team threw everything they had and knew at him, but he broke every code, figured out every password, acted as if firewalls and keylocks were jokes, and zeroed in on the army's wireless transmissions. The speed was blinding. Unbelievable. He cracked codes that were supposed to be uncrackable."
Smith swore. "What in God's name did he want?"
"Our people think he was just playing, building his confidence. The Western grid came back on after a half hour, and so did the wireless communications. Precisely, as if he timed it."
"He probably did. Which means you're right, it was all a test. Also a warning, and to make us sweat."
"He's succeeded. Right now, to say our technology's being outclassed is the understatement of the century. The best defense is to find him and that machine."
"Not just him. This isn't the work of a solitary hacker, not considering the attack on the Pasteur and the kidnapping of Theacute;regrave;se Chambord. There's still been no contact?"
"None."
Smith looked at his beer. It was a very good beer, and until he had called Klein, he had been enjoying it. Now he pushed it away. "Maybe they don't want anything from us," he said grimly. "Maybe they're planning simply to do something, no matter what we say or do."
He could almost see Klein, wherever he was, staring into space, seeing a vision of apocalypse. "I've considered that, too. A straightforward, no-warning attack, after they've finished testing the prototype enough to get the bugs worked out. It's my nightmare."
"What does the Pentagon think?"
"It's best to serve the brass reality in small doses. But that's my job. What else have you got on your end?"
"Two things. First is news that the police have matched Emile Chambord's fingerprints with a hand that came out of the rubble. General La Porte told me about it this morning."
"Jesus," Klein breathed. "So he's dead. Chambord's really dead. Damnation! I'll have Justice phone over there to see what else they know." He hesitated. "Well, that just makes Zellerbach all the more important. How is he?"
Smith filled him in. "I think there's an excellent chance we're going to get Marty back whole," he concluded. "Anyway, that's the way I'm operating."
"I hope you're right. And I especially hope he recovers in a timely fashion. I don't mean to be crass, Colonel. I know how fond you are of Zellerbach, but what he knows could make all the difference. Is the protection on him secure enough?"
"About as tight as it can be. French special forces guarding, Sreteacute; watching. Anything tighter, and they'd be tripping over their own feet." He paused. "I need a reservation on the next flight to Madrid."
"Madrid? Why?"
"To rent a car and drive to Toledo. Toledo's where I pick up the trail of the Black Flame." He described the report Captain Bonnard had acquired from the Sreteacute; and copied for him. "Now that you've found out the symbol on the handgrip of the gun was for the Black Flame, Toledo's my best lead. If the Black Flame really is responsible for Theacute;regrave;se Chambord's kidnapping, then I'm hoping to use them to find her and the DNA prototype." He paused. "I've been to Toledo several times, but I'd like some help on this. Can you get me the Basque's home address and a detailed map of the city? Somebody at the Sreteacute; must have it."
"I'll have information, a map, and a flight reservation in your name waiting at De Gaulle."
Washington, D.C., The White House
President Sam Castilla was leaning back in his executive chair, his eyes closed in the unseasonable spring warmth that had settled into the Oval Office already at this early hour, because he insisted on keeping the air-conditioning off and the French doors open. By his own reckoning (he had sneaked a few surreptitious glances at his watch), the National Security Adviser, the admiral, and the three generals had been talking, pointing at charts, and arguing for an hour and twenty-six minutes. Despite the gravity of the situation, he found himself thinking longingly of how the Apaches would stake their enemies spreadeagled in the fierce sun to die very, very slowly.
He finally opened his eyes. "Gentlemen, it's a well-known fact that only an egomaniacal idiot would run for this job that I happen to have, so is there anyone who can tell me in a few words, which I won't need The New York Times or my science advisers to interpret, what's happened now and what it means?"
"Of course, sir." National Security Adviser Emily Powell-Hill took