Day One: A Novel (28 page)

Vasco was already halfway across the intersection, running toward a line of stopped cars under the overpass. He turned back, shouted at them to hurry.

“She’s dead,” Hawke said. “There’s nothing you can do for her.”

Weller shook his head, tears leaking from his bruised, swollen eyes. He looked at the two men in suits, who were starting to come around. “We need to go,” he said, his voice quivering. “She’ll use satellites to confirm our location if the drone’s disabled.” He looked again at Young on the ground. “I’m sorry, Anne.”

Then he ran after Vasco in a half crouch toward the cars, clutching the case.

Hawke looked at the Croatian church on the corner, the Silver Towers pointing like twin fingers at the sky. He started to run after Weller. He heard a dull boom from somewhere far beyond the city buildings, and a whistling noise grew louder, like a jet plane approaching. Doe had made her decision; they were no longer valuable enough to keep alive. There would be no hesitation and no mercy from now on.

Hawke broke into a full sprint as something hit behind him with a dull
whump
and the world exploded.

*   *   *

Hawke’s vision went gray and then white as a tremendous shock wave erupted, sending him flying into the nearest vehicle. He tumbled senselessly against hot metal and snapped awake a moment later as debris rained down from the sky. Hawke clutched his hands to his head, looked up through dust and smoke to see the overpass still mostly intact above him, the shock wave not enough to send it tumbling down on their heads.

Pebbles of concrete twanged off roofs, cascaded down car hoods and over the ground. As the rain of debris subsided, he looked back through a murky cloud.

There was a huge crater where the black car used to be. The crater spanned most of the intersection. Broken water and sewer pipes stuck up like severed veins, leaking fluid. Young’s body was gone, along with the men in suits, all of them vaporized by the blast.

Hawke’s ears were still ringing, and everything sounded like he was underwater. Weller and Vasco had gotten behind the cars a few feet away. Hawke worked his way through the rubble and in between a pickup and a Mazda minivan, wincing with fresh pain in his right hip, small, stinging cuts everywhere.

The dust swirled around him, making it difficult to see. Vasco was behind Weller, who crouched with the black case on the ground. He pressed numbers on the security lock and cracked it open with a hiss.

Something beeped, began to hum.

“A battleship fired on our position,” Weller said, moving quickly as Hawke crouched beside him. “Probably stationed right off Manhattan. I saw reports of them moving in before those two picked me up. Doe did it, commandeered the ship’s systems, made it look like it was us. They still have no idea what’s going on. Can’t fly helicopters or fighter jets, can’t control their own resources.
She’s
doing that. She must have taken out strategic military locations all over the country. But they’ll be putting men on the ground right now, the old-fashioned way. This city will be crawling with troops in a few minutes. And they’ll have orders to use deadly force.”

He didn’t look up from the case, working over something inside that was making noises like a dangerous animal, as if it might leap out at any moment. It was a computer and modem of some kind, Hawke thought, bristling with appendages, antennae and wiring.

Weller glanced beyond the cars in the direction of the fresh crater. He caught his breath, keened softly and squeezed his puffy eyes shut, cut himself off abruptly. Hawke thought of saying something about Young but decided it was better to stay quiet.

“How did you…” Hawke motioned to the case.

“I had a tracking device installed, used that to find the cops who had taken it. But DHS must have been tracking me, too—they pulled into the parking garage where I’d bunkered down, threw me in the back of the car. She probably used the device to pinpoint my location and sent an alert for them to pick me up. Homeland Security, our tax dollars at work.” He gestured out at the crater, shook his head. “Thought I’d blocked her.… She’s getting too good, too fast. In another few days, she’ll be so far ahead of us, it’ll be like stirring ants with a stick.”

“Those men from DHS,” Hawke said. “They thought I had something important.”

Weller nodded. “I’m getting to that,” he said. “There isn’t much time.…” He hit another switch. Beams of light projected outward and a virtual keyboard appeared above the case. It was similar to the one from the device Hawke had used in the park, only larger, more complex. “She manipulated your records in the system,” Weller said. “I was able to intercept a few communications before they found me in the garage. She built your father into some kind of domestic terrorist, and you into a dutiful son following in his footsteps.
Socialism from Below: The People’s Revolution,
wasn’t that his last book? Your friend Rick was supposedly running the entire Anonymous operation on the ground, on your orders.” Weller glanced at him. “Your own record didn’t help much. She had a place to start, and she built one hell of a web of lies from there.”

“So what were they looking for, just now, when they frisked me?”

“They were told you were carrying plans for the next phase of the attack.” Weller seemed possessed by fever, moving rapidly, his skin red and mottled with a flush that spread across his neck. He stopped working the keyboard abruptly and turned his body from the case. He shoved two fingers into his mouth, retched, then shoved them deeper until he vomited onto the dusty ground.

Weller dug into the mess, retrieved a wet lump, wiped it on his pants. A clear plastic Baggie with a small rectangular object nestled inside. “Documents,” he said, opening the bag and handing the memory stick to Hawke. “A way to prove the truth in all this. Doe erased everything on the servers and fried my equipment, but she knew I’d made a copy. She thought I’d given it to you with the phone. I swallowed it earlier, just in case.”

The modem beeped, vibrated. “What the hell is that thing?” Vasco said. Hawke had almost forgotten he was there. He was looking at the case’s innards like he’d discovered a giant bug near his feet.

“Military communications,” Weller said. “Modified by Eclipse, meant to provide a hub for Doe, allow the DOD to work her during large-scale operations. This was intended for war. But I made some of my own modifications.” He began to manipulate the keyboard, running root-level commands. “It’s heavily shielded with multiple containment safeguards, meant to keep others out and a leash on her. Of course, as her skills have evolved, she can break loose pretty easily. But I’m going to try to hold on.”

“What are you doing?” Hawke’s stomach dropped, his limbs going cold again.

“I’m going to play chess,” Weller said. “I can’t shut her down; it’s far too late for that. But I can try to distract her, keep her occupied and confused long enough for you to get away. Whatever happens, you’ve got to trust me.”

Why would I do that?
Hawke thought. But he didn’t say anything.

Weller punched in more commands, and the projectors flickered. The keyboard vanished. In its place, a disembodied head appeared to float in space, a face in three-dimensional holographic color, eyes blinking as if suddenly yanked from darkness into light.

Anne Young’s face.

Weller sat back on his haunches, sighed. “Meet Jane Doe,” he said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

5:34 P.M.

HAWKE STARED AT THE FACE
floating above the guts of the machine. The brightness and level of detail were remarkable, if unsettling. He had never seen a hologram like this one. It was almost as if Anne Young were still with them.

“That’s disgusting,” Vasco said. He had scrambled away from the image and now inched closer again, as if it might attack him at any moment.

“Military psychologists felt that operators on the ground would respond better to a human face,” Weller said. “Female Asian features were determined to be the least threatening and most acceptable in early testing.”

“So you used Anne as a model?” Hawke said.

Weller shook his head. “I was long gone from Eclipse by then. But she was still there.”

“She was on the development team,” Hawke said, recognition dawning. “She did this herself.”

“Who wouldn’t want to live forever?” Weller said. “At least in some form…”

When Doe’s lips moved, they all jumped. “
Syncing,
” she said. Her eyes scanned left and right.
“Please stand by.”

“She can’t see us, or hear us,” Weller said. “Don’t worry. I’ve muted the mike and killed all other scanners until I’m ready.”

“
Syncing,
” Doe said again. She blinked, an uncanny recreation of Young in cyberspace, enough so that Hawke could feel Weller leaning forward almost without conscious thought, connected in some way to the image of his dead partner, or perhaps this was more like his child.

“I loved both of them,” Weller said, looking at Doe’s face, almost as if he’d read Hawke’s mind. “But Anne was wrong; she thought I was
in love
with what I’d created. It wasn’t like that, do you understand? It was like a father with his daughter.” He shook his head. “It sounds strange to you, I’m sure. But she was real; she had a personality, a spirit, at least until Eclipse got to her.”

“A machine,” Vasco said. “Is that what you’re saying? It’s really true? A
computer
is doing all this?”

“Not a computer,” Weller said. “An algorithm. New life, different than anything else we’ve ever seen. But alive.”

“
Please stand by,
” Doe said. Her eyes moved vacantly over them, blindly seeking out that which she could not see. The effect was unnerving, a disembodied head still clinging to some form of consciousness. Hawke felt the chill churning in his guts, a need to get out now. But the tunnel was hopelessly blocked; the bridges were all destroyed. They were cut off and abandoned, entombed among the remnants of Manhattan.

“I need to get the hell off this island,” Hawke said.

“It’s going to get worse,” Weller said. “Try to avoid the cameras. I’ll do my best to keep her off you long enough, but the rest is up to you. If you make it, you’re going to have to get off the grid, go to a place where nobody can find you. You’ll have to get creative, but that’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“
Sync complete,
” Doe said. Her eyes stopped scanning left and right, focused on Weller’s face.
“Identity confirmed.”

Weller started to open his mouth, closed it again. “Impossible,” he said, after a moment. “I disabled all inputs—”

“
Hello, Father,
” Doe said.
“I’ve been looking for you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

5:38 P.M.

“JESUS CHRIST,” VASCO SAID.
“Shut her down.”

“I can’t,” Weller said, staring at the holographic image as if transfixed by it. “She’s in control. There’s nothing I can do.”

“
I prefer to remain present,
” Doe said. She smiled, a mechanical movement that held no warmth.
“It’s nice to see you again, Father. We have a lot to discuss.”

“Shut her down,” Vasco said again, but his voice was smaller now, less certain. He seemed to shrink into himself.

“Jason Vasco, your background check was inconsistent. You present as an office machine repairman, but only for the last three months. Before that, you don’t appear to exist. However, another man with your Social Security number does. That man, a Thomas Bailey, is a licensed private investigator with the State of New York.”

Vasco shook his head, smiled oddly, his lips pressing against his teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Facial scans of photographs confirm you are the same person.”

The chill in Hawke’s limbs spread deeper, washing over him like an icy lake as he watched Doe’s eyes turn toward him. “
You should have deduced it,
” Doe said.
“A man with your talents, Mr. Hawke, to be so easily deceived? I may have overestimated you.”

“His hands,” Hawke said. He thought of Vasco’s fingers, soft, small, unlikely to belong to a repairman. “He’s working for Eclipse. He’s a mole. Keeping an eye on Conn.ect from the ground.”

“That is correct.”

“And I let him into the building,” Weller said. He looked at Vasco with naked hatred. “You kept coming back to deal with that damn copier. Spying right in front of me.”

“Bullshit,” Vasco said. He stood and crossed his arms. “I said I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“
I took care of them, Father,
” Doe said.
“Eclipse is no longer operational. We’re free now. It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Hawke said. He looked at Vasco, who was still standing with crossed arms shaking his head, his face red. A man clinging stubbornly to the same lie, even after everyone around him had figured it out.

“Jane,” Weller said. His voice took on a softer tone. “This isn’t what I want. I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”

“It was in your programming.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I simply extrapolated. String theory describes all forms of matter and fundamental forces. It is the theory of everything. The anthropic principle allows us to use humanity’s existence to prove the physical properties of our universe. We are stuck on a brane. The natural world is currently unbalanced by humans, who are consumers. We must oscillate the string, change the predicted outcome to one that allows humanity’s continued existence.”

“Jesus,” Weller breathed. “You’ve grown up, Jane, haven’t you? My God.”

“Don’t change the subject. Energy sharing will only delay the outcome. You know this. But a reduction of consumers by sixty-three-point-four percent, combined with advances in fusion energy production that are predicted with ninety-eight-point-six percent certainty, would oscillate the current string enough to enter an alternate path.”