“Maybe nowhere.” Graham shrugged. “For all we know, it’s a metaphor.”
We sat in silence for a couple of seconds, consumed with thoughts of the ancient Caborn-Welborn culture.
“Well, that’s all I’ve got so far,” Graham said. “How are you guys doing?”
“These are fairly standard bios.” Beverly held up the files for Ross Howser and Chris Hatcher. “But there’s definitely a connection between them. Both of these men served in the U.S. Army during World War II. The 23rd Headquarters Special Troops, to be specific.”
Graham pecked a few keys into his laptop.
“Same with Justin and Dan.” I thought for a second. “Say, what kind of work did those guys do before the war?”
She consulted the files. “Ross taught sculpture at Stribel University. And Chris worked as an acoustic engineer at Thompson Labs.”
“That’s interesting. Justin designed sets for production companies and Dan drew comic strips for the Chicago Post.” I rubbed my jaw. “These guys weren’t factory workers. They were creative people. Artists and engineers.”
“Okay, I just did a search on the 23rd Headquarters Special Troops,” Graham said. “It was a tactical deception unit, formally known as the Ghost Army. It was tasked with building decoy U.S. Army units. The goal was to trick the Axis Powers into diverting their forces away from real units.”
“What kind of decoys?” I asked.
“Inflatable tanks, trucks, and airplanes,” he said, reading from the laptop. “They also built mock-ups of airfields, military camps, and artillery batteries, among other things. Then they covered everything with just enough camouflage to avoid enemy suspicion. Air reconnaissance units would spot the decoys and report them to their supervisors. In many cases, Axis forces would be diverted, waiting for attacks that never came.”
“Really?”
“It wasn’t just visual deception,” he replied. “It looks like they used other tactics as well. For example, spoof radio. The 23rd would create phony traffic nets, leading the enemy to think a real unit was in the area.”
By now, Beverly had walked behind him and was peering over his shoulder at the laptop. “Here’s something interesting,” she said. “They also employed sonic deception. The 3132 Signal Service Company Special recorded audio of infantry and armored units in action. Then they mixed up the audio, recorded it on wire recorders, and played it with amplifiers and speakers. Apparently, the sounds could be heard from fifteen miles away.”
“So, these guys weren’t just artists and engineers,” I said. “They were trained tricksters.”
Beverly whistled low and loud. “Guess where the 3132 Signal Service Company Special got its audio from?”
I knew the answer before she even finished the question. “Fort Knox?”
“Yup. They teamed up with Bell Labs engineers to do it. That must be how Justin met Milt.”
“How come no one figured this out before now?”
Beverly continued reading for a few seconds. “The 23rd wasn’t declassified until 1996. Even now, much of it remains shrouded in secrecy, which explains why these files are so thin. So, it’s possible the initial investigation ran into a wall of red tape.”
“And even if they had figured out the connection to the 23rd, what could they have done about it?” Graham added. “How do you track down a team that specializes in—?”
His laptop buzzed and I lost my train of thought. Frowning, he leaned in close. “Uh, Cy?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s for you.”
I stood up and walked to his chair. Glancing over his shoulder, I saw a message flashing on the laptop screen.
Hello, Cy, it read. Admit it. You missed me. You NEED me.
Beverly gave me a questioning look.
“Malware,” I explained.
Her visage darkened.
I need you like I need a kick to the nuts, I wrote back.
Sounds like a fun game. But first, let’s play something else.
How about a round of Kill Malware?
I prefer, Escape the Riot.
The messages disappeared before my eyes, presumably wiped from existence. Soft shouts penetrated the paper-thin walls of the prefabricated building. The shouts quickly grew, both in number as well as in volume.
“Cy,” the president yelled. “Get over here.”
The three of us exchanged looks. Then I ran across the room, threw the door open, and raced into the hallway. The guards waved me past and I darted into the other conference room. President Walters, Donovan, Ben, and K.J. all stood in front of a window, peering into the distance.
I peered outside. Despite the darkness, it was reasonably light, thanks to the many generators and arrays of freestanding fixtures. A bright glow shone in the distance. It throbbed and pulsed in place, almost as if it were a living, breathing entity.
K. J. glanced at me. “One of my pilots just spotted it,” he said tightly. “I don’t know how it got so close without popping up on our radar.”
Beverly appeared at my side. Gluing her eyes to the window, she stared at the glow. “What is it?”
“A mob, at least a thousand strong. And it’s marching this way.”
Chapter 67
Ben watched the tiny glow with a racing heart. The mob was close. Soon, it would flood the area, distracting the soldiers and giving Willow’s team access to the clearing. Hopefully, they were ready to take advantage of the situation.
Silently, he slipped out of the room and found an empty one at the end of the hallway. Glancing outside again, he studied the distant mob. “We’re almost there, Father,” he whispered. “God, I wish you could see this.”
The American economy was now flooded with money, thanks to the secretive transactions undertaken by the PPT. The collapse of the U.S. dollar was inevitable and would certainly bring about the end of the world’s monetary system. A global currency — a currency used by all entities regardless of nationality — would rise from its ashes. It would lead to a global central bank, other supranational institutions, and eventually, global governance. Sort of like how the European Union, if left to its own devices, would eventually evolve into a single entity in every conceivable manner.
Just one thing could save the U.S. economy at this point. Namely, a return to hard currency. And so, Ben had set out to sabotage the gold standard. Thanks to his father’s notes, he’d known the truth about Fort Knox for many months. So, he’d convinced the president to pin the country’s hopes to the depository in very public fashion. And it had worked beyond his wildest dreams. Now, nothing could stop him.
Except the lost gold.
His hand trembled slightly as he dialed his satphone and lifted the device to his ear.
“Hi, Pop.” Willow’s voice, bright and cheery, filled Ben’s ear. Instantly, the trembling stopped.
“Hey yourself,” he replied. “The Army’s in quite a tizzy over here. Rumor has it that a mob is heading our way.”
“Oh, it’s way bigger than a mob. There’s enough Berserkers out there to fill a city.”
“The Army will try to cut them off.”
“They can try, but it won’t work. We outnumber them twenty-to-one.”
“They’ve got guns.”
“And we’ve got the media,” she said. “I tipped off every news entity within one hundred miles and they’re following the whole affair. Just wait until you see the fleet of helicopters.”
“I doubt I’ll be around for that. I’m sure the president’s people are prepping to move us as we speak.”