Brain Jack Part 26

"Good evening," Ben said in his richest, bulletin-opening voice. "And welcome to CNN evening news. In breaking news tonight..." Even as he read the words from the teleprompter, his mind was telling him that there was a problem. There had been no breaking news when they had rehea.r.s.ed the bulletin just ten minutes ago. If there was now, the news director would have warned him, would have whispered into the tiny earphone that was clipped into his right ear. He had no choice but to continue, though. The words on that screen were the words of CNN, and a billion people were waiting for him to deliver them.

"A dangerous computer virus has been identified and tracked across the globe."

What the h.e.l.l...?

"Known as the neuro-virus, this. .h.i.therto unknown virus has been described as extremely dangerous by computer security a.n.a.lysts. It spreads through neuro-connections, infecting human brains through neuro-headsets. Once infected, a person may start to exhibit strange behavior. The public are asked to watch out for this symptom in neuro-users. There is no known cure for this virus, and all computer users are asked to avoid using neuro-headsets for the foreseeable future."

He had a neuro-headset in his office. Why hadn't he been warned about this?

"Users are also advised to expect a ma.s.sive denial and cover-up of the virus as neuro-technology corporations look to safeguard their investments. The government, too, is expected to deny the existence of this destructive new virus, which experts warn may also be able to infect and destroy ordinary computer networks."

He saw movement from the corner of his eye and glanced over at the floor manager, who was making an urgent throat-cutting gesture at him.

"Cut to break!" a voice shouted in his earphone.

"I'm Ben O'Hara. You're watching CNN, and we'll be back after this short message." When the red light went out, he said, not very studiously or professionally, "What the h.e.l.l is going on?"

"Story's a fake," the news director said in his ear. "Somebody hacked into our teleprompter system and planted it. We've got everybody from Telecomerica to the Pentagon on the line denying it."

But the story said they would deny it, didn't it?

The voice in his ear continued, "We're back in two or three minutes with a retraction. They're just drafting it now. It'll be keyed up on the teleprompter when we go back. The key points are that there is no such virus; it is just a hoax. There is no danger either to neuro-connections or to ordinary computer networks. The Pentagon is sending over a specialist for us to interview and-"

The voice cut off, replaced by a high-pitched electronic whine that stung his ear. Ben tore out the earphone with a cry and left it dangling from his collar.

He looked up at the control booth to see the news director gesticulating furiously. The red light on the camera began to flash, and he tore his attention back to the teleprompter computer. It was filled with gibberish.

Overhead, the studio lights suddenly went out.

38 CAPTURE

Tyler kept his gun level and steady.

Sam stood in the doorway and stared at him, his mouth, and his eyes, wide open.

"Where's Dodge?" Tyler asked.

Vienna's eyes flicked to the side, and Tyler nudged the door open a bit wider with his boot.

Dodge stood to one side, staring off at nothing, his eyes vacant and a strand of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Shame," Tyler said. "He was a good kid. Maybe the doc can fix him up when we get you back to CDD."

"You know that'll never happen," Vienna spat at him. "You saw what happened to Swamp Witch. That's what's going to happen to all three of us if you take us back in."

"Save the dramatics for the trial," Tyler said calmly. "Now turn around and face the wall."

They did, except for Dodge, who stayed in the center of the room and drooled.

Tyler tried to flick off a quick neuro-message to the team, but there seemed to be something wrong with the connection. Either his headset or the neuro-network was off-line. A glance at the security console showed that most of the monitors were dead also, and the central computer screen showed only a blue screen covered with error messages.

No matter, he still had his radio. He stepped forward, covering Vienna and Sam with his gun as he pulled his handcuffs off his belt. He just had the one pair, but that would do until backup arrived. There were only two of them to be concerned about, and he could handcuff them to each other.

A guard-Gordon, no doubt-was handcuffed to the security desk. He seemed confused about what was going on.

"Am I glad to see you," Gordon said. "Agent Tyler?"

"That's right," Tyler said. "Have they been in here the whole time?"

"Since before you first called, yes. They had a gun on me, told me what to say."

"Figures," Tyler said, holstering his pistol and grasping Sam's wrist. "Can you tell me if they have done anything, other than just hiding out in here?"

"Yes. After the punk one woke up, they uploaded some kind of computer file, maybe a virus, to somewhere. They didn't say where."

Tyler's brain was still registering the words "the punk one woke up" when he felt a tug at the back of his neck as his neuro-headset was forcibly unplugged. At the same instant, his pistol was lifted from his holster. He made a grab for it and started to spin around, but it was already far too late.

"h.e.l.lo, guv'nor," Dodge said. "You miss me?"

39 DARKNESS

Sam led the way, groping along the corridors in the minimal light from the emergency lighting, the only thing in the mall that was still operating.

Tyler followed him, his arms cuffed behind his back and a pistol pressed against his spine by Vienna, who was close behind. He had been stripped of his armor, helmet, and boots, as they contained tracking devices. His belt radio was in the hands of Dodge, at the rear of the small party.

When they reached the main thoroughfare, Sam's first impression was of chaos, people moving in every direction without reason, without purpose.

He quickly realized that was wrong, though. Those people were heading for the exits, while others congregated in groups, standing or sitting in the middle of the mall, waiting for the lights to come back on. There was a sense of confidence. Confidence in the abilities of those in charge to restore order and stability.

How little they really knew!

He saw a woman trying to use a cell phone, shaking the phone with frustration as if somehow that would help it connect.

Some practical-minded people had flashlights, either purchased or, more likely, "borrowed" from the department stores or hardware stores in the mall.

"One of the Tactical teams is trapped in an elevator," Dodge said from behind them, one ear to Tyler's radio. "But the rest are coming down the emergency stairs on the west of the building. The dog team is coming back from the north corner. They're all looking for Tyler. Wondering why he isn't responding to the radio."

"Should we give Tyler the radio, tell him what to say, like we did with Gordon?" Sam asked.

Dodge shook his head. "Tactical have special code words to indicate that they are in trouble. Better to leave them guessing."

The sliding doors at the southwestern entrance to the mall had been shut when the power had gone off, but someone had forced them open using the legs of a chair as a lever.

The gap was narrow, and they had to join a queue of people trudging through. From the darkness in the center of the mall, Sam could hear barking, and he knew the dog teams were not far away. He hurriedly squeezed through to the outside.

The temperature had dropped from earlier in the day, and with the night had also come a freezing rain. It pierced through his s.h.i.+rt and stung like needles on the bare skin of his face, long watery icicles exploding in pools of water on the street.

Sam wrapped his arms around himself and stood to one side, trying to get some cover from the overhang of the mall roof as the others came through the gap.

They crept down Fairlane Drive, avoiding the police cars, and crossed over the Great Mall Parkway onto McCandless Drive. At the center of the parkway, they had to pa.s.s under a train, lifeless, lightless, and stranded in the middle of the elevated light-rail tracks. From inside, frightened eyes peered down at the dark, wet streets that surrounded them.

They continued down the wide, tree-lined avenue, using their fingers to narrow the flashlights down to pencil-thin beams. In the light, the rain made long white scratches on the wall of blackness around them.

Tyler's radio crackled back into life as they neared the spillway bridge, and in the relative quiet of McCandless Drive, Sam could hear the voices clearly.

"Hutchens, this is Dog One; we have a scent trail outside the main doors, heading down Fairlane. Over."

"Copy that. All teams converge on Fairlane."

"Kill the flashlights, quick!" Sam said. "And get off the bridge-get down into the spillway."

Dodge pushed Tyler roughly sideways, but he kept his feet and followed Sam, climbing over a low mesh fence and down a steep bank covered in tussock gra.s.s, toward the spillway ca.n.a.l.

Sam risked a flash of his light here in the dip, out of sight of their pursuers. The water looked murky, with patches of dark green. It spluttered and spat under the impact of the rain. It also looked freezing cold, but fortunately, there was sufficient dry bank on either side for them to clamber along under the bridge without getting wet. They crouched beneath the thick concrete span and waited silently.

The sound of running footsteps came from above them, and the beams of strong flashlights splayed out across the water. At the point where they had left the roadway, the sounds paused but did not stop, the dogs losing the scent in the rain and moving on across the bridge overhead.

Tyler made no sound, mostly due to the fact that the barrel of Vienna's pistol was firmly wedged in his mouth.

"It won't take them long to realize they've lost the scent," Vienna said. "We need to move. Get in the water-it'll kill the trail for the dogs."

Sam took one more look at the murky, sludgy ca.n.a.l water and obeyed without hesitation. There was a faintly putrid smell to the water, a whiff of decayed vegetation. It filled his shoes and soaked his jeans, sending shock waves of cold through his body.

"Go west," Vienna whispered, pointing in the darkness. "The ca.n.a.l splits and they won't know which way we've gone."

At the spillway intersection, they turned north, heading back toward the Great Mall but well below the level of the road.

"Move it!" Dodge said, prodding Tyler in the back. They all picked up the pace, trying to get as much distance between their pursuers and themselves as possible.

"Wait here," Vienna said a few minutes later, clambering up the bank through the tussock gra.s.s.

Lights turned the corner of the ca.n.a.l, and they could hear the voices of the searchers, no more than thirty or forty yards away.

"Where is she?" Sam whispered urgently.

"She'll be here," Dodge replied. The sound of a large engine came from the top of the bank, and Vienna's voice hissed, "Up here, quick."

"There!" A shout came from behind them.

Tyler tried to delay them as they climbed the steep bank, but Dodge grabbed his wrists and lifted, twisting Tyler's arms up so that he gave a small cry of pain and had to keep stumbling forward to take off the pressure.

"Freeze!" voices called from behind them, but Sam ignored them, hauling on the long damp strands of tussock to help himself to the top of the bank.

A small van, a black Volkswagen Transporter, was pulled up to the fence, its engine idling, its lights off. The side door was open, and Dodge jerked Tyler roughly over the fence and threw him through the opening, where he landed facedown on the carpet.

"Freeze! Armed federal agents. Do not move or we will fire upon you!"

"Get in," Dodge yelled. "They won't shoot, not while we have Tyler."

Sam threw himself in the open door on top of Tyler and felt Dodge climb in beside him. Dark figures appeared at the fence behind them, and he rolled over and grabbed the handle of the door, slamming it shut.

No sooner had he done that than it opened again, and a black-suited figure was reaching into the van.

Sam kicked the man as hard as he could in the chest, and the man staggered backward as the tires spun in the wet, then gripped the road. The van took off at high speed, the soldier falling away into the darkness behind them.

They saw the helicopter before it saw them, the huge "night sun" floodlight was.h.i.+ng away the darkness from the roadway in front of them and filling the air below it with a heavy curtain of rain. Vienna spun the van off the road as the ma.s.sive circle of light approached and hid beneath the canopy of a group of trees in front of a used-car lot.

The helicopter pa.s.sed by without seeing them. "Time to change cars," Vienna said, the van crawling down the long rows of the car lot.

She stopped alongside a black Ford crew-cab pickup with raised suspension and outsized, off-road wheels. It towered over the other cars in the dark of the lot.

"This'll do," she said.

40 THE VALLEY OF DEATH

The darkness was overwhelming. Without streetlights, the streets and buildings were black against the black of the sky, an enveloping night punctuated only by the lights of vehicles and the flas.h.i.+ng red-and-blues of police cruisers.

Into this darkness drifted ever-present freezing rain, lighter than before and invisible, except where it caught the police lights.

The intersection of Parkway and South Main Street was blocked with cars, at least six of them jammed together in a multicar pileup, no doubt caused by the sudden loss of street and traffic lights. The drivers were standing around yelling at each other in the darkness. Vienna swung the wheel sharply, the pickup lifting and tilting as she cut left across the center line, aiming straight at a pair of ornate wrought-iron gates in a wall surrounding an apartment building.

"Hold on!" she yelled, but it wasn't necessary. The blunt knife that was the front b.u.mper of the pickup sliced through the gates as if they were made of cardboard, twisted metal spinning away to the sides.

They raced through a construction site, with timber stacked in tidy piles, over some scrubby ground, and through another fence, this one just a plastic orange safety fence.