“We live in a bold new world,” Ian continued. “A world of opportunity. A world where a beggar in Mozambique has access to the same knowledge, the same expertise, the same compendium of information as a billionaire in Manhattan. We live in the era of the super-empowered individual, in which each of us is capable of unimaginable feats. A doctor in Atlanta can ‘print’ human tissue from a single cell. A scientist in São Paolo can alter DNA to eliminate faulty genes. A husband in Tokyo can speak to his wife in Quebec and not only hear her voice but see her picture…on his watch. It is the stuff of comic books and science fiction novels and old-time radio serials. Every day we reach into the future and harness it to the present. And none of it would be possible without the means to instantaneously access, respond to, and transmit information. All of which are the pylons on which ONE is built.”
Ian paused. The room was so quiet he could hear a microchip drop. Faces looked up at him, eyes lit with ambition.
“Twenty years ago,” he continued, “I had an idea about how to gather information from a nifty new creation called the World Wide Web. That idea turned into something called ONEscape.Back in that medieval time, we called it a web crawler. Today ONEscape is the world’s most popular search engine.”
He smiled, enjoying his colleagues’ laughter.
“I didn’t stop with ONEscape. I moved on to create a company that wrote software, and another that manufactured the hardware that made up the Internet’s backbone. I built a company that designed smartphones and tablets to use that backbone, and most recently I purchased a company that produces content that passes through our hardware to be enjoyed on those smartphones and tablets. Still, that isn’t enough. I have a greater responsibility, and that is to oversee this magnificent organism called the Internet-to guard it on behalf of the beggar in Mozambique and the billionaire in Manhattan. And then one day I discovered Clarus. And I knew at once that Clarus would give me this ability.
“I first took note of Clarus when I learned that it was your equipment that my friends at Fort Meade had chosen to collect all signals traffic coming into this country. I looked closer at Clarus when I was told that a certain country had used your equipment to shut down an enemy’s entire air defense system. But it wasn’t until I learned that a virus you engineered brought an unnamed country’s nuclear development program to an abrupt and nearly catastrophic halt that I decided we must work together. Can anyone remind me of the name of that virus?”
Heads shook. Fingers waved, indicating that this was not a suitable topic of conversation. Ian expected as much from men who made their living from trafficking secrets.
He left his place at the table and walked down the aisle. “As all of you know, my purchase of Clarus was not an ordinary transaction. I did not just buy assets, orders books, and technical know-how. I wanted more. I requested that you gentlemen present here tonight come to my side and act as my Praetorian Guard. It will be your task to protect everything we have built to date and to protect the rest of the world against those who seek to do us harm. Only by having access to every facet of this magnificent organism can we maintain its health. Only by seeing the entirety of information coursing through its veins can we identify the viruses and parasites that threaten our existence and ruthlessly eliminate them. It is truly all or nothing.”
Ian raised a glass. The assembled guests stood, crystal held high.
“And so tonight I formally welcome you to the ONE family, as together we transform ONE from a corporation into something more-something the world has yet to see.”
63
Mary knew him.
She knew Boots.
She stepped outside the café as Cal Miller wished her good night and locked the door behind her. It was past ten and the parking lot was deserted. The show had ended thirty minutes earlier, and the establishment had a strict policy of rapidly vacating the premises. It was dark, and the lot looked different with so few cars. Several times she stopped to orient herself before finally spotting her car at the far corner of the adjacent lot, a few hundred yards away.
She walked briskly, thrilled at her good luck. Cal Miller had gone back fifty-eight hours to Monday at 12:30 (with only ten minutes to spare before the DVR taped over the pictures), but he’d found them. The security cameras filming the parking lot and front entrance both showed Joe entering the café, followed a minute later by a stocky man with a ruddy complexion and a comb-over. “Boots,” according to Mindy’s colorful description. More accurately, “SSA FK,” according to the name on the receipt.
The security cameras were ten years old, their grainy images a far cry from HD. Still, Mary had no doubt that she’d met him. She just couldn’t recall where or when. She suspected he’d been to their house, because that was the only place she ever met any of Joe’s colleagues. But which house? And dammit, what was his name?
She placed her hand on her pocket, feeling the DVD that Miller had burned with the sequence showing Joe and Boots. She’d have plenty of time to review it at home. Meanwhile she dredged up memories of parties, searching for a glimpse of the pear-shaped man with the red face and wiry brown hair. Sooner or later it would come to her.
“Hey there.”
Mary looked up, startled. An imposing man stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, a garrison cap drawn over his eyes. “Hello,” she said, keeping her pace, steering a path around him.
The man stepped in front of her. “You have something for me?”
Mary stopped. “Excuse me?”
“The disk sticking out of your pocket. Please hand it to me.”
Mary took a step back, and the man advanced a step toward her. He was broad and muscular and bristling with aggression. Scream and he could be on her in a second. She looked around. There was no one nearby. The café was fifty yards behind her. A black truck was parked to her left, but the cab was empty. She checked over her shoulder. Cal Miller was nowhere to be seen. Her decision to park at the farthest point from the café suddenly seemed ill-considered.
“Who are you?”
“Never you mind. The disk. Now.”
“Why do you want it?”
“Same reason you do.”
Mary took another step back and the man took a longer step forward, narrowing the distance between them. She felt the Glock pressing against her waist.
“Stop right there,” he said, his voice quiet and authoritative. “Or I’ll have to quit being so polite.”
The man lifted his head, and she saw his eyes in the moonlight. Pale, determined, ruthless. A chill shook her spine, and she had the certainty that he was going to kill her.
“Fine. I’ll give you the disk.”
“Slowly, now. Don’t think I can’t tell you’re packing. Remember who you are, Miss Mary. You’re just a mom.”
He knew her name. Which meant he knew Joe.
Mary handed him the disk. “What was he investigating?”
“Something he shouldn’t have been.”
“I imagine someone always thinks that’s the case.”
“I imagine so.”
“Who do you work for?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Try me.”
“You know what they say-‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’ ”
“So you’re not going to kill me?”
The man slipped the disk behind his belt. When his hand came back up, it was holding a pistol. “I didn’t say that.”