He was through. Next stop, America.
Chapter 4
President Todd stared at the worn surface on her desk, her eyes absorbing the varied scars and lines. The desk was her own personal piece of furniture, one of the few pieces she brought to the White House. She’d always found a certain mental comfort in familiar physical objects; the small, solid desk reminded her of her many past struggles, not only hers but those of her father and grandfather, both of whom had been small town doctors in what seemed a different America now. Many a patient’s life was saved at this desk, she believed; if wood could be said to have a soul, this one’s must surely be a powerful force for good.
She needed some of its strength now. The day’s developments had not been good.
There was a knock on the door to her small office.
“Come,” she said.
David Greenwich, her chief of staff, poked his head in.
“Mr. Reid and Ms. Stockard have arrived, ma’am,” he said. “Everyone else is in the cabinet room, waiting for you.”
“Very good, David.”
“You have that dinner with Kurgan and some of the New York crew this evening.”
“I won’t forget.”
“We could cancel.”
“Oh, stop, David,” she said, rising. “You’re mothering me.”
“Just looking out for you. I know how much you’re going to enjoy that one,” he added sarcastically.
“I assure you I’m fine. And tell my husband that as well.”
“He didn’t say anything.”
“I’ll bet.”
Todd smiled to herself as she left the office. All of these men, fussing over her — it could easily go to her head if she let it.
Then again, reality was always waiting to give her a good kick in the gut if she got too full of herself.
It was giving her a double job today.
Breanna took a seat at the long table, making sure she was between Edmund and Reid. Edmund had brought Reginald Harker with him, along with another man, Gar Pilpon. Pilpon, about forty, had extremely white hair and a set of thick, trifocal glasses that made his eyes look almost psychedelic. His pupils were red, or at least appeared to be red in the light of the cabinet room where they were meeting.
President Todd’s National Security Advisor, Dr. Michael Blitz, sat at the other end of the table opposite Edmund. Next to him was the President’s political advisor, William Bozzone. If the request to brief her in person hadn’t been unusual enough, Bozzone’s presence signaled that what seemed a routine matter a few days before had blossomed into a full-blown crisis.
“Very good of you all to come on short notice,” said the President as she entered. “Don’t get up gentlemen. Breanna, I’m glad you could make it. How’s your daughter?”
“Very good, Ms. President.”
Todd’s smile disappeared as she sat down. That was her style: right to business.
“So, as I understand it, we have everything but the computer that runs the aircraft,” she said, looking around the table. “Am I correct?”
“That is right,” said Breanna.
“And we know where it is?” Todd turned to Edmund.
“My person on the scene is continuing to search.”
“I was under the impression that Whiplash had been called in to supervise the recovery,” said Todd sharply. Clearly, she was not happy with him or his Agency. She turned back to Breanna. “Am I right?”
“Yes. We recovered the aircraft in a building that was being used by the target of the assassination program. We subsequently found his body on the other side of the city. He apparently was killed by a member of the Muslim separatist group he was helping. We think the killer took the control unit. That’s one of our theories, at least.”
“How many theories do you have?” asked Blitz. “Jonathon?”
“We are pursuing several,” said Reid dryly. They had agreed he would speak sparingly.
“How long before we recover the rest of the aircraft?”
“I can’t give an estimate,” said Breanna.
“Do they know what they have?” Blitz asked.
Edmund answered before Breanna could.
“The Raven control unit looks exactly like other UAV control units,” he said. “It would be impossible for them to know.”
“It actually looks quite different,” said Reid sharply. “And of course, the programming inside it is very different.”
Breanna gave him a slight tap with her foot under the table. He was doing exactly what he had sworn he wouldn’t do.
“These Africans are primitive,” said Harker. “That’s one of the reasons the region was chosen in the first place. They have no idea.”
“If they have no idea,” said Todd, “then why did they take the control unit?”
“American technology can always be sold. They’d sell a toaster if we dropped one there.”
“We have to assume that they can figure it out,” said Blitz. “Eventually. We need to get the unit back.”
“I agree with that,” said Edmund.
The President turned toward Breanna and Reid. “You’re confident that you can get it?”
“We’re reasonably sure,” said Breanna. “But it would be foolish to make guarantees. We don’t even have all the technical data on the flight computer. We’ve made our own assessments based on what its capacity is supposed to be, but quite honestly, the amount of information—”
“I’m sorry, I’m not following this,” said Bozzone, speaking for the first time. “Are you saying you don’t know what you’re looking for?”
“We haven’t been given a picture of it, let alone the technical details,” said Breanna.
“We didn’t see that as operationally necessary,” said Edmund. The tone of his voice made it clear he would have thrown a brick at Breanna if he had one.
“This doesn’t sound like a lot of cooperation,” said Bozzone. “At a time when everyone in the administration should be working together. How do you expect them to do their job if you’re not helping them?”
“There’s a certain amount of need to know—”
“Let’s cut to the quick here,” said the President. “Herman, you will cooperate. You will give Ms. Stockard and Mr. Reid whatever information they require. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“Now — this computer. How dangerous exactly is it?” asked the President.
“It has — unique capacities,” said Edmund.
“It’s essentially a virus that, once programmed to kill someone, will not stop trying to do just that,” said Reid. Breanna didn’t bother kicking him — she would have said the same thing. Edmund was being almost criminally evasive. “It’s very dangerous. If it’s released into the wild, so to speak—”
“Well, um, characterizing it as an, um, virus, that is not highly accurate,” said Pilpon. “It is, um, simply a set of instructions, carefully controlled. It has been hobbled—”
“But isn’t it true that the basic program is designed to adapt to its environment?” asked Reid.
“Yes.”
“Which means the program can go into any computer it’s hooked into — and by computer, I mean processing chip.”
“Well, not um, exactly. It couldn’t go into the chip in your car, for example. There are a large number—”
“If I had access to it, I could certainly figure out how to get it into another computer, couldn’t I?” asked Reid.
“I don’t know about that. The circumstances would be difficult.”
“Do the Africans who took the computer know this or not?” asked the President.
“We don’t believe so,” said Edmund.