“That’s why I want to meet Boris.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“I assume he’s reprogrammed the chips so that each is linked to a specific code.”
“Of course. And whoever he sold them to has reprogrammed them again.”
“But my ceramic device can reset those codes, correct?”
He looks confused for a minute, then says, “Holy shit!”
I smile.
George says, “Why do you need to talk to Boris?”
“I want to know what he’s done with the chips.”
“I can tell you what he’s done with them. He’s sold them to terrorist cells all over the world!”
“You think?”
“I know it for a fact.”
“Do you suppose he’s like you guys?”
“What do you mean?”
“Two hundred and twelve’s an odd number of chips. You think he sold two hundred and kept a dozen for himself?”
George says, “Now that you mention it, I think it’s a certainty.”
“I think so too. How many chips do you think each terrorist cell has in their stash?”
“Probably twenty groups have ten each.”
“Or ten have twenty.”
“Or forty have five.”
I think about it a minute, and say, “It’s more likely fifty terrorist cells have four chips each.”
“Why?”
“There are only so many times you can sew bombs into people’s mouths in the same neighborhood without attracting attention.”
George says, “You don’t need to meet Boris! If you’ve got the ceramic device, we can reprogram everything right now! We can kill Boris and a bunch of terrorists at the same time!”
George is right. I don’t need Boris. And I probably could kill dozens of terrorists in one fell swoop, assuming they’ve stashed the chips in their homes, or their clothing. Of course, there will be instances where I’m simply blowing up chips in an empty building or storage locker, or hole in the ground where they’ve been buried. But there’s a high probability key people would be killed, and probably Boris, since twelve chips going off at the same time would kill him if he’s anywhere near his stash.
“Do you think Boris knows about the ceramic device?”
“No one knows about it.”
“Except you and the board members,” I say.
“Right. And Gwen Peters.”
“Which means a lot of people could know by now.”
“True. We’d better hurry up and change the code.”
“I can’t do that, George.”
“Of course you can! Press the button four times and blow the bastards to hell!”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m Connor Payne.”
He thinks about that.
“You killed Dr. Willis?”
I say nothing.
“And her staff?”
I say nothing.
He goes quiet a minute. Then says, “Are you going to kill me?”
“Probably.”
“I’ve got a family.”
“I know. And I’ve got a problem.”
“What problem?”
“As I see it, there are two ways to do this. First, I can plug the ceramic device into the wrist unit, and reprogram each of the two hundred and twelve chips, as well as the chip in my brain.”
George says, “That only works if you know the codes in advance.”
“In that case, I only have one option. Press the button on the ceramic device four times in ten seconds and blow up all the units at once.”
“Correct.”
“But when I press the four digits to kill the terrorists, I’ll boil my own brains.”
“Oh.”
“Exactly.”
He says, “You have to do it anyway.”
“What?”
“You have to sacrifice yourself. This is a chance to save not only my family, but thousands of families all over the world!”
“What kind of man would I be not to do that?” I ask.
“Exactly,” George says. “It’s a horrible situation, but it’s the right thing to do.”
“Think on it a little longer. Maybe there’s a way to reprogram the other chips while bypassing the one in my head.”
My cell phone vibrates. I walk toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got a call. Work on my problem till I get back.”
37.
“Bad news, Donovan,” Lou says.
“Let’s hear it.”
“The guy we had tailing Kimberly last year? Jimmy T.?”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead.”
I pause to let the news sink in. “What happened?”
“He moved to South Carolina, changed his name, got a teaching job at Viceroy College.”
“What was his new name?”
“Jonah Toth.”
“What happened, heart attack?”
“He was murdered.”
“Where?”
“In the men’s room. At the college.”
“When?”
“That’s the weird part. This happened a week ago today.”
“Did they get the guy who did it?”
“No leads. No one knows anything. He taught his class, walked across the hall to use the bathroom, got shot standing at the urinal.
“And this happened a week ago.”
“A week ago exactly.”
“Could he have been on drugs? Fooling around on his wife? Anything like that?”
