"What?" exclaimed Director Lang.
"You heard me. I can't come up with anything else."
Lang declared, "I've got to get this information to the president."
"Already done, sir. I had to wait almost three hours to get to you, so under the president's standing order, I've already informed the DPO."
"You what?" exploded Lang. "That's my job."
"Yes, sir, it is. However, as you were unavailable, and this is a national emergency, I felt the president should be informed immediately. I didn't mean to go over your head. I was only doing what I felt was my job."
"Of course, Larkin. You acted appropriately."
"Thank you, sir. Again, no disrespect intended."
With great effort to remain civil, Director Lang responded, "None taken."
9
After Starr and company had transferred from their home-based helicopter to the group's jet, Starr came walking back from the cockpit after spending over an hour with Christman in what had amounted to a flying lesson. After the autopilot had been turned off, Starr had flown the plane, getting a feel for it. He noticed that Phillips had a cross look about her.
"Anything wrong?" he asked.
"Don't know yet," she replied, stopping what she was doing to address him. She stretched and sighed. "I've got programs in place pretty much all over cyberspace. You'd never believe it. One program I've installed notifies me if anyone does a search on any of the four of us. This program will also tell me where the search is originating from. Well, someone is doing a search on me."
Styles, who had been busy doing push-ups, stopped and joined them at the table. "What'd you say? Somebody is doing a search on you? Why?"
"Good question. Currently, it seems rather generic, but it's the location of the searcher that has me a bit uneasy."
"Where?" quizzed Starr.
"Langley."
"The CIA?" questioned Styles.
"Yes, and it's coming from the head of their cyber division herself, Myra Banks."
Starr looked at her and stated, "You know, there was a time I'd have asked you how you know that."
"You're learning, Starr."
"Can you tell what she's trying to find out?"
"So far, pretty much what my assignments have been since I transferred over to the DPO. I worked under her for three, maybe four years. She's pretty good. I don't like the idea that the CIA is investigating me. I have a bad feeling that me will ultimately mean us."
Styles spoke up. "Why would the CIA want to know what you, or we, are up to?"
"Bernard Backersley currently runs the CIA. He is off-the-charts smart and has an ego that would stretch across the Pacific. He does not like to not know about everything."
"What do you mean?" Starr questioned.
"You have to figure that he was shown the video I came up with. He won't like the idea that he didn't know about it, particularly where it came from."
Starr broke in. "The president specifically told me, when I asked about how he was going to explain how he got that, that he didn't have to. Rank has its privilege."
"True," Phillips answered. "But that won't stop Backersley from having a shit fit."
"So what do we do?" Styles posed.
"We don't do anything. I will keep a close eye as to where she goes with this and what she finds out. If it gets serious, we might have to address it in some manner."
"What do you mean by that?" Starr asked.
Phillips looked straight at him. "Make no mistake, Backersley could become a real pain in our asses. Maybe even an outright problem. He's an egomaniac who thinks he's above everyone else. Maybe nothing at all will come of any of this. However, we need to be vigilant."
"I agree with you," Styles broke in. "We don't need any bad surprises from the damn CIA."
"Trust me. I'll know what they're up to when they know what they're up to."
"Okay, I have to ask. How will you do that?" Starr inquired.
"Short version is that back when I was with the CIA, I installed what I call a 'mirror' program into their mainframe. What I mean is when someone uses a computer, there's a one picosecond delay that even the best firewalls can't pick up. During that delay, the mainframe splits the signal into two paths; one goes back to the originating computer accessing it, and the second signal goes to my installed program. Every single operation done by computer at Langley is backed up in real time to my program. I've downloaded every single word written at any computer there for almost three years now. Most are just filed away, unless certain ones I've earmarked are used."
Starr were stunned. The look on Styles's face suggested he was too. "You mean you hacked the whole fucking CIA?" gasped Starr.
"Well, yeah."
Styles asked, "Exactly what is a picosecond?"
"It's one-trillionth of one second."
He just looked at her dumbfounded. "One-trillionth? How far down does time go?"
"Currently down to one Planck time unit, which is the time required, at the speed of light, to travel one Planck length. Basically, it's the briefest physically meaningful span of time. Please don't ask me to explain any further; it gets very complicated."
Starr just shook his head. Finally, he said, "Is there any place you haven't hacked into?"
"Of course. I only infiltrate the important ones. I hacked the CIA because I thought we had a mole. Turns out I was wrong, but I didn't see any sense in removing the program. Never knew when it might have come in handy. Now we do."
"Aren't you the least bit concerned someone might find it?" asked Styles.
"Not really. If someone did come across it, the instant they tried to access it, it would self-terminate, leaving no trace."
"How did you learn this shit?" Starr asked, still stunned.
"I honestly can't tell you. It just came naturally. Some people can sing. I know computers. I learned how to type at eight, and the rest is history."
Styles looked at her and remarked, "I'm damned glad you're on our side."
"Yes, you are."
Starr got up and returned to the cockpit and rejoined Christman, leaving Phillips alone with Styles.
Phillips looked at Styles and said, "Okay, your turn."
"Huh?"
"I just relayed how I got to be where I am. What about you?"
Silence. Phillips was concerned she had touched a nerve.
"Guess it would be rude not to tell you some things. Short version is my mother died when I was quite young — before school, to be exact. Affected my father and me tremendously. I had always been somewhat of a loner, I guess, and that just drove me further away. I took to the woods. I liked being there, learned to track and later became adept enough to observe. By the time I was seven, I could tell you what animals had been through any part of the woods and how long ago. My dad got worried, so one Saturday morning, think I was about eight, he asked me to take a ride. We wound up at a karate dojo. Hell, I didn't know what karate was. He'd obviously been there previously; it was like they were expecting us. Next thing I know, I'm going there three afternoons a week and on Saturday mornings. The instructor said I had a natural aptitude for it. It also gave me a way to work out my anger issues about my mother. It didn't keep me out of the woods — that was my first love — but martial arts became a close second. Before the year was out, I was going five days a week plus Saturdays. Within two years, I was more than equal to boys who were five years older than I was and twice my size. At that point, my sensei took me aside and informed me that he wanted me to start training with his father. I'd seen him come around a few times but knew nothing about him. He spoke little English. He also held high-degree black belts in five different styles. He was tough. Next five years of my life, I always had bruises. I learned not just the different approaches and philosophies but how to easily blend them. Ultimately, I guess I just kind of conjoined them. Now the challenge is to keep my body in the proper condition to be able to do what I know."