Mark of Evil (25 page)

But he didn’t. Instead, he said again, “Hey, you sure you’ll be okay?”

She nodded and patted his face with both of her hands. “Good night, Ethan. Sweet dreams.”

Making his way back inside, Ethan went directly to his bedroom in Zhang Lee’s penthouse and closed the door. As he lay on the bed, he was still thinking about Rivka. He knew that he loved her.
Yes, like crazy. I need to pray about this. But the way I feel about her, I really, really want her to be my wife. And soon. Before life gets in the way again.

Ethan glanced at the satellite clock on the bedside table.
Never enough time.

He knew that there was one more thing to do before he could catch some sleep. He turned on the video log from Josh. He had
been slowly working his way through it, but he still had about a third of it to go. He was tired. He decided to catch just a few minutes of the log.

On the screen, Joshua looked preoccupied. His face was more worn than Ethan had recalled. Josh was talking about the practical needs of those coming to faith in Christ. And the need to prepare for a particularly terrifying form of tyranny.

For Ethan, that message seemed providential. Josh was quoting the admonition of Jesus that His followers should be as innocent as doves and as wise as serpents.

That serpent reference, Ethan thought, was exactly what he needed to hear. The need to be practical about the ways of the world while still being morally upright. It was a difficult balance, no question about it.

Ethan rubbed his eyes. They burned with fatigue. He was increasingly convinced that he needed to seal the deal with Jo Li while there was still time. And at least that would solve one of the two great burdens he was dealing with: finding a financial system to safely provide for the basic survival needs of his Remnant group of Jesus followers—the millions of them around the world. Those numbers that were growing exponentially.

But the second problem still plagued him as he felt himself drifting off to sleep: Sure, Chiro had created a digital substation tucked away in the wilderness of the Yukon to help counteract Alexander Colliquin’s plan for some kind of digital takeover of the world’s web communications networks. But even with his Japanese cyber genius helping him, that wouldn’t be enough. Alexander Colliquin’s audacious technology plan was still too sketchy for Ethan’s forces to attack. How did one fight a shadow?

It was clear that it would come down to Dr. Iban Adis, Ethan’s inside source at the Alliance’s digital imagery laboratory. Adis needed
to dig into the engineering details and then slip that information to Ethan.

Finally, Ethan gave himself an order.
Okay, stop the gears in your head. If you don’t shut down your brain now, you’ll never get any sleep.

Thankfully, the admonition worked.

THIRTY-THREE

THE WHITE HOUSE

Washington, D.C.

During that day’s press conference, Hank Hewbright’s victory in the Senate had been touted by his press secretary as a major vindication of the president’s leadership. But privately Hewbright knew that he was wounded prey and the wolves were circling. He had a conversation with William Tatter, his CIA director. That’s when he realized his enemies had something even bigger in mind than just his impeachment.

His meeting with Tatter in the Oval Office happened without notice. Tatter showed up without an appointment and told Hewbright’s executive secretary he had some urgent information for the president and that it couldn’t wait.

“Mr. President,” Tatter started out, “I was contacted by a former agency asset. An insider. Someone who has some intelligence information that may shed some light on the plans of the Global Alliance.” Tatter spoke plainly. “Does the name Pack McHenry mean anything to you?”

Hewbright shook his head.

“He’s our source. He works as a lone ranger now. But he has credible information that there have been a series of coordinated assaults against a small group of seven Internet experts who collectively hold a key code for the world’s wireless Internet matrix. I’ve had our analysts track this. We have verified it ourselves from field reports.”

“What do the key codes do?”

“Restart the web in the event of a catastrophic event.”

“What kind of event?”

“It could be anything, ranging from a global nuclear war to a geophysical catastrophe that knocks out the world’s communications networks. Or perhaps a worldwide cyber attack of unprecedented sophistication. Or maybe something that we haven’t thought of yet.”

“It sounds ominous, but vague.”

“Mr. President,” Tatter said, “I’m telling you everything I know. Except for two additional facts. First, Alexander Colliquin is putting huge resources toward some kind of technology development, the details of which are still a little uncertain. From what we can tell, it looks like a wireless communications conduit to reach the four corners of the planet and everything in between.”

“And the other thing?”

“He’s going to need a titanic amount of computer capacity to achieve that goal. Our IT experts have analyzed that and have identified only a few sites that could come anywhere near that computing power. Qatar Telecom in India. Some of the big networks in Frankfurt and Singapore. But there’s one that stands out among all the others.”

“I’m waiting with bated breath.”

“Our National Data Center in the Utah desert. Right here in the United States.”

Hewbright was abrupt. “As long as I’m in the White House, they’ll never get access to that site.”

“Which is exactly my point, Mr. President. You’ve survived the political assault in the Senate. But an even deadlier attack may be on the way.”

THIRTY-FOUR

DIGITAL IMAGERY LABORATORY

New Babylon, Iraq

Dr. Iban Adis stood up slowly and glanced across the main hall, trying not to be obvious. All of the lab cubicles were filled, occupied by computer network engineers, digital imagery technologists, electronics physicists, and even neurophysiologists. He could see that at the far end the chief of the section was striding out of his office, and he was in a hurry. He stopped in his tracks and doubled back into his office for a few seconds and then reappeared, walking even faster, this time with a folder in his hand.

Dr. Adis, as a senior researcher, was one of the few who had access to the chief’s schedule. He knew his boss was on his way to a meeting down on the first floor with an electronics vendor from Germany.

But Dr. Adis’ staff position also gave him access of another kind. He could access the secondary computer in the chief’s office, which was situated on a separate desk in the corner, in order to sync data. At first he thought it was a little laughable that his computer had not been networked with instant sync ability, particularly because he was often tasked to coordinate data from very different parts of the project. But then he thought about it and realized the great opportunity to retrieve the computer data that Ethan March needed.

Adis had only been a follower of Jesus for a little more than a year. But he was certain of two things: First, the minute he bowed before Jesus Christ and received Him into his heart by faith just as his precious wife, Farrah, had done a year before that, he realized his life would be in peril, just like Farrah and all of the other Jesus Remnant people. And second, he knew his employment as a senior researcher at the Global Alliance tech lab was no accident of chance. The reality of God’s sovereign control of human events excluded that option. From time to time, when his faith flagged and grew weak, he would secretly regret working at the lab. But then he would feel like a coward for having those thoughts. He knew he had to steel himself to the task that God had given to him. No, this was no coincidence. He was in this position, like a Caleb in foreign territory, to be a spy for the people of God.

Adis slowly walked through the labyrinth of cubicles until he neared the chief’s office. From the other end of the hall it looked like the chief had left his office door unlocked. Now Adis could see that the door was ajar and the light was still on. He tried to look calm as he opened the door and stepped in. He knew there were video cameras in two corners of the office.

The secondary computer was on and the screen was lit up. Dr. Adis sat down and took one quick side glance through the glass door. No one was outside. He scooted up close to the screen so he would block the cameras from viewing the data he was accessing. He put his
finger to the authentication pad and then input his password. Then he gave his name out loud and the screen flashed
Voice command authenticated
.

To sync data as part of his job he usually entered the site labeled
Peering Coordination Data Portal
. But that’s not what he wanted now. He was after something much more sensitive than that, but he would have to finagle a back-door entrée to get into the program he really wanted. He touched the icon Deep Properties. Then he configured a false code that suggested a problem with the data portal. The program asked if he wished another source for the same information.

Adis glanced at the glass door and noticed that one of the neurophysiologists, with a thick file of charts under his arm, was chatting with a colleague. Adis froze in front of the computer screen. Finally the two men went on their way.

He resumed, giving the audible commands, trying to locate the potential site for the lab’s global data core. “Locate all scenarios from all files for facilities with maximum exabyte capacity.” And another one. “Retrieve universal binary code mandate for all subjects.”

He glanced over at the glass door again. The area was still clear. Two menus were on the screen. He gave the verbal order: “Search now.” Ten seconds elapsed, but the two searches were still pending. More waiting. Almost sixty seconds.

“Hurry up,” he murmured to the screen in front of him. Then two reading panes lit up on the screen. He did some keyword scans. He knew what he was looking for, but he just couldn’t find it.

Adis spoke the command for the entire directory. The list of potential digital computing sites under consideration by the Alliance began to cascade down the screen. Opposite each was a computer capacity rating estimate. He went to the biggest number and looked at the name and its location, and then typed it into the insta-memo function of his wrist Allfone.

He closed out that reading pane and then went to the other, an
absurdly long string of computer code. He moved his finger to read down the strings of code, then stopped and examined one string in particular. A very short two-digit number followed by a letter of the alphabet. He quickly tapped the three characters into his Allfone, followed by the words
hexadecimal value
. After that, he tapped the words
Binary aka base 2
, followed by ten binary characters.

Lastly, he gave the remaining search term verbally, but tried not to say it too loud, so it was almost a whisper: “Abstract of neuron testing protocol for subject compliance.”

The computer spoke back to him. “We are unable to process your audible command. Do you wish to disable audible command system and convert to manual commands?”

Adis knew that would take too much time. He glanced at the time sequence on his Allfone. The chief had been gone fifteen minutes so he had to hurry. He spoke louder. “No.” Then he said the command again. Now the screen filled with data, even quicker than he expected. When he read it, he was stunned. In a voice full of astonishment and horror, he found himself muttering out loud to himself, “Sweet Savior, we are nearing the end . . . and how close Your coming must be.”

The computer spoke back. “We are unable to process your audible command. Do you wish to disable audible command system and convert to manual commands?”

“No, thank you,” he replied. Then he tapped the citation to a Bible verse into his Allfone, followed by the long binary code he had retrieved, and finally hit the encrypted function on his Allfone, directing it to his wife, and hit Send.

There was sound by the door. Dr. Adis swung his chair around, but as he did he tried to poise his right hand over the Delete Search History button on the screen, hoping that his finger had found the right part of the screen, as he looked in the opposite direction to see who was at the door.

It was the chief, with folder in hand. His face was cemented into
a look of disdain as he studied Adis. “What are you doing?” he asked loudly.

Adis, with his hand still on the screen, touched what he hoped was the right icon to delete any history of his last computer search. “Well, sir—”

Before he could answer, the chief stepped up to him and shoved him aside, causing his chair to roll away. The chief glared at the screen, which Adis could still see from his position. The history of his actual search had been deleted and the screen now read,
Peering Coordination Data Portal
. It was the usual kind of inquiry Adis was authorized to log into the computer. He exhaled quietly.

“You should get permission from me first before you access the program,” the chief said.

“I’m sorry,” Adis replied. “But I have accessed it many times without permission . . .”

The chief roared back at him, “Because I was always in the room. That is implied permission. No more access when I am out of the office, is that understood?”

Adis nodded. Then he asked nonchalantly, “How did your meeting go?”

“A waste of precious time. The German rep was unprepared to explain his product details. After a while I sized him up. Undependable. So I cut him short and sent him on his way.”

Dr. Adis rose to leave the office, but the chief was blocking the door, and as Adis approached he didn’t move out of the way. He kept talking, and as he did he gazed into Adis’ face as if he was searching for something, some clue of vulnerability. “You know, I’m a good judge of character. Most scientists lack interpersonal skills. They cannot see deeply into a person. On the other hand, I can.” He continued to stare into Adis’ face. “The slightest flaw. The hidden secrets. I find them out.” A flicker of a smile broke over the chief’s face. “But of course, I can also detect the positive things in my staff too.”