Hidden Demon, page 5
part #1 of Altered Demons Series
"Sean, glad you made it. I've activated tempest protocol. No one can monitor us."
Butler eyeballed the guards as he rubbed his hands.
"Do they need to be here, Rick?"
"No. Guards, leave us."
As they left, the man gestured to Butler to sit as he poured two whiskeys.
"Something to warm you up," Rick said.
Butler took a sip as his host sat across from him.
"Just like old times, eh Sean?"
"They didn't tell me Mr. Richard Yandy was running this."
"Didn't want to scare you off. I wanted the most ruthless guy I could find. After Tokyo, I figured I could land him."
Butler gulped the whiskey down, slamming the empty cup on a side table.
"Maybe I'll just retire instead."
"You can retire when you're dead, or at least that's what you used to say." Yandy took a sip of whiskey. "But when you see what we've got, you won't want to."
Butler tapped the empty glass. The old man stood.
"I won't be here forever," Yandy said as he poured a double. "I need someone comfortable with what's going on here. Someone who understands the weight of it and won't let youthful morality cloud their judgment. One with my level of practicality in the face of opposition."
Butler sipped slower after the second pour.
"So, what we're doing isn't exactly legal?"
"Uh, no, not in the USA," Yandy confirmed. "But in New Norfolk?"
He raised his glass. Butler sarcastically mirrored it.
"How much do you know about the StareFace system, Sean?"
"Considering I just got here, not much."
"The USA has been monitoring communication networks for decades… phones, emails, social media networks."
"Sure, we broke encrypted communications with quantum computing and Stingray."
"Covert manipulation of the protocol working groups and NIST paid off. We could hear everything, but soon that became common knowledge when the tin foil hats finally got one right. We still ingested and correlated communications, but those damn overtones on phones gave away the system. There was no fix. It drove bad actors to the dark web and private communication networks."
"Right, there are thousands," Butler said.
"More! We piggyback them as soon as we discover them, but it's like trying to put popcorn back in the kernel. Even AI augmentation of Stingray was not enough. We missed the reactor attacks in the 2030s. We knew we needed a better, correlated framework to assess threats and automatically deploy counterassault assets."
Yandy and Butler sipped their drinks. Butler scoffed.
"So, we invented a separate country dedicated to intelligence gathering?"
"Yes. I mean, what else do you want me to say?" Yandy shrugged. "Innovation is easier without regulation. And we can sell our services and tech to allies to fund it. The result is StareFace."
"You going to keep teasing me, Rick? Get on with it."
"During development we focused on two major strategic objectives. Societal monitoring and system resilience. We created real-time global monitoring through satellite and drone networks upgraded with our tech, which gave us about seventy percent domestic coverage. We filled gaps with Level-4 hardened stations in critical cities and mobile devices with key personnel. This increased coverage to ninety-eight percent."
"I thought Level-4 hardening of systems was theoretical?"
"It used to be, Sean. Not anymore."
"So, you're monitoring the entire country with Level-4 hardened assets?"
"Yes, but the checks and balances are exception only. Remember the artificial intelligence I mentioned?"
"Sure."
"Every AI needs data—loads of it—to make predictions and suggest solutions. In the first week it predicted movement of everyone in the United States with about sixteen percent fidelity. Week two, it was forty-nine percent. Week three it was eighty-two percent."
"What week is the program in now?"
"The beta has been running for a year."
"Damn."
"If you sneeze wrong, we notice."
"You gave up monitoring communications and focused on behavior," Butler said.
"We still monitor communications, don't get me wrong. That is still good for small stuff and the occasional slip up, but the behavioral assessments flagged multiple precursor events during the last year. Our military assets have responded throughout the United States to put them down as contracted. We've saved lives."
Butler sipped his drink.
"Why didn't you detect Tokyo?"
"Japan isn't a customer."
"Okay, so now you need an operator, right Rick?"
"I've always been a big picture guy, Sean. I enjoy building the massive programs, but not the day-to-day operations. You'd be coordinating with CENTCOM to snuff out domestic terrorists under The New Loyalty Act. StareFace is not simply about monitoring, it is about action. Last I checked, you're a man of action."
"Where is the quantum computer housed? The staff?"
"Don't worry about it, Sean. The ocean keeps it cool. The staff operate here under private contract and their own teams track their movements. However, you can work from the mainland out of DC, Arlington really, once the engineers get you up to speed. You'll be under the auspices of the NSA. Unless you want to move the family to New Norfolk."
"I'd never hear the end of it. I'll work out of DC."
Chapter 8
A
mature woman with a kind expression and barely gray flowing hair stood in front of an expansive mirror. The faint sounds of traffic and sirens snuck into her Washington, DC, hotel room now and then. She scrutinized her recently pressed and tailored blue pantsuit. It showed no wrinkles as she brushed it down with her manicured palms. Her copper skin, newly washed and smelling of jasmine, glowed under the golden lights above the wardrobe. The reflection staring back reminded her of the fiery grandmother she had visited long ago during winter school breaks. As she lifted the pearl earrings to her lobes, she recalled the stories the grand old lady had told. Fleeing Cuba in 1961 on makeshift rafts despite being wealthy landowners. The storms that sent her grandfather over the edge into the Caribbean depths. Arriving in Miami to set up with other family members in Little Havana—near Flagler in Riverside. The horror of the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962 fomenting the nuclear war fears that had chased them into the 1980s. She peered into the mirror image as facial muscles twitched. It was as if they remembered her history while her heart embraced the future.
Background audio from the digital screen in the other room caught her ear as a reporter spoke.
"The US Senate candidate from Virginia, Isabel Ortiz, will hold a rally today for a packed house at RFK stadium. Her latest surge in the polls has her leading the current Lieutenant Governor Murray Whitlaw by five points. Many analysts attribute her rise to expansionist energy policies, which rely on fourth generation nuclear reactors and localized microreactors to replace non-green sources."
A man startled the candidate from behind, placing his rum glass on the dresser before embracing her. He kissed the back of her neck. As he rested his chin on her shoulder, his balding auburn head reflected the nearby glow. He swayed as if dancing to music unheard, bumping and rubbing into her as his graying goatee tickled her ear.
"You love the attention, don't you, Izzy?"
Beaming with vitality, she spun and pecked him on the lips.
"Si, mi vida. But I'm getting ready for business, Luis."
She shifted back to the mirror.
"Business, huh? Sounds serious."
His lips twisted with a fake sincerity as she countered his jab.
"Oh, you know it is, baby. Today the state…"
"Tomorrow the world," he said, drawing her near to him. He squeezed her rear end through her pants and kissed her.
She placed her finger on his mouth as she pursed her lips.
"Now Luis, behind every great woman, is a good man who knows when to be bad... or when to help his wife get ready."
They smooched lightly as they shared a moment.
"I need more lipstick."
She turned back to the mirror and applied another layer. Luis grabbed the rum glass and finished it.
"Well, let's get you prepared. Your opponent will have detractors embedded in the post-rally press conference. They will grill you on your energy policy. The campaign team prepared questions. Are you ready?"
"Always."
Luis placed spectacles on the end of his nose and held up his phone as he read.
"Okay, Mrs. Ortiz, how do you explain your love of high energy density, you sexy minx."
Izzy scoffed.
"Luis, I swear, be serious. I need my strength."
Luis laughed.
"Okay, okay, for real this time. I promise," he said before clearing his throat.
"Mrs. Ortiz, you advocate for nuclear energy, but have revealed no plans for the waste disposal. How do you explain this oversight?"
She stood straight, her face hardening as her stare penetrated him.
"There is only one oversight and that is our country burning non-green energy sources for over a century when alternatives exist. Our planet has tipped to climate demise with few concerns for disposal of energy byproducts along the way. We could power the country for a year with nuclear solutions whose waste would fill less than a football field. Nuclear reactions from Gen4 reactor systems leave usable byproducts. Disposal of the rest is a rudimentary problem easily solved at the local level. The energy density to waste ratio is far better than any fossil fuel in existence."
"Great, here's another. We've heard reports of control failures at nuclear plants during extreme weather swings, such as the Great Texas Freeze of 2039, or natural disasters like the tsunami that happened at Fukushima decades ago. How do you ensure the safety of nuclear energy?"
"As far as control and circuit failures, these are not unique to nuclear plants. They happen in natural gas and coal energy systems as well. No approach is perfect, but the way a system fails should matter when comparing them. We are talking about Gen4 reactors, the safest ever—not Fukushima or an ancient Chernobyl scenario. These reactors fail gracefully when they lose power. They don't explode or melt down because they are not under pressure. Natural gas explodes. Chemical plants explode. Diminishing safer and denser energy sources only because of the word 'nuclear' is astonishing to scientists such as myself."
"Well, I'm convinced," Luis said, slapping his knees and standing. "You sound as if you know what you're talking about. You'd think you did it for a living or something."
"Don't mess with the nuclear engineer who laid down the USS Doris Miller. You know mama don't play."
A knock echoed from the room door.
"Come in!" She called out.
A beep preceded a man in a black suit entering. He held a submachine gun close to him.
"Mrs. Ortiz, five minutes to departure."
"Good, thank you."
"Do you need anything before we leave?" He asked.
Luis interjected, "A bit of rum in the back of the limo."
"I think you've had enough," she said.
"Cigar?" Luis smirked.
"So, you're riding on the roof?"
"Merely jabbing at you, future Senator."
Izzy eyeballed him before turning to the security escort.
"We're okay here, be out soon."
Her protection team leader nodded and left. As the door closed, Luis walked toward his wife.
"I brought you something."
He palmed a tiny item from his inner coat pocket. The black velvet-covered box rested near his wedding band as he held it out.
She smiled, tenderly removing it from his palm. As she cracked it open, light reflected on a jewel-encrusted stick pin comprising flags from two places she loved—the USA and the State of Virginia. She rubbed her thumb over the colorful, raised depictions.
"It's beautiful. Thank you, baby."
He removed it from the holder and reached for the lapel of her blue suit, gently lifting it. After placing the pin, he secured the post with the stay. He patted it back flat with hands worn by his own years of service.
She glanced in the mirror, touching the trinket as she watched her reflection. She turned back to him. They clasped palms as their foreheads met and their eyes closed.
"Luis, tonight everything changes."
Chapter 9
W
hile the candidate and her husband prepared in a cozy hotel room, an automated SUV had transported Dee and Ko to their location. Dee stood on top of a DC office building across from the hotel, carrying a rifle under her shoulder in the ready position. A night vision monocle covered her eye as she scanned the area. The expected chill in the air bit against her exposed eye. Slight wind raking against unprotected skin brought shivers, as did the mission. They had planned well, accessing the best weapons and reconnaissance tools. With details of the threat thin, they had spared no option. She adjusted the excessive battle gear that pushed against her tactical uniform, grimacing as she relieved the pressure.
"See anything yet?" Dee said through her communicator.
"Negative," Ko said, his silhouette visible on another structure diagonal from her. She glanced at her tactical wristwatch.
"Stay sharp, she should be on the move soon."
On his rooftop, Ko hunched, stabilizing his digital tablet. As he tapped buttons covered in Kanji writing, Overwatch drones circled tighter above the area, their hum drowned by the dissonance of a still busy night in the city. As forward-looking infrared cameras activated, video streams appeared on his screen. A security detail sporting submachine guns popped out the side entrance of the hotel. One held the door as others escorted Isabel Ortiz with haste into the alleyway. Luis followed.
"They're taking her out the side toward the limo in the alley. Do you see them?" Ko said.
"I got them. Two escort vehicles confirmed."
He twisted a physical knob on his Overwatch remote control. The quadcopters tightened formation above the entourage. One drone shot a sticky blob onto the car roof.
"Tracker active," Ko said.
"Once they get rolling, the SUV will follow while the drones track and protect the… Ow!"
Ko rocketed to his feet.
"Dee, what happened?"
No response came except wheezing through his earpiece. Communications remained intact. Ko considered going to her, abandoning the candidate for his partner. If she had fallen, the mission had failed before it started.
"Ko, did you hear that?" Dee finally spoke.
"Hear what?"
"Oh God, it hurts!"
"Dee?"
His brow furrowed. More heavy gasps signaled her distress.
"Johnson? Were you shot?"
Ko scanned the digital tablet.
"Overwatch shows nothing."
"In my head. The pain. It's… It's… inside me."
From her rooftop perch, Dee seethed as she grabbed her head, going to one knee. Her skin became clammy as her gulps of air turned shallow and rapid. Heart palpitations raced the blood through her, each beat filling her head with more pain. Though anxiety flooded her senses, she blinked back the fear. As she stood, city lights popped and crackled. Drones tumbled from the sky. The night vision monocle failed. Dee swiped a hand to ear as her voice turned thready.
"Ko, can you hear me? Ko? Night vision is out."
Icy air flowed through her clenched jaw. She recognized the familiar traits of another attack joined by a power outage. Like Tokyo all over again. She mustered her strength and yelled.
"Cyclone!"
Her emergency directive echoed across silent rooftops as she screamed. Stumbling to the ledge, her will propelled her against the pain as she attached her harness carabiner to the anchored rope on the rooftop. Gripping it tightly with her tactical gloves, she gritted her teeth and rappelled the wall swiftly.
At the bottom, Ko awaited her, gun at the ready. A single emergency streetlight flickering nearby offset the uncanny silence and darkness at street level. Drone fragments littered the ground.
"What happened?" He asked.
"Don't know. Pain. So much pain."
"Use the medi-lot in your wrist."
Dee panted as she shook her head, vigorous breaths huffing life-giving air as she scowled. Taking pain medicine would compromise the mission.
"No. Get to the candidate!"
She raised her VAR-1 rifle, leading the way toward the side alley of the hotel. The thick rubber soles of their leather combat boots muffled brisk steps as they hunched, targeting the gloom through offline red dot optics.
As they rounded the corner of the building, a guttural growl echoed from the back street. Ko paused as Dee raised a clamped fist. She stood and focused into the night.
"The hell was that?"
They both panted heavily, sharing the tense moment. She raised her gun once more before he followed her into the murky alley.
"Where's the limo?" Ko said.
"Don't know, it should be here," Dee said, her clarity returning as she adjusted to the pain.
Thunderous gallops resonated through the black, ending in an enormous crash. The sound reverberated like a wrecking ball on sheet metal through the confined space. A woman cried out.
"Is that her?" Ko asked.
"I'm not sure. Follow the screams."
The dark cover of night obscured their vision. Dee imagined the worst as her head pounded, but her training adjusted her mindset in real time. Things don't always work out as planned. Get to the candidate. Squinting through the night, the screams made it to them again. Get to the candidate. She stepped on top of a squishy thing. As she glanced down, her eyes landed on black suit cloth covering an arm. She kneeled in the dark and placed fingers on the wrist. She found no pulse. Her hand followed the arm toward the neck area.
"Jesus Christ! Ko!"
She jumped back, gesturing with her weapon to the faint outline of the bloody limb. His jaw dropped.
