Daniel Suarez - Kill Decision

Foxy twanged the kora. “What the Finnish army calls anopin pyykkinaru — ‘mother-in-law’s clothesline.’” Another twang for emphasis.

Odin cast a look at him, then turned back to McKinney. “A chemical trace dead-ended to a batch of det-cord stolen from a demolition project in Cyprus two years ago-no suspects. The explosive cuts the drone into confetti, and at that altitude the wreckage spreads across twenty square miles. What we’ve found so far wouldn’t fill a garbage bag.”

Hoov called out from the back of the plane. “No suspicious radio traffic during the event.”

“As expected.”

McKinney held up her hand to silence them. “What. The. Hell. Is going on? Why is someone trying to kill me?”

The Albanian guy named Foxy raised his eyebrows. “You really don’t know?”

“Because I’m an American? Because of the Karbala attack? If that’s the case, you need to evacuate the entire research station.”

Odin drummed his fingers on his armrest. “Unfortunately it’s more personal than that. Someone is targeting you specifically, Professor McKinney.”

She was utterly at a loss. “I study ants.”

“That is the reason someone’s trying to kill you. Because of your particular expertise.”

“My expertise…” McKinney leaned back in her seat and just stared at him for a moment. “Who the hell are you people?”

“We’re with the U.S. military.”

“The U.S. military.”

“Yes.”

She eyed them. “You don’t look like U.S. military.”

“Well, that’s kind of the whole point.”

“I want to see credentials. Now.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Well, it’s how I work. I’m sort of funny that way.”

“We’re the people who just saved you from certain death. That’s all you need to know about us.”

“As far as I know, you kidnapped me, blew up my cabin with a stick of dynamite, and put together some drone highlight reels.”

Odin looked back at Foxy.

Foxy shrugged. “She’s got a point.” He lowered the kora and dug into his bag. In a moment he produced a folder, which he passed forward.

Odin took the folder. “I don’t have any latitude to tell you who we are. That could put our mission in jeopardy.” He withdrew a document, glanced at it, and then passed it along to her. “Are you familiar with any of these people, Professor McKinney?”

Still irritated, she hesitated before accepting the piece of paper. It was a printout of the front page of The New York Times, just a few days old. The headline read SIX DIE IN STANFORD BOMBING. The names of several of the victims had been helpfully highlighted in yellow by someone: Lei Li, Vijay Prakash, Gerhard Koepple…

“God, there’s been a bombing at Stanford now too?”

“Were you familiar with these researchers or their work?”

“No. I’ve never heard of them.”

“You’re sure, Professor? Never bumped into them at a conference? Never read any of their academic papers?”

“No, I haven’t. I’m sure.”

Odin took the printout back. “You have one thing in common with these researchers, Professor. Both your work and theirs was found on a file server in Shenyang, China. Part of a cyber espionage pipeline that was spiriting advanced technology out of the West. At first we suspected North Korea’s Unit 121, a cyber warfare group, but that’s not where the trail led us.”

She was speechless.

“The people who stole the Stanford researchers’ work also made a point of taking yours.”

“But my research isn’t secret. I make it available to the entire scientific community.”

“Well, they had your work and your tools before you published. Which means they broke into Cornell’s network. Which means you were one of only two researchers in the world they were interested in. We have people searching for the network breach at Cornell, but what I’m concerned with is what knowledge you have that they wanted. And now that they’ve tried to cover their tracks by killing you, we know it’s important to whatever they’re planning.”

“This is insane. I study insects.”

“You develop behavioral computer models as part of your research.”

“Yes. Simulations-modeling the social systems of certain insects.”

“In fact, you’re currently developing a computer model that simulates the swarming behavior of weaver ants.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And that’s what they’re after?”

“Your work has direct application to a strategy being pursued by America’s enemies. I came here to brief you, Professor McKinney.”

“What do you mean ‘brief me’? Brief me about what?”

“About the terror bombings in the United States.”

“What about them?”

“They’re not terror bombings.”

She stopped short and looked around. No help.

“Over the past several months someone has been carrying out drone strikes in the continental United States. They’re not intended to terrorize. They’re targeted assassinations, meant to eliminate specific people. This is next generation warfare, Professor, and we’re facing a very sophisticated adversary. Someone who’s trying to remain hidden-and who thinks you know too much about their systems.”

Again she was speechless.

He stared back at her, unreadable.

She finally nodded her head ruefully. “Did you really think we could just fire missiles into other countries, assassinating people from the air, without it coming back to haunt us? You flouted international law, and now you act amazed that-”

“Be that as it may-”

“I appreciate you rescuing me, but I don’t appreciate you involving me in your… war, or whatever it is. I perform basic research on the natural world.”

He turned more serious. “As one human being to another, I’m asking for your assistance.”

“I turned down all military-funded research grants for a reason. I want no part of this ‘permanent war’ you people are selling. We should be investing in education and health care, not war.”

He flipped through the folder in his hand. “You contribute to human rights groups and antiwar organizations.”

“And I suppose you think that makes me some sort of traitor.”

“No. It gives me hope that you’ll help us.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does.” He leaned close to her. “We have reason to think these enemy drones might be using a software model based on the behavior of weaver ants. A model developed by you.”

She felt the warm surge of adrenaline. “My God…”

He started dealing out full-color photographs into her lap. Photos of carbonized and torn bodies, maimed and injured people at bombing scenes-some of them children. “Scores of innocent people are dead. Politicians, scholars, human rights activists, business leaders, students. Someone has bypassed America’s defenses to kill these specific people. And more die every week. What you need to do is tell me how to stop it.”

She searched for anything to say as she gazed in horror at the images. “But I don’t… I have no idea how my work could-”

“Tell me why someone would choose to imbue a machine with the mind of a weaver ant. What’s so special about them? Why weavers?”

She felt nauseous, on the verge of tears, looking at the photo of a dead child. A twisted and burned stroller lay nearby. “Because the weaver ant is quite possibly the most warlike creature on the face of the earth.”

Chet Warner had no desire to travel anywhere with the Pakistani army, let alone into the densely crowded slums of Lyari Town. It was like strapping on a deer costume to go out hiking on the opening day of hunting season.