Mark Alpert - Extinction

At that time, Jim was still learning the basics of bioengineering, but he convinced Arvin to pursue the further development of the retinal implant. Improving the quality of artificial vision became one of Arvin’s favorite projects, and Jim contributed to the effort by designing miniature cameras that could be hidden in the glasses. He worked just as hard on the retinal implants as he did on his prosthetic arms. Finally, after several years of steady progress, the improved implants could deliver vision that was roughly as good as normal eyesight. Arvin’s company, Singularity, Inc., introduced the devices commercially, and at Jim’s insistence Arvin offered the system for free to all the blind veterans who could benefit from it. Kirsten was one of the first to take advantage of the offer. Although she’d thrived at the NSA despite her handicap, she knew she could rise higher in the organization if she recovered her eyesight.

Afterward, Jim visited Kirsten every six months or so to make small repairs and upgrades to the device, and during those visits they always promised to get together for drinks or dinner. But they never did. Their lives were moving in different directions. Kirsten was aiming for the top, the highest ranks of the intelligence community, while Jim was content to keep working with wounded veterans. There was nothing keeping them together anymore except the occasional repairs to the camera-glasses. And the device worked so well, it didn’t really need that much attention.

Once the coffee was ready, Kirsten stirred in a generous amount of sugar and handed the mug to Jim. Then she sat down behind her desk, which was impeccably neat. The only items on it were her computer, her STE secure telephone, and a copy of today’s Washington Post . “I checked with my contacts at the FBI,” she said. “The Bureau’s counterespionage division has nothing on the guy who attacked you. He doesn’t match anyone in their database of Guoanbu agents operating in the U.S.”

“What about forensics? Did they find anything that can identify him?”

She shook her head. “Not even dental work.”

“I’m telling you, Kir, this guy was good. Fast and well-trained. He had a Beijing accent, lots of long r’ s.”

“Don’t worry, I believe you. But the folks at the Bureau aren’t so sure.”

“What about finding Layla? We have to get her into protective custody.”

Kirsten frowned. “The FBI’s already looking for her. InfoLeaks is driving everyone crazy, and the Pentagon’s been pushing the Bureau to find your girl so they can figure out how she’s getting her information. But Layla’s pretty clever. You taught her too well.”

“If we can’t find her, we should at least try to warn her. We should get in touch with someone at InfoLeaks and tell them Layla’s in danger. Maybe she’ll come to her senses and turn herself in.”

“Maybe, maybe not. She might think it’s a trick.” Kirsten pointed at the newspaper on her desk. “InfoLeaks is at war with the whole government now. Did you see today’s story? About the attempt to arrest Schroeder in Mexico?”

Jim nodded. Gabriel Schroeder was the wealthy German activist who’d founded InfoLeaks. The Justice Department had issued a subpoena for Schroeder’s arrest, charging him with possessing stolen documents, and the State Department had convinced a dozen countries to extradite the man if he set foot on their shores. But Schroeder had evaded capture so far by operating from a high-speed megayacht that stayed in international waters. The boat had satellite links to servers around the world, making it difficult for the government to shut down his operations. “I saw something on the Web about a navy plan to intercept Schroeder at sea,” Jim said. “Any truth to that?”

Kirsten shifted in her seat, crossing her slim legs. Jim sensed the distance between them, the separate paths they’d taken. “Sorry, Jim. That’s classified. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Well, I hope they do it soon. I hope they grab Schroeder and beat the shit out of him until he says where Layla is. Then maybe we can get to her before the Guoanbu does.” He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed silently. Then he turned back to Kirsten. “I’ve been going through the InfoLeaks Web site, trying to find out why the Chinese are doing this. I figured Layla must’ve gotten her hands on one of their documents, but so far I haven’t found anything like that on the Web site. InfoLeaks has two hundred thousand documents about the war in Afghanistan but not a single damn one about China.”

Kirsten turned to her computer and reached for the mouse. “Okay, I can help you there. Before InfoLeaks posts a document on its Web site, they sometimes send copies of the file to their volunteers around the world. If the document is encrypted, the volunteers pitch in to decipher it. And sometimes they translate the documents, too. Because the messages to the volunteers are transmitted by satellite links, the NSA can intercept them. Legally, believe it or not. Come here, take a look.”

Jim rose from his chair and came around her desk. Although the interception itself might be legal, he knew Kirsten was bending the rules by letting him see the communications. “Thanks, Kir. I appreciate this.”

She clicked on one of the icons on her computer screen. “After I got your phone call, I ordered my staff to look at the recent communications on the InfoLeaks network. It turns out that yesterday afternoon they distributed a big batch of files to their Mandarin-speaking volunteers. Sixty-nine documents in all. Here’s the list of file names.”

Jim looked over her shoulder at the screen, which showed a sprawl of Chinese characters. He didn’t recognize all of them—his Mandarin had grown rusty since he’d left the NSA—but he remembered certain characters very well. “That’s Guoanbu,” he said, pointing at the screen. “These are Guoanbu documents.”

Kirsten nodded. “Specifically, they’re reports by analysts in the Guoanbu’s Second Bureau. Nothing’s changed since the old days. The Second Bureau is still spying on our defense industry, and the Chinese army is getting better every year.”

Jim thought of what Yin told him in his workshop. “Is there anything about unmanned surveillance drones on that list?”

“Bingo.” Kirsten clicked on a row of characters to call up the file. “That’s the longest document in the bunch. The most interesting one, too.” The Mandarin document appeared on the screen. “It’s the Guoanbu’s analysis of the CIA surveillance-drone program operating in northwest Pakistan. Very detailed. Describes the capabilities of all our unmanned aircraft—the Predator, the Reaper, the Global Hawk—and how well they’ve performed against the Taliban. The Chinese must have some good agents on the ground in Pakistan. Better than what we have, that’s for sure.” She shook her head. “But the best part is the last section, the conclusion. It’s dead-on, more honest than any of the assessments our own agencies have written. It says that, long-term, the drone program is a disaster. The high-altitude surveillance video taken by the drones is often confusing and incomplete, so the CIA sometimes mistakes civilians for terrorists. The missiles launched from the drones kill a few jihadis each month, but the Taliban get more than enough new recruits to replace them. Essentially, we’re shooting in the dark. The drones may have the world’s best cameras, but you can’t make good operational decisions from ten thousand feet in the air.”

Jim thought for a moment. “Okay, it’s an interesting document. And it’s possible that Layla had something to do with disclosing it. But why would the Chinese get so upset about it that they start hunting her down? This assessment is more embarrassing for the U.S. than for China. And look at that.” Jim pointed to a group of characters that he recognized as a date. “The report’s almost two years old.”