The small screen went blank for a moment, then Silver’s face appeared.
“Edwin,” he said. “What’s the current status?” Concern was evident in both his expression and his voice.
“The tower’s been placed in Condition Delta.”
“Was that really necessary?”
“It seemed the fastest, safest way to empty the building. Everyone is being evacuated except the security staff. We’ve got screeners at all exits and checkpoints, watching for Lash.”
“And our clients? Have steps been taken not to alarm them in any way?”
“They’ve been told it’s a routine evacuation drill, that we conduct them regularly to ensure our safety procedures are fully optimized. It’s not far from the truth. So far, everyone has taken it in stride.”
“Good. Very good.”
Mauchly waited for Silver to sign off, but the face remained on the screen. “Is there something else, Dr. Silver?” Mauchly said after a moment.
Silver shook his head slowly. “You don’t think there’s any chance we’ve made a mistake, do you?”
“A mistake, sir?”
“About Lash, I mean.”
“Impossible, sir. You gave me the report yourself. And you’ve seen the evidence we’ve turned up since. Besides, if the man was innocent, he wouldn’t have run the way he did.”
“I suppose not. Still… you’ll handle things gently, right? Make sure no harm comes to him?”
“Of course.”
Silver smiled wanly, and the screen went blank.
A moment later, the door to the security post opened and Sheldrake entered. He came forward, massive body poised, as if awaiting orders. You could take the man out of the military, but it appeared you could not take the military out of the man.
“How are we faring, Mr. Sheldrake?” Mauchly asked.
“Seventy-five percent of non-Eden personnel have left the building,” Sheldrake said. “From the checkpoint counts, about thirty-eight percent of workers inside the Wall have already passed through the security portals. We expect to have the evacuation complete within twenty minutes.”
“And Lash?”
Sheldrake held up a printout. “Scanners tracked him to a hardware support area. He went into half a dozen rooms there. No further reports or sightings since.”
“Let me see that, please.” Mauchly glanced over the printout. “Redundant Disk Silo Storage. Network Infrastructure. What would he be doing in places like that?”
“The same question we’ve been asking ourselves, sir.”
“There’s something wrong here.” Mauchly pointed at the listing. “According to these time logs, Lash went into six different rooms over the course of only fifteen seconds.” He handed the printout back to Sheldrake. “He couldn’t have visited that many rooms so quickly. What was he doing?”
“Playing with us.”
“My thoughts exactly. The last room he entered was a Web farm. That’s where your men should concentrate their search.”
“Very good, sir.”
“But continue to deploy roving patrols inside the Wall. We have to assume Lash is probing the perimeter, trying to find some way to exit the inner tower. I’ll head up to the command center; I can monitor the operation more efficiently from there.”
He watched as the man turned to leave. Then, in a quieter voice, he said: “Mr. Sheldrake?”
“Sir?”
Mauchly regarded him a moment. Sheldrake, of course, did not know everything — he did not know, for example, precisely why Lash had been in the building — but he knew enough to understand the man posed a grave threat.
“This man has already compromised Eden. The longer he’s at large, the more damage he can cause. Significant damage.”
Sheldrake nodded.
“Containment is key here. This kind of situation is best dealt with inside the building. The sooner this whole thing goes away, the better for everyone at Eden.” Mauchly felt a fresh surge of anger. “Do you understand? The thing should go all the way away.”
Sheldrake nodded again, more slowly this time. “My feelings as well, sir.”
“Then get to it,” Mauchly said.
FORTY-SIX
Inside the data conduit, time seemed a stranger. The narrow tube forked, and forked again; a seemingly infinite lattice spreading itself horizontally and vertically throughout the inner tower. There were none of the usual benchmarks by which to gauge the passage of time: just a claustrophobic world of faint blue light, bounded by endless rivers of cabling. Now and then a larger conduit would cross his path — arteries amid the matrix of veins — but for the most part the tubes were horribly cramped, forcing Lash to crawl at full length, like a spelunker threading a narrow pipe.
Whenever possible, he climbed. Small metal projections protruded from the walls, meant for securing cable ties but also serviceable for footholds. Now and then, a rough edge would snag his shirt, score his skin. From time to time he passed an access panel, like the one he used to enter the conduit system, but they were never marked and it was impossible to gauge how far he’d ascended. Like time, distance was all but meaningless in this close and foreign world.
From time to time, Lash stopped to catch his breath and listen. Once he heard a distant boom break the silence, like the closing of some giant door in the deepest sub-basement of the tower. Another time, he thought he heard a ghostly cry pass along the narrow conduits, barely audible, like the whisper of a breeze. But then nothing would follow save the sound of his own heavy breathing. And he would move on again, cables rustling at his passage.
Although Lash was not claustrophobic by nature, the faint light, the watchful silence, the wires that pressed in on all sides unnerved him. He forced himself to take small careful steps, to keep his balance and prevent his feet from tangling in the cabling.
In time he found a vertical conduit, a little wider than most, that seemed to ascend uninterrupted, freeing him from the frequent lateral side-trips he’d been forced to take. He climbed for what seemed hours, pulling himself from projection to tiny projection, until his blood thrummed in his ears. At last he stopped again to rest, leaning against the uneven bunches of cabling, listening to the rasp of his breath. The muscles in his arms danced and jerked. Raising an arm, he held it close to the blue guidewire and peered at his watch.
Five-thirty. Was it possible he’d only been crawling through these conduits half an hour?
And how far had he climbed? He should have been able to estimate his rate of ascent: he’d done more than his share of time-trial wall climbs at Quantico. But not all his travel had been vertical in this maze. And cramped into these slender tubes, fettered by cabling, it was hard to gauge. Had he reached the thirtieth floor? The thirty-fifth?
As he balanced, gasping for breath, an image suddenly came into his mind: a tiny spider, no bigger than a speck, clinging precariously to the inside wall of a soda straw…
He could not keep on climbing blind forever. There was a floor he was headed for, a specific floor. He needed to get his bearings, determine exactly where he was.
And that meant leaving the conduit.
He leaned against the tube wall, thinking. If he left the safety of the data conduit, the scanners would pick him up. Security would immediately know where he was and focus their search. There was no way he could fix his position without raising the alarm — was there?
Maybe most individual offices, labs, and storerooms had no scanners. Maybe most scanners were situated in the corridors and doors. If he was careful where he exited, and if he didn’t activate any sensors…
He had no choice but to try.
Lash climbed a few feet to the next junction, then clambered laboriously into the lateral tube. He crawled forward over the bunches of cables until he reached an access panel in the side wall. Here he waited a moment, listening. He could hear no noise from beyond. Holding his breath, he placed his fingertips against the inside of the latch and pushed carefully against it. The catch sprung free and the panel opened.