Thorpe didn't understand computers and he didn't particularly care to. Nor did he particularly like them. He felt that people were overdependent on them. After what had happened with the Omega Missile in Louisiana, he would never completely trust a computer again. It had been Kilten's point that taking the human element out of the nuclear launch loop and letting computers make decisions was a dangerous course to embark on.
To hammer his point home, Kilten had recruited McKenzie and seized control of the Omega Missile, a command and control system designed to target and launch all the United States' nuclear weapons. He'd accomplished most of that by taking over the master computer that controlled the Omega Missile. After that traumatic experience, Thorpe was uneasy whenever people talked about the wonderful things computers could do.
Thorpe had noted during the Gulf War that every unit in the army now carried a small handheld GPR, global positioning receiver computer, that gave the bearer's location anywhere on the planet. He felt that soldiers were getting too dependent on the technology and wouldn't be able to find their way using the old map and compass. He'd just read that the Naval Academy was going to stop teaching celestial navigation to its student officers, making them completely dependent on satellite positioning systems. He wondered what those officers would do if the satellites were destroyed or electromagnetic pulse from a nuclear explosion disabled their electronic receiving systems.
Here, in this office, he was supposed to be checking files that would be used to determine whether a soldier was to be promoted or not, by a board that would never have met any of the personnel whose fate they were determining. The human touch seemed to have long ago disappeared and it made Thorpe feel like a dinosaur.
The clock finally stopped and the screen cleared. Four hundred and twenty-two hits. The large number made Thorpe reverse his earlier judgment of computers and wish it could narrow the field down a bit. He began going through each file, one by one, searching for missing daughters.
When he was finished, the workday was also almost done, but Thorpe had not noticed the clock on the wall. He had twenty-four possibles. He was surprised at the large number. He had the computer print him out a copy of the names and current assignments of each family.
Twenty-four. The number bothered Thorpe. There was no doubt some of those girls had run away and cut off all communication with their family. But twenty-four?
Thorpe knew it wouldn't be easy for a family member to run away while stationed in Germany. They couldn't simply fly back to the States because they'd traveled there on military orders with their parents, not on passports. They needed orders getting them back into the States and since they didn't have that, it ruled one avenue out. Thorpe supposed some of them could have run away and stayed in Europe, but the continent was so civilized now that someone without the proper papers would be picked up quickly, particularly in Germany, with its growing backlash against illegal immigrants.
"Hey, Major, you going to lock up?"
Thorpe was startled out of his dark reverie. "No, I'm leaving now too."
Takamura noted the printout. "I don't mean to be a jerk, Major, but you need to be careful around here. They check everything you take out down at the front desk. Plus, the colonel is real picky about people doing anything personal on the computer.”
Thorpe folded the list up and shoved it inside his shirt. "They don't strip-search you, do they?"
"Not unless they have a reason to."
"All right, then. Let's go."
Several hundred miles up Interstate 95 in Maryland, an analyst sitting at a desk in the bowels of the NSA, National Security Agency, responded as he was trained to do when his computer screen indicated a flag alert.
A flag alert meant that someone, somewhere in the massive federal computer network, was looking at material that someone else in the federal system, wanted to be alerted about if anyone looked. It could be anything from a congressman wanting to know about E-mail complaints coming from his district to someone digging into restricted weapons systems files.
The analyst worked to put a name and location to both sets of someones and somewheres. The first pairing was G-l SOCOM at Fort Bragg. The second pairing, the ones who had put the flag alert in place, made him take notice. CIA operations at Langley.
As required, the analyst forwarded the alert information to Langley.
Chapter Seven
Dublowski studied the list for a long time. Thorpe and he were in the sergeant major's house, just off post in Fayetteville. Marge was nowhere to be seen and since Dublowski hadn't offered, Thorpe hadn't asked. The large two-story home felt empty and lifeless.
"There's eight disappearances around Stuttgart," Dublowski noted. "This is a lot of missing young women. How come no one's ever seen this pattern?"
"No one's ever looked," Thorpe said. "Also, that covers a time period of two years and every U.S. military family that was stationed in Germany. A lot of people. And it might not be a pattern," Thorpe added, picking up his friend's mood.
"Fucking CID," Dublowski said. "They should have checked."
"CID is limited in what it can do overseas," Thorpe said. "After all, Germany is a foreign country."
"They still could have checked."
"We're not sure we have a pattern," Thorpe repeated. "Look, CID has the same problem in Germany that every unit has. Turnover. There's no institutional knowledge there like regular community police forces have."
"Then why did you bring me this?" Dublowski said testily.
"We can go to CID," Thorpe said, "and give them that. They can get hold of the families and check. Maybe some of these girls did run away and have shown up. Maybe some have been accounted for in other ways. Maybe the German authorities have found some."
Dublowski stood. "Let's go."
Thorpe looked at his watch. It was almost six in the evening. "Why don't we wait until tomorrow during normal duty hours?"
Dublowski didn't answer. The screen door was already slamming shut behind him. Thorpe followed. He knew he was probably going to get in trouble for having used the computer to get the list, but he wasn't too worried about that. He'd broken bigger rules than unauthorized use of a computer during his time in service and now that he was a reservist there wasn't too much they could do to him except screw with his retirement benefits, and the army had already done that.
He hopped in the passenger seat of Dublowski's truck. The ride to the Fort Bragg CID headquarters didn't take long. It was located in a new building across the street from the post school. Dublowski led the way in and they walked up to a man in civilian clothes manning a desk right inside the door. He eyed Dublowski, with his big gray mustache and civilian clothes, warily.
"Can I help you?"
Dublowski pulled out his ID card and laid it on the man's desk. "I'm Sergeant Major Dublowski and this is Major Thorpe."
"Agent Martinez," the man replied. "What can I do for you?"
Dublowski slapped the computer printout on top of his ID card. "This is a list of teenage dependent girls who have disappeared without a trace in Germany in the past two years. There's twenty-four names on the list. My daughter's is one of them."
Martinez picked up the list and looked at it warily.
"I was told that there was nothing CID could do about my daughter disappearing," Dublowski continued as the agent read. "I was told she ran away. I know she didn't and the list backs me up."
"How does this list back that up?" Martinez asked with a frown as he scanned the list.
"There's a pattern," Dublowski said. "Someone is kidnapping young dependent girls in Germany."