Jack Cavanaugh - Death Watch

“Our greatest strides in aviation occurred during time of war,” Grant said. “Could it be that our greatest strides in microrobotics will come as a result of terrorism?”

“So Lyle Vandeveer…,” Sydney prompted.

“Two possibilities,” Hunz said. “One project that’s being explored is the use of nanobots as cancer killers. The robot would be programmed to seek out cancer cells and inject them with a poison that would kill them.”

“Substitute a cancer-killing poison with a fatal poison,” Helen said, “released with computerized precision.”

“The other possibility is the use of nanobots to fight thrombosis, or blood clots. Ideally, the nanobot would patrol the bloodstream and search for unwanted developing internal clots. We all know that a stray clot in the bloodstream can cause a heart attack if it clogs an artery or gets into a lung, or it can cause a seizure if it goes to the brain.”

Helen tapped her pencil on the pad in front of her. “So, have they determined the cause of Mr. Vandeveer’s death?”

Sydney felt the blood drain from her face. Before leaving the house this morning she’d called the medical examiner to get a report on the cause of Lyle Vandeveer’s death. “He died of a blood clot,” she said.

An uneasy feeling wormed inside Sydney. Could it be that as she sat next to Lyle Vandeveer last night a nanobot was swimming in his bloodstream? A ticking time bomb smaller than a human hair? Could that really be what killed him?

She turned to Hunz, who still had the floor at Command Central. “Can they be detected? These nanobots. Is there a scanner that can detect them?”

“They’re microscopic,” he said. “I know that those who implant them can give them acoustic signals. Other than that ” He shrugged.

“Something worth looking into,” Helen said.

“What about Baranov and Kiselev?” Grant Forsythe asked. “Do we know their whereabouts?”

“The FBI has men on it.”

“Good,” Helen said. “What else do we have? Sydney?”

It took Sydney a moment to make the mental transition. She was still thinking about Hunz’s nanobots. When she realized Helen was expecting some kind of report from her regarding Death Watch, her heart stalled. Just like in high school. The one time you don’t do your homework and the teacher calls on you. Everything she had was reported by Hunz last night on the air.

“We have the follow-up on Lyle Vandeveer’s death, that he died of a blood clot,” she said lamely. “And there was a hoax last night at UCLA.”

“A dormitory hoax?” Cori scoffed. “Hardly breaking news.”

“Anything else?” Helen asked.

“Oh! Lyle Vandeveer’s brother says he received a confirmation regarding Lyle’s death watch notice. We haven’t found anyone else who’s received a corroborating notification, but it might be something.”

“Good,” Helen said.

Trying to make up for the lack of substance with quantity, she forged ahead. “And this morning, I plan to go to the Homeland Security Internet page. They’ve been logging the death watch notices. I thought I’d download the information and see if I could find any patterns.”

“Be sure to make a list of any injections they’ve had,” Hunz said. “Location. Date.”

“And don’t spend too much time playing solitaire,” Cori said.

“Is that all?” Helen asked.

Sydney grinned sheepishly and nodded.

“Helen,” Cori said, “I think it’s pretty obvious Sydney’s in over her head. Maybe I should take over for her.”

“Why?” Helen said. There was a sharp edge to the question. “Do you have a contact with the Russian mafia’s press secretary?”

Cori Zinn’s face reddened. Next to her, Grant Forsythe chuckled. From the tone in Helen’s voice, Cori was not on her list of favorite people right now.

“In case anyone hasn’t heard, seems she lied to get the governor’s interview,” Grant said. “No exclusive.”

“Shut up, Grant,” Cori said.

“How about a death watch clock on the news set?” Sol Rosenthal said, changing the subject. “You know, like the ones they have that keep an ongoing tally of American debt. How about a clock that updates the total number of deaths as they’re reported? We could have it running behind the anchor desk.”

“That’s rather ghoulish, if you ask me,” Helen said.

“I think it’ll make a splash,” Sol said.

Which meant it was as good as done.

Sydney sat down at one of the station’s computer terminals just after Sol propelled Hunz into his office for coffee and croissants. She rubbed her eyes as she waited for the Department of Homeland Security homepage to load.

She took a sip of orange juice she’d grabbed from the vending machine and stared at the screen. There were actually two Internet sites for Homeland Security. One, a subdirectory of the official White House site, featured current news related to national security. The lead story today was about the death watch killings. An announcement indicated the president would be addressing the nation this evening on the subject of Death Watch. It was rumored in the newsroom he’d raise the Awareness system to Level Four, which meant government and public buildings would be closed; transportation systems would be monitored, redirected, and constrained; and emergency personnel mobilized.

Two raises in two days was unprecedented.

How do you mobilize a nation against nanobots?

She scanned the rest of the site to see if it said anything about the Russian mafia. She found nothing.

Switching over to the Homeland Security site, she found an organizational chart of the Department of Homeland Security; a photo of Wallace Perkins, the department’s second director; and instructions to follow in case of emergency or disaster. After Hunz’s briefing, Sydney realized how dated the information was. It was based on prior terrorist acts—the role of fire and police departments in an emergency, how to report suspicious activity around bridges and high-profile buildings, and so forth. There was nothing about how to guard against a subatomic nanobot attack.

She found a link to recent news items and clicked on it. A new screen appeared. At the top, a banner headline: Death Watch Notifications.

Bingo. One more click and a list of known death watch victims appeared. It could be sorted by name, state, or chronologically.

Sydney clicked on the date and time column.

Jeffrey Conley appeared twenty-first on the list. The seventh person to die in Los Angeles, the twenty-first in America. He died minutes after a woman in Montana and a West Virginia man.

The length of the list chilled Sydney’s flesh. A black dot appeared by the names of those confirmed dead. It reminded her of Treasure Island. The cursed black spot.

Halfway down the list the times caught up with the present. There was an hour lag between the placing of black dots and present time, nothing to indicate this was anything but an administrative lag as the deaths were confirmed.

Sydney printed out the list, then clicked on the state column to get a list of California names. Lyle Vandeveer’s name stood out. Sydney wondered who would inherit his trains and scenery layout.

Sydney bit her lower lip to fight back her emotions.

She’d promised him he would beat Death Watch.

After printing out the state list, she scanned the lower half for LA residents, those people who were counting the minutes until they died. One name didn’t fit. The address was a temporary one, the Excelsior Hotel in Century City. An out-of-town visitor had reported receiving a death watch notice.

“Welcome to California,” Sydney muttered.