F Wilson - Fatal Error

"True. It is taking more time than I anticipated for the noosphere to heal itself. Imagine the noosphere as a mountain lake, fed by many streams. It has had a sidewall blown away and much of its water has flowed downhill-and will continue to leak away until the breach is repaired. The Internet is one of the lake's major feeder tributaries."

Jack said, "So the One's crew must think if they bring down the Net, they'll empty the noosphere to a point where it won't be able to sustain you."

She nodded. "If the Internet is cut off before the breach is healed, the noosphere will dry up… and I with it."

"If that's really their purpose," Weezy said, "I don't think we have much to worry about. The Internet's infrastructure is too spread out and too redundant."

"What about a huge EMP?" Jack said.

She blinked. "You mean a high-altitude nuke? If they had that, they wouldn't be messing around with portable EMP generators in data centers. And even if they detonated one over the U.S., high enough to take out the whole country, there's still the rest of the world up and running."

"Maybe they've got a bunch of nukes."

She shook her head. "The Kickers and Dormentalists like to tell the world that they're everywhere, but they're not. They're all over, yes, but not everywhere. They can't launch nukes all over the world to knock out the entire Net. They simply can't."

Jack wished he could be so confident.

"Hank Thompson isn't stupid, Weezy, and he's hooked up with Drexler, who's definitely not stupid. They're all working together. And that tells me that last night's attack on that data center means something. They didn't build EMP guns and go to all that trouble for nothing. They've targeted the Internet."

Weezy leaned back and tapped her fingers on the table. "Maybe it's just Thompson. He could be acting on his own. You know he's got a thing against the Internet. He was very up front about that in his book."

Jack banged a fist on the table-not too hard, just enough to vent some frustration. "Too bad I'm not inside anymore. Might be able to pick up something. At least I was doing something then."

But Jack had managed to make himself persona non grata at the Lodge, both with and without a beard.

"We have Eddie inside the Order."

"But he's like a social member, with no access to the inner circles and their agenda. And besides, you aren't talking to him."

"He called me yesterday."

Weezy told him about Eddie's call and how he was going to "look into" the Order's renewed search for her. The news sent bolts of alarm through Jack.

"Did you tell him not to?"

She looked offended. "Of course I did, but he wasn't having any of it. I'm worried about him."

"So am I. I'll give him a call and warn him off. Eddie's not cut out for that kind of stuff."

As a kid he'd always been the loose lip of their trio, the one most likely to blow a secret.

"So… what are we going to do about this Internet plot?"

Veilleur shrugged. "What else can we do besides watchful waiting until-"

"Damn!" Jack said. "That's all we do! Watch and wait. Which is the equivalent of doing nothing. Why do we even bother with these meetings? To find more things we can't or won't do anything about?"

He saw Weezy roll her eyes.

"Don't do that, Weez."

She shrugged. "Sorry. But we seem to be having this argument every time we meet lately."

Frustration burned in Jack's gut. "Because all we do is sit around and talk and let the One and his toadies do whatever the hell they want. I'm sick of it."

"But your alternative is too risky."

"I disagree."

Veilleur spoke up. "Remember your promise."

"I remember. I want you to release me from it."

Veilleur shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't."

"Why the hell not? The One is human, right? Flesh and blood like you and me, right?"

"Not quite like us. He has tremendous healing ability." He sighed. "Like I used to have."

"So you've said, and a few other tricks that make him something more than human. But he's not invulnerable and invincible, right?"

"No. Not either."

"That means he can be taken down."

"Only with an enormous amount of deadly force."

"I can bring that. Cut me loose."

Veilleur shook his head again. "You might never find him."

"At least I'd be doing something."

The constant passivity of waiting for the other side to make a move… that lay at the heart of Jack's frustration. Defense wasn't how he solved problems.

"And even if you did find him, and even if you brought this deadly force to bear, what if you failed?"

"Then I'd try again."

"But then he'd be on to you. He pays no attention to you now. But he would then. And through you he'd find me. And then he'd know that I'm simply an old man who is no longer a threat to him. He must never learn that. The consequences would be catastrophic."

Veilleur had presented this argument to Jack last year. It had made sense then, but less and less sense since. He bitterly regretted his promise then to keep away from Rasalom.

"As I've said before and I'll say again: I think the potential benefit outweighs the risk."

He caught Weezy staring at him with that look. He wasn't sure what "that look" meant, but he'd glanced up and seen it often enough when she'd been staying at his place. She seemed to be looking through his skin, seeing his core. It made him a bit uncomfortable.

He checked his watch. Almost one o'clock. Where did the day go? He bottled his frustration. "Gotta run."

Nearing the time to pick up and Gia and Vicky and hustle them out to the airport.

One more reason to hate LaGuardia.

Eddie hadn't gleaned much from his eavesdropping-or would that be ventdropping? The sounds of conversation had been muffled and distorted. He'd picked up a word here and there, but nothing of any consequence except "jihad." He'd caught it twice, and was pretty sure he had that right, but without context it was meaningless.

He was back in his chair when Fournier returned.

"Come," he said, standing in the doorway. "The Actuator will see you now."

A few doorways down he was ushered into a high-ceilinged office where a man in a white suit sat behind a desk, scribbling in a notebook.

"Mister Drexler," Fournier said. "Brother Connell is here."

As the man looked up, Eddie froze in the doorway. His saliva vanished and he was suddenly a pudgy teenager again. Drexler's slicked-back hair had streaks of gray in the black, and time had added a few wrinkles to his face, but the hawk nose, the cold blue eyes, and the white suit were the same.

"Is something the matter?" he said in a lightly accented voice.

Eddie struggled for words, found them. "Mister Drexler?"

"Yes. Have we met?"

"Y-" He would not stammer. "Yes. In Johnson, New Jersey, way back in the eighties."

"Ah, yes. The summer-fall of eighty-three. A problem at the local Lodge." He frowned. "Connell… that does ring a bell." He snapped his fingers. "I recall a rather impertinent girl with that name. She caused more than her share of trouble."

Eddie had to smile. "That would be Weezy."

Drexler pursed his lips. "An odd name."

"It's from Louise." From Eddie himself, really, who'd mispronounced her name so often as a toddler that it had stuck.

"I recall a male friend who was equal trouble."

Another smile. "Yeah. That would be Jack."

Immediately he wished he hadn't said anything, because the name seemed to spark something in Drexler.

"Ah, yes. The Lodge's groundskeeper for a while. What is Jack doing these days?"

Eddie fought to maintain a neutral expression. According to Weezy, Jack had killed maybe half a dozen men who had been after her last summer. She swore they were members of the Order, but Eddie wasn't convinced-yet. But if she was right…