Plot counterplot, p.24
Plot/Counterplot, page 24
He took the mirror in both hands. And gasped.
“But—this cannot be. This must be a dream.”
“No, Louie.”
“I remember aging. I remember—” He looked at her. His eyes watered. “I remember burying you.”
“It wasn’t real.”
“I remember moving to the United States.”
“The United States? Louie—look around you. Are we in the United States? Is this not the same one-room flat where we have always lived?”
He looked all ways at once. So far as he could tell, he was a young man again, with his much beloved dead wife, in his old apartment.
“Liesel...it’s like I’ve been given a second chance. It’s a miracle!”
She softly brushed his hair from his forehead. “Louie, with you, every day is a miracle. And this one may be the greatest of all.”
Chapter 50
2:37 p.m.
33 minutes left
Dylan watched through the two-way mirror as Mr. X comforted and calmed the addled and disoriented scientist. She was delivering a magnificent performance. He had chosen her for this role thinking that, if someone had to have surgery to make them resemble Scheimer’s deceased wife, it might as well be the woman whose face was marred by extensive scar tissue. He had not counted on how truly impressive her thespian talents turned out to be.
As good as she was, she still hadn’t obtained the information they needed, and time was running out.Mikala listened to every word of the conversation, typing every possibility into Scheimer’s laptop. But so far—no hits. That worried Dylan. Because learning the password was the primary purpose of this elaborate charade.
Dylan had conducted extensive research on how most people chose their computer passwords. The most sensible approach was to create a password made of gibberish, a random collection of numbers and letters. But most people don’t do that, because it made the password too hard to remember. Most people chose a word or phrase that had special meaning to them. A wife’s name, a pet’s name, their birthday. Something they would always recall, maybe with a number or punctuation mark added.
Felix had uncovered a redacted transcript of a CIA meeting in which Scheimer, in response to a security check, said his password was something “no one else knew—at least no one still alive.”
That was the hint Dylan needed. By far, the most significant deceased person in Scheimer’s past was his wife. He hoped that recreating the happiest time in the scientist’s life would induce him to unwittingly reveal the password.
“I’m so confused,” Scheimer said, in a soft, broken tone. “I cannot believe all this is true. I can recall an entire life. Can an entire life be a dream?”
“Apparently so, Louie.”
“But I remember my travels.”
“And I can tell you that you have traveled nowhere, because I have been standing watch over your bedside for weeks.”
“It seems incredible—but it must be so. This room of ours, you, even me—” He glanced at himself again in the mirror. “Nothing has changed.”
“And nothing ever will, my love.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Not so long as we are together. Focus on the happy times, darling. That will chase away the nightmares.”
Come on, Dylan thought, glancing at his watch. Get him to talk about what matters most to him.
“The happiest day of my life was the day I met you, Liesel.”
“Tell me about it.”
“But—you were there.”
“I want to go there again. Tell me the story.”
He smiled a little. “I was thinking about a problem posed by the Master. His early work in robotics. I was strolling past the Brandenburg Gate and there you were. In the heart of the city, and in my heart as well, from the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
Out the corner of his eye, Dylan sawMikala typing in every possible word of any significance. Brandenburg Gate. Nikola Tesla. Master. Good thing she understood German—and the laptop didn’t penalize for incorrect guesses. But she still hadn’t found the password.
“Do you remember our first date?” Mr. X asked.
His smile brightened. “Of course. Springtime. Alexanderplatz. Rumors that Americans would bring down the Wall. So much going on in the world. But all I cared about was you.”
Lani kept typing. Without success.
“And of our happy moments together, dear. Which do you cherish most?”
His eyes moistened. “The day you agreed to be my bride. And our wedding day. The French Cathedral at the Gendarmenmarkt. Music streaming from the Concert Hall next door. You in my arms. So much future we had. So many plans. We were going to buy a home. We were going to start—” He stopped short.
The expression on his face triggered a thought inside Dylan’s brain. He knew what Scheimer was about to say. Perhaps because he and Leilani had said it too.
Of course. People usually chose passwords that were important to them. Passwords keyed to important memories.
But that didn’t mean they were necessarily happy memories.
“What were we going to start, dear?”
He placed his hand over hers. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Did you mean—a family?”
“I would’ve been a horrible father.”
Dylan had done extensive research on this man’s life, but there was no record that he ever had children. Not with his deceased wife or anyone else.
“Don’t be foolish, darling. You would have been wonderful. If—If—”
He lowered his head. “If she had lived. I am sorry for reminding you. I know how much it hurt you to lose her.”
“Get a name,” Dylan whispered into the transmitter.
“It did hurt,” she said. “But I thought there could always be another.”
“The doctors said no. So tragic to lose a child like that. When there can never be any more. We never spoke of it. Not to others. Not to one another.”
“But we never forgot her. Our little...”
“Of course not. How could we?”
“But my baby,” Mr. X said, her voice cracking. “My poor sweet little...”
“She had her mother’s eyes.” Tears flowed.
Dylan looked at the clock. The time allotted for this masquerade had already elapsed. “Get the name!”
“I remember,” Mr. X said, “how your voice trembled the first time I heard you say her name out loud.”
He nodded, pulling her tightly to him. “When they let me hold her, ever so briefly, ever so still.”
“Say it, Louie. Say it again for me.”
He held his hands up as if holding an imaginary infant. “My little Elise!”
Dylan’s head whipped around.Mikala was already typing. E-L-I-S-E. She hit Enter.
Nothing happened.
She typed it again, then added a “1” and an exclamation point.
The screen turned white, then resolved into a desktop with many file folders.
“I’m inside,”Mikala whispered.
“Can you read the files?”
“Not yet. But I can begin encrypting.”
“How long will it take?”
“You know I can’t predict that. Stop talking to me. I’m working.”
“We have what we need from Scheimer,” Dylan said into the transmitter. “End it.”
Mr. X put her arms around the scientist, his eyes glazed and wet with confusion and sorrow. “You are a good man, Louie,” she said. She removed the inhaler from her pocket and held it to his mouth. “Go to sleep.”
* * *
Xavier was in the emergenCy medical room in Health Sciences. A nurse took his pulse and blood pressure. The two security guards stood nearby, just in case he caused more trouble. He was ready to bolt, but he couldn’t do that until he heard...
The voice in his head. “Lani and Dylan are heading back to the university. You can go now.”
And not a moment too soon—the nurse was talking about removing his big plastic head.
“No,” he informed her, “we will not do that.”
Xavier removed the blood pressure cuff from his arm.
“Wait just a minute,” the nurse said. “We’re going to need a reading before we put in an IV.”
“I am fine.”
“Fine? A few minutes ago you were spitting up blood.”
One of the security guards stepped forward. “Mister, you need to do what she says. Just lie down and—”
“Do not give me orders,” Xavier said directly. He could see they were taken aback by the sudden absence of drunkenness in his voice. “I am your superior.”
“My—what—”
“I am working special university task force,” Xavier said matter-of-factly. He pulled out Detwiler’s wallet—pickpocketed when he grabbed the man’s legs—and flashed the ID. “Boris Pushkin. This has been a test.”
“A test?”
“And am pleased to say you passed with flying colors.”
That slowed him down. “I did?”
“You all did. You are to be congratulated. I will recommend all for promotion. And hike in pay.”
There are few things as sad, Xavier thought, as a man accustomed to being in control who suddenly realizes he has no idea what is going on. “Could you just—explain what you’re talking about?”
Xavier did his best to sound serious, despite the fact that he was still wearing a cartoon head he had no intention of removing. “Very simple. University has received large grants from US government to conduct secret intelligence-related research.”
The guard nodded. “So?”
“We asked to conduct exercises to test officers. You showed impressive efficienCy and great capacity for dealing with unexpected.”
The man wasn’t arguing, but Xavier could see he was struggling to understand. “We have been through extensive training...”
“It shows. I was instructed to use whatever means possible, during chaos of parade, to distract you from job. But I could not. Brilliant work, men. And you, madam. Brilliant.”
“Well....thank you.”
“I must be going. I will ask you to keep quiet until exercises completed. Don’t give advance warnings to other personnel. You will be contacted when it is all over. And you will find reward is worth wait.” That should buy their silence. At least until it didn’t matter anymore.
“Sure. I can keep a secret.”
“I know you can.” Xavier clapped both men on the back. “Now if you will pardon, I must wear this head to nuclear physics lab. Damn thing weighs ton.” He departed quickly, leaving them unsure whether they should be pleased or distressed. “Carry on with excellent work.”
* * *
The pop-up appeared on Joe’s computer screen. That was a cause for concern. He set his broom down and slid into the carrel.
Someone was trying to access Scheimer’s laptop files. Possibly Scheimer. But then again, possibly not. The good doctor had expressed concern that an enemy agent might pursue this information.
He had been hired by the Navy to make sure Scheimer’s research was protected. His primary function was to check every half hour on the laptop. It didn’t word process, it didn’t compute, and it certainly never went on the Internet. All it did was make sure Dr. Scheimer’s data was safe. The laptop had an internal spider that even Scheimer didn’t know about. A cuff fastened around the hard drive equipped with a wireless transmission capability. When certain activities occurred, Joe got a message.
Joe couldn’t read Scheimer’s files, but he could tell when they were in use.
Most importantly, he could tell anytime someone tried to copy the files. Or typed in the wrong password.
Which someone had done twenty-seven times in the last half hour.
Not even Scheimer was that bad a typist. At least when he was sober.
Fortunately, Joe could lock the files remotely. Then no one could access restricted files or copy anything.
He sat down at the keyboard. Should only take a few minutes to freeze the files.
Then he would go down to the lab and find out what was going on.
Chapter 51
2:44 p.m.
26 minutes left
During the drive back to the university, Dylan watched Bakersfield remove the hair dye, the make-up, and change Scheimer’s clothes. The hypertox faded on schedule. The wrinkles returned. All traces of the deception disappeared and the GHB Giep administered would have its intended amnesiac effect. When he woke, Scheimer would have a severe headache, but he would remember nothing. Neither he nor the CIA would know he’d been interrogated. In a way.
Kalifa drove the ambulance to the designated point on campus, parked, and switched to another car. Dylan threw Scheimer over his shoulder. Mikala placed a huge serape over Dylan’s head.
“Unless someone looks really closely, they can’t tell you’re carrying a passenger.”
“I can,” Dylan grunted. “Let’s hurry.”
They ducked behind a hedge while Kalifa drove his car—technically, his float—toward the parade. A campus security officer holding back the spectators. Dylan listened through the listening device inside Kalifa’s mouth.
“What’s your story?”
Kalifa had an elaborate tale prepared, but it wasn’t necessary. “Sorry I’m late. I made a wrong turn on Pine. This is my first time to drive a volcano.”
He was indeed towing a volcano—one made of papier mache and tissues, padded in the center with foam rubber. Glitter lights provided the illusion of lava flowing down the sides.
The officer rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to wait for an opening.”
“Whatever you say, sir. Appreciate it.”
A few moments later, the cop jumped between two floats, held traffic for a few moments, and let the volcano join the line.
“Hurry,” Dylan muttered into his hidden mic. “This guy weighs a ton.”
“Cowboy up,” Felix replied. “He’ll get there.”
“Lani can’t decrypt properly behind the bushes.”
“Yeah,”Mikala added. “What he said.”
“Kalifa’s approaching the physics building,” Felix answered. “Yes. Here he goes.”
From their secluded position, Dylan watched Kalifa weave in his lane—in effect, getting into character. He wondered what the ultimate charge would be. Drunk and in charge of a volcano?
Without warning, Kalifa floored it. The car—with the float still attached—veered off to the right, off the road, and straight toward the physics lab.
Detwiler rushed out. The car weaved back and forth around the lawn. Kalifa took a sharp left, forcing Detwiler to leap out of the way of the jackknifing volcano. The car barreled into a tree.
Kalifa feigned a head injury. Detwiler ran to the car.
And while Detweiler and everyone else had their eyes fixed on the idiot who just collided with a tree, Dylan andMikala sneaked back inside the lab.
* * *
Dylan dropped Scheimer into the chair by his desk, letting his head fall forward. He would be asleep for at least another ten minutes. When he woke, he’d have no idea that he’d leaked his password.
“How’s the encryption working?” Dylan asked.
“Done,”Mikala replied. “Downloading. Started with the eighth file first, as you requested. But we have a problem. We’ve been detected.”Mikala pointed to a tab at the top of the screen. “It popped up as soon as I finished decrypting and copied the files to my flash drive.”
“What does it mean?”
“Someone with a remote connection is trying to shut me down.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. But see the parallel lines.”Mikala pointed to two horizontal indicators inching across the screen. “The longer one shows the progress of my download. The shorter shows someone else’s progress toward shutting me out. I’m ahead. But he’s moving faster.”
“You’ll be locked out in about a minute.”
“Right. And I won’t be done for at least...”
“A minute and forty-three seconds.” Felix’s voice crackled in his ear.
“You understand what’s happening?” Dylan asked Felix.
“I sure as hell do.”
“Is there any way we can stop it?”
“No. Your Cyber-supervisor appears to have override capacity.”
Dylan andMikala exchanged a somber look. “Then we’re dead.”
Chapter 52
2:51 p.m.
19 minutes left
This was strange and getting stranger, Joe thought, as he watched the progress of his lockdown order. No one could access Scheimer’s files wirelessly or through the Net. No one could get inside this building without clearance. So what was going on? He knew Scheimer was fond of his sour mash, but he usually didn’t start this early in the day. Was he doing wild and funky things to his laptop without knowing it?
Didn’t matter. His job was to secure those files. Then he’d go to the lab and investigate.
He clicked Return a few times, which of course had the same effect as impatiently punching the Close Doors button in an elevator. None.
The problem was, there were eight separate files. He could only close them one at a time. And it took a while for the close order to be transmitted via the spider, which was slower than an internet connection would be. But the database wouldn’t be secure until they were all locked.
Take a deep breath, Joe told himself. Like the students say—chill. The Navy established a protocol for this scenario and he was following it. The hard drive would be shut down soon.
There was no cause to worry. No one could possibly get to those files. And even if they did—they couldn’t possibly escape.
* * *
Tolga slithered through the open portal head first, grasping the edges with his arms. Both shoulders were now relocated, but the left ached with an intensity that made it difficult to focus on his remaining tasks. Tensing his entire body, he executed a perfect head-tuck somersault and slowly lowered himself to the ground. He released the ceiling ledge and dropped the remaining four feet.
