Kira gestured for Connelly to take one of the two couches and for Griffin and Metzger to take the other. The driver and passenger seats were cushioned, soft-leather captain’s chairs, capable of being swiveled around 180 degrees to become additional living room furniture; a configuration Kira used whenever the vehicle was parked. She sat in one and motioned for Desh to take the other. The only hint that the group was gathered inside a mammoth vehicle rather than a tiny house was the presence of a large steering wheel protruding into the living room.
“We need to brief you and we need to do it quickly,” began Desh as soon as he was seated. “There’s a lot to tell, so let’s get right to it.”
For over an hour, Desh and Kira reviewed everything they knew: intelligence enhancement, Kira’s longevity therapy, her self-imposed memory blockade, the murder of her brother, the Ebola frame, and finally, their recent interaction with the ruthless man they had called Moriarty. They did their best to impart the information succinctly, but understood the importance of being thorough. The team had to know the entire truth; no matter how much valuable time was consumed in the process. Desh observed the major carefully throughout the briefing, finding him to be intelligent, inquisitive, and a positive addition to the team.
It was Desh’s passionate description of the awesome power of an enhanced intellect that persuaded the three men to believe the rest, as utterly fantastic as it all was. If the level of intelligence that could be attained was truly as phenomenal as Desh described, they readily agreed that age retardation could be achieved after a number of sessions in this altered state, and that a hyper-infective virus targeting egg cells could be perfected as well.
Thirty minutes into their briefing, Kira had brewed up a pot of coffee and provided a cup to each member of the team, who were unanimous in expressing their gratitude for the caffeine.
Finally, at just after four in the morning, the briefing was complete.
Metzger leaned forward on the couch, so he could see around the now clean-shaven giant seated beside him, and glanced worriedly at the bandage-covered bald spot on the side of Kira’s skull. “I hate to bring this up,” he said, “but the explosive is set to go off in only six hours.”
Kira nodded, but remained silent.
“Is something like this really possible?” asked Griffin, directing his question to Connelly who was across from him in the compact living room.
The colonel sighed. “I’m afraid so,” he said. “C-4 is the explosive everyone knows about, but the military has developed plastic explosives even more potent than this. Shape the charge correctly and it wouldn’t take much. Easy to booby-trap a device so it can’t be removed.”
“Jesus,” said Griffin in revulsion. “I am so sorry, Kira,” he added gently. “This Sam is truly a monster.”
Kira attempted a half-hearted smile. “I appreciate the concern, Matt, but I’ll be okay. Remember, he didn’t implant the device to kill me. He did so as an insurance policy: to make sure I don’t kill him. If he dies, I die. In the meanwhile, he’ll continue to reset it. He needs me alive to get his hands on the fountain of youth. He’ll expect me to try to stop him for a few days, get nowhere, and then let myself be recaptured: giving him my secret rather than letting him carry out his plan.”
Griffin nodded, but the frown didn’t leave his face.
Metzger pursed his lips in concentration. “Kira,” he said, “you told him you couldn’t give him the secret to your longevity therapy, or the location of the flash drive, even if you desperately wanted to. Is that true, or partially a bluff?”
“Unfortunately, it’s absolutely true,” replied Kira with a troubled look on her face. “He knows firsthand that with the extraordinary capabilities enhancement gives you, manipulating memory in this way is possible. Despite this, he thinks with proper motivation I’ll find a way. But he’s wrong about that.”
“That’s unfortunate,” said the major. “It means that negotiating a stop to the threat isn’t even an option.” He frowned. “What if his plan succeeds? Is he right? Would you then publically disclose your longevity treatment?”
Kira sighed. “I would,” she replied. “The bastard is right. At that point there would be no reason not to. Humanity’s only hope would be to achieve true immortality, or figure out how to coax the production of new egg cells. Enhanced molecular biologists might eventually discover a way to do this, but I wouldn’t count on it.”
Metzger frowned deeply. “If we want to have any chance of stopping this threat,” he said, “I’d suggest that our first order of business is learning who this Sam really is.”
“Agreed,” said Desh.
“Do we have anything to go on?” asked Griffin.
Desh raised his eyebrows. “Actually, yes,” he said confidently. “I think we do.”
All eyes were instantly upon David Desh, including Kira’s. He hadn’t yet shared his theory even with her.
“First, it’s almost certain Sam is in the government,” began Desh. “We know he has considerable legitimate authority. Not to mention access to next generation military helicopters and to safe houses. Second, he kept boasting of the men he had in his pocket, be they molecular biologists or military muscle. He apparently has dirt on a large and diverse cast of characters.” Desh leaned forward intently. “So how would someone be able to get that much dirt on that many people?” He turned his gaze to Connelly and raised his eyebrows. “Remind you of anybody, Colonel?”
Connelly thought for a moment and his eyes widened as he realized where Desh was headed. “J. Edgar Hoover,” he whispered.
“J. Edgar Hoover,” repeated Desh, nodding. “Head of the FBI for forty-nine years under eight different presidents. Rumored to have used the power of the FBI to wiretap and spy on citizens of personal interest to him. Kept secret files on his enemies containing compromising or embarrassing information. Nobody could be sure what he had on them. Rumor has it that several presidents called him in, intent on firing him, but he left unscathed each time.”
“Many believe he was the most powerful man in the history of the US, including presidents,” pointed out Connelly.
“Exactly,” said Desh excitedly. “I think Sam is taking a page out of Hoover’s playbook, trying for the same results. And my guess is he’s well on his way. He claims to be blackmailing numerous men. He has also demonstrated considerable power to move men and equipment like so many chess pieces, not to mention arranging to have the colonel provide me with Smith’s telephone number as my contact. Since Hoover’s time, Congress has added more stringent safeguards against domestic surveillance, of course—” He raised his eyebrows doubtfully.
“But this wouldn’t hinder him in the least,” said Kira, completing Desh’s sentence. “Enhanced, he can circumvent any safeguards. And the word ruthless is completely inadequate to describe him. Here’s a man who was a psychopath before he was enhanced. A man who bragged about burning my brother alive.”
Desh nodded gravely.
“So you think Sam’s with the FBI?” asked Metzger.
Desh shook his head. “No. The FBI isn’t the best agency to carry out this strategy any longer. A modern day Hoover would choose differently.”
Griffin’s eyes widened. “The NSA,” he whispered.
“Exactly.”
“We better hope you’re wrong,” said Griffin anxiously, “because if you’re not, then this just became even a bigger nightmare. The NSA makes Big Brother look like the ACLU. They’re the largest intelligence gathering organization in the world, which also makes them the most powerful agency in the world. They’re in charge of cryptology for the US, which puts them in charge of signal’s intelligence: radio, microwave, fiber-optic, cell phones, satellites—everything.”