“I admire your optimism,” said Dutton. “But you still don’t know if you can really do this.”
“True, but I never bet against Super-Matt,” said Griffin with a smile. “If he thinks we’ve laid enough groundwork, made enough breakthroughs, to give these nanites the Matrix experience, who am I to argue against him.”
“And has Super-Matt calculated the odds that the purpose of these nanites is positive rather than negative?” asked Jake.
“He has no idea,” said Griffin. “Personally, I’m hoping the nanites assemble into a quantum computer containing all the secrets of the cosmos.”
Jake nodded, and he forced out an anxious smile. “Wouldn’t that be nice,” he said with a sigh. “I guess there’s only one way to find out,” he added grimly.
52
David Desh and Morris Jacobson stood alertly outside the cabin door while the bearded giant within slumbered, trying to recover from the repeated abuses to which he had submitted his body and brain. Four other American men patrolled the corridors leading to this particular cabin, bodyguards for the most important person on earth who was about to undertake the most important task ever attempted—when he awoke from his catnap. And Andrew Dutton was arranging for Griffin’s sole use of a classified computer programmed with the most complete model of the real world ever built.
Desh had spent most of his time with the colonel since he had boarded. Jake’s job was to watch Desh and Icarus’s prized software genius, Matt Griffin. Desh’s job was to watch Matt as well, helping him in any way he could and making sure that he was safe from anyone with malicious intent, both inside or outside of Jake’s group of men. So in the final analysis, since both men’s job was to watch Matt, and each other, they spent most of their time together by unspoken agreement.
Desh had only spoken with Kira twice, using a borrowed cell phone, but each conversation had been brief and in his view, stilted. He needed to get to the bottom of what was going on back home: what she was involved with and how Ross Metzger fit in. Not knowing was eating at his psyche like a marauding colony of army ants, but there was too much happening for him to make any progress on that front, so his fears festered like an open sore.
Jake nodded at him. “I’ve had some of my people back in the States check out your story, like you asked.”
Desh raised his eyebrows. “And?”
“And it checks out. Adam Archibald disappeared, like you predicted, although given the condition of his yacht, he’s assumed drowned.”
“Go on.”
“After considerable digging, my people have verified that Archibald is the reincarnation of Eric Frey, a genetic engineer from USAMRIDD wanted for a lot of bad shit.” He shook his head. “They told me the identity switch was flawless. If they weren’t already tipped off that Archibald was really Eric Frey, they’d have never made the connection.”
“Ready to believe we aren’t the villains you think we are yet?”
Jake smiled. “Let’s just say my mind continues to be open to additional evidence. Your problem is that you and Kira are so creative and clever. And deceptive.”
Desh considered. “I get that,” he admitted. “You can never be certain you aren’t being played when dealing with someone of Kira’s capabilities.” He frowned. He knew the feeling well. “But I have every confidence if you keep digging you’ll find a truth that can’t be faked.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Jake simply.
“So back to Frey,” said Desh. “Can I assume you’re having people outside of your normal sphere take the next step?”
“The next step?”
“Come on, Colonel.”
Jake smiled sheepishly. “You’re right. Not sharing information gets so ingrained it becomes reflexive. Yes. I’m having someone I trust outside of my organization look for any communication or connection between Frey and any of my people. But since you gave me the heads up on this one, even if we find a connection we can’t know if it’s real.”
Desh sighed. “I know,” he muttered in frustration. “But keep digging. You’ll get to the bottom of it. At some point, you get to information that’s beyond even Kira’s ability to plant.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Jake for a second time. “I really do.”
53
Every monitor on the ship was tuned to Matt Griffin, broadcasting alone from his stateroom in front of a stationary camera. More than ten thousand Copernicus passengers looked on. Many in their own cabins, or gathered in dining rooms, nightclubs, restaurants, auditoriums, or theaters. Hundreds of passengers sat in the atrium-like park, gazing at the fifteen-foot screen Griffin had used when he had first came on board. Others watched on laptop and tablet computers from deck chairs overlooking the South Atlantic. But all had their eyes glued to the screen, wherever they happened to be.
Griffin looked haggard, as though he had aged a decade in the few days he had been on board. His continuous snack-food gluttony while on board had become almost as legendary as his genius, and rumors abounded that he either had the mother of all tapeworms, or else he was actually an alien himself.
A medic had attached him to a small, battery powered IV pump several hours earlier, since his enhanced mind had burned through glucose like rocket fuel, and he needed to become enhanced one last time, long before it was healthy to do so. The camera was in tight on his face so his left arm, with plastic tubing extending from a vein in his hand, was hidden from view.
“Time is short,” he began, his voice weak and his body language screaming total exhaustion. He had purposely scheduled the broadcast for after he had returned to normal, so the message wouldn’t be delivered by the arrogant, caustic version of himself. “So I’ll get right to it. Several members of the Copernicus Nanite Team just completed an analysis of data generated by tying nanites into a computer simulation—fooling them into revealing their future plans. I won’t go into technical details. Suffice it to say it was a success.
Griffin took a deep breath. “I wish I had better news, but I don’t. In a nutshell, the nanites have been programmed to replicate and spread until every square foot on the planet contains at least a few. A saturation level. I’m also afraid to say that they can detect uranium and plutonium from many miles away and migrate to it preferentially.” He paused for effect. “At a predetermined time, they will detonate enough nuclear bombs to end the vast majority of human life on this planet.”
Griffin paused, imagining the gasps from thousands of viewers and their horror stricken faces. He gave them only ten or fifteen seconds to digest this news and then forged ahead. “Members of my team are sending every official on this ship a copy of the software code and protocols used to tie the nanites into the simulation, which enabled us to reach this conclusion. I ask the representatives of the world’s governments assembled here to send these instructions back home, where your own people can run simulations, so there can be no doubt as to the veracity of our findings. All of you have access to nanites, of course. We used a very sophisticated model of the world, but you should get the same results on any supercomputer with even a modest simulation. I would also ask that any governments with access to free uranium or plutonium verify the nanites preference for these materials, as well.