She nodded toward Natesh, who was out of earshot across the room.
David said, “It sounds like we’ll need that brain power to help us, in light of the plot you’ve uncovered. Hopefully we can harness that power for the good guys.”
Lena said, “David, that’s why we brought you all here, to harness that intellectual power. And I promise you we’ll do exactly that.”
She nodded a farewell, turned, and walked out the door.
David watched her go and felt an uneasy voice in his head begin to whisper. It was the same voice that he felt when Tom was speaking to him on the plane. Lena and Tom had both said all of the right things.
But the whisper was still there. The whisper was what his father used to call it when David was a boy. His father’s sage advice never failed to keep David out of trouble: When the whisper tells you not to follow the pack, hear the whisper like a scream.
CHAPTER 3
“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”
Natesh sat on his bed, his moist palms pressed against white cotton bed sheets. He was always the most nervous on the first day. That was when all those intelligent and accomplished eyes began to judge him. In the first 30 minutes, Natesh found, the vast majority of his spectators made their decision as to the worth of his service. So like any good salesman, he had to nail it on the up front. And he did it, time after time.
That was how he had made his millions. Not through his intellectual prowess. Smart people were a dime a dozen. Natesh made his millions by selling himself. He delivered both a high quality exhibition and intellectual output for his clients. But he had to give them a convincing show for their money.
He always got nervous, and today’s nervousness went beyond anything that he had felt before. He needed to keep calm. Just stick to the script. He must forget that the final product here wasn’t a product at all, but bloodshed. He tried to console himself with the fact that if he did his job well, there would be less of it.
Natesh had his routine. The stories changed depending on the exact project, but the basic formula stayed constant. Introductions came first. Then he would tell a story to both captivate and serve as inspiration for a strategy. For this project, Natesh decided that he would tell his story about a professional pickpocket from New York City. That one usually went over well. Natesh would follow that up with comparisons between the competitors. Normally his competitors were two major conglomerates. Today, they were two superpowers. From there, Natesh would get to the meat of the conversation. He would go over project objectives and begin brainstorming about ways to create competitive advantage. MBA’s usually ate it up. He wasn’t so sure about this audience.
It was highly likely that the activities they created in this particular project would involve killing on a mass scale. It would be unlike anything Natesh had worked on before. He hoped that his gift for analysis and strategic thinking surpassed the line between corporate battle and actual battle. Certainly the man who had picked him for this assignment thought so.
But oftentimes, with the gift of genius comes the curse of thinking deeply. Life’s harsh realities were magnified by this lens. Natesh thought about how people on the Manhattan project had felt, knowing that they were designing death. There was the utilitarian justification that was used by so many after the bombs were dropped on Japan. A supposedly far larger number would have been lost in a hostile invasion of the Japanese mainland. Was this war-planning analogous to that? They were designing a most efficient plan for war. Natesh hoped that the greatest good would rise from the smoke.
Three sharp knocks sounded on his door.
He opened it to find Lena staring at him. Natesh’s parents were both Indian. While he would never admit as much in an American society dominated by political correctness, he preferred women that were from a similar ethnic background to his own. Lena, however, was a truly beautiful Asian woman. Her looks seriously called into question any previous preference Natesh had. Her dark brown eyes had a fire that showed intelligence, confidence, and — what was it? There was some other quality there. Passion? No. Ruthless commitment. She looked like she had never failed at anything in her life, and that she had expected as much. With full lips and a well-proportioned, athletic body, she looked like she could have been a model for one of those women’s fitness magazines. Natesh wondered if it was her looks that made his blood pressure rise when she was around. No, it was her ruthlessness.
“Good morning, Lena. We have another twenty minutes before—”
“Let’s talk in my office. Please follow me.”
She turned and walked down the barracks hallway. Natesh grabbed his key and presentation notes off his nightstand and hustled to catch up. He was glad that he had gotten ready early. They walked out of the barracks and down a 100-foot-stretch of gravel that brought them to the smallest building on the island base. Everyone assumed that this was a base, although Lena was likely the only one that knew for sure. An arc of tropical trees shaded the path.
Natesh’s feet crunched through the stones and seashells as he walked. The morning sun cast a beautiful light over the beaches beyond the runway. He wanted to stop and admire the monstrous green mountain at the heart of the island, but Lena trudged onward at a quick pace. A trickle of sweat slid down his forehead as he hobbled after her.
They reached the concrete structure with satellite dishes and a group of antennae on top. Razor wire lined the roof. Metal bars caged in each of the narrow windows, making it look like a small town jail. Lena’s fingers danced over the digital keypad as she typed in the code to the single steel door. Natesh heard a faint beep and then a click as the door unlatched. They entered the Comms Building, as it was known, and Lena sealed the door behind them.
She looked at him, her eyes filled with that ever-present intensity. He had seen that look from many a successful entrepreneur in Silicon Valley. Athletes called it the eye of the tiger. Natesh thought this metaphor fit. Lena was every bit the predator.
Her voice was flat. “So… are you all set?”
Natesh could feel the sweat between the tips of his fingers and his palms. “Yes. All set.” He tried to sound calm.
She saw through the lie. “You’re worried?”
Natesh said, “It’s just a lot to process, that’s all.”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“I’m fine. I’ve done this sort of thing many times. I’ll be fine.”
Disapproval flickered in her eyes, then calm. Her voice was soft as she said, “Natesh. We have watched you for some time now. You are quite capable. I know that you’ve never done anything like this before. But to be frank, no one has. Stick to your routine. Get in a rhythm, and be the conduit for others to provide the information.”
He nodded. “Sure. Sure. As you say. I will be good. Thanks.”
“I’m here to help.”
She said, “This is the Communications room. Major Combs and you will be the only ones with access. Take this paper. On it is your code that will open the outer door to this building. Memorize it. You won’t be able to take it with you. You’ll be able to go on these computers and get information from the outside world. These computers are on a censored and monitored network. You won’t be able to access to the whole Internet. If there are any sites that you need or information that you aren’t able to get, the email system only goes to one person. He is my colleague that will be able to do external research for you. We’re giving you this privilege because we want you to be the single point of contact for all of the members of the Red Cell. If there is information that you all need to access as you are making your plans, you’ll be the one to get it. Understood?”