F Wilson - Fatal Error

"It's not Abe. It's the Order."

Jack tried to keep Gia out of the loop as much as possible-and she was fine with that. He figured the less she knew, the better for her and Vicky. They were noncombatants and he didn't want them mistaken for anything else.

But last year he'd had to tell her something about the Order to explain why Weezy had had to move in with him for a while.

"They told you?"

"No. They're behind it."

"I know you said they were global, but do they really have that kind of power?"

"You've been hearing about that Jihad virus?"

"Of course. It's all over the news."

"Right. Well, that's theirs. And come to think of it, your home computer may be one of the few in the city that's uninfected."

"Why's that?"

"Because you haven't been around to open any contaminated emails."

"Lucky me."

"But here's the thing… I suspect-it's more of a gut reaction than anything based on hard evidence-that today or tomorrow could be it. And that's got me worried about your flight."

Gia was silent for a while, then, "I see. If you're right, that could cause major problems."

He was glad he didn't have to convince her of the consequences. She'd grasped them on her own right away.

"Question is: Should you risk it? I'd like you back here-for the usual selfish reasons, of course, but also because I want you where I can protect you."

"Will we need protection?"

"Well, things could get a little… disorderly."

Chaotic might be more like it. He didn't want to get all Armageddonish about it, but with communications crippled, or simply hampered, police response times would be lengthened. That might encourage certain elements of the urban population-particularly those with a little seven-pointed figure tattooed on a hand-to get frisky and reckless.

"For how long?"

"Days, weeks. No one can say."

If Munir didn't know, Jack wasn't going to guess.

"Do you think we'd be safer here?"

She was thinking about Vicky, he knew, and how Iowa might experience fewer repercussions if the Net went down. But it wasn't like the Midwest was crime free. Ed Gein and Jeffrey Dahmer had hung out there. Iowa wasn't all that different from Kansas, and Kansas had produced Perry Smith and Dick Hickock. There had to be more of them, and if they learned no one was patrolling the hallways…

"Not necessarily. You could get an earlier flight-like switch to today and arrive before the virus starts doing its thing-"

"If it starts doing anything."

"Right. Or you could stay there. I'm going to leave it up to you."

Without hesitation, she said, "I'll try for the earlier flight."

"Miss me?"

"Terribly."

"And your folks are on your nerves?"

She laughed. He missed that sound. "That too." She lowered her voice. "Somehow, whenever I visit, I'm suddenly twelve again. I love them, but they make me crazy after a while."

"That's a parent's job with grown children."

His father had made him crazy, but he'd give an awful lot to have him back.

"I'll call you and let you know if I'm able to reschedule and when we're due in."

"Do that. And hurry. I don't know how much time we have."

He hung up and wished he'd never let them go.

Veilleur opened the door at Jack's knock.

"Jack. You made good time. I didn't expect you quite so soon." He glanced back into his apartment. "Perhaps we should talk in the Lady's quarters."

Jack glanced over his shoulder and saw three strangers in the front room. A tall guy with a grayish ponytail, a sixtyish woman, and a thin, fidgety guy who had cop written all over him.

He stepped back, saying, "Those the ones who drove you back from Saint Ann's?"

"The men, yes. The woman just arrived. I'll meet you downstairs in a minute."

Jack took the two flights down and knocked on the Lady's door.

"Mister Veilleur will be down in a minute," he said as he entered. "I've got reason to believe-"

"That the assault will begin soon."

That stopped him. "How did you know?"

She looked tired. How could that be? She never slept.

"Certain…" She waved her hand. "I'm not sure how to express it. If I fix my attention I can sense a gathering of possibilities and probabilities."

That rang a bell from the past.

"Like that time back home when I was a kid and you told Weird Walt to stop drinking because he might be needed."

She nodded. "Exactly." She sighed. "Poor Walter. He carried that burden as best he could. He's dead, you know."

"Yeah. Read the obit last summer. Shame. Sweet guy." As much as he felt sorry for Walt Erskine, the Jihad virus was a more immediate concern. "But these gathering possibilities and probabilities you mentioned… do they point to this weekend?"

"I wish I could say more than 'soon.' "

"So do I," Jack muttered, thinking of Gia and Vicky.

Veilleur entered then.

"Sorry for the delay. Magda is asleep so I have a little free time." He looked at Jack. "What did you want to tell me?"

"The computer guy I told you about-he says the Jihad virus is going to use some of the code stolen from him to overload the Internet with video. Enough to bring it down."

Veilleur, his expression grim, glanced at the Lady, then back to Jack. "And they can succeed?"

"He seems pretty damn sure."

"And there's nothing we can do?"

"He's going to alert the military and the committees and groups and whatever in charge of the Internet, but doubts he'll get far because it's the weekend. And because of that, he thinks the weekend is the best time to trigger the virus."

Veilleur's eyebrows lifted. "You think it might be this weekend?"

"If you were the One, would you want to wait any longer than you had to?"

"Knowing that I would most likely get only one shot at this, I would want to maximize my chances of success. I would want to wait until the virus has spread as far as it can, until this botnet you speak of has reached maximum penetration."

That made sense, but…

"Doesn't this go against what you said about his impatience?"

Veilleur rubbed his beard. "It does, doesn't it. But there might be another reason he'll give it a little more time."

"Such as?"

"Remember how I told you that he never forgets a slight, never lets go of a grudge? Well, that's what 'Mister Osala' has been up to during his trips to the South: petty revenge."

"For what?"

He waved a hand. "Much too complicated to go into. But that long-haired man upstairs is involved. I've decided to head back to North Carolina with him to see if I can help him stymie the One."

Something about that sounded a warning note.

"You think that's wise? What if he sees you?"

"I'll stay well out of sight."

Jack shook his head. "I don't like it."

Veilleur stepped closer and put a big hand on Jack's shoulder.

"How frustrated are you that you can't strike back at the One?"

"You know all about that."

"Exactly. Imagine how I feel. I battled him for millennia. I frustrated his every move and finally trapped him and locked him away for what should have been forever." His eyes flashed. "Damn Nazis." He shook his head. "But now I'm enfeebled and mortal and I keep telling myself I'm out of the fight, that it's somebody else's worry."

Jack nodded. "So you've said. Most recently on the way to Saint Ann's. You've been pretty convincing."

"Well, I mean it when I say it, but inaction grinds at me." He balled his other hand into a meaty fist as his lips retreated into a snarl. "I long to lash out at him, crush him, strip his hide, grind his bones to dust."

Jack watched and listened, amazed. Here was a side of Veilleur he'd never seen. Here was the hidden warrior… Glaeken.

And just as quickly it faded.