Daniel Suarez - Influx

Tears rolled down Alexa’s face in the dim light of the hologram booth. But she did not fade away in absence. She felt the emotional trauma. She wanted to feel it. For once to know the truth.

Yet Grady continued to resist. For all their technology, the BTC could not beat him.

Varuna’s voice came to her. “Now do you see, Alexa?”

“Yes. I see…”

She was a prisoner, too—her very DNA the property of the BTC.

Denise Davis strode through theFBI’s Chicago field office with her right arm in a sling, bruises and cuts on her face.

Thomas Falwell kept pace beside her. “I don’t understand, Denise.”

“They’ve compromised our communications. Even our supervisors follow their instructions without knowing. It’s because they’re inside our computer and telecom network.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe this BTC stuff?”

She gave him an ambivalent look. “You weren’t there, Thomas. This Alexa woman damned near killed me with her bare hands, without breaking a sweat.”

“Nobody likes losing a fight—especially you. I get it, but—”

“It’s not just the fight. I can’t even tell you the other things I saw. You wouldn’t believe me—just believe I’m telling the truth.”

“And the twins—who Grady claims are clones?”

“I know it sounds crazy. But have faith in me.”

“And you’re determined to go through with Grady interviewing Cotton?”

“If I can get the SAIC to buy in, yes.”

He tugged her good arm to stop her and spoke quietly but intensely. “You realize this is a career-making case? That playing into this crazy BTC conspiracy story will ruin—”

“You weren’t there, Thomas.”

“I’ve worked ten years on this case, Denise. A big chunk of my life. I got demoted for it. And now you’re going to start saying that Cotton isn’t a bomber—that Grady isn’t dead. That maybe his other victims aren’t dead.”

She met his gaze. “The possibility needs to be investigated.”

Falwell glanced just ahead of them, toward the corner office of the Special Agent in Charge, where an admin was talking on the phone. “And you trust Bollings?”

“I don’t think the BTC has people inside—I think they eavesdrop on our systems. Technology is their thing. Besides, I need to get the SAIC’s buy-in for the Cotton interview—and I need him to be there as a witness.”

Falwell held up his hands in submission. “It’s your career.” He moved away, back toward the elevators.

“Thomas, you’ll be on the lookout for Grady where I said, right?”

He nodded grimly. “You know you can always count on me, Denise. Just be careful.”

Davis watched him go. She couldn’t really blame him. They had a slam-dunk case against Cotton. Cotton had confessed to everything. Of course Cotton wanted a trial for publicity, but in some ways so did the FBI.

She wondered about Cotton some more but then decided to march ahead. Davis smiled at a young male admin assistant as he hung up his phone. “Denise Davis to see Agent Bollings.”

He nodded. “He’s expecting you…” The admin got up to knock on his boss’s door, leaned in for a moment, then moved aside. “Go on in.”

Davis entered and was surprised to see another man, a big red-faced guy in a suit sitting on SAIC Bollings’s sofa.

“Close the door, Denise.”

She did so, keeping an eye on the unknown man.

The SAIC sat on the corner of his desk and gestured to the man. “Denise, this is Bill McAllen, the deputy secretary of Homeland Security.”

A wave of surprise rolled over her. “Good to meet you, sir.”

The man stood much taller than her and extended his large hand. “Call me Bill.”

The SAIC grabbed his laptop. “I’m going to step out and get some coffee, Denise. Give you and Deputy Secretary McAllen a chance to talk alone.”

“Yes, sir.” Davis watched him go with some alarm. The door closed again behind him.

The deputy secretary motioned toward a chair across from the sofa, and he sat back down. “Don’t be worried by my presence here.”

Davis sat uncertainly. “Okay.”

“I read your report about what happened in New York. But it seemed to be incomplete.”

“How so, sir?”

“It seemed to have the actual events missing.”

She stared at him.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been investigating something called the Bureau of Technology Control. Is that correct?”

Davis said nothing.

“You’re wise to be cautious. The BTC is not to be taken lightly.”

Now she felt a wave of shock. “Then Grady is telling the truth?”

“I don’t know all that he said to you in New York, but—”

“Clones. Fusion. Immortality. That they’re hoarding advanced technology.”

McAllen nodded grimly. “Yes. This prison Grady told you about—this Hibernity…”

“He said he escaped. Showed me holographic video from a tiny device he carried—it contained statements from prisoners. People who had apparently made breakthrough inventions.”

“Did Mr. Grady say where this black site prison was located?”

“He didn’t know, but the device contained some sort of tracker that could lead him back to it. He just needed technical assistance to read it.”

“Where is Mr. Grady now, Denise?”

She hesitated.

“I know. You’re worried, and you have no reason to trust me.” He leaned forward, meeting her gaze. “But look at me. I’m a sixty-two-year-old father of three, five grandchildren, and I bowl. There’s only one thing that I care about, Agent Davis, and that’s leaving a world worth living in for my children and grandchildren. If this BTC is hoarding innovations that could improve the lives of billions of people—and if they’re using this technology to augment their own power—well, then we need to stop them, don’t we? Are we agreed on that?”

Davis laughed slightly. It seemed ridiculous, but looking at the large, blunt man, she really did believe him. “I don’t know where Grady is at the moment, Deputy Secretary, but I know where he will be.”

“We need him. If we can find that prison—free those people—that will go a long way toward righting a grievous wrong. Now, you’re trying to get an interview with Richard Cotton. Why?”

“Because Grady says Cotton is a BTC agent. The bombings were actually the means for concealing their kidnapping program—at least here in the U.S.”

McAllen raised his eyebrows and smiled. “You have been busy.”

“Grady’s convinced that if Cotton sees him, Cotton will realize that the authorities know the truth. He thinks Cotton has some sort of deal with the BTC, but if Cotton knows we’ve changed the terms—hidden him away—he might cooperate instead. Cut a deal with us in exchange for what he knows about the BTC.”

McAllen nodded. “If that’s the case, we need to move him. Cotton isn’t secure where he is. We need to put Grady and Cotton under serious protection, and then let’s hope we can learn enough from them about the BTC to help us dismantle it.”

She frowned. “You want to move Cotton? Where?”

“Florence ADMAX in Colorado. Supermax federal prison. We’ve got most of our high-level terrorists there.”

“And the trial?”

“We’ll need to postpone—Richard Cotton is apparently not a bomber.”

She nodded grimly. Years of work… but then, this was even more serious. “We shouldn’t wait to put Grady in front of Cotton, though.”

“Agreed. They’ll have plenty of time to talk en route. Make sure the press doesn’t get wind of Cotton’s transfer. We’ll do it in the middle of the night.”