“You Special Forces sissies may need flashy sports cars to attract the fairer sex, but not us hackers,” responded Griffin with mock bravado. “Women find us irresistible. We get swarmed like rock stars.”
Desh laughed. “I see. So the minivan is actually a tactic to fend them off?”
“Exactly,” replied Griffin with a grin.
“Good choice, then.”
Griffin laughed. “Actually,” he said, “I use it to haul around scores of old computers, sometimes rebuilding and reselling them and sometimes cannibalizing parts.” He smiled slyly. “And as for women, I do very well for myself. And I really
Desh gazed at Griffin quizzically.
“Online, of course,” he said in amusement.
Desh’s smile remained for several seconds. When it was finally gone, a grave expression replaced it. “All right, Matt,” he said. “It’s time to tell you what I know, incomplete as it is.”
Griffin’s face reflected both eagerness and anxiety, in equal measure.
Throughout the long drive to Emporia, Desh told Griffin everything he knew and the current state of his analysis, forcing himself to obey the speed limit as he did so; battling his nature so they wouldn’t risk getting pulled over. The day remained overcast, with intermittent rain, although it appeared they were driving away from the rain rather than toward it.
When Desh had finished, Griffin was dumbfounded. “This is truly astonishing stuff here, David. If any of this is true the implications are staggering,” he said.
Desh pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. “I know I’ve managed to put you in the middle of all this, but if it makes you feel any better, you and I could be standing at the crossroads of human history. The decisions we make now could well play a role in stopping a bioterror threat and bringing the fountain of youth to the world.”
“Thanks David,” said Griffin, a pained expression on his face. “Now I feel a lot more relaxed.”
“I was shooting for inspiration.”
“And you succeeded. I’m inspired and freaked out at the same time.”
Desh smiled. “Why don’t you tell me what you learned about Kira while I was asleep,” he said.
Griffin was five minutes into his report when Desh’s cell phone went off. He pulled it from his pocket and eyed the screen warily. It was Connelly. And given the call was unsecured, it had to be urgent. Connelly’s cell, like Desh’s, was untraceable, but it paid to keep the communication short and to the point.
“Yes,” snapped Desh as he answered the call.
“I’m tracking non-stop toward our rendezvous point, with an ETA as planned,” said Connelly. “Managed to flush out some company. I think I lost them but can’t be sure.”
“Understood,” said Desh. He paused in thought for a moment and then added, “Stick with the original plan. I’ll monitor your perimeter after you arrive.”
“Copy that,” said Connelly, ending the connection.
Griffin eyed Desh questioningly as he put his phone away.
“The colonel detected a car following him,” explained Desh. “But he thinks he lost them.”
“
“We have to assume he hasn’t.”
“But I heard you say, ‘stick with the original plan.’ Why would you do that if you still think he might have been followed?”
“Because we need information and this might be our best chance to get some.”
“How?”
“By setting up an ambush for any unwanted guests,” responded Desh gravely.
Griffin shook his head vigorously. “No way!” he croaked, his lofty vocabulary invariably coming down to earth when he was scared or angry. “That’s
Desh let out a heavy sigh and frowned deeply. “Me either, Matt,” he mumbled wearily. “Me either.”
David Desh glanced impatiently at his watch once again and frowned. He was hidden from view behind a large tree trunk at the outer edge of the clearing, which was roughly the size of a basketball court, waiting for Connelly’s arrival. He and Griffin had picked up a cab in Emporia. After instructing the driver to drop them off a quarter-mile from the meeting point they had finished their journey on foot. Desh had the tranquilizer gun in one pocket of his windbreaker and two spare clips for his .45 in the other.
Griffin was waiting twenty yards farther into the woods. Few of the trees were totally bare, while many of them held full compliments of leaves that hadn’t even begun to change color. Given the significant number of evergreens added to the mix, the woods provided adequate cover as Desh had hoped, with a thin cushion of colorful, newly fallen leaves on the ground.
Desh came to full alert! A car was approaching.
He relaxed slightly as it came into view and he recognized the colonel behind the wheel. Connelly carefully chose his route over the hardened ground, which hadn’t experienced any of the rain that had fallen to the north, trying to minimize any evidence of the passage of his car. He killed the engine and cautiously got out, alert for anyone following. He was wearing civilian slacks and a heavy green knit sweater. Judging from his bulk, Desh guessed he was wearing a vest as well.
Connelly surveyed the tree line methodically. When his eyes reached Desh’s hiding place, Desh moved his head into Connelly’s line of sight and nodded meaningfully. The colonel caught his eye and gave him an all but imperceptible nod of acknowledgment in return. Satisfied that Desh was in place as expected, Connelly scooped up an arm-full of fallen leaves and returned to where his car had exited the road, placing the leaves strategically so they would hide any visible tracks but would still look random.
He then carefully returned to the clearing and stood by his car as if waiting for someone.
Desh knew it was possible that Connelly had lost whoever was tailing him, but if these followers could authorize satellite time this would be little consolation. It was also possible that whoever had been following the colonel had no intention of taking any hostile action, but Desh had no choice but to assume otherwise.
Desh quietly made his way to the oversized hacker. “It’s showtime,” he whispered so softly that Griffin wasn’t sure if he had heard it or had simply read Desh’s lips. “Don’t move. Don’t even have noisy thoughts,” he continued in hushed tones, his lips almost touching Griffin’s right ear. “A single snap of a twig can give away your position.”
Griffin glared at him angrily for putting him in harm’s way but nodded his understanding.
Desh picked his way through the woods noiselessly, with cat-like grace and light-footedness. The tip of his tongue protruded just slightly from his mouth as he concentrated carefully on avoiding pine cones and twigs, and more plentiful still, fallen leaves that had become dried out and would crunch noisily at the slightest touch.
Desh was convinced that whoever was following Connelly would have enough respect for the colonel not to try a frontal assault. Given Connelly’s location in the clearing they were sure to take a textbook approach through the surrounding woods to surprise him on multiple flanks. Desh was on Connelly’s southern flank and calculated the angle he would take, coming from the road, if he were attacking Connelly. He chose a post that gave him a full view of this expected approach while keeping him hidden.
He waited behind a dense evergreen, ringed by a thin cushion of needles, now brown, that had fallen from the tree. He remained perfectly still as several minutes ticked by.
He caught movement from the corner of his eye!
A man dressed in black commando gear and wearing a bulletproof vest was stealthily approaching along the exact line Desh had visualized, a militarized and silenced version of Desh’s H&K .45 automatic, a favorite of Special Forces commandos, gripped in his right hand. Desh’s heart began to jackhammer wildly in his chest but he was able to steady it through force of will alone. The soldier scanned his surroundings alertly while he moved silently and athletically through the woods toward Connelly’s position.
Desh leveled the tranquilizer gun at the commando and waited for him to get closer. He had no interest in harming a fellow member of the Special Forces who might just be a dupe in this situation. Given the soldier’s body armor, a tranquilizer gun would be his most effective weapon in any case.
