Zen had thought of the idea earlier and been ready to reject it because it didn’t seem as if the clone could be Chinese. But if what Stoner was saying was true — that one unit might spy on another — then the clone’s location made perfect sense.
“We fly over their coast, try to get them to come out. If it’s Chinese, eventually they’ll come and take a look. In the meantime, we can adjust our Elint gear to look for their transmissions,” added Zen. “Now that we know what we’re looking for, our range will be wider. They won’t know it.”
“I guess.”
“You have a better idea?” Zen asked.
“Actually, I came down to suggest it myself.”
Jennifer Gleason took the last turn and broke into a sprint as she headed up the hill back toward the low- slung building that housed her small apartment. As she ran, she glanced in the direction of Dog’s small bungalow, hoping he might appear. The fact that he didn’t probably meant he was already over at his office. She channeled her disappointment into her legs, pushing out long strides as she finished her daily run.
One brief warm-down and shower later, she grabbed breakfast from her tiny refrigerator — strawberry- banana yogurt — then headed over to the computer labs located below the main Megafortress hangars. Jennifer liked the feel of the empty lab around her early in the morning; she generally had the large underground complex to herself for at least a few hours and could walk around talking to herself as she figured out problems. That would be especially important today; she had an idea on how they might be able to break into the ghost clone’s coding and take it over, assuming they could get close to it again.
Jennifer got off the elevator and punched her card into the reader next to the door, fingers slipping to the side to hit the number combination to clear the lock while she stared down the retina scan. Inside, she got a pot of coffee going, then went back to kick her computers on so they’d be ready when the coffee was.
Except nothing came up.
Jennifer stared at the blank screens, then reached down to the keyboards and gave her access codes again, directing the terminals to boot into the main system housed in a shielded bunker two floors below. The coffee hissed at her from the bench at the side of the room. She hit Enter and went back for a cup, expecting the screens to be blinking their hellos when she returned. But they were still blank.
Kneeling at her station, she keyed her passwords one letter and number at a time. The system allowed only three tries, so she had to get it right.
She did.
But there was still nothing.
The computers were operating — there was a cursor on the fifteen-inch network screen, and the two larger CRTs had their indicator lights on.
The bungled attempts at signing on locked her out as a user, but not as system administrator. She went to the network bench, where the operating system — which she had helped tweak — was controlled. The monitor flashed to life, reported that the system was in perfect shape — and then refused her password.
“You get up early,” said Ray Rubeo, coming into the lab.
“Something’s wrong with the system,” said Jennifer.
“Hardly. Miss Spanish Inquisition has temporarily locked us out of the system.”
“What?”
Rubeo went to the coffeemaker and poured himself a cup. He drank the whole cup, black and steaming, in two gulps, then poured himself another one.
“We’re under suspicion of being spies,” said Rubeo.
“No, that’s not true,” said Danny Freah, entering the room. Cortend was right behind him.
“Danny, did you lock me out of the system?”
“I did it,” said Rubeo. “We’re all out.”
“We’re just following standard procedure,” said Freah. “Just until we can go through some more interviews.”
“I thought this was an informal inquiry,” said Jennifer.
Danny didn’t answer.
“When is this lockout going to end?” asked Jennifer.
“When you pass a lie detector test,” said Cortend.
“What?”
“Are you refusing?” said Cortend.
Jennifer had taken several lie detector tests before, but the implication of it — that she was suspected of being a traitor — floored her. She felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach.
“You don’t have to take the test if you don’t want, Jen,” said Danny.
“Oh, please,” said Rubeo. “If we don’t take the test, we won’t be restored to the system. And you’ll consider pulling our clearance permanently.”
“Not necessarily,” said Danny.
Cortend said nothing. Jennifer thought she saw the faintest outline of a grin at the sides of the colonel’s lips.
Where was Dog in all this?
No wonder he hadn’t run with her this morning. Danny wouldn’t have gone ahead with all this unless he’d cleared it with the colonel first.
What, did he think she was a traitor too?
How could he?
She clamped her mouth shut, stifling a string of curses. But her anger had to come out somehow — she batted her coffee cup to the floor, sending the hot liquid streaming onto the industrial carpeting.
“Jen, where are you going?” asked Danny as she brushed past.
“I’m going to go get some breakfast. Then I’ll take your fucking lie detector test. What a bunch of bullshit.”
Stoner could feel his eyes drooping as he stepped off the elevator and headed for the commander’s suite. He’d pulled an all-nighter, working out a plan with Zen to provoke whoever was flying the ghost clone into appearing again. The Air Force officer clearly didn’t like him, but Stoner admired him even so. Zen had lost the use of his legs in a flying accident; rather than dropping out he’d fought his way back into the Air Force and actually onto the front lines.
Stoner would have liked to think that he’d have done the same thing — but he was smart enough to realize he would more likely have succumbed to the inherent bitterness of the situation. While Zen did seem to approach the world with a chip on his shoulder, he didn’t let the chip keep him from getting things done.
That alone made him worth watching.
Chief Master Sergeant Terrence “Ax” Gibbs popped up from a desk near the side of the room as Stoner entered.
“Stoner, right?” asked the chief.
“Yes, sir.”
“Jackie, go get Mr. Stoner some coffee. He likes it on the weak side. Grab some sticky buns too. The cinnamon ones.” The chief master sergeant turned to him and grinned. “It’s okay, Mr. Stoner, one or two buns isn’t going to hurt your girlish figure.”
Stoner had never met him, much less told him what he liked to eat or drink, but somehow the chief had nailed it.
“Thanks, Chief Gibbs,” he said.
“We take care of people here. Zen’s inside already, along with the colonel. You call me Ax,” added the chief. “You need something around here, you get ahold of me. You got that?”
Ax reached back to his desk and hit an intercom buzzer, then stepped up to the door.
“We all know what you did to save Captain Stockard,” said Ax. “We appreciate it.”
