thin phones that were popular before voice threads replaced the entire tech. They looked like something from the turn of the century, covered with buttons and speakers and a tiny little screen. Simon thought they were almost…quaint.

  “You need to use these from now on,” Andrew said. “You and anyone else you will consider in your plan—which, by the way, now includes me.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Right. These are shielded. No one can track your whereabouts or the number you are calling from. The number is different each time.”

  “But what about incoming info?”

  “No one will be able to call you from a regular phone, except for the other two phones like it that are in my office. I can reach you, but a stranger can’t. If you end up calling someone, their conversation may be picked up, but yours will be scrambled.”

  Simon shook his head in disappointment that it had to go this far. He reached over and took the two devices from Andrew. “I appreciate everything you’re doing. Can you make more of these?”

  “As many as you need, included in the price.”

  “Thanks.”

  Andrew suddenly brightened. “Oh! And check this out!” He dug into his backpack and pulled out another item: an old-fashioned diving wristwatch with a rather heavy, oval face. “Looks like a twentieth-century watch, right? No. Totally secure communicator, only two other watches just like it. For like private short-range communication between team members. Waterproof, shockproof, heat- and cold-proof, a battery that will last a lifetime. You couldn’t break these babies if you tried.”

  Simon couldn’t help but smile at his sheer enthusiasm. “Interesting,” he said. “I suppose I could use half a dozen of those as well.”

  “Cool!”

  But then Andrew must have seen something in his friend’s face. His own expression suddenly softened. “Listen,” he said. “I know you think you’re protecting me, and I appreciate it. But even I can tell that whatever is going on is way above your head. You need help.”

  Simon shook his head. “Andrew, I—”

  “Professor. Simon. You need to trust somebody. I can see that. And you can trust me.”

  Simon nodded. “Let me think about it,” he said. “And let me make one more call on this old, bad phone. Then you can dispose of it for me.”

  “All right, then,” Andrew said.

  Simon dialed the number from memory. It was answered immediately.

  “Hey,” he said to the voice on the other end. “It’s me. Are you free this evening? Seven o’clock or so?” He paused for a moment, nodding into the phone. “Yeah, I’d rather talk about it face-to-face. Just a little project of mine you might be interested in.”

  The voice on the other end was Ryan. “Nice to hear from you stranger—didn’t recognize the number…you alone or should I expect a guest?”

  “Maybe a few…” said Simon.

  “A few? Well then, a few for dinner,” Ryan said.

  “Dinner it is,” said Simon, ending the call.

  “Was that Ryan?” Andrew asked.

  Simon nodded. Their colleague, Ryan, was one of the foremost experts when it came to Remote Access Intervention.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Andrew said, “Because not too many people can manipulate remote satellites like he can.”

  Simon looked at the beaming college student one last time. “Okay,” he said and handed him the phone. “I’ll think about it. I’ll think about you coming along.”

  Andrew spread his hands. “What more could I ask?” he said. “I’ll be waiting for your call. On that phone, of course.” He grinned again. “I mean, you can’t be too careful.”

  WASHINGTON, DC

  Capitol South Metro Station

  Jonathan Weiss stood under the main surveillance camera in the Capitol South Metro Station and waited for the train that would take him to the airport. It was one of the least photographed spots on the subway platform, and he found himself there more out of force of habit than anything else. He knew he was still visible in half a dozen ways, including the cams in the kiosks, the ones mounted on the train, and any personal imagers on commuters who wandered by, but it made him feel better, somehow
. Inconspicuous. Out of sight.

  Jonathan looked up at the arching concrete waffle-pattern of the station’s ceiling and took a deep breath. Even fifty feet underground, even looking at a concrete overhang, even trapped in a tunnel with a hundred other people, for the first time in a very long time, he felt…free. His boss had given him some well-deserved time off. He—and his superior—believed he was off on a hedonistic trip to the Cayman Islands, where he would be doing unspeakable things for the next ten days. And by the time they noticed his absence—from the Cayman Islands, Washington and the world at large—he would be far, far away, in London or beyond, deeply enmeshed in a brand new, entirely fictional life and off the radar forever.

  Forever.

  “Enough,” he heard himself say.

  It had simply become too much for him. Everything he had done, everything he had learned—and not just in Antarctica, but everywhere: in the UNED headquarters, at Langley, in nameless facilities in anonymous countries all across the globe…no, he couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t want to.

  “Hello, Jon.”

  Jonathan stopped moving. Stopped breathing. He turned on his heel to his right, very slowly.

  His body froze for an instant—he had to realize what he was seeing. He had only heard of the woman through conversation and had seen her photo. It was Takara, an Asian beauty and one of the most efficiently trained assassins in all of UNED.

  Takara was standing five feet from him, looking him straight in the eye.

  How did I let her get so close? he asked himself. A rookie mistake. I was just feeling…good. I let my guard down.

  “You need to come back now,” Takara said. Her dark eyes flickered for an instant to take in the few other commuters waiting for the train. They were a fair distance away at the opposite end of the platform near the ticket booths. No one was even glancing at the two people having a casual conversation in the far corner of the station.

  “How did you find me?” he asked, less out of curiosity than as a delaying tactic. He needed to give himself a moment to put a plan together.

  “Your…reluctance…to deal with the project in Antarctica made us take a second look.”

  Jonathan nodded. “Ah,” he said.