Read Online An Armageddon Duology by Erec Stebbins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Erec Stebbins
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RIDEOUT: Of course. Again, she's cybercrimes . Why wouldn't she go?
[ R EDACTED ]: But you said you didn't know about the virus.
MR. RIDEOUT: That's what the NSA meeting was about! So, no!
[REDACTED]: So, why bring your cybercrimes leader?
MR. RIDEOUT: Because NSA, duh? Angel is our digital guru. We're retreading this thing like you've never heard of a circle.
[ R EDACTED ]: And now she's AWOL.
MR. RIDEOUT: AWOL? What the hell? She's not conscripted! She doesn't owe you guys anything. Just because your goons failed to grab her doesn't mean she's up to anything bad. If I hadn't been shot, I might be out there with her, deep in hiding from this mess.
[REDACTED]: She's breaking the law.
MR. RIDEOUT: Not any laws I know about. But you all have new laws now, don't you? Just making them up as you go. Christ, I had a bad feeling when martial law was declared. Little did I know!
[ R EDACTED ]: There have been extraordinary events. Unprecedented threats to the nation. We are doing what we can to preserve order.
MR. RIDEOUT: Don't you think I know that? But you're shooting at friendlies, dammit!
C BD : Then you can understand our need to get to the bottom of things. Tell us about Lightfoote.
MR. RIDEOUT: Why are you so obsessed with her? Don't you have one hundred dossiers and film surveillance and case records? What the hell am I going to tell you that you don't know?
[ R EDACTED ]: How about where she is?
MR. RIDEOUT: If I knew, that'd be the last thing I'd tell you.
11
Epidemic
“ J oe , Jesus, it’s the middle of the trading day. What the hell is this about?”
Two men huddled underneath a pedestrian walkway in a quiet London park. They had both approached the location independently, secretively, without informing anyone of their destination. Both had exercised extreme vigilance in their journey, checking for pursuit or other surveillance, doubling back and changing routes several times, increasing by three-fold the amount of time it would take to reach the rendezvous. One man was dressed in a suit and sported closely cropped gray hair. The other, a younger man by two decades, wore slacks and a button down shirt as well as sunglasses. Both appeared anxious, their British accents cutting like daggers through the conversation.
“I’m taking a huge risk even showing up here,” said the young man.
“And I’m not? Spit it out. Is it this virus you’ve been talking about?”
“Worm,” he corrected.
“Whatever.”
“The difference is important.”
“That’s because you’re a computer programmer.”
He shook his head. “It matters . Look, a virus is a file, you have to execute it, infect your computer with it. A worm digs in by itself, and can lay a lot of viral eggs and do other things. But it spreads itself. This worm is spreading everywhere .”
“What’s everywhere?”
The programmer’s arms danced through the air. “By now, half the machines on the London exchange are likely infected. By next week, nearly all of them will be.”
The older man straightened slightly. “What will it do?”
“We don’t know!” he shouted, quickly catching himself and lowering his voice. “Look, my division at Interpol got the first information from Singapore a few days ago. Since then, all hell’s broken loose. We’re finding it everywhere, chasing it everywhere. No one has a handle on it, not the Americans, the Chinese, or the Russians. Hell, if the Russians can’t take it down, we’re in a fucking boatload of trouble!”
“Brilliant. Let’s calm down. What do you know?”
The Interpol programmer wiped his brow, sweat glistening and beginning to pool in his eyebrows despite the cool autumn day. “It’s global. Initially we thought that it was only a finance worm, now we’re finding it other places. It actually seems to have used NSA backdoors and code as gateways to infiltrate the machines the damn Americans were already spying on. It hides well. We mainly find what it leaves
[ R EDACTED ]: But you said you didn't know about the virus.
MR. RIDEOUT: That's what the NSA meeting was about! So, no!
[REDACTED]: So, why bring your cybercrimes leader?
MR. RIDEOUT: Because NSA, duh? Angel is our digital guru. We're retreading this thing like you've never heard of a circle.
[ R EDACTED ]: And now she's AWOL.
MR. RIDEOUT: AWOL? What the hell? She's not conscripted! She doesn't owe you guys anything. Just because your goons failed to grab her doesn't mean she's up to anything bad. If I hadn't been shot, I might be out there with her, deep in hiding from this mess.
[REDACTED]: She's breaking the law.
MR. RIDEOUT: Not any laws I know about. But you all have new laws now, don't you? Just making them up as you go. Christ, I had a bad feeling when martial law was declared. Little did I know!
[ R EDACTED ]: There have been extraordinary events. Unprecedented threats to the nation. We are doing what we can to preserve order.
MR. RIDEOUT: Don't you think I know that? But you're shooting at friendlies, dammit!
C BD : Then you can understand our need to get to the bottom of things. Tell us about Lightfoote.
MR. RIDEOUT: Why are you so obsessed with her? Don't you have one hundred dossiers and film surveillance and case records? What the hell am I going to tell you that you don't know?
[ R EDACTED ]: How about where she is?
MR. RIDEOUT: If I knew, that'd be the last thing I'd tell you.
11
Epidemic
“ J oe , Jesus, it’s the middle of the trading day. What the hell is this about?”
Two men huddled underneath a pedestrian walkway in a quiet London park. They had both approached the location independently, secretively, without informing anyone of their destination. Both had exercised extreme vigilance in their journey, checking for pursuit or other surveillance, doubling back and changing routes several times, increasing by three-fold the amount of time it would take to reach the rendezvous. One man was dressed in a suit and sported closely cropped gray hair. The other, a younger man by two decades, wore slacks and a button down shirt as well as sunglasses. Both appeared anxious, their British accents cutting like daggers through the conversation.
“I’m taking a huge risk even showing up here,” said the young man.
“And I’m not? Spit it out. Is it this virus you’ve been talking about?”
“Worm,” he corrected.
“Whatever.”
“The difference is important.”
“That’s because you’re a computer programmer.”
He shook his head. “It matters . Look, a virus is a file, you have to execute it, infect your computer with it. A worm digs in by itself, and can lay a lot of viral eggs and do other things. But it spreads itself. This worm is spreading everywhere .”
“What’s everywhere?”
The programmer’s arms danced through the air. “By now, half the machines on the London exchange are likely infected. By next week, nearly all of them will be.”
The older man straightened slightly. “What will it do?”
“We don’t know!” he shouted, quickly catching himself and lowering his voice. “Look, my division at Interpol got the first information from Singapore a few days ago. Since then, all hell’s broken loose. We’re finding it everywhere, chasing it everywhere. No one has a handle on it, not the Americans, the Chinese, or the Russians. Hell, if the Russians can’t take it down, we’re in a fucking boatload of trouble!”
“Brilliant. Let’s calm down. What do you know?”
The Interpol programmer wiped his brow, sweat glistening and beginning to pool in his eyebrows despite the cool autumn day. “It’s global. Initially we thought that it was only a finance worm, now we’re finding it other places. It actually seems to have used NSA backdoors and code as gateways to infiltrate the machines the damn Americans were already spying on. It hides well. We mainly find what it leaves
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