Grin watched as a graphical depiction of the affected computers appeared on his screen. From MARC, the trail led back to the Preservation Lab server on campus, through the university’s central server, and then out into the world.
‘You may be good,’ Grin said with grudging admiration, ‘but your ass is mine.’
System by system, Spyder followed the hacker’s electronic trail, identifying each step along the way. The hacker had covered his tracks well, snaking his way through dozens of Internet servers to create a labyrinthine trail that was nearly impossible to follow.
Grin reset the window view from a schematic line drawing of the hacker’s route to one superimposed over a map of the earth. The hacker blazed an impressive path across the globe, even managing to penetrate a Web server at a research station in Antarctica. Ten minutes later the trail reached Moscow.
‘Say cheese, you asshole,’ Grin said, knowing he’d nailed the malevolent intruder.
The map of the world faded and was replaced by the image of a black IBM server tower. Just as the window containing the machine’s schematics and serial numbers started to appear, the window went blank.
‘What the fuck do you mean the connection has been lost?’ Grin screamed as the Spyder reported its status.
Grin instructed the Spyder to show him a network diagnostic. A graphic depiction of the MARC network appeared, followed by one of the university’s network. The Spyder showed him every machine it could touch. Both networks appeared fine, except for the hole in the picture where Grin knew the Preservation Lab server should be. The server was physically in the basement of the Harlan Hatcher Graduate Library on main campus but, from Grin’s point of view, it was gone.
31
Leskov looked down at the broken remains of the beige network server, its thin metal shell stripped open to reveal the delicate circuitry. Five minutes into their assault of the Preservation Lab, he’d received a panicky report from Orlov’s electronics group in Moscow about some difficulty they were experiencing with the MARC network. Apparently, their attempt to penetrate that network had met with an effective resistance and retaliation. Leskov answered their request to break the connection by destroying the lab’s network server.
‘Moscow confirms that contact with the MARC network has been terminated,’ the young man in charge of communications reported.
‘Obviously, Misha,’ Leskov said, laughing. Although his solution to the possible security breach might be considered crude, it was decidedly effective. ‘Hand me the magnet.’
Misha, a lanky twenty-five-year-old with ice-blue eyes, slipped the backpack off his shoulders and extracted the electromagnet.
Leskov kicked several pieces of broken plastic away from the exposed metal supports to reveal the server’s stack of hard drives. He flipped the switch on the powerful magnet and began slowly waving it over the stack. A strong electromagnetic field bathed each of the sealed drives, obliterating the organized patterns of information stored on the thin disks within. In seconds, the drive stack was wiped clean.
From the rear of the lab, Josef, the thickset Georgian who’d been part of the team that struck Sandstrom’s lab a month earlier, walked quickly toward Leskov.
‘I have the notebooks,’ Josef said as he zipped his backpack closed and slipped it over his shoulder. ‘The technician was very helpful.’
Leskov glanced back at the small room that Josef had just left and saw a pair of legs lying on the floor. The technician was either unconscious or dead. Leskov checked his watch — in a few minutes he would know for certain.
‘Time, everyone.’
Josef and two other men, Kiril and Grigori, moved out into the hallway where Evgenii, the point man, stood watch.
‘Burn it.’
Misha nodded, held out a plastic squeeze bottle, and squirted a clear golden fluid throughout the room. When he reached the door, he capped the bottle and slid it into his pack.
‘Ready,’ Misha announced.
Everyone backed away from the door as Misha, using a handheld spark igniter, set a nearby puddle of the fluid aflame.
32
As he reread the message that the Preservation Lab server was off-line, Grin remembered that Nolan was in town with Kelsey at the Art Fair. Two of the annual fair’s three venues bordered the university’s main campus and were a short walk from the lab. Grin punched in the number of Kilkenny’s phone.
‘Kilkenny here.’
‘Yo, Nolan. It’s Grin. Something bad is happening down at the lab where they’re keeping those notebooks.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I was just loggin’ on to download the latest pages and I waltzed right into someone swiping the Wolff directory. I tried to grab what was left, but they locked me out. When I called the Preservation Lab to find out what was happening, the phone line went nuts. Then somebody tried to take a run at my machines.’
‘Everything okay?’
‘Yeah. The Spyder slammed the door, then went after ’em, but that’s why I think you need to check on the lab. I was just about to nail the hacker when the lab’s server went off-line. I got a funny feeling about this. I think somebody’s trying to ace us out of those notebooks. Are you anywhere near the Grad Library?’
‘Kelsey and I are down near West Engineering. We’ll head over and take a look.’
Nolan ended the call and located Kelsey at a nearby booth haggling with an artisan over an inlaid wooden box.
‘We’ll have to come back,’ Nolan announced as he put his arm around Kelsey’s shoulders, guiding her away from the booth.
‘What’s going on? Who was that on the phone?’ The words raced out of Kelsey’s mouth.
‘Grin. We need to check on the Preservation Lab, right now. It looks like somebody’s after Wolff’s notebooks.’
They moved as quickly as they could through the crowd and passed through the West Engineering arch into the Diag. To their right was the fenced-off pit where Johann Wolff’s body had been discovered. They broke into a run, weaving their way through the crowd toward the Diag. Ahead stood the Harlan Hatcher Graduate Library.
Kelsey followed Nolan up the granite staircase to the portico of the library. A welcome rush of cool air greeted them as they passed through the bronze-and-glass doors into the building’s ornate vestibule.
Moving quickly, they reached the far end and turned the corner into a side hall where the elevators and the basement stairs were located. They noticed one of the old elevators preparing to descend and slipped through its closing doors.
A moment later they exited the elevator car into the basement lobby, followed by a librarian carrying a small stack of books. The footsteps of several people quickly climbing up the wide staircase echoed off the marble treads and smooth plaster walls.
‘It’s around the corner,’ Nolan directed as he ran toward the Preservation Lab.
Nolan saw that the hallway was empty, which wasn’t unusual during summer months and almost expected for a building surrounded by the madness of the Art Fair. Then he noticed the temperature rising around them.
He signaled for Kelsey to hang back and carefully approached the lab. As Nolan reached out to place his palm against the door, the frosted-glass sidelight erupted from its frame, expelled by a shock wave of superheated gas. The shattered pane narrowly missed Nolan as it hurtled down the corridor, its imbedded wire mesh barely keeping the hundreds of pebble-sized fragments together. A second explosion thundered from the lab as containers of volatile chemicals exploded in the heat.