'I'm awfully rusty with that stuff.'
Kilgore's smile and eyebrows said he was unconvinced. 'I want to see if you can hack Castello Da Vinci's network.'
'I can most probably do that.'
'Lives depend on it.'
'Do they have any wireless parts of their net?' Tyrone asked.
'Just for guests,' Kilgore said. 'They have hot spots for all the visitors they have. But it's firewalled off from the main network. Plus, everything's encrypted. Guests get a onetime use Wireless Encryption Protocol key.'
'WEP's a piece of Swiss cheese,' Tyrone said. 'Total moving target. Crackers break it, router guys issue some new firmware, which hardly anybody ever upgrades, and even if they did, the crackers are usually a step ahead.'
'I thought a WiFi hot spot only went a few hundred yards,' Jasmine said.
'Depends,' Tyrone said. 'Back at a DEFCON hackers convention in Vegas, they had a contest and managed more than fifty miles. My guess is that with all the guests they have and all the rock and stone around Castello Da Vinci, they will have ratcheted up the power of their system and tweaked antennas so their important guests won't get a weak signal. And, if the place is as big as you say-and we know Braxton has access to all sorts of corporate things-he probably has an IT setup there, probably a VPN to his company and maybe links to other places.'
The air got rough for a moment as we closed in on the Longview airstrip.
'So you can do it?'
'Yeah,' Tyrone said confidently. 'I can do it, but I need a decent laptop with two wireless 802.11n cards, some wire, aluminum foil, a couple of Pringles cans, and an hour or so with a good Internet connection to download some software.'
'We can do that.' Kilgore nodded. 'But, remember, you can't access your servers anymore.'
'Don't need to. The software I need to blow open the General's network is available for free to anyone with an Internet connection.'
'Oh, jeez,' Rex said.
'Okay, we've got only a couple of minutes here,' Kilgore said as he spread out the topo maps to offer the lay of terrain, roads, and the fortresslike security around and in Castello Da Vinci.
'Our guy's certain Gabriel and Harper are jailed in one of the half dozen barrelaging caves at the base of the complex. None of them have locks, just big iron bolts on the outside. They're off a spur tunnel intersecting the main service tunnel not far from the loading docks.
'Bad news is the weather's hot as hell, well over one hundred degrees. Good new is there's one helluva big wildfire on the other side of the valley and the prevailing winds are blowing it right over the General's place, so visibility's pretty bad.
'More bad news: there's a big party tonight-Pentagon brass, corporate execs- which means extra security and a lot more people we will not want to shoot. The upside's all the caterers, and deliveries of food and wine. That's how we get in.'
'Why wine delivered?' Rex asked. 'From everything I've read, Braxton's got a multimillion-dollar wine cellar.'
'But he doesn't drink it,' Kilgore said.
'Doesn't drink it?'
'He's a collector,' Jasmine said. 'It's all about the collection, not about the drinking.'
'Now that's crazy,' Rex said.
'It's one sign of the type of brain injury Braxton has,' I said. 'And he picked up his collecting mania right after the head wound.'
The pilot interrupted us with his final approach announcement. We helped Kilgore secure his papers and cleaned off the fold-down table until only a single red file folder remained. The jet lurched and yawed as the downdrafts of approaching afternoon thunderstorms tossed it about.
'Here.' He handed the file folder to Jasmine. 'This describes your mission. Pass it along to Tyrone when you're done.'
The landing gear groaned into position. Only then did Jack Kilgore take his seat and buckle in for the landing.
CHAPTER 89
Castello Da Vinci's barrel-aging caves were rough semicircles in cross section and huddled deep inside the base of the old volcanic cone. Sprayed concrete and reinforcing mesh coated the rock walls to prevent the odd piece from falling onto the heads of winemakers and distinguished guests.
The floor trickled damp from some deep and ambitious aquifer. The French-oak barrels came from trees near Limousin and reached to the ceiling, eight-high on metal racks that held two barrels each. All bore the General's coat of arms burned into the heads.
Durable paper stapled to each head detailed the varietal, vintage, vineyard, winemaker; and other pedigree. A small alcove hollowed out of the rock walls off the main cave held a long, rough oak table around which sat twelve straight-backed chairs. A strikingly modern light hung over the table where barrel samples were tasted, admired, fawned over, and worshiped by the high priests of wine and the acolytes fortunate enough to be granted an audience with wine made from some of the world's most expensive grapes by one of the world's most exclusive celebrity winemakers under contract to one of the richest and most powerful men in the world.
Dan Gabriel sat in one of the high-backed chairs and sneezed at the cold dankness. He was naked from the waist up, having given the rest of his clothes to Frank Harper, who lay semi-fetally on the table.
'Bless you,' said Harper.
'Thanks.' Gabriel got up and rubbed his shoulders as he walked around the room again. The thick, solid-oak cave door was the only exit and had a simple but hefty iron bolt that slid from the outside only.
'It's no use,' Gabriel mumbled as he made his circuit of the room, looking for a weapon, a path out, a tool, or any sort of inspiration for escape. 'I've been around this room a hundred times and there's nothing that can help us.'
'Let's pull the bung on one of them and drink it,' Harper said.
Gabriel finished his circuit of the room and sat heavily back in the chair next to Harper.
'Might as well,' Gabriel said. 'At least we'd go out happy'
'That your choice?
'Not much of a choice.'
'I suppose,' Harper said. 'But then, not making a choice is a choice itself, now isn't it?'
'Excuse me?'
'The decision not to make a choice is a decision to put yourself at the mercy of events and other people and allow them to make those choices for you.'
'What about now when we don't have a choice?'
We always have a choice,' Harper said, 'but sometimes we have to search very hard for it.'
'Doctor, I've been scouring this damn place for hours now and all I get from you is philosophy.' Gabriel's voice was sharp and raw.
'I am sorry I don't have an answer,' Harper said softly. 'But if you are going to give up, then make it a conscious decision. That way you, and not someone else, will have made the choice, visualized the consequences, and come to terms with yourself. There is dignity in being responsible for one's own choices even if they turn out wrong.'
Gabriel listened to the quavering voice and couldn't tell if the old man was talking about the current situation or the past fifty years. Probably both.
'Look, I'm sorry for being so tense,' Gabriel said. 'But this conversation is not helping us get out of here.'
'Is getting out of here your decision?'
