Maden Mike - Tom Clancy Firing Point

“Yeah. It does change everything,” Gavin said. “And in the wrong hands, it changes everything for the worse. There isn’t a computer in the world today that can withstand a quantum brute force attack.”

“What else?”

“It gets worse.” Gavin filled in the details.

Gavin was right.

It was far worse than they could ever have imagined.

66

WASHINGTON, D.C.

OVAL OFFICE, THE WHITE HOUSE

President Ryan was sitting at the Resolute desk when his private cell phone rang. The people who had access to that number were a privileged few, including his wife and kids. They knew to only use it for an extreme emergency because they knew he’d answer it, no matter what, even if the world was on fire.

It was Jack Junior.

“Son, what’s wrong?” He could barely hear Jack for the interference.

“I don’t have time to explain but Gavin and I just found out that there’s going to be a five- trillion -dollar robbery any time now. It’s an operation using a quantum computer called TRIBULATION. And there’s more—”

Ryan was stunned. How did Jack find this out?

“You’re too late. It’s already happened.”

“What?”

“Son, I’m putting you on speakerphone. I’m here with Secretary of the Treasury Stephen Hodges and the chairman of the Federal Reserve Board, Wesley Moorcroft. Tell them what else you know about TRIBULATION. We still need more information about which banks were hit.”

“The banks? Forget the banks. Gavin can fill you in on that later. Right now we’ve got a real DEFCON situation about to hit us.”

“What do you mean?”

“TRIBULATION’s next target is a joint Chinese-Russian military exercise in the Bering Sea called Snow Dragon. They’re going to use TRIBULATION to hack their systems. These assholes want to start World War Three.”

“When?”

“Now!”

The color drained from Ryan’s face.

“So we’re too late?”

“Not necessarily. The intel said the launch date was today. I’m assuming it’s happening now. Or maybe we still have a little time. All I know is that we’ve got to shut it down now no matter what.”

“How?”

“TRIBULATION is in Knoxville. That’s where I am, too.”

“There’s an FBI SWAT team in Knoxville,” Ryan said. “What’s the address for this TRIBULATION thing?”

He grabbed a pad and pen from his desk and wrote the address down as Jack recited it. He ripped the paper from the pad and shoved it into Arnie’s hands. “Call Director Medina. Tell her to get her SWAT team to this address ASAP. Fill her in on what you’ve heard and have her call me for anything else she needs—and get Scott, Bob, and Mary Pat up here pronto.”

“On it, boss.” Arnie bolted into action.

“One more thing, Pop,” Jack said over the speakerphone. “Get an FBI team down to Houston.”

Ryan shouted at Arnie, halfway out the door. “Arnie, hold up.” He turned back to the phone. “Why Houston?”

“Because Buck Logan is the asshole behind all of this.”

“Logan?”

“Gavin can fill you in. But you better grab Logan before he hears about Knoxville.”

“You catch that?” Ryan asked van Damm.

“I’ll put the call in to Medina right now.”

“Son, any chance you can get over to that address, be our eyes on the ground? It’ll be at least thirty minutes before the FBI can saddle up.”

“Get there? I’m already here.”

“Sit tight, then. I’ll get back to you when I know more. You did good, son. Son?”

Jack’s line was dead.

67

SULU SEA

OFF THE COAST OF MINDANAO, THE PHILIPPINES

Guzmán leaned on the starboard rail of the Lupita admiring the luminous full moon shimmering in the boundless dark of the infinite sea.

He smoked his cigar, contemplating his next move. TRIBULATION had launched according to the encoded text from el jefe, though the meaning and purpose of it had never been fully explained to him. The same text also confirmed that another payment had been deposited into the Sammler account. Sablek’s widow would get her husband’s share, and his as well. Money meant nothing to Guzmán.

Loyalty was everything.

His people would end this mission with enough cash to walk away if they wanted to. Many of them would.

He could not.

He’d thought long and hard about van Delden’s death as well as Sablek’s and Bykov’s, now confirmed. Death was not such a bad thing, he’d decided. It was the negation of suffering, and the end of fear.

Unless, of course, there was a hell. Then suffering and fear would only be the beginning. But he’d given up on the concept of such things long ago. This life was hell enough.

He felt strangely content. The mission he’d been hired to do had been accomplished. The next two weeks were secondary. He’d complete those as well.

And then the next job.

He blew a cloud of smoke into the cool night air and tossed the butt into the water near the hull.

It bounced against the oily gray hide of a tiger shark . . .

—

Halfway across the world, a digital monitor displayed four red icons in oceans around the globe. They represented four Sammler mother ships. A fifth, located in the Sulu Sea, the Lupita , was still yellow.

It turned red in that instant.

The technician smiled. She had remotely activated the automatic return homing devices in the tiger shark drones. She had also deactivated the mother ships’ drone-tracking devices and ignored requests for technical assistance.

The nearest drone sharks returned undetected to their respective mother ships and, on command, detonated as instructed. Guzmán’s was the last. The remaining sharks also self-detonated, destroying all evidence of their existence.

Everything had gone exactly according to plan. All of the loose ends were tied off.

She sent an encrypted text to her employer.

GUZMÁN DEAD—PROJECT TERMINATED

She shut down her computer, smirking with satisfaction at a job well done. She would receive one heck of a bonus for this.

She stretched and yawned but the sound of automatic gunfire outside shut her pretty little mouth.

She leaped to her feet and grabbed her backpack with her wallet, passport, car keys, and a Ruger .327 LCR. There was a hidden emergency exit in the back of her office that led to the underground garage.

As she turned to run, her office door blasted open, nearly tearing the hinges off.

An FBI agent in tactical gear and bump helmet stood in the doorway, flecks of blood on his face.

She dropped her backpack.

The SWAT leader pointed his M4 carbine at her chest.

“Where the hell is Logan?”

68

KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE

After studying the map earlier, Jack located a service road with an underpass beneath the elevated embankment that took him near the river. As soon as he exited the underpass, he turned off the service road and onto the narrow dirt track that ran between the river and the embankment. The big knobby tires on the Wrangler splashed dark mud and bright leaves as it raced toward the distribution center. He was hidden from view the entire way, including when he passed the razor wire demarcating the massive WML distribution complex.

He slammed his brakes and skidded to a halt. He was opposite the engine of the train he’d heard pulling to a stop at the frozen food warehouse earlier when he and Gavin did their drive-by. The Wrangler was still below the elevated railroad embankment and hidden from sight on the other side.

Jack jumped out and disengaged the release lever on the winch and unspooled the high-capacity rope. He pulled on the steel winch hook and coiled the rope around his shoulder as he went. After he unspooled the entire eighty-foot length, he freed the other end attached to the winch drum by cutting the small-diameter Dyneema loop spliced to the end of the rope with his knife.