He wasn’t alone.
Another man was in there with him.
They were both pointing guns at the two agents.
“Get in, now,” the new guy barked as he beckoned them with his gun.
Reilly looked at Malone. They were both out of breath and exhausted. Putting up a fight, in their present condition, was simply not an option.
Malone nodded grudgingly.
And with that, they both boarded the van.
9
“So you have something already?”
The man who asked to be called Abul Mowt stood by the door, his face alive with expectation. “That was fast,” he told the two authors. “You guys are really good.” He turned and gave his two goons a couple of slow, smug nods that said, See, that’s why I’m the grand poobah here. He faced his prisoners again. “Tell me.”
“Actually,” Khoury said, “it’s something I’ve been working on for a book.”
“It’s good,” Berry added. “More than good. You’ll see.”
“I’m listening,” their captor said.
“Okay. So it involves hacking.”
Khoury waited, watching the reaction on his captor’s face.
A couple of cracks appeared across Abul Mowt’s forehead as he frowned with curiosity. “You mean, like hacking into a nuclear power plant to cause a meltdown?”
“No, no, please,” the writer said. “That’s old school. Been done to death. Plus they’ve been onto that one since before 9/11, before Y2K even. Too many firewalls. You’d never get in.”
“Where you can get in, though, is the banks,” Berry put in.
“The banks?” Abul Mowt looked displeased, his tone rising. “I’m not interested in stealing money. I want pain.”
“Hang on. We’re going to give you pain,” Khoury said.
“We’re not talking about stealing money,” Berry added. “We’re talking about wiping it out. All records of it.”
Abul Mowt seemed confused. “You want to wipe it out? You can’t wipe out cash.”
“No,” Khoury explained, “We don’t mean get rid of it. We mean wipe out all records of it. Everything. Everyone’s bank records, savings, deposits. Credit card debt, bank loans, mortgages. All records — wiped out. In one go.”
He glanced at Berry, then they both watched their captor, studying the reaction percolate across his face.
The man seemed lost in a deep, brow-furrowing mull. He was obviously not impressed. After a moment, he asked, “What kind of pain is that?”
“Are you kidding me?” Khoury shot back. “You’re talking chaos on an apocalyptic level. An economic meltdown. Forget the Great Depression. You’d send America right back to the days of the Wild West. Or worse. It’ll be like in The Road.”
“Or Mad Max,” Berry added.
“Or Waterworld, but without the water.”
“Same thing, really.”
“True.”
“Enough,” the man barked. “Look, I want to do something big. I want noise and spectacle, and I want people to die.”
“Yes, but this is so much better,” Khoury countered. “More sophisticated. More subtle.”
“Death by a thousand cuts,” Berry added. “Metaphorically speaking.”
Khoury slid him a glance, like, Easy on the vocab.
Berry gave him a discreet grin back.
“But your country already had a meltdown,” Abul Mowt said. “A few years ago. Your banks, your car manufacturers, they were all bust. Your government just bailed everyone out and everything went back to normal. This won’t be any different.”
“No,” Berry said. “It’ll be completely different. I’m telling you, this will be the biggest shock to hit the country — ever.”
“And we’ll tell you how to do it,” Khoury said. “Not just tell you. Assist you. Because you will need help. You’ll need hackers. Serious players. This won’t be easy. No brilliant master plan ever is. But we know where to find them.”
“And how to talk to them,” Berry added. “We have access.”
Abul Mowt didn’t seem convinced. In fact, he looked downright dejected.
“What?” Khoury asked.
“I don’t know,” the man said. “It’s just not what I imagined. It’s not… big.”
“It’ll be huge,” Khoury insisted.
“No, I mean big,” the man repeated. “We do this… what will it look like on the news? What will people see on TV? What’s the horrible image they’ll always remember? Blank screens at ATMs across the country? People sitting at their laptops and moaning about their bank statements?”
“Look, you kidnapped us because you think we’re good at what we do. Okay, this is a terrific plot, I’m telling you. This is New York Times top five bestselling stuff, easy.”
Berry nodded. “No question.”
Their captor was clearly struggling with it. “I don’t see it. It’s just not… dramatic. It’s not sexy.”
Khoury glanced at Berry, who spread his hands out slightly and shrugged with defeat.
Then the man seemed to reach a conclusion. “No. It’s not what I’m looking for. All this hacking stuff… it’s just numbers and letters on a screen. It’s not real. And it doesn’t last. It’s quickly forgotten.” He shook his head slowly, his tone low with disappointment. “I did an online chemistry course, I took a high speed driving course, I spent hours on my computer doing simulator flying lessons for planes and helicopters, all to prepare for this… and you want to use hackers?”
“You wanted something different,” Berry offered.
He shook his head and sighed. “Is that all you’ve got?”
He studied the two authors.
They had nothing to add.
“Fine,” he said, clearly dismayed. “I was hoping you’d come up with something special, but… fine. We’ll keep it simple. A bomb. Nuclear, dirty, I don’t care.”
His phone started ringing.
He pulled the unit out, spoke a few quick words in Arabic, then killed the call.
“I’ve got to go. New guests to attend to.”
His expression darkened, and he jabbed the air with a peremptory finger.
“Find me something great to blow up, and a foolproof way to do it. And do it soon. My patience isn’t limitless.”
10
Reilly and Malone were now in a locked, windowless room.
There were no light fittings inside, at least none that they could make out in the semi-darkness, but some faint light was coming in from under the door, enough to allow them to see what their surroundings were like. Not that there was much to see: bare walls, a couple of old mattresses on the floor, and the door. There was also a palpable dampness to the air which was consistent with them being in an underground basement.
Their hands were zip-locked behind their backs.
“Damn it,” Reilly hissed. “How could we let this happen?”
“I didn’t even see him make that call,” Malone said. “Did you?”
“No.”
Malone shook his head. “It’s very out of character for us both. We should have known he’d call for back-up.”
The room fell silent with frustration.
“We need to get out of here,” Malone finally said.
“Yeah, but how?”
Malone looked around the room. “There’s always a way, right?”
“Always.” Reilly was walking around the perimeter of the room, scrutinizing the walls. He did a second lap, then he stopped and tilted his head slightly, deep in thought. “I can’t see it yet.”
“There’s a way out, I can sense it,” Malone insisted. “It’s like… it’s at the tip of my consciousness. But I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Me too. It’s just… weird. It’s like I can’t fully engage my thinking on this.”