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 hell 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.
“Hello, 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.
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 shirt 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 pass 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.
